Thor- Streetwalker No. 2

It was a week and three days before Jane stopped dreaming of him.

The first night she woke up at seven to the sound of her alarm, and not at three or four in the morning, in a puddle of sweat with images of his dexterous fingers between her legs and his lips pressed to her throat clouding her mind, she thought it was a sign that she was finally moving past it.  She could get on with her life and get cracking on that spinsterhood.

Oh, if only it were so.

The day provided all new distractions and woes.  She could be anywhere- at work, out for a coffee run, reading at home, taking a shower- and right out of nowhere, she would conjure him up.  He’d be in that three piece suit of his, or he’d be naked from the waist up, or he’d just be plain naked.  No matter what, he would be smiling, or smirking, or grinning, ready to tear her apart from the inside out.  She’d feel the tingle of his mouth on hers or the burning heat of his hands on her stomach, trailing downwards.  She’d feel his kiss, his bite, his touch.  She’d hear his voice in her ears.

'That's going to cost extra.'

He’d said that at least three times that night.  What made it so sexy was beyond her.  

The only solution was to take long breaks in the bathroom, and wash her hands raw when she was done.  If only she could just wash off the shame.

A week and three days had come and gone.  After all this time, she should have just forgotten about him. That nameless man who might as well have been a  vivid fantasy she cooked up in a moment of loneliness.  She thought she might have caught the tail end of that Fifty Shades of Grey trailer on TV the other night.  Maybe it had burned into her subconscious and given her some kind of fever dream without the fever.

Of course, any time Jane tried to delude herself, she’d check her bank account and find it two hundred and fifty dollars lighter.  She’d remember waking the morning after, the very real experience of him spooning her, his torso pressed into her back like a piece of warm metal.  She’d remember disentangling herself from his grip in a haze, dressing fast, and leaving the apartment to get breakfast for three hours, praying he’d be gone before she got back.

He was.

She hadn’t seen him since.

If luck was on her side, she’d never see him again.

She certainly wasn’t going to look for him.

Libido be damned, she didn’t need some crazy expensive, possibly sociopathic, prostitute hanging around no matter how good at his job he was.

There was no way in the world Jane was ever going back to that side of town again.  In fact, first sign of a promotion in some other part of the country, she was taking it.  No need to stay where she could get tempted. 

To keep her mind busy and away from thoughts of carnal pleasure, Jane turned to her old standby: throwing herself into work.  Being an office worker was perhaps the most mundane job in the universe.  In a better world, Jane would be living on the road, traveling and stargazing in the desert somewhere, but if pushing pencils at Stark Industries was what paid the bills, she’d take what she could get.

She worked hard that day, filling her brain with words and numbers and account balances so that no room was left for her man of the night.  She printed reports, sent and received memos, refilled her coffee four times, and tried her best to keep to her time table.  At half past four, she went to her immediate superior’s desk to leave him a letter she’d been tasked with typing up.  It was a hair’s breath from the time he needed it by, and that was one of the many reasons Jane thanked her lucky stars that her boss was such a sweetheart.

She knocked on the side of the open door.

"Got the letter, Mr. Odinson."

Thor Odinson, a tall, burly man with bright blue eyes and a friendly smile, beckoned her inside.  He was just finishing a phone call when she arrived, and reset the phone on the receiver while Jane pulled up a chair.

"Jane, I’ve told you that you don’t have to call me that anymore," Thor said.  "We’ve worked together for three years now."

"Just going to take some getting used to calling you by your first name, sir."

She handed him the letter, which he barely inspected before leaving it on the pile to be mailed out.  After all this time, he trusted her enough not to make embarrassing typos.  It was a welcome change.  The last boss Jane had used to literally hold every paper she gave him up to the light, searching for the slightest hint of white-out.

"Well, I know you’re going to be a VP someday," Thor said, flashing his immaculate grin at her.  "You’re too good not to be.  Then we’ll be on equal ground and it will no longer matter."

"Oh, I don’t know about that," Jane said, giggling and looking down to hide her blush.

Thor Odinson was, in fact, a very attractive man, and exactly Jane’s usual type.  When they first met, his pleasant disposition and casual way of making her feel welcome made her go weak at the knee and forget her name for a few seconds.  Sometimes, Jane though there could have been something there, but after so many years and that one torpedoed relationship, that ship appeared to have sailed.  Thor was happily engaged to someone else, not to mention a dead ringer for good ol’ Don Blake.  That alone was enough for Jane to let it go.  It really wasn’t Thor’s fault, but these days, men who looked like Don made her chafe. 

'Tall, dark, and handsome is the thing for you,' said a nasty voice in her head.  Jane stomped it out right away before it could bring up his face or do any other sort of damage.

To make up for it, Jane allowed Thor to engage her in talk of the next company picnic at the start of the new year.  They talked about locations Thor had lined up, and Jane gave her opinions of them all.  Once that was decided upon, Jane had to find another conversation starter before the awkward silence set in.  Lucky for her, Thor had a busy workspace.  There were knick-knacks and pictures galore.  One showed him and a pretty dark haired woman she assumed to be the fiance, another had a smiling older couple, the male half missing his left eye for some reason.  A picture at the far end depicted a little blonde boy in a fisherman’s vest, holding a normal sized fish on a line in one hand, with the other thrown over the shoulder of a smaller, dark haired boy.  Something about him in particular caught her eye.

"So who is this?" Jane picked up the picture frame without permission.  "Your brothers?"

Thor chuckled.  ”Well, one of them is.  The other is me.  That’s me and my younger brother, Loki.  I was ten when this was taken.  He was nine.”

Jane handed him back the photo, which he looked at fondly, and a little sadly too.

"My father took us fishing out on the lake one summer.  I wasn’t very good at it.  This was the only one I caught.  You should have seen the beasts Loki reined in.  I don’t know how he did it so well.  He would never tell me."

"Sounds like you guy had some sibling rivalry going on," Jane said.

"A little," Thor said, his tone indicating that he didn’t want to get into it.  That was fine, Jane wouldn’t pry.

"So where is this brother of yours?" she asked instead.  That seemed a safe enough topic.  "Out running a fish market somewhere?"

The laugh that had been building died in her throat, the instant Thor’s face fell and she thought she saw wetness behind his eyes.  He was gripping the picture tightly, too tightly.  He’d break it if he didn’t let up.  

"I’m sorry," Jane said quickly.  "I didn’t know this was a sensitive matter-"

"It’s fine, Jane."  Thor put down the frame, which miraculously hadn’t been dented by those incredible bear hands of his.  "I’m just… it’s been some time since…"  He closed his eyes and took a deep, cleansing breath.  "Loki died four years ago.  There was a fire at our old summer home and he was the only one inside.  He had wanted some time alone because of… well, let’s just say he was having some issues with our parents at the time.

Jane nodded.  She hoped it came off more understanding and less ‘go on, keep baring your soul to me.’

"The fire was so devastating that his body was unrecognizable.  They couldn’t even take DNA from it, but much as I would have liked to hope that meant it wasn’t him, no one else could have been in the house at the time."  A single tear found it’s way down Thor’s cheek.  "It was almost his birthday when it happened.  He was a brilliant man with such promise.  To lose him in such a way, to know all that was lost… I sometimes think that’s the worst of it."

**

The next day was Saturday.  Jane never worked on Saturday.  

She would’ve thanked Thor for arranging her schedule to give her a day off once a week, but she rather felt like small talk was beyond them now that she’d driven the poor guy to tears.

She just had to ask about the fishing picture, hadn’t she?  She couldn’t have said something about that little hammer figurine next to the computer or the wrestling team championship photo on the wall, or literally anything else.

Well, now she owed Thor the story of her parent’s car accident, didn’t she?  He showed her his emotional trauma, now she’d have to show him hers.  Wasn’t that how it worked?

If anything good could have come from her faux pas, it was that she was back in the red light district looking for her mystery escort.  

Oh yes, this was a good thing.

It was good because hearing Thor’s story reminded her a lot of herself, and how little time she really had on this earth to live her life to the fullest.  Cliche it may have been, one really only did live once, and maybe she shouldn’t be resigning herself to being single forever just because the first and only guy she ever thought herself in love with hadn’t loved her back.  Maybe there really were other fish in the sea and all that jazz.  Darcy had been telling her that enough ever since the break-up.  How would she react when she found out that it took a male prostitute and her boss’s dead brother to convince Jane that she was right?

Before Jane commenced with any soul-searching or getting back into the dating pool, she was going to have to find that guy again.  Things had not ended well last time ('There was nothing to end, you idiot.  You hired the guy!’) and if she was going to get anywhere, she needed some closure.  She needed to find him, apologize for walking out and not thanking him properly for his services, maybe even pay him for an hour to vent her frustrations.  He didn’t seem like the listening type- more like the ‘kill you with sarcasm’ type really- but she could use the release. The emotional release that is.  

She slowed in front of the corner by the lamp post, the one that glowed brighter than the others and flickered every couple of seconds.  There had been a shadow on the wall that made her heart speed up, but coming closer, it was nothing but a tower of trash bags.  The curb was otherwise deserted.  A few women in gaudy makeup, crop tops, and fishnets were sitting on the steps of a dilapidated apartment building.  The notion of driving up and asking if they’d seen a tall guy in a suit who oozed sex appeal and had hands like a god was thrown out faster than it came.  On the list of bad ideas, engaging anyone other than him in conversation was pretty high up there. 

In fact, the only bad idea worse than that one was engaginghim in conversation at all.  

Why the hell was she out here again?

'To tell him thanks for the amazing night.  Here's fifty bucks.  Have a nice day.'

Jane stopped the car.  She was in the middle of the street, but no one else was stupid enough to come down here, so what was she worried about?

She dropped her head onto the steering wheel and let out the biggest sigh of her life.  This was by far the stupidest thing she had ever done.  She would happily dare anyone who knew her well to think of one thing she had ever done that was worse than this.

"Well, you pulled your car over in the middle of the street where anyone could come careening around the corner and mow you down."

Jane hadn’t known she was speaking out loud, anymore than she noticed the figure of a man leaning in through the passenger seat window, the one that had been jammed for months.  

He was no different than he was a week and four days ago.  His suit was newly cleaned and he was missing the green and gold scarf, but otherwise he was the very picture of refinement on a backdrop of urban decay that Jane remembered.  And the way he smirked made her want to slap him and kiss him senseless in equal measure.

"I- I was looking for you."  There were times when Jane had a rather unfortunate blabbermouth problem.  

"I can tell," he answered.  

Without missing a beat, he reached inside to unlock the passenger seat door and let himself into the car.  Much as she saw that one coming, Jane didn’t start the engine this time.

"That’s another fifty bucks for you," she muttered.

"I’m thinking I might waive the entry fee since it’s you."

"What makes me so special?"

"I like you."

Jane rolled her eyes.  How very dark and mysterious of him.  

Whether he was honest, at least now she had what she wanted.

"I was going to give you some money anyway," she said. "This time, I only want an hour, and I just want to talk."

He smiled at her, as if she’d just suggested something sinful and risque.

"And we’re going to do it in public."

His smile widened.

"Stop looking at me like that.  I really just want to talk."

"Return customers of mine rarely just want to talk."

"Well, I guess I’m different, aren’t I?"

She drove down the street, picking up speed when they crossed the border between decay and normal society.  He leaned his head back and closed his eyes.  He was still smiling, goddamn him.

"Yes, you most certainly are."

She stopped at a red light, and used the opportunity to unleash that death glare that had been building inside of her forever.  Boy had he had this one coming. He might as well burst into flames from the heat of her gaze.

Flames…

Jane blinked her eyes a few times.  He turned his head slightly to the side, and from this angle there was something… new to his appearance.  It was odd to say that he looked familiar, because she surely knew exactly who he was, minus a few key details.

"You’ve never told me your name, you know."  

His smile faded.  Finally.  If she’d known that was all it took, she would’ve quizzed him on his personal information ages ago.

"My name…" he looked off into space , like he’d forgotten for a moment that he was not alone.  "That is unimportant.  I’ve used many in the past."

"So give me one of them," Jane said, exasperated.  "Or I’ll have to just give you one myself, and it won’t be a good one.  It’ll be something boring like… I don’t know, Tom."

"Luke, then," he said, swallowing something in the back of his throat.  "You can call me Luke."

He gave her a meaningful look, the meaning to which she couldn’t hope to decipher.  She nodded her head and went back to the road.  The light turned green several seconds ago, and the little old lady in the Pinto behind her was honking her horn.  

"Well, Luke, it’s nice to meet you," she said, holding out her free hand.  "I’m Jane Foster."

He shook it one time and let go.  For once, he seemed less eager to rip the clothes from her body and more to close himself into a box and never come out.  What a strange man he was.

"It’s one hundred and fifty an hour for idle conversation."

Yeah, should have seen that one coming.

"I don’t get another discount?"

"That is a discount."

Should have seen that coming too.

"Okay, fine.  There’s a corner pub up here on fifth street that serves the best hot chocolate in the world," Jane made the appropriate turn so that the pub was just in sight.  "I hope I’m not expected to pay for your drinks."

"Only if I’m expected to go home with you."

Jane snorted.  ”Well, that’s one thing that’s for sure not gonna happen.”

**

It did.