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“When can we meet your boyfriend?” Frigga asks nonchalantly. Her knife cuts the tomato in the very same way her words slice Loki’s spine.
Five thirty on a Thursday evening is not the time for this conversation. Frankly, the proper time is never. Ideally, Frigga’s mind is wiped by some unseen force and she forgets Loki ever had a boyfriend. Maybe even forgets Loki ever existed. Anything to avoid this topic.
Spaghetti night just became a little more intense.
Loki pretends to be deaf and stirs the noodles with hyperfocus. If he ignores it, it will go away. Nevermind the suddenly tense air and eyes boring a hole into his back. Oh, what a perfect time for Frigga to realise her secret ability to shoot lasers from her eyes. She could kill him with one glance. Can’t talk about relationships if you’re dead!
“Loki, you can’t ignore me away.” She slides the defeated tomatoes into the saucepan and clicks the stove on. How convenient, having two stoves. While Frigga is making her delectable sauce that would make Gordon Ramsey weep, Loki can stir these fucking noodles.
“I’m not ignoring you.”
“Oh, good. So, when can we meet him?”
“Why would you want to do that?”
“He’s your boyfriend,” she says like it’s the dumbest question ever asked, “And you haven’t even told me his name.”
True, that was true. Loki hadn’t even told Frigga he had a boyfriend. Not even Thor knew they were officially an item. But, it was a hopeless endeavour to keep a secret from his mother’s all-knowing gaze. She knew things about her kids they didn’t even know about themselves.
He isn’t ashamed of Gast, not really. Loki harbours a fond streak a mile wide for his boyfriend. This is his first serious relationship, and he’s experiencing a multitude of new feelings. Gast makes him feel all these confusing emotions, but for once, none of them bad. Despite all the good the senior boy brings into Loki’s bland, monotonous life, he shouldn’t meet Frigga, much less Odin.
Yeah, Gast is a funny, slightly insane, weird kid that makes Loki giggle like an idiot, but come on. It’s En Dwi Gast. That’s his real name!
Frigga didn’t care when Loki came out to her. Not really. As long as he was happy, she was happy for him. Even so, her perfect image of a boyfriend for Loki was a perfectly groomed, straight-A, Catholic schoolboy. Someone who volunteers at Church benefits and has a closet full of sweater vests or something.
No matter what she says, Loki knows she’d be disappointed to meet the direct opposite of that.
“You don’t want to meet him. He’s...strange.” He mutters.
“I love you dear, but do you think you’re so normal? Invite him over.” Loki hums quizzically.
The pasta fully softens in the steel pot. Blue flames trickle into orange, then into nothing but air as the stove is clicked off. Water splashes from the colander in the sink when the noodles are dumped in.
Loki jolts as his mother puts her hands on his sloped shoulders.
“Come on, what’s his name?”
“Why isn’t Thor helping with dinner?” Not the smoothest topic change. Far from it.
“You’re that desperate to keep this secret from me? Thor burns water. Remember the cupcake incident?”
Both shudder at the memory. How could one thirteen-year-old cover so much of the wall with so little batter? Don’t even ask about where the frosting went.
“You don’t have to tell me,” she pauses as she walks towards the dining room, “Thor will.”
“Okay! I’ll tell you. Leave Thor out of this. It’s Gast.” Bested once again by his mother. There’s absolutely no way Thor could keep his mouth shut and not reveal all the undesirable details about the senior boy.
“Gast? Your boyfriend’s name is...Gast?”
“En Dwi Gast. It’s exotic.” Loki isn’t in a place to judge someone’s name. He’s a Norwegian named Loki. It’s like an American named Freedom. Too obvious.
“I’d say. Invite him over tomorrow. And call the others down. Spaghetti’s done.”
Loki decides to drop the bomb on Gast early in the following school day. By doing it earlier, he can give Gast time to realize maybe relationships aren’t worth it, change his name, and run away to Mexico. Far away from his boyfriend’s weird family.
Thor drops his suffering brother off in front of the school before parking in the student lot. The quality of his vehicle is only rivalled by Tony Stark’s sports car. And Tony doesn’t even drive the damn thing, he makes Stephen his chauffeur. Just another thing Stark has bested everyone else in.
A horde of zombies shuffle to and fro in the school hallways. Zombies, also known as sleep-deprived teenagers, crowd Loki's vision. He sidesteps to avoid any contact with these miscreants and his luxurious garments. Who knows what hovels these beasts come from. What molehill they clambered out of before coming to school.
He holds his breath walking past the freshman boys and their noxious body spray cloud. Using Axe to cover up days of not showering should be illegal. It's an assault on the senses.
An extra pep in the step is necessary to get by judgemental glares from Taneleer and crew. One of these days, he'll just cock a foot out and send Loki's ass tumbling. A horrible way to start one's day, being the butt of a joke for Tivan, his girlfriend, and their asshole clan. Guess he still hasn't taken to Loki dating his brother.
More dangerous areas on his way to Gast's locker include the kids who stand in the middle of the hallway to talk(much to everyone else's chagrin), girls wearing Cookie Monster pyjama pants that might fight him for looking their way, and the open classroom door of a chatty algebra teacher.
Loki manoeuvres his way like he does most things.
Head down, headphones on, walk fast, and look overall unpleasant to interact with. A furrowed brow should do the trick. Sometimes he adds in a grimace just to spice things up.
He especially finds looking quite gothy to be a deterrent.
Gast hands the junior a Starbucks cup as Loki approaches him.
“Pumpkin spice for my pumpkin spice. What’s up?” A warm smile accompanies the warm drink. Well, Loki’s about to kick a puppy.
“My mother wants to meet you.” He downs half the drink without gusto.
“Uh, no hello? No good morning or hello Dolly?” The following laugh is filled with nervous energy.
“Good morning, my mother wants to meet you.”
Gast sets his own Starbucks cup on the top shelf of his locker. No doubt the contents are almost fatal in caffeine dosage. About seven other coffee cups are stored up there, along with a dozen Red Bull cans. Every day his heart doesn’t give out is a blessing.
“Do you want me to meet her?” Gast says.
Loki shakes his head, black braid jumping.
“But she’s dead set on making your acquaintance.”
“I don’t blame her, I’m a, uh, treasure.”
“Something of the sort. Are you busy tonight?” Loki hands his books to Gast. Their dynamic is quite simple. Gast brings coffee and sweets to Loki, and Loki lets Gast carry all his stuff. It’s a fair arrangement.
“Nah. You want me over?”
"Mhm. You can drive me home," Loki says and retrieves the other coffee cup. If Gast is going to carry both his own and Loki's stuff, Loki supposes he'll carry the two coffees. With a hip check, the locker door clangs shut.
"We can, uh, stop to get some flowers for Mama Loki. What does she like? Lilies?"
Gast's first class is a study hall he usually spends sleeping. Room 304, conveniently across from Loki's room 303 American History. A decent amount of sleep is caught there too. If he wanted to learn about white people yelling at each other, he'd just study his own family.
"I don't know. Flowers are flowers." The pair pass room 294. 295. 296.
"Yeah, but you don't, y'know, want me buying your mom roses." 297, 298, 299, and 300.
"I guess not." Loki scans over to Gast's hold on two history textbooks.
"Have you been visiting the gym? My, my." Gast's bicep is tense under a painted fingernail. The signature golden track jacket has been forgone for a heavier, still gold, parka. The weather was getting colder, and it's New York for fuck's sake! Going out without a snowsuit might land someone a case of pneumonia.
"No, I just carry your shit every day, honeybug."
They part ways at the threshold of room 303, but not before Loki can begrudgingly take his textbook back. And give Gast a fond sentiment for the rest of the day.
"If you fuck up in front of my mother, I will end you in the most painful way imaginable," he growls through gritted teeth. He clears his throat and says in a much clearer voice,
"See you at three. Love you!"
Three o'clock couldn't come slower.
Unfortunately, three did come.
Gast dwelled on what his boyfriend said all day.
His self-esteem is tragically high. Everybody loves him. How could they not? He's handsome and funny and charismatic and smart and humble. Very humble. Past partner's parents never had a problem with him. He was a saint dating their son or daughter. This time wouldn't be any different.
Loki had told him his mother's name, but it was some Norwegian word and he can't be faulted for forgetting. He barely speaks English most days.
As promised, Loki's darkly clothed body is leaning on his car when the final bell rings. How...did he get out there so fast?
"Hey cutie, need a ride?" Gast says with that toxic smirk.
"Get in. We need to be there at four." Loki is unimpressed.
Worth a shot.
The backseat of the car is littered with jackets, shoes, even more caffeinated drinks, and, of course, a strip of condoms.
"Why do you have contraceptives in your car?"
"They're old. Probably expired. Move please, big head," He mumbles, more focused on backing up. Trying to anyway. 'Big head' is blocking the rear window.
View of the rear window is cleared up, and Gast successfully backs out. The two are on the road and the countdown to the end of En Dwi Gast's life starts now.
"Were you serious about getting flowers for my mother?" Loki lets the insult slide. His head is so big because he has a massive brain. That's it.
"Uh-huh. This's important to you, darling."
Gast takes one hand off the wheel and sets it palm up on the centre console.
Loki takes the gesture.
His long, pale fingers fit like clockwork between Gast's thicker, more experienced digits. They wear opposing nail colours. Black and sky blue. It's a roadmap of their styles.
Loki is shifty and blends in with dark tones. He watches and hears all. Not a gossip by trade, but he'll tell you what you need to know for the right price.
Gast is flowy and flighty. He prefers to stick out like a gold-clad thumb. He doesn't do much listening, because he's always talking. Always trying to pull something from someone. You'd never know he was getting to you until suddenly you've spilt all your childhood trauma.
They're different but by how much?
"She speaks English, right? I'm, uh, not fluent."
"Ja. Hun snakker engelsk," Loki uses his native tongue. Always keeping Gast on his painted toes.
"C'mon now, don't do me like that. Well, anyway, I know ja means yes."
Gast flicks on the turning signal. His right turn into the small flower shop parking lot is jaunty and almost jumps the curb. A disgruntled pedestrian sneers at the pair when they exit the vehicle. Loki doesn’t care, he's just happy to be alive.
“Alright sugar, let’s rock and roll!”
Loki swallows.
A goldenrod and day lily bouquet is the final choice. This yellow mixture only comes after several non-helpful criticisms from Loki, and the poor store attendant explaining the meaning of every bloom. Every flower in the shop had some secret code, and so many were romance based. Those were out of the question. Not the right message to send your boyfriend’s mother.
And things like aloe or dill got the thumbs down because it had to be flowers in the bouquet, not just plants.
So, they settled. Goldenrod for encouragement and good fortune, and daylilies because apparently, they represented mothers. A bit on the nose, but it’s better than nothing.
The pair are thrown out by the attendant at exactly 3:45. Poor girl, between Gast’s nonsensical rambling and Loki’s bitchy commentary, there was no rest. No rest for the wicked, and no rest for bystanders of this tyrannical relationship.
Road safety laws are ignored on the way home. A usually thirty-minute trip is turned into a ten. No doubt skid marks in the shape of Gast's tires mar the streets.
If only Loki wasn't that kind of rich kid and lived closer to the town. Who needs to live in the country? Restaurants don't even deliver out this far!
His whole outlook changes once he pulls into the Odinson's paved driveway. The house is stunning. Can he even call it a house?
The mansion, more like, is completely revamped Victorian architecture. Stone and wood build up the elegant towering walls, painted light blue and warmed by the sun. Ivy and rose covered trellises leaned against the left side, with more ivy crawling around the exterior walls.
The front facing bay windows were brightly lit from inside. Some had curtains drawn, but most were staring out into the surrounding fields and forests. Tall and pointed rooves speared the sky like a harpoon.
To the right of the house was Frigga’s horse stable. No horses were visible, but it was cold out. They're probably napping.
Do horses nap?
"Remember," Loki squeezes his boyfriend's hand as they walk up, "I'll kill you."
Very encouraging.
The door opens before Loki can get his key in. Thor is holding two dogs back by their collars in the entryway. Excited barks bounce off the intricate foyer decor, as well as the click of their nails on the wooden floor.
"Why are you here?" He narrows his eyes at Gast.
"Don't start. Mother wanted to meet him." Loki toes his boots off and gestures to his boyfriend to do the same. This is a shoe off household. The floors are real wood, dammit!
"And you agreed?! Did you consider the fact that your boyfriend is a nymphomaniac?" He released the dogs once the barking ceased. The pair sniffed every inch of Gast they could reach from their four-legged stance. Is that the smell of a cat?
"Thanks for telling me you were dating, by the way." Thor's voices oozes sarcasm.
"First of all, we barely even kiss. Second, I didn't consider it because who in their right mind would ask!"
"You are both like, uh, skittish Sallys. Everything will be fine!" Gast butts in, making it known that he is standing right there and can hear what everyone is saying about him.
"Thor dear, who is it?"
Well, it's showtime. Too late for Loki to push Gast back out the door and into the hedges.
Maybe he still could, just for funsies.
"Loki's whore," Thor mumbles.
"Shut up," Loki returns.
"Oh, you must be En! It's nice to meet you," Frigga walks with a waltz across the spotless floors.
The overhead chandelier lights her pretty face in a smile. Like an angel, she glows with timeless beauty.
This is Loki's mother? She was a world away from Gast's matron. She has such a regal air to her. A pit sinks in his stomach. All his previous confidence saps away.
"Uh, yes," he says, though his name is not En.
People never seemed to understand it isn't first name En, middle name Dwi, last name Gast.
En Dwi is his whole first name. Saying En is like calling his boyfriend Lo, or his brother Th. It's only half a name.
"His name is En Dwi, Mother. Where's Odin?" Loki thankfully corrects.
"He's around. En Dwi, huh? What an exotic name. What is the etymology?"
"I have no idea. You can call me Gast, though," he says.
Frigga's eyebrows raise. Wow. Great conversationalist.
"This isn't an interview. Call us down when dinner is ready, please." Loki huffs. He leads Gast upstairs by the wrist.
Thor says something to Frigga as they walk away. They can't hear quite what he says, but it's enough to get Frigga to scold him.
Three doors line the walls upstairs. One is white, one is wooden, and one is painted black.
It doesn't take a genius to figure out which belongs to Loki.
"Make yourself comfortable," the teen announces when the witchy door is propped open.
Frigga had insisted all doors stay ajar when Gast was over.
He supposes that's fair.
Any bloke off the street could pick this out as Loki's room. An elegant canopy bed with a black and green duvet juts out from one wall. The walls themselves are also black.
Opposite the bed are three tanks. Loki's most prized possessions lived there. Probably the things he loved most in life. His three snakes.
A ball python, a milk snake, and a green tree python stared back with their little slit pupils.
Yeah, Gast is gonna stay on the other side of the room, thank you.
He's seen the bite scar on Loki's collarbone. If they bite the hand that feeds, what'll they do to him? He's just some random guy!
Intricately carved on the east wall are a desk and leather desk chair. Guess what colour?
Black and green.
At least he's consistent. There's a theme to this decor.
From what he can remember, the entire interior of the house had a Queen Anne style architecture to it. Chandeliers, wooden panelling, and marble accents, and paintings framed in gold.
Loki's room was the witch den to the rest of the house's Catholic church.
Very in character to be the outcast of the house.
"Come here. Your hair is abhorrent, let me comb it."
"My hair is fine! You're freaking out."
Gast plops onto the plush comforter with spread arms.
When Loki doesn't immediately come, he makes a "pspspsps" sound. Like how one would command a cat.
Or an anxious high school junior.
"Loooki~," Gast coos again.
Loki rolls his eyes but relents. Such a weak resolve when it comes to those piercing brown eyes. Always so wide and filled with admiration. Not even towards other people at times, just admiring being alive. Loving the world around him.
"Fine fine. I just-" Loki sits beside him and rests his head on Gast's shoulder, "I just truly want her to like you."
"Why, uh, wouldn't she? My mom likes you," Gast says. While true, it’s kind of a moot point. Rubanna likes everyone.
A crease folds between Loki's eyebrows. His jaw clicks as he grinds his teeth. It's a bad habit. Fun to gross Thor out with, but the damage to his teeth wasn't always worth it. Sometimes though. Sometimes Thor deserved it.
Two tan fingers press into his temples to massage tension out.
"Don't worry yourself into a tizzy, sweet thing. It'd be, uh, quite awkward if you got lockjaw."
"Be good. And do not mention the unmentionables in your car," Loki leans into the touch.
"Guess I shouldn't talk about what's in my wallet then. Gimme some sugar, sugar?"
"You're gross."
Loki kisses him anyway. What, like he's supposed to say no? Many strong men couldn't resist.
They part when thunderous footsteps pound up the stairs.
Thor, bringing all three dogs with him, peeks into the room.
"I've been enlisted to check up on you. Were you just kissing?"
Liar! Frigga didn't employ him. He's just nosey.
Golden retriever fur instantly clings to every black surface. So, the whole room. Loki had just gotten his bed stuffs out of the wash from the last time his space was invaded by blonde miscreants.
Not just dogs.
"Go away! Take the dogs with you," Loki whines.
Inger hops up onto the bed. She excitedly trots up to Gast and licks his face.
Well, at least Loki kissed him before that.
Thor pauses for a beat. An evil look glazes over his normally handsome face.
"Mom! Loki and Gast were just kissing!" He bellows down the stairs.
"Thor!" Loki shouts.
The pitter-patter of paws fades as Thor quickly descends the staircase, wolf pack once again in tow. The dogs follow his every move. Despite having a whole room for dogs only, Thor has three fluffy companions in his bed each night.
Talk about morning breath, imagine morning breath from a dog.
"Gotta say, you're a better kisser than the dog!" Gast chuckles at his quip.
What a stupid idiot that Loki loves very much.
The table is set with fine china, the dogs banished to wait outside for begging, and a delicious-looking ham sits front and centre.
Everything looks perfect. Almost too much so, like something is deeply flawed beyond the surface.
A deep crack that only widens with time, but virtually invisible.
Loki's father sits at the head. Gast knows almost nothing about him. Once again, a name has slipped his mind.
An older man with snowy white hair. A mall Santa that's been living in his car type look. He's missing an eye, but Gast pretends not to notice.
That would be rude.
Having one fucky eye must run in the family, on account of Thor's heterochromia.
Frigga sits on the man's right and Thor next to her.
Loki reluctantly took the left seat next to his father. Better than having Gast sit there.
"Ham? What is the occasion, mother?" Loki asks. Thor has already forgone any delicateness and dug in.
"We have a guest. So, tell us a bit about yourself, En," She says incorrectly once more.
"Yes. Like, what kind of family do you come from?" Odin grumbles.
Scratch that, Gast remembers one thing about Loki's dad; he's a mega wad. He'll be harder the win over than Frigga.
"Well, I am a, uh, senior. I have a younger sister and brother,” he clears his throat. The one thing he fears is small talk with adults. What does he even talk about? As soon as someone asks “So tell me about yourself,” he forgets everything he’s ever been interested in. Music? Does he like music? Sports?
“Oh, you’re the same year as Thor! Which universities are you looking at?” Thor perks up at his name, cheeks stuffed with dinner. He looks like a chipmunk caught feasting on a hibernation nut stash. Or ham hibernation stash.
“I’m not, uh, looking at college y’know.”
Frigga’s fork scratches the plate. She sets it down with a furrow in her brow. Icy coldness rolls in as she taps her mouth with a cloth napkin.
Odin grumbles behind that fuzzy beard.
"cough Taper cough" Thor fakes.
Joke's on him though. Gast doesn't even know what that means.
"What are your plans then?"
"Uh, just kinda do whatever?" He blindly searches for Loki's hand under the table. Frigga might kill him with laser eyes (Loki's words not his) and one more handhold would be nice before his fiery end.
"Why do you talk like that?" Odin pipes in again. Such a charmer, it's easy to see why Frigga married him.
What did her in, the unapproachable resting bitch face, or the blatant rudeness?
It would be like marrying a bulldog.
"Father! Don't ask him that!" Loki whines.
"I just want to know. Is it a speech impediment?" Much like his parenting, Odin’s hand waves the criticism away.
"No it's just um a, y'know, a tic I guess." Kill him. It would be more favourable than this. On second thought, fire up those laser eyes, Frigga.
It's not a question he's never heard before. And it's not like he's hurt either, but Loki is. Gast doesn't care when people notice his vocal affectations, they're hard to miss. His mom said it sounds like he's talking too fast for his brain to catch up, hence all the "um" and "uh" noises. Taneleer says he just sounds stupid.
Well, he thinks Taneleer sounds even more stupid so. Take that.
"So, you have siblings? How old are they?" Frigga switches the topic before Loki flips the table.
Loki can feel the heat on his cheeks. Just like Odin to be the bearer of bad tidings. Just like him to embarrass Loki.
He was always so nice to Thor's girlfriends, but the first boyfriend Loki ever brings home, he has to act like a huge wad! Whatever. Loki just wants to have a camera ready when Thor comes out as liking guys too. A solid three to three ratio for queer children. Pretty impressive actually.
Loki mentally chuckles. Nice parenting, homophobe.
The rest of the dinner goes shockingly well. Frigga must have stomped Odin's foot under the table because he remains mostly silent. Just stabs his ham like it owes him money. Thor eventually comes around to treating Gast like a person and not a criminal.
Gast is his friend usually, but right now he's just some punk his little brother brought home. Protective older brother instincts don't shake easily.
Hela would also have a field day scaring the senior with thinly veiled threats. Lucky for Gast, she never comes home.
"Gast, why don't you help Odin with the dishes?" Everything going good until Frigga suggests the worst idea any human has ever had. What would possess her to say something so deeply cursed?
"What?"
"Why?" Loki and Odin question at the same time.
"It'll be a good bonding time. Dear, you wash, and Gast can dry." She continues to formulate this heinous plan.
Deafening silence fills the kitchen. Only the clink of plates in the drying rack is present. If they're so rich, why can't they buy a dishwasher? Save everyone some pain.
"So…"
Gast flushes.
"What do your parents do for a living?"
"My mom owns a daycare. My dad runs a greenhouse," He consciously keeps the thinking noises quiet.
"You love my son?" Odin drops a bomb the same time he drops a bowl into Gast's side of the sink.
"I, uh-"
"Listen, kid, I don't know what Loki sees in you. I don't see any appeal," Odin interrupts. He wipes the last plate and pulls the plug in the sink.
"Um. Thanks. You're too kind."
"I'm not done. I see no appeal, but the way Loki was looking at you all night tells me all I need to know."
He turns to face Gast. Oh God, is Odin gonna hug him? Please don't.
"He loves you. And I'm willing to get to know you if it'll make him happy." He offers not a hug, but a handshake to Gast.
Gast takes it. His fingers crack in an iron grip.
"I think the appeal is I'm handsome and charismatic." Gast grins.
"Something like that."
The two finish the dishes in relative silence. About halfway through, Gast notices a dishwasher that didn't appear to be impaired. Why the hell is he washing dishes? People this rich don't wash their own dishes. They have two stoves! Maybe this is some strange European ritual he isn't aware of, and now he's cool with the parents. Like, in mafia movies when the don kisses all the other mobsters. If Odin tries to kiss him, he's walking out and right into the forest. Hopefully, a bear finds him and munches on his skull. Forget Loki, his will to live is gone.
"Well, Gast, I'm glad you decided to stay for dinner. It was a pleasure," Frigga says with the fakest sincere voice ever mustered. She shakes Gast's hand firmly. Her thumbnail digs into the back of Gast's hand. Nothing is said, but the threat is there. Assault does not seem outside the realm of possibilities. Murder, even.
"Come back whenever!"
"Yes, yes pleasantries, pleasantries." Loki shoulders his boyfriend out the front door and slams it behind them.
"That was nice. Glad we're alone now. Gimme some sugar, honeybun?" He grasps Loki's pointed chin with a feather-light grip. The two of them didn't spend nearly enough time together all night. A minimum of three kisses are needed for Gast to survive, and that threshold has not been hit today.
"No, they're watching." His eyes drift towards the house. Shadows in the shape of Loki's family hiding behind the curtain fill the window adjacent to the door.
"Your family's, uh, strange huh?" If kisses are off the table, he supposes a hug from dear, sweet Loki will suffice.
He loves hugging Loki all the same. Loves their height difference and the ease at which their bodies slot together. Resting his chin atop that spicy smelling mop of inky black hair. So soft and silky to the touch. Did he bathe in milk and honey like the queens of old? Feeling the point of the younger boy's nose against his neck. He hopes Loki inhales and memorises Gast's own scent, as Gast did to him. Saving it in the recesses of his mind to keep for life.
Beneath his larger body, Loki felt tiny as a kitten. Or, whatever a baby snake is called. But beneath the layers of smudged eyeliner and dark clothes, there was a lion. Lying in wait for someone to test it. Ready to pounce and bare its teeth.
Gast only hoped those teeth wouldn't find their way into his chest. Eating his heart for a snack before jumping to the next endeavour.
Is this weird to be thinking about while hugging your boyfriend?
Yeah, probably.
"Okay, that's long enough. They'll get suspicious," Loki breaks away, pulling his lion's claws from Gast's back.
"Uh-huh, you don't have to make excuses to hug me, darling. I'm always open."
Loki calls him an idiot between chuckles.
Gast's decided.
He is never going to break this lion's heart.
Even if it kills him.