stopmjolnirtime | Appointments/Voicemail

"I'm pleased that you are pleased." He had hoped it'd be well crafted enough to suit her, and while these stars are not their stars and this realm is not their own it should provide something of a beginning for her studies. Something sentimental, something practical, something durable, those were the best gifts from what he'd heard and read of Midgardian women. To find it to be true is a relief. His arms curl around her, nose finding her hair in a soft sigh.

The date has barely started and already they are in one another's arms. They will never make it wherever they are supposed to go at this rate. Jane's in no hurry to let go, though. She relishes the feeling of being enveloped by him, his hands grazing her bare back.

"It was very thoughtful of you," she said, wondering in retrospect if she should have gotten something for him. She decided that, in its own way, the dress she was wearing was a gift for him. She wouldn't wear it under any other circumstances than going out with him.

"So where are we headed?" She carefully placed the telescope back in its box and latched the clasps. Inside she hoped that their evening would last long enough that they could use it to stargaze together.

One arm drops away so they might walk, the other tucked still around Jane's shoulders as he guides her not into the village, but down a narrow path into the woods. He'd looked over many options, asked a few questions of his friends and recalled what he could of how Fandral had wooed many maidens. But one story rang true for Volstagg and for Jack and that is the tack he chose.

The path winds away from the houses and shops, the odd bough low enough that Thor has to reach out to lift it to ease their passing. With the light filtering through the leaves it's Serene, comfortable. Gradually the path becomes wider until it forks, he takes the left that leads to a small clearing where there is a pig on a spit, roasting over hot coals and a reasonable distance as to not be made overly warm an arrangement of pillows and blankets.

A bucket of chilled water holds bottled beer, water, and juice; anything he could think of her enjoying. A slim bottle of mead rests in it's own bucket to chill next to a basket of fruit, bread, a small wheel of cheese and a small somewhat blackened casserole.

Charring is not done on pies, apparently. No one told him. Thor's still and quiet as Jane takes it all in, waiting for her response.

To say that Jane is struck speechless by all he has put together would be an understatement. He's managed to pluck an idyllic scene straight from her imagination and bring it to life.

"You did all this on your own?" She lets go of him and walks over to the makeshift tent to set down the telescope. She is awestruck and she attempts to memorize every detail. The color of the fabrics, the smell of the pig roasting, they're all things she never wants to forget.

"It's like a dream," she said softly, mostly to herself though he could probably hear her. Fireflies were just starting to dart about, flashing their mating calls. "You're amazing."

He hangs back, not quite shy but- hesitant until he has a better grasp of her reaction to the bower. Tis no proper bower to be certain but tis something of a more Midgardian sensibility. Something closer to the fire pit in New Mexico where they shared the stars with one another til dawn. While he does not think they would spend the whole of the night here perhaps some part of him remains hopeful of recapturing that moment. When she'd truly caught his attention and affection as a woman of science. Of someone that sought to understand all that he took for granted as truly known and looked to the stars with abject wonder.

Pleased, though. She is pleased and that is more than enough for Thor. He nods to her question and sets down the books, signing as he'd practiced.

YOU BEAUTIFUL

She is beyond happy that he signed to her. She had been doing her best to learn as quickly as possible, scouring the books she'd found in the library for what seemed to be the most likely signs to be used. Unfortunately whichever one he just used was not one of those that she's memorized.

She grins awkwardly, wishing that she'd found a way to carry her pocket guide with her. Whatever he just said, her answer would likely not change from what she signs to him next.

I LOVE YOU

A great response to whatever he just signed. Unless, of course, he asked her if she was hungry. Or what she wanted to drink or eat. In retrospect maybe it wasn't the best answer, but it was what she'd felt in the moment.

"So what have you made? I'm starving."

I LOVE YOU 2

He's still getting the hang of some of the more nuanced signs, but he's content with knowing that she understood the sentiment if not the entirety of the gesture. For a more thorough description of the meal- he'll have to write it out. But it's no issue, he's happy to do so.

Boar, crusted bread, a wheel of mild cheese that compliments the mead well, apples, strawberries, a tub of sweetened cream for the strawberries and a potato casserole. I was not certain what you would enjoy most to drink and brought a little of everything.

It seemed the safest way to handle it.

She steals a kiss before he gets out his book to describe the veritable feast he has prepared. It's more than she could ever hope to eat, but with Thor's help they may be able to finish most of it off.

"So much. I don't eat like Volstagg, you know." She playfully nudged him with her elbow and dropped to her knees to get a closer look at the food. It all smelled good, except for the slightly burned casserole. She reached for a bottle of water and opened it to take a sip.

"Strawberries are my favorite. How did you guess?"

Whatever is leftover can be taken home. Though he eats more than enough to finish by himself. He tugs a pillow close to prop the journal on for ease of writing while he dishes out a plate of cheese, butter, and crusted bread. The boar needs a little while longer to crisp up.

To be fair: I did not know. I simply saw them highly recommended.

Though in the future he shall take pains to remember that she cares for them. Perhaps even learn to make a tart filled with them for her come the appropriate holiday.

"Chalk it up to luck, then." Their relationship seemed filled with luck, both good and bad. She hoped for more of the good for the future.

She picked up a piece of bread, placed a slice of cheese on it, and took a bite. The crusty bread crunched as she chewed it and the cheese melted into the crumbs. A soft breeze floated through their camp, wafting the scent of the cooking board toward them and moving her hair back off of her shoulders. She slipped her shoes off and set them aside, out of the way. She did not intend to move from their cozy location for at least a few hours, so she wouldn't need them.

"Bug," she said as she reached over and flicked off a creature crawling up his sleeve. They were in the woods after all, but she wasn't scared of insects.

"When I was little and my dad and I would go camping, we used to have a contest to see who could come up with the best names for bugs that we'd find. We never knew what they really were, so we'd make them up. Greenus many-legged-us, or double-horned ugly dirt beetle. It was a fun way to pass the time."

"My mother would tell us tales- lessons I know them to be now, but at the time they were legends to us. About how even the most lowly of creatures had it's place, had it's purpose, and had even then the right to strive for more." Not the same as a game of naming, but in the garden of his mother names had power as did the act of naming them. He'd never thought much of it; but to hear a little more of Jane's childhood, to hear of her father? Warms him in no small way.

His own boots he keeps on for once the boar is finished he must slide out to cool the embers and cut away great slabs of roast pork- the skin crisp and the meat juicy, for them to share. He cannot cook much but this? This he knows well.

Air thick with the drippings of pork and the warmth of fresh bread, of the flowers that lingered still- it is not so much reminiscent of Asgard's gardens nor New Mexico but something wholly new. Something of theirs to share.

Jane too thought on their location as she looked around again, this time paying closer attention to each detail and wishing she had a camera so she could take photos instead of trying to commit it all to memory. It occurred to her that had they tried to build a life on one of their home planets, they would have met many obstacles. But here, together in a strange land, the setting was perfect. Neither had duties or obligations weighing them down or preventing them from being completely open with one another. And when the stars came out, they would be new ones for the two of them to explore together. All this passed through her mind as she munched on her bread and cheese, and took another sip of water.

"Did you spend a lot of time with your mom when you were growing up?"

"What time I did not spend with her I spent with tutors, or my younger brother." They had spent much of their time learning how to govern, how to rule. Now and then their father had taken time to speak with them. Teach them. Tell them tales of their history, of their people; as they grew older such visits became less and less as the work of protecting the nine realms grew. Then there was the Odinsleep which took him from all of Asgard- He'd learned to cherish what time he had with his father.

He shakes such thoughts from his mind as he cuts a thin slice of the pork for Jane, serving her a plate. There is no sauce for the meat for he has no skill in sauces, but the skin is crisp and the flesh moist.

"Oh yeah, I can just imagine what kind of trouble you and Loki used to get into." She wanted stories and lots of them. Being an only child, she wanted to hear what it was like to have a built-in companion.

She watches as he slices the pig. She can tell that he has done it before and feels confident in his carving skills. With one bite of what he gives her she groans with appreciation. It needed no sauce - brimming with natural juices, the flavor practically explodes on her tongue. There's a smokiness to it as well from being cooked over an open fire. It's as if he took her memories of roasting hot dogs over the fire with her dad, and made it gourmet.

"Oh my god, this is amazing. Can we do this every week?"

"I do not think there is boar enough for that to be viable." But- she's pleased. That's all he would ask. Perhaps on special occasions- and they could have the picnic every week. He could try roasting smaller, more plentiful game if she desires. Which she might. And he'd be happy to share what little he knows of cookery with her.

Oh she's more than pleased. If she weren't so conscious of how she looked in her revealing dress she would have completely pigged out on the cooked pig. At his statement she pouts for a few seconds.

"I suppose if we had it all the time it wouldn't be as special." She took another bite and looked at the baked dish he'd made.

"Remind me what's in the, uh... overexposed casserole?"

"Potatoes and goat cheese. It did not go well." But it wasn't completely burnt. Just- singed? Extra crispy. He reaches over with a fork to lift the burnt crust off- the potatoes and cheese still gooey and baked underneath.

Not a complete failure.

Perhaps next tim I shall leave the baked goods to you, and instead focus upon the roasts."

Underneath the top layer the rest looked fine and smelled even better.

"I think we can just scrape off the top and eat the rest? I bet it's delicious."

Next time. She liked that idea. Also the mental image of them working together to prepare a meal was positively domestic in the best way. It reminded her of the morning after he'd arrived in New Mexico, when he'd helped her make breakfast for Eric and Darcy.

"I don't know if I can do much better, but I'll give it a try."

"I am certain you would manage far better than I. This...I did not manage the proper temperature and I forgot it while it was in the oven."

With some kind of reminder it ought to go well. He'd been preoccupied with the boar. And with finding things Jane would like to drink.

"You did well for a first time. Wait, was it your first time?" Always assuming, she was. She was trying to give him the benefit of the doubt.

"Being a good cook, like all things worth being good at, takes practice. I promise I will always be around and hungry, just so you can get lots of practice." She grinned and touched his cheek softly, then scooped out a healthy portion of the potatoes - from the bottom of the dish.

"So what does mead taste like, exactly? I've never had it before."

"I know how to roast game- that is the extent of my skill in the kitchen." He offers with a somewhat sheepish grin. It wasn't a skill a King and a Warrior needed. Besides. Volstagg ever tended to their hearth while on quests, managing what was and what was not wise to eat while they traveled. He did not do much on his own, did Thor, not in quests.

The Lady Carter, while she was yet here, did speak often of what made a good mate in the Midgardian sense. Tidy, loyal, and domestic seemed to be her suggestions aside from honorable means. He has worked at tidy, Loyalty is as simple as breathing, but cookery? Is not his skilset. Not yet.

"Sweet honey and spices, with a crisp hint of apple."

"Give yourself some credit! You did all of this, not just the pig." She takes a bite of the gooey cheesy potatoes and is happy to find them perfectly cooked and delicious. She nods and points to them with her fork, then gives him a thumbs up.

Jane's ideas of what make a good mate tend to stray far from the traditional. Having grown up with just her father around, they shared the duties around the house and not along the usual gender roles. She didn't care who cooked and who cleaned, as long as the jobs got done. The most important thing to her about Thor, and about being with him, is that she feels safe. She trusts him. She respects him. The rest is just details.

"That sounds delicious. Would you pour me some?"

He pours as requested, a glass for her and a glass for himself, glad for the taste of the familiar. Not that all Midgardian food is so strange but there is much he misses of his home while in this place. The technology is primitive, his skills diminished, his comrades lost. But he has these small shreds of comfort.

He has Jane.

He has an understanding with his younger brother. And that? That is worth all the more. He tucks his arm around Jane's shoulders to drop a kiss to her hair, thoroughly contented.

Her hands occupied with food and drink, she has to set down her glass at his embrace. She leans her head into him and looks up at the affectionate kiss. She feels as close to heaven as she wants to get while still alive.

She scoops up the potatoes again with her fork and holds it up for him solely so that he can keep his arm around her. He deserves to taste his own handiwork. A string of cheese finds its way onto the edge of his bottom lip and she can't resist kissing it off with a grin.

Words have been rendered unnecessary. Everything he needs to know he can see in her eyes and her smile, and feel in the way she snuggles against his side and places small kisses on his cheek and neck between bites of dinner. Only when her plate is empty does she put it down with a contented sigh and pick up her glass of mead. It seemed too sweet to not save for dessert.

"To us," she says and holds up the glass for a toast.

He has not been fed by another since he was but a child, but he leans down all the same as it was mentioned to him as a romantic gesture made by those in a relationship. Tis strange to him but he accepts it in the spirit given, careful not to end with strings of cheese in his beard.

Between the potatoes and the kiss he is most pleased not only with the flavor, but with the company. Dinner is a pleasant and quiet ordeal, filled with soft words and gestures of affection. Kisses are plentiful and that? That leaves his heart light.

Glass to glass he nods his agreement with the toast, sipping the mead lightly.

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