As the Asgardians’ main contact on Earth, Jane Foster gets a lot of very unusual guests. Mostly it’s Thor who comes to stay with her between energetic bouts of saving the world and/or the universe, but Thor’s friends drop by as well when the world needs a little extra help. Jane has moved from her trailer to more permanent, and larger, premises. At least this way she actually has a sofa for them to crash on.
She is already late for a meeting with her funding body when she dashes out of her bedroom and finds Lady Sif trying to squeeze into a borrowed shirt. Her ample breasts strain against the buttons, filling out the shirt in a way that Jane would never have done.
She stares for a few moments, and forgets where she’d been in such a rush to get to.
”Jane!” Sif says with a delighted smile as she looks up to find Jane watching. “I had to borrow your shirt. The blood from yesterday’s battle remains on my armour.”
Jane nods numbly. “That’s fine,” she says. Her brain is shorting out, exactly how it does whenever Thor is shirtless in front of her. It becomes very difficult to focus around half-dressed Asgardians. Maybe she’ll call it an alien power and leave it at that. “That’s… definitely fine.”
“Are you well?” Sif asks. She leaves the shirt half-unbuttoned. Jane is going mad trying to restrain the temptation to look down at her frankly impressive cleavage. “You seem flushed.”
“I’m very well,” Jane says. She grins. It is somewhat manic. “Never better.”
“Do you need to sit down, my lady?”
“I have got to go,” Jane insists instead. Her feet won’t move. “And. Well. Are you going outside today?”
“I hope to explore more of Midgard while I am in this realm.”
“Excellent. Maybe you should close your shirt a little bit more in that case. People might stare.”
Sif smiles at her, her eyes bright with amusement. “They stare when I wear my armour as well,” she points out.
Which, yeah, is true, but Jane isn’t nearly as distracted by the armour.
“Come,” Sif says, as she beckons Jane towards her. “Do as you wish.”
That is the kind of invitation that Asgardians shouldn’t issue if they don’t want Jane’s head to meld. She steps forward all the same until she is nose to nose with Sif. Even holding her at arm’s length doesn’t make her feel any safer. She wonders if it’s possible to faint just from an over-abundance of attraction. It currently seems like a likely hypothesis.
Her fingers pluck at the buttons while Sif watches her. Asgard does have buttons, Jane knows that for a fact. Zippers might be a foreign concept, but buttons are common knowledge. Sif doesn’t really need her to do this, and Jane looks up to meet Sif’s eyes, which dance with delight for her.
Before Jane can ask what she’s up to, let go of her shirt button, or attempt to flee, Sif pushes forward to press a kiss against Jane’s lips, as swift and fleeting as a melting snowflake. When she pulls back, Sif’s smile remains even as Jane is trying to process the soft, slick pressure of Sif’s lips against her mouth.
“I can certainly see why Thor likes you so much,” Sif says. “Go. You’ll be late for your meeting.”
Jane’s eyes widen as she remembers why she had been in such a hurry. She’s out of the door with only a brief wave goodbye - but she spends the rest of the morning remembering how Sif’s lips had felt against her, a sweet tingle of contact and the promise of so much more to come.