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It was just another Tuesday, really. It was raining again, and you'd forgotten your umbrella, so no matter how much you buried your nose in your scarf, you were getting drenched. You shiver, the rain clinging to your skin like a thousand tiny ladybugs kissing you. It was cold, admittedly, but not unpleasant. Your favourite cafe, a cute little place with the best coffee in town, wasn't too far away, so you decided to grab a coffee and wait out the worst of the rain.
The cafe was relatively full, but you manage to nab your favourite spot in the cafe: an armchair in the corner by the window. There’s another chair next to it, usually reserved for whichever friend you bring with you. That Tuesday, however, it would sit empty.
Holly - one of the baristas - smiled at you as you entered, "The usual, y/n?"
"Yep, thanks, Holly!" you beamed back, settling into your usual seat.
In just a few minutes, the coffee is ready, so you rest in your seat, listening to the sounds of the cafe for a moment. The hiss of the machines. The low hum of early morning voices. The clink-clink-clink of a teaspoon against porcelain.
They all disappear when you put in your earbuds, replaced by the gentle lull of music as you crack open the new book you had just bought a few days ago.
There's something about the thrill of taking a new book out with you, like showing off your baby or your engagement ring or your new car. It's new, and you want everyone else to know.
You only get a few pages into the book before someone tapped you on the shoulder. Expecting Holly, wishing you a good day as she finishes her shift, or perhaps an old friend wanting to say hello, you popped out of your earphones, “Yes?”
Before you stood a rather embarrassed looking man in his late thirties or early forties, his kind of long – oddly, still dry - hair swept back roughly like scales on a snake. He looked exactly like someone a younger you would’ve wanted to be like: comfortable enough in their gender to play around with gender norms and carrying himself with an air of vague superiority. He blinked, unsure of how to continue as if he was expecting a reaction from me.
“Do I know you?” you asked, a slight smile playing on your lips, bemused by this odd – and somewhat attractive? – man’s behaviour.
“I- you should?” he offered, chuckling nervously. His voice was accented, it was one of the accents from down south. That explains the superiority, then, “People usually do.”
“Ooh, are you an actor or something?” you queried, gesturing for him to sit down in the chair opposite you. Might as well continue this conversation with this odd and intriguing man, “We don’t have many famous people around these parts.”
“Something like that, yes,” the man perched on the edge of the armchair cautiously, as if he was expecting it to close up and swallow him alive, “Are you sure you don’t know me?”
“Yep!” you took a sip of your coffee, which is now lukewarm. You finish the remainder of the drink, setting the mug down on the coffee table with a light clink, “Should I?”
“Is it good?” the man asked, pointing to your mug, and completely ignoring your question, “Your Midgardian drink?”
“You mean coffee?” you laughed at what you presumed was a joke, “Yeah, it’s a bit bitter, but you get used to it.”
You turned away from the man briefly to wave and catch Holly’s attention, “Holly, could I get another two coffees?”
Holly flashed you a polite smile, already starting the drinks, “Sure thing.”
“But you - … are you going to drink that many?” the man haltered as though treading lightly around verbal minefields, “Are you expecting someone? I can move if you are.”
“No, no,” you dismissed with a wave, “It’s for you, silly.”
“For me?” the man’s entire posture shifted from being on the somewhat defensive, to being completely startled and taken aback, as though he had prepared for every outcome except this one, “But… why?”
“You haven’t had one before, right?” Holly had returned with your drinks in hand, so you thank her and hand the man one of the mugs while I spoke, “It’s on me, don’t worry.”
“Thank … thank you?” the man smiled at you, uncertain, “That’s very kind of you.”
“No problem, dude,” you lightly punched – more of a tap, really – his arm, cringing inside at your awkward behaviour.
Instead of giving you the puzzled look people usually gave you when you acted weird, he laughed.
That laugh was the sound of a million different laughs all combined into one, the everything bagel of laughs. In it, you could hear the giggle of two pre-teen boys setting up a prank, you could hear the raucous laughter of a group of drunk elderly women, you could hear the chuckle of a young couple running away from their friends for a moment alone.
That laugh was god-like, impossible, and a sound to behold for sure. No one else seemed to have noticed this except for you. Maybe you had just imagined it…?
It was as if this man – whose name you still didn’t know – had let his mask fall though, for just a second, to reveal someone much more… more than who he appeared to be at first glance.
“I’m y/n, by the way,” you told him, holding out your hand for him to shake his hand.
“Loki,” he replied, his hand shooting out to shake mine like a snake jumping out of his sleeve, “Lovely to meet you.”
“You’re not from around these parts, are you?” you took a sip of your coffee, the bitter caffeine burning the inside of your mouth a little, “Are you a tourist?”
“You could say that,” Loki shrugged, taking a sip of his own coffee, “This… coffee is good.”
“Isn’t it? It’s great at warming you up, too,” you commented, shifting in your chair and returning your earphones to your coat pocket, “It’s quite a bit chillier up here in the North, are you going to be alright in just that jacket?”
“I don’t really get cold,” Loki admitted, “My homeland is … quite cold. What about you, were you born here?”
“Not quite, I’ve moved around a lot,” you said, wiping the edge of the mug, to stop the coffee from dripping down, “This is my favourite place I’ve lived in so far, though. And you, where are you from?”
“I’m from another world, far, far away from here,” Loki replied, his eyes darkening, “I can’t go back, and no one can reach me.”
“Oh, Scunthorpe, then?” you joked, much to Loki’s merriment, “No-one wants to go there.”
After that, the two of you got on like a house on fire. You told him all about your life, and he, in return, told you about his messed-up family.
“I was adopted as a baby, you see,” Loki told you, wildly swinging around his mug, “But my older brother Thor was Odin and Frigga’s biological child, and clearly Odin’s favourite.”
“Right.”
“So my mother – Frigga was actually a parent to me, unlike someone,” Loki spat out the last word as if it had personally offended him, “She taught me how to get back at Thor. She taught me the snake trick.”
“The snake trick?”
“Yeah, he really likes snakes,” Loki explained, mischief glinting in his eye, “so I made myself look like a snake and when he was like “oh look a snake”, I jumped out and stabbed him!”
“You stabbed him??”
“He was fiinnnee,” Loki dismissed, slapping my shoulder, “He can handle way more than that, he fought in some wars, a stabbing is the least of his concerns, haha!”
“Oh, okay then…” you chuckled nervously, slightly perturbed by the idea of stabbing a sibling, adopted or not.
You two continued to swap stories until both of your mugs are empty and the sky has cleared not only of all rain clouds, but all clouds in general. There were no excuses left by then, so you stood up, paid for your coffees, and stepped out into the street.
“Well,” you started, taking a deep breath, and plastering on a smile. You don’t particularly want to stop talking to Loki, stabbing aside, so it takes a considerable amount of effort to say goodbye.
“Well,” Loki mimicked you, over-exaggerating your gestures, sh*t-eating grin adorning his face.
“Stop that,” you laughed, pushing him away from you jokingly, “It’s been nice, dude.”
“That it has,” Loki nodded, “Thank you for the coffee. It’ll be on me next time.”
“Oh, so there’ll be a next time?” you smiled, his words had lifted a certain weight off of your chest, “What’s your phone number? We can text and arrange a “next time” when we’re both free.”
“Ah –” he started to say, only to be interrupted by a clap of thunder rolling across the nonsensically clear sky.
“Wha-?” you stared at the sky, wondering what the sound could’ve been.
“Oh no,” Loki muttered, trembling slightly, “No, no, no-“
“Are you scared of thunder?” you asked, concern for the man radiating off of you, “It’s okay, I won’t judge you if you do.”
“No, I’m not scared of thunder,” Loki’s voice deepened as he subconsciously touched your elbow, his eyes trained to the sky, “It’s what comes after…”
“ “What comes after”…?” you repeated, hoping for elaboration.
“I’ve got to go,” he said, not really replying as he bolted off, “Coffee’s on me next time, y/n!”
“Okay…?” you replied, waving goodbye, “See you later!”
The thunder clapped again and in between blinks, Loki disappeared.
What an odd man, you thought to yourself, what an odd Tuesday.
It was only after he was long gone that you realised that you didn’t have his number. You didn’t have to wait long though, as it was the Tuesday after next when you saw him again. He was loitering around the café, anxiously checking the watch on his wrist. He tapped his umbrella – it was a long, slender thing, old fashioned, not like the flimsy ones you’d find in Poundland – against the point of his shoe, and three times on the ground next to it. Loki sighed, glanced up, and met your eyes.
He lit up immediately.
“Y/n!” he cried out, waving his arm about as if you hadn’t already noticed him, “Hello!”
“Hi!” you chuckled, approaching him, “What a coincidence to see you here: I was just about to get a coffee, do you want one?”
“Sure,” Loki beamed, “I do owe you one, after all.”
He opened the door to the café, bowing jokingly, “After you.”
“It’s quite nice weather today,” you commented, glancing at the clear sky stretched above you, “Do you want to get them in to-go cups so we can walk along the river?”
“Okay,” he nodded, pulling out his wallet, “Is the river nice?”
“God no,” you laughed, picturing the polluted and brown water with a reasonable amount of disgust, “But the area around it is quite nice since the local council poured some money into it anyway.”
It was nice. The pathway had recently been repaved, so the bright, clean slabs of stone seemed to almost glow in the sunlight. The contained pockets of green life teemed with birds and bugs, both screaming and singing equally loudly. As it was still relatively early, the hoards of morning commuters were still tucked away in their houses, but the early morning joggers and dog walkers were still about.
One such dog bounded towards you delightedly, dragging its owner behind them. You hand your coffee to Loki, dropping down onto one knee to greet the dog. They jumped up, placing their paw on your thigh, and started sniffing inquisitively at your face.
“Hello!” you said to the dog cheerfully, “What’s your name, poppet?”
“She’s called Maeve,” the owner replied apologetically, “She’s very friendly, haha…”
“Can I pet her?” you asked, your hand hesitating above her adorable head.
“Of course!” the owner replied chirpily, “She loves the attention, don’t you Maeve?”
Maeve seemed to appreciate the pets and strokes, excitedly bouncing about around you, while you exchanged pleasantries with the owner. Loki kept his distance, choosing to simply watch rather than join in. He looked adorably awkward standing there, coffee cup in each hand with an umbrella hanging off of his arm like a small child.
“Right, well, we should get going,” you said, standing up. Maeve also stood up, running a quick circle around you. You turned to her owner, “Thank you. Have a nice day!”
“No problem,” they replied, waving goodbye, “You too!”
Loki handed you your coffee wordlessly. The two of you walk in silence for the next few minutes, finishing the last of your coffees before disposing of the cups in a nearby bin.
It’s not uncomfortable, the silence. You weren’t wracking your brains for a topic of discussion, you were just … sitting in the silence. Enjoying it, even.
Way too early for your liking, your phone chirped, reminding you of the appointment you had forgotten about thanks to the coffee walk.
“Sorry, I’ve got to go,” you apologised, pointing to your phone, “It was nice hanging out with you, though!”
“Wait,” Loki grasped your elbow before you bolted off, “Can I get your phone number first?”
He handed you his phone. It had no password, weirdly, and when you added your name to his contacts, yours was the only one on there. A burner phone, perhaps…?
“Same time next week?” you asked, handing Loki back his phone, “The coffee shop is supposed to get their seasonal drinks by then.”
He nodded, “Okay, see you then.”
True to his word, Loki was there the next week, waiting for you. This time, however, he wasn’t alone.
Next to him stood a blonde-haired tank of a man, dressed much shabbier than Loki, but carrying himself with the same superior air Loki had when you had first met him. Neither of them seemed to notice you approaching them from behind.
“-is this anyway?” the blond man asked, glancing around, “Have we been here before?”
“No, we haven’t,” Loki replied, checking his watch, “Now, if you’re done, could you please leave? You’re going to embarrass me.”
“Me? Embarrass you?” the man laughed, “Oh, Loki, as if you don’t know that that was my plan all along. And anyway, I want to meet this Midgardian that you keep talking about, what’s their name aga-?”
You cleared your throat politely, making them both finally notice you, “Loki? Who’s this?”
The pair of them whirled around to look at you.
“Y/n!” Loki beamed, elbowing the man away, “You’re here! Shall we head inside and-?”
“Hello!” the man grasped Loki by the shoulders and moved him aside, “I’m Thor, son of Odin, Loki’s brother-“
“Adopted,” Loki corrected, the indignation of being moved aside radiating off of him. He shot a glare at his brother.
“Yes, adopted brother, you are y/n, I presume?” Thor held out his hand for you to shake, which you do. Your hand disappeared into Thor’s: it was so tiny compared to his.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” you smiled at him, trying your best to be polite. This is the guy Loki stabbed? The one who had fought in a war?
“You seem confused, child of [parent’s name],” Thor observed, dropping his hammer (?) to the ground beside him, “Do you have a question?”
“Loki said he stabbed you when you were kids,” you explained, still mulling over it in your mind, “How did you survive that? Surely it would’ve left some kind of scar or something…”
“Oh! We’re Gods, y/n!” Thor explained, “We’re immortal.”
“Hm, yeah, God of the Gym,” you laughed, only sort of understanding his answer.
Thor thundered with laughter, throwing his head back and slapping your arm a little too forcefully, “I like this one!”
“Don’t steal my friend,” Loki warned, his voice low and broody.
Thor pulled you a little away to confide in your ear, “Just between us, you’re the first person outside of the family he’s actually grown close to -“
“Hey! What are you whispering about over there?” Loki demanded, tripping over the hammer Thor had left on the pavement, “You better not be telling them all of my embarrassing stories, Thor!”
“You have embarrassing stories about him?” you asked, subtly pointing at Loki.
“Naturally, we’re brothers, I have thousands,” Thor grinned. Thunder clapped above you, causing the pair of you to glance up. Thor smiled apologetically, placing a hand on his stomach, “Sorry, I had a big lunch.”
“But it’s seven in the morning?”
He managed to rein himself in, however, and a more neutral look fell across his face as he returned you to Loki’s side, “Well, I’ve got places to see, people to be -“
“Surely it’s the other way around…” you muttered.
“So, farewell brother, farewell friend of my brother,” Thor picked up his hammer, waved goodbye, and walked off, disappearing around a corner.
“Well,” you clapped your hands together, “Your brother seems nice. Shall we head inside?”
You and Loki grabbed your drinks – seasonal ones this time – and settle into your usual corner armchair.
“Oh yeah, I’ve been meaning to ask,” you started, draping your jacket over the back of your chair, “What do you do for a living? You said you were kind of a tourist, but you’ve been here nearly a month. What kind of job lets you take that much time off?”
“Not many, I reckon,” Loki replied, taking a sip of his drink, grimacing, “By Odin, that is sweet. I wouldn’t know, about employment I mean, I’ve never had a job before.”
“You haven’t?” But he’s in his forties, how in the hell does one not have even one job in that time?
“My family – my adoptive family, that is – are quite rich,” Loki explained, setting his mug down, “And even though I’m not set to inherit the throne, my mother made sure I had plenty to live off of comfortably before she died.”
“Oh, like Jeff Bezos’ kids?” you asked, taking a sip of your drink, “Is your dad a CEO or something?”
“Something like that, yes,” Loki placed one leg over the other, as if he was posing for an unseen photographer, “Enough about me, tell me about your family.”
Eventually, you both finished your drinks and the conversation had come to a natural conclusion. You both stand up, thank Holly and wish her a nice day, and step out of the café.
“Same time next week?” Loki suggested, opening his umbrella, “I’ll pay next time.”
He smiled. It was a gentle, tentative thing as if Loki was handing you a little piece of his heart on a silver platter and asking you if you wanted some. The image reminded you of your nephew, when he’d spent hours making you the “perfect brownie” and he still wasn’t sure it was perfect yet, but he wanted you to try some before you left. It had been undercooked and chewy and gross, but you’d smiled your way through it, reassuring him that it was delicious. With Loki, though… it truly was the perfect brownie. You wanted every last morsel of his friendship and more.
“Sure,” you smiled at him, “See you next Tuesday, dude.”