Washing her hands in the basin, Darcy's alcohol-impaired brain was neither processing nor fully appreciating what had just happened between herself and the God of Mischief.
Even as she lathered the bar of soap between her palms and rinsed away every last sticky trace of their encounter, her neurones weren't firing on all cylinders.
If they had been, she would probably be feeling incredibly guilty, and possibly even a little panicky about what she may have inadvertently begun.
Could it simply be labelled as a harmless, drunken dalliance? Would they have to talk about it? Because that was a conversation she didn't think she'd ever be ready to have, but maybe, just maybe, if they did need to discuss things, then she reasoned that doing so whilst tipsy, would be easier than having to do it stone cold sober. The only problem was, alcohol was like truth serum. So she wasn't sure she could trust herself.
What she should tell Loki, was that a line needed to be drawn under it now. They'd explored the uncharted territory and crossed a line, and indulged their sexual curiosity. Now they needed to move on, without taking things any further. The trouble was, the lines had all become blurred now.
"Enough now." She warned her reflection sternly in the mirror. "This stops now. It ends here."
She haphazardly laced-up her dress, took a deep breath, and turned toward the door.
And it was then she was suddenly struck by a wave of unexpected nausea.
No. No no no no no no no!
She closed her eyes and did her best to ignore the way her guts twisted and turned violently. Breathing slowly, she tried to keep swallowing but her throat kept clenching. No matter what, despite her best efforts, she couldn't stop the sickly feeling rising through her chest. Then she tasted it at the back of her mouth.
This just wasn't fair. Why did she suddenly feel like her stomach was a set of bag-pipes being vigorously squeezed? She had felt fine a couple of minutes ago. More than fine in fact.
She stumbled back towards the toilet, dropped to her knees and clumg to the bowl as if it were the last life raft on a sinking ship.
Maybe once she was sick she would feel better, she hoped, as with a heaving lurch of her stomach, she couldn't prevent the stream of rancid liquid that spewed from her mouth.
"Shit, it's so gross!" She muttered to herself, between retching.
Darcy -- like all people -- hated being sick at the best of times, and she certainly wasn't a casual vomiter. She wasn't able to just throw up and then go about her business. No, all she wanted to do was curl up in a ball, and sleep for as long as she could before it was deemed as hibernation.
Just then there was a soft knocking on the bathroom door -- much lighter than usual -- followed by Loki's voice...
"Darcy.....as much as I am not in the habit of disturbing bathroom ablutions, I am in need of the facilities myself."
She couldn't respond, as she was mid-retch, and although she was trying to be quiet, being sick quietly was a physical impossibility.
"Darcy? Are you....unwell?"
"Uugh, I'm...f-fine." She managed breathlessly between heaving.
"You don't sound fine."
She heard the door open a crack, and internally screamed. She knew she should've locked the damn door. And now the last thing she wanted on earth was for him to see her in such a state. Straining and retching and shaking, crouched on the floor, leaning over the toilet bowl, heaving her guts up.
"I....said...I'm....fine!"
To her horror, Loki pushed open the door, and stepped inside with almost comical reluctance. "Oh dear. You look even less fine than you sound, and the unholy noise you are making is bad enough."
Hastily she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, then immediately wished she hadn't, because what must he think of her? But she didn't want him seeing her dribbling either.
"I...I'm okay....I'm okay." She repeated over and over between gasps.
"Clearly you're not. Am I to presume this is the typical human response to having had too much to drink?"
She shook her head helplessly, as he edged closer and placed his hand precariously on her back, rubbing it gently.
"No, I'm usually fine, and I've drunk way more than this before. I shouldn't have mixed my drinks. That's what it is. I'm such an idiot."
She turned her head to look at him, and saw him grimace as he hurriedly pressed the flush on the toilet.
"I really don't want you to be here right now." She exhaled shakily. "You really don't have to be here."
"I know. And I'd rather not be, in all honesty. It's awkwardly disgusting." He pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingertips and closed his eyes.
"Then why are you here? Go!"
"I shan't." Taking a washcloth from the side of the bathtub, Loki soaked it in cold water, and carefully wiped her face and mouth with it. "As disgusting as it is, I've seen worse."
She smiled a watery smile. "Gee, that's such a comfort."
He brushed her hair from her face, and pressed the cooling cloth to her warm forehead. "It ought to be." Grasping her shoulders, he gently hoisted her up, peering at her face with an anxious frown. "Darcy, you look dreadful."
"Thanks. You sure know how to make a girl feel special." She wailed melodramatically. "Oh, God. I want to die."
"Sorry, I don't do requests."
This was the last thing she wanted. Loki having to take charge, dealing with her mess. She found it ridiculously embarrassing. She felt like a fraud. A pretend adult. A pathetic mortal that couldn't even take care of herself. But she was too exhausted to resist, as he took hold of her, supporting her limp, aching body against his own.
He shouldn't have to do this. She shouldn't be his responsibility, even Greg had never done this sort of thing for her.
"L, you really don't have to do this. I'm a big girl. I'll be fine--"
"Darcy. Please. Just, shut up for once." His commanding tone made it impossible to defy him, as she sagged like a rag doll, and in the next instant, he scooped her up in his capable arms, which thrilled and worried her in equal amounts.
"My hero." She giggled weakly, as he carried her through into the bedroom, and tucked her into bed, displaying a level of attentiveness and care she'd never expected from him.
The last thing she remembered before drifting off to sleep, was asking him to stay with her. He lay on top of the covers beside her, and when he answered his voice was calm and soothing....
"I'm right here, Darcy. I....I'm not going anywhere."
When she awoke with a start a few hours later, sickness was the first thing Darcy was aware of. Lots of sickness and a terrible throbbing headache.
As soon as she was capable of thought -- it took a while for her to get passed how incredibly crap she felt -- she tried to piece together the events of the previous night, but she didn't quite trust her memory. There were gaps, and her hangover was slowing her down.
Shit.
What had she been thinking? Replaying the events of what had gone on, made her feel incredibly guilty and wretched. She was a cheat.
And she had been so forward. What must Loki think of her? Engaging in casual heavy-petting with someone she wasn't even dating.
Then suddenly, she was all too aware of the sensation of Loki's body being curled up behind her. Well, all around her. It was warm, and solid, and knowing that it was Loki wrapped around her like some sort of snugly koala bear, made the breath stick in her throat.
The last person she woke up like this with was Greg -- obviously -- and his huge, hairy arms usually held her in a bear hug. He was more of a grizzly bear. Whereas Loki's embrace was secure but tender, and didn't feel like he was crushing any of her vital organs.
It felt good. But alarmingly intimate. Which seemed laughable after what they had done together on the couch. In comparison, Loki having a long arm wrapped tightly around her waist, and an even longer leg, intertwined with one of hers, shouldn't have felt so scandalous. But his face was nuzzled into the area between the back of her neck and shoulders, and she could feel him softly breathing against her, which was a strangely emotional experience.
'He feels so right' her traitorous brain kept telling her, but she silenced the nagging voice, and pushed such thoughts to the back of her mind.
Thoughts like, wondering what it would feel like to wake up like this, next to him, every morning.
Just then she felt him stir, and as if instinctively, he pulled her closer against his wall of torso. It wasn't intentional, she realised, as he was still half asleep. But it felt sinfully good, as her heart began pounding and something deep inside her stomach started sending out waves of pleasurable warmth.
He had her pressed against him, and her mind was slowing to a crawl. But then reason kicked in.
Shit. They had a plane to catch.
And even if they didn't, she shouldn't be spooning with him.
She had a boyfriend for that sort of thing.
"Hey. Hey, Loki?" Her voice was a croaky mix of grumpy and hangover. She deliberately moved, wriggling so that he freed her from his embrace. "Wake up! We've gotta get to the airport, remember?"
Loki duly rolled onto his back and away from her slightly with a bit of a grunt. "I suppose I'd better get up then."
Darcy heaved her legs out of bed, and managed to stand upright without heaving, as she moved unsteadily toward the door. Walking slowly to the bathroom, not wanting to make any sudden movements. It was then she realised with a jolt, that he was wearing only a pair of snug-fitting black shorts.
Christ.
He had gone to bed in his underwear.
She wasn't sure why this unbalanced her so, as she suddenly recalled the feel of warm, damp skin, the delicious smell of scented soap....
Of course.
He had taken a shower.
But still. Him having joined her, so casually underdressed, seemed so intimate and unforgivingly wrong.
Best not to overanalyse it, she decided. And stumbled out of the room.
There was enough time for her to shower, and she dressed in the bathroom as quickly as possible. No sooner had she opened the door, when Loki appeared -- still worryingly undressed -- eager to take a shower himself before it got too late.
"Oh. Sorry, I didn't realise you were waiting. I thought you showered last night."
"I did." He replied simply. "I regularly shower or bathe twice a day. But how did you know I'd showered last night? You were sound asleep. Did I inadvertently wake you?"
"No. I remember smelling you." She said without thinking, then hurriedly corrected herself. "Not that I usually notice how you smell..." She lied, as she tried to ignore the quizzical arching of his eyebrow. "...I just. Never mind. Sorry."
"How are you feeling?" He enquired politely, as she attempted to slide by him. He himself seemed perky enough, save for his aqua eyes looking a little bloodshot, and his hair delightfully dishevelled.
"Oh, I'm...better, thanks. The shower helped. At least I'm not praying for death, which is a significant improvement." She babbled, feeling decidedly awkward, as an unexpected flashback of their steamy couch encounter, ran through her minds eye. "Um, thank you for taking care of me when I got sick. You didn't have to do that."
"No, I didn't have to. I wanted to."
Darcy stilled, blinking as his gaze rested on her with unsettling focus. "Right." She drew the word out. "Well I appreciate it. Thank you."
His eyes narrowed. "You already have. Twice."
She shrugged. "Sorry, I didn't realise you were keeping count."
"You're behaving very oddly, Darcy."
"Am I?"
"Yes. I'm not accustomed to you repeatedly thanking me and apologising. Is something the matter?"
She tried to give a casual laugh, but even to her it sounded unconvincing. "Nope. Nothing the matter at all. Listen you'd better hurry up, dude. We don't want to miss that plane."
"Dude?" He parroted, dark brows knitting together.
She stared at him, a bit nonplussed. "Yeah? I've called you dude before. Plenty of times. I call lots of people dude--"
"Precisely. As unaccustomed as I am to your midgardian ways, I am confident that isn't a conventional term of endearment for one's lover."
Darcy's chest tightened with shock. "A what? Wait. Loki....you're not my..." Her words trailed off as she swallowed hard. "We're not...we're not lovers."
"Oh?" His frown deepened. "So you engage in sexual activity with all your male friends do you?"
Darcy scowled at him, her jaw slackening. "Of course not! But last night was just...."
"A mistake?" He supplied sharply. He wasn't angry yet, but she could see he was heading in that direction.
"No. Well, not exactly but....we weren't exactly thinking straight were we? I mean, I'm with Greg, and I'm not proud of what I did--"
"You regret it?"
She closed her eyes, trying to blank out his piercing, accusatory glare. She hadn't been prepared for this at all. Dammit. They should've had the talk. Cleared the air.
"I don't regret it."
He scoffed rudely. "You're not a very talented liar."
"I don't regret it!" She insisted.
"Really? And what if your beloved boyfriend learned of your indiscretion? Would you regret it then?" Raising a long finger, he pointed to her neck. "I marked you as mine. It is a universal symbol understood by all, is it not? One which betrays infidelity."
Darcy's hands immediately flew to her neck, and she pushed him aside in her haste to check her reflection in the bathroom mirror. She saw the distinct purple bruise standing out starkly against her pale skin, and her eyes widened. She hadn't even noticed it before. How could she have missed it?
"You did this deliberately!" She exclaimed, her eyes meeting his in the mirror. "You wanted Greg to know, didn't you? And I am not yours! You can't mark me as if I'm your personal property! Who the hell do you think you are?"
"The God of Mischief." He replied smoothly. "And....lies."
With a flick of his wrist, Darcy watched as the love bite disappeared before her very eyes. Relief flooded her, but she felt quite sickened. Whirling around to face him, she boldly slapped him hard across the face, startling even herself. His head whipped to the side with the force of the strike, but he was infuriatingly unrepentant.
"You're fiery. I like that."
"And you're a complete jerk! That was a dick move. Why did you do that?"
"To gage your reaction." He said curtly. "And you have proved my point entirely. You do regret it--"
"You haven't proved shit! I just wouldn't want Greg to find out like that. It's cruel. Is it any wonder people don't trust you? Tell me, do you get off on being a sly bastard? Does it give you a massive ego-boner? It's all just a game to you isn't it?" She ranted.
"A game?" His voice dropped lower, and he advanced toward her menacingly. "You dare accuse me of playing games? When you dallied with me last night, and then dismiss it so flippantly this morning?"
Darcy rubbed furiously at her temples. Willing her headache away. This was all too much to process. He had made her mad, but he was....hurt.
Unbelievably.
Was it possible that he had misunderstood, and believed their drunken shenanigans were something more than just that?
A part of her felt exhilarated at the very idea of it. But she shouldn't. They could never be anything more than....well, whatever they were.
It just wouldn't work.
"I'm not dismissing it." She said, calming. "But, you're talking about us being lovers, and we didn't even have full-on sex. So what we did, doesn't make us lovers."
Loki placed a hand against the wall just above her, crowding her oppressively as he brought his face closer. "So what does it make us then?"
She shrunk away slightly, feeling decidedly intimidated. "W-we...we're friends. Aren't we? It's not like you'd want to be anything more than that. I'm no Goddess. All I'd ever be to you is an idiotic mortal, right? There's no way you'd ever take me seriously. Or treat me as an equal."
His eyes flashed anger -- and something else -- it was an unwilling recognition. He wouldn't admit it, but she could sense he agreed with that much at least. And her having pointed it out, appeared to have surprised and vexed him a little.
"You're deceptively cleverer than you look, Miss Lewis." He said tersely. His remark, a double insult.
"Are you saying I look dumb?" Her voice raised again in temper. "And what's with the whole 'Miss Lewis' thing again?"
Loki's hand fell away so that he could fold his arms tightly across his bare chest. "I no longer have any inclination to call you by your first name. It serves no purpose."
"Purpose? What are you talking about--?"
"I'm merely stating the obvious. There is no need for such familiarity." Amazingly, his angry pout melted into a smile, which broadened into his trademark impish grin. But there was no warmth to it. And his blue-green orbs regarded her coldly, lacking any affection.
Darcy felt her bottom lip tremble precariously, as despite him having shaken off his anger as if it were a dusting of flour, she felt the detectable shift between them. She could sense him retreating away from her, emotionally as well as physically.
And it hurt like hell.
"Loki, I want us to be friends." She said sadly.
"And so we are." His voice was irritatingly calm now, and his expression infuriatingly unreadable. "As of this moment, we shall forget all else that has occurred. Are we agreed?"
She blinked rapidly, digesting his proposal and all the implications that came with it.
Was she overthinking again? But it was apparent that when she didn't think at all, the outcome was equally disastrous. She had thought that if she just took things for exactly what they were, then everything wouldn't seem so complicated or overwhelming.
The problem was, she didn't know how to take things anymore. Thanks to her inability to control herself, or be honest about how she felt, their relationship was now altered forever.
"Uh, agreed. I guess." She said reluctantly. But she couldn't let this be so final. Could she? But there was no point pining after what she couldn't have, even though there was this undeniable yearning deep inside.
"Fine." Loki nodded a little stiffly, then rotated his hand in an encouraging gesture for her to leave the room. "Now, if you don't mind, Miss Lewis....I must shower, if we are to be on time for our departure."
"Oh yeah. Right. I'll have to re-check my emails, I can't remember which airport it was. Gatwick I think. Or it could be Heathrow." She was rambling now, her feet feeling like two breeze-blocks. "Oh, and I'll book a cab."
"You do that."
She hesitated again in the doorway. "Oh, and Loki....?"
He half-turned to face her, his posture rigid. "Yes?"
"Uh, one last thing....I just...."
"Spit it out then, woman."
Her hands were shaking, either as a result of her previous anger, or upset, or...nerves. Her mouth had gone incredibly dry, as she steeled herself, and breathed her next words into a sentence...
"I'm sorry if I upset you. I didn't....I didn't mean to. It's just that I...well, the thing is...." She faltered again, but she had to tell him, she realised. Before she lost her nerve forever.
Tell him what though, exactly?
Well, the truth. No matter how confusing it was.
That she was quite possibly, sort of, half in love with him.
After only a month.
But Jane had fallen for Thor over the period of a weekend.
She opened her mouth to speak, but was silenced by his syrupy voice....
"Miss Lewis, let us be clear on the matter, you didn't upset me. I simply was not thinking clearly."
"Y-you wasn't? In what way?" Her traitorous eyes dragged over his statuesque body. Every inch of him so solid, so smooth. Lean muscle, granite biceps, broad shoulders. It drove her crazy. He was beautiful. Absolute perfection. Which made him all the more intimidating, overwhelming, and unobtainable in her eyes.
His steady gaze held hers unwaveringly. "Admittedly, I found our flirtation a pleasant diversion. A distraction. And it had been so long since I'd known the touch of a woman. To be shown such intimate affection. I merely got a little too carried away. Nothing more. So please, do not think on it further. I shan't."
His words cleaved through her like a knife, drawing blood. But she nodded meekly and hurriedly left the room, before she irrationally burst into tears.
God, how could she be so stupid?
And she was being monumentally stupid.
Still, she cried nonetheless. Silent tears which kept seeping from her eyes, like sap from a cut on a tree. Making it difficult to see her phone screen, as she set about checking the flight details, and googling the number of a local cab company.
Her dress and makeup, along with Loki's outfit she'd bought him, were packed into the various bags she'd accumulated from the previous day's shopping trip, and loaded into the trunk of the black cab which arrived to drive them to Heathrow airport.
It took enormous effort to act carefree, as if nothing in the world had changed. When in actual fact, it had. Drastically.
In a matter of a few hours, everything had changed for her. And Darcy's little world felt like it was crashing down around her. In the early hours of that morning, the God of Mischief had held her disarmingly tenderly. He had partially seduced her, charmed her, and inadvertently made her fall for him.
Then it had all gone to shit.
Even their 'friendship' was now in tatters.
Loki's cool indifference and nonchalance was a far cry from his mischievous, bantering. And Darcy was obliged to keep up the facade, going along with the pretence that nothing was wrong, and that nothing had changed. Even though it felt as though someone was piling heavy weights on her. Big concrete blocks, one on top of the other.
The alien airport world, was disorientating for Loki, and he grumbled in his usual fashion, as the sea of unknown faces flowed by. The loud chattering of excitable travellers, enthused by the prospect of exotic destinations and the promise of escape, irritated him. Along with the noises and smells which combined to assault his senses.
But there was no shared laughter, or playful taunting between the pair.
They went to a kiosk and printed out their tickets, then using his magic, Loki cast an illusion on two flight pamphlets, transforming them into convincing passports.
The sound of trolley wheels whirring on the concrete marble floor, and the almost robotic voice over the public announcement system rang in Darcy's ears, making her head pound. The endless calling for passengers to make their way from departure lounges to various gates, droned on mechanically, making her uncharacteristically irritable, and she was relieved when the time finally came to board.
Her relief was short lived however, once she'd taken her seat. Loki spoke to her only once, to ask if she wanted to sit by the window or the aisle. She took the aisle seat appreciatively, not admitting that flying made her incredibly nervous.
As they took off and she felt the thrum of the engines and vibration of the plane beneath her skin, she gripped the armrests so tightly that her knuckles turned white. Closing her eyes, she pushed her head back against the seat, trying to suck in deep, calming breaths.
"Miss Lewis?" Loki's voice came unexpectedly, and close to her ear, shattering her focus.
She opened her eyes to see him eyeing her curiously, and her gaze dropped to his mouth.
God, she had kissed that mouth.
She had kissed that mouth, a lot.
But knowing she'd never be afforded that privilege again, caused the knife to do another twist in the wound.
"You're afraid aren't you." He stated rather than asked.
She nodded feebly.
His expression altered then, his eyes visibly softening. "It is theorised that talking through the experience can help alleviate the fear."
"It's the...the thought of being so high up. I mean, bees aren't scientifically supposed to be capable of flying, but they do. Their bodies are too heavy." She gabbled, voice wavering.
He stared at her askance, but she continued....
"And....and the way I see it, something this big and heavy, shouldn't be able to fly either. We don't belong up here. The whole concept is just wrong. And it could so easily crash. It's not as highly unlikely as they make out. And you don't get a parachute. Just a life jacket. But what if you don't crash over the ocean, huh? We'd go into the ground like a frickin' dart....and when archaeologists find us, hundreds of years from now, they'll just think there was once a river where we landed--"
"Miss Lewis, if I may interject....when I suggested talking through the experience to alleviate your fear, I didn't mean for you to quite literally discuss your fear of flying in such great detail."
She was breathing slightly unevenly now, feeling her heart hammering beneath her breast. "Oh, right. Well I'm....I'm frightened of....wasps. They're nasty. They sting for no good reason."
Loki groaned with exasperation. "I wasn't implying for you to discuss your fears at all. You simply need to talk in general, in order to focus on something else."
Just then the plane shuddered quite violently, and Darcy let out a pitiful squeal. Her hand grasped blindly at his arm, searching for some comfort. She felt his muscles tense through the material of his jacket, and he stared down at her small hand, gripping his forearm tightly.
"S-sorry." Begrudgingly, she relinquished her hold. But then he amazed her by taking her hand in his reassuringly.
"Don't panic. Everything is fine. Just some air turbulence, nothing more." He soothed. "Keep taking. And it'll be over sooner than you think. It's only a short distance to travel. And I've never known you to have difficulty talking at length before."
He smiled gently, and she felt an anxious giggle bubble up in her chest.
Yes. Everything would be alright. Bizarrely, in that moment she found herself believing that as long as she was with him, everything would be.
Dare she even entertain the hope that maybe even they....they would too? His large hand clasped hers protectively, and the contact warmed her to the bone, as she laced her fingers through his.
"I'm frightened of animatronics. They've always freaked me out since I were little." She confessed, enjoying the freeing sensation of speaking her fears aloud. It was in fact, proving to be a helpful diversion tactic.
Taking a deep breath, she continued, feeling her anxiety gradually beginning to ebb away. "And....I'm frightened of being alone in the dark. Sometimes it feels as if it's somehow, touching me....and I'm frightened of getting hurt. Emotionally. Of falling in love with someone who finds me utterly ridiculous."
Her voice wavered incriminatingly, and she fell silent. Angered by her inability to think before speaking. She became painfully aware of Loki's scrutinising gaze, and it made her cheeks flush hot.
He gave her hand a small, encouraging squeeze. "Go on." He urged.
She raised timid eyes to his, and felt herself internally falling. Losing herself in those changeling eyes of blue flecked with green, and sometimes vice-versa. "And....and I'm frightened of making a complete fool of myself. Even more of a fool than I usually do. If the person I fall for, doesn't feel the same....But, most of all...I'm frightened of getting off this plane and meeting up with Greg and me never feeling with him, the way I feel when I'm with you......"