Author's Note: This was inspired by the very short image in the Thor 2 trailer of Thor and Jane being led by Loki. Of course, this oneshot will be proven completely invalid once the movie comes out, but I figure we've got some time before then, might as well enjoy it. Its completely random, and basically just to satisfy my Lokane feelings.

(On a side note, I am terrible at coming up with titles! Ya'll should help me out. That goes for basically all my works.)

Okay, so... enjoy! I'll appreciate any and all reviews you guys can give me. Thanks!

The walk was long and arduous. The three travelers were all tired, miserable, and freezing to the bone. Each step was a battle. Every gust of wind was a deadly threat. Despite the dismal conditions, the mortal woman Jane Foster refused to let her spirit be defeated.

No. Rather it was because of the dismal conditions that Jane Foster fought back as hard as she could, in the only way she knew how: she talked. She spoke as a way of distracting herself and her Asgardian lover from their abominable trek. She cared not at all for their guide, but couldn't help that her words reached his ears as well.

At first the words were forced, pushed painfully past her chapped lips. But soon, as she continued to tell Thor everything about the latest scientific advancements and discoveries on Earth, the words flowed more smoothly, taking on the shape of stories, infused with her enthusiasm and delight.

Loki was far past stunned. He could never have guessed that this would be the type of woman Thor would have chosen. She was practically the thunder god's opposite. He could not see what at all she had in common with his brother. She was pure brain where he was pure brawn.

Jane rambled on with no care to explain complex ideas or define scientific jargon. This meant, of course, that while Loki understood nearly every word she spoke—and deciphered almost all the rest in context—the crown prince of Asgard did not follow her at all. Nothing Jane said meant much of anything to Thor.

Yet he was smiling down at her, and sincerely, his attentiveness obvious. Loki saw this when he snuck careful glances back over his shoulder to find the eyes of the young couple focused entirely on one another. Suddenly so much became clear to the god of mischief. As he watched, it became simple for him to understand why Thor regarded Jane so fondly, with such genuine interest, despite his utter lack of comprehension.

It was the maiden's burning passion that so attracted him. It was the shining light in her eyes and the gleaming white of her smile as she told Thor about her world, her world of science. She had heart. Passion was something Thor could relate to.

There was something woefully familiar about the scene. A piece of Loki's frozen heart chipped away when he realized—it was only too similar to the many times when Loki, during their childhood, would come to his brother in a rush of excitement over some new spell or discovery and Thor would eagerly listen to him, though he did not understand, with that same genuine smile. All because of Loki's passion and desire to share with his brother. That was how Thor and Jane now behaved.

The light and excitable tones drifting to him on the wind demanded the younger prince's full attention, and—adding to his list of surprises—made his legs feel a little less weak and his head a little less pounded. He soaked in the knowledge, picturing the stars and constellations she spoke of, the ions and atoms, the electrical currents and storms. The concepts swirled with color and graceful form in his mind, and he almost smiled as he became drunk on her lyrical descriptions. If his tongue was silver, then hers was golden.

Night eventually came upon them and the three halted, building a fire, sharing a silent meal, and then laying down for sleep. Each body was weary and every heart heavy with the burden of the tomorrow awaiting them. Still, Loki knew that had Jane Foster not talked for so long on their walk, they would all be in much worse condition.

He couldn't help but feel grateful towards her, and he admired her obvious intelligence and wisdom, her love for science to match his love for magic. The two were truly one and the same. She saw the beauty in knowledge that seldom few could see, in picking apart the strings of the universe to study, explore, and reshape them. And better, she was clever enough to understand how to, and her love for the art form was pure, and all she did and learned was recounted through the fires of an impassioned soul.

"I understand."

Jane's eyes flicked sideways from where she lay on her woolly blanket. Loki had spoken for the first time. His voice was soft and smooth and deceptively gentle, like the quiet murmur of a rushing river racing over stones. It made the hearer want to lie down beside him and listen to the words dripping and flowing from his tongue until his words ran dry. All this she could tell from two short sounds. But she wouldn't allow herself to be fooled. She knew who this man was, what cruelty and horror resided in his heart.

The Norse god was not lying down, but sitting, and he was not looking at her, or Thor, but into the crackling fire. Still, there was no question that he spoke to Jane. The thunderous snores were evidence enough that Thor was dead to the world.

Jane grit her teeth. She wanted no conversation with the man who had tried to kill Thor more than once, who had ensnared the mind of the man she considered a father, who had tried to destroy her entire planet. A trickster, a devil. But it became clear after a few seconds of silence that he had no intention of continuing on unless she responded. He meant to draw her out, force her to seek his company, his words. Biting her tongue, she refused to play along with his game.

Righteous fury soon lost in the face of the curiosity that so defined her.

"Understand what?" she asked sharply, hating herself just a bit.

"How it is that my brother could fall so madly in love with a mortal woman that the very pillars of his beliefs could alter so dramatically in so short a time." Shocked, Jane couldn't help sitting upright. His pale face remained calmly directed towards the flickering flames, sparing no attention for her. He looked peaceful, thoughtful, his blue eyes vivid in the light shed by the fire dancing between them. Jane squinted to see better, far too mesmerized by those blue circles. "I understand now, what I could not before."

There was a pregnant pause. The next words, when he uttered them, were even quieter, and Jane had to strain to catch every single one.

"Thor has always has the good fortune to win that which he does not deserve."

The human's heart pounded a mile a minute. What was he saying to her? What did he mean? Could he honestly be complimenting her? Even saying that a god—prince, warrior, hero—could be unworthy of her, Jane Foster?

Now, Jane would be the first to admit that she was sort of brilliant, bordering on genius even, without quite achieving that status. It was her drive and hard work that truly allowed her to stand out in a crowd, allowing her to accomplish so much at so young an age. Even so, she was only a barely recognized member of the scientific community, and that simply didn't match up with an immortal being that could call thunder out of the sky with his huge hammer. So if anyone in this relationship was undeserving, it wasn't Thor.

When Jane had first met Thor and somehow found herself falling in love with him, and, even crazier, him falling back, Jane had decided she'd somehow slipped into a fairytale. Now she realized that, no, she'd slipped into a teen romance novel, with the obligatory love triangle. God, she would never understand how anyone could bear to read them. Those Twilight books, for instance? Did the general populace even comprehend how scientifically inaccurate they were? The story was completely riddled with scientific plot holes!

That wasn't the point. The point was that the brother of the man Jane was in love with—both of whom were Norse gods straight out of centuries-old legends and from another world, of course—seemed to be confessing to some kind of high regard for her, even after only one day spent in her company, and even though none of that day had actually been spent in interaction between them.

This couldn't be happening. Surely the stress was just getting to her and she was hallucinating, dreaming, or just plain confused, misunderstanding what he meant. This was crazy. This was ridiculous.

What was even more ridiculous was that her head couldn't seem to decide whether his regard was flattering given his obvious contempt for humanity, making her the special exception, or completely disturbing, because who wants the regard of a known psychopathic killer?

This was insane. And impossible. Besides, no matter what, love triangles were always terrible. She would be having none of them in her story, thank you very much.

And yet, her body was tingling with warmth, and she knew it wasn't just from the fire.

Jane hated herself a little bit more, and lay back down to sleep.