Work Text:
The scent of something unidentifiably delicious greeted Thor as he stepped into the house. "Love, my true Love, what have you made for me today?"
Love turned from the counter with a smile. "You have to guess, Uncle Thor."
It had become a well-versed ritual for their evenings to begin like this, and while it still sometimes sent a small pang through Thor's heart to refer to his adopted daughter as his 'true Love,' he was finding it easier and easier to say it with sincerity. He would always love and miss Jane, but with bitter endings always came sweet beginnings.
He held back a shudder; he was getting poetic in his old age. A thousand years old today, a hundred thousand tomorrow.
"I'm waiting." The child had blossomed into practically a young woman, right before his eyes. Had it really been five years since she'd come to live with him? It felt like a lifetime, and yet, it could have only been yesterday that he'd brought the sweet girl into his home for the first time.
Thor sniffed the air once again, mouth watering. "Is that…chocolate I smell? And pumpkin, perhaps?"
Love made a valiant—but fruitless—effort to hold back a smile. "Chocolate, yes. Pumpkin, no." She stepped to the side to give Thor a view of the treat she'd been concealing. "Sif taught me to make her favorite dessert that she's discovered since moving here. They're called peanut butter cups."
"Peanut butter…yes, I've heard of it frequently in my time in America." Thor rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Though, come to think of it, I don't believe I've ever actually had any before."
"They don't carry it in any of the New Asgardian stores; I had to special order it and wait for it to come in." Love practically burst with eager anticipation as she picked up a piece of the dessert and handed it to Thor. "I already ate one before you came in. They're very good."
Thor raised an eyebrow and accepted the treat. "Not spoiling your appetite, I hope."
"I could tell you the same thing." Love folded her arms, nose in the air.
"Ah, yes, but I am the parent and you are the child: that gives me special privileges." He winked and popped the peanut butter cup into his mouth. The flavors melted over his tongue in blissful harmony, and he groaned with pleasure. "Love, I daresay that this is one of the fi—" his words cut off abruptly. His throat constricted, and he was suddenly finding it difficult to breathe.
"Uncle Thor? Are you okay?" Alarm shone in Love's eyes, and she stepped closer. "Are you choking?"
No, he wasn't choking; he'd barely swallowed anything. That's what concerned him. "Love…doctor." If she could understand the words he barely choked out, it would be a miracle. But she ran out the door, so that was a promising sign.
He couldn't breathe at all now, and he staggered to the wall and slid to the floor, clutching at his throat. His eyes watered, tongue swollen.
He was dying. Love had given him death in a morsel, and she didn't realize it. He had to throw them away before she ate any more, had to…
His vision blackened before he could even act on the thought.
When he opened his eyes again, he frowned in confusion. He'd only closed them for a second; how had he ended up in bed?
And not even his bed?
Love's face hovered barely five inches above his own. "Uncle Thor? You're finally awake?"
"No, I'm still sleeping," He teased with a wink. "What am I doing here, Love?"
"The doctor said you should come to the hospital."
"Hospital? But I was just choking on—" no, he hadn't choked—that was the problem. His eyes widened. "Love, someone is trying to poison us. You must throw away all of those peanut butter pups at once."
Amusement made her eyes sparkle. "They're peanut butter cups, and no one tried to poison us." Her voice lowered to a near-whisper. "The doctor said that you had a reaction. You're allergic to peanut butter."
Thor frowned. "I am? I didn't realize it was possible for me to have an allergy like a mortal."
"Apparently so." Her eyes welled with tears, and her chin trembled. "Uncle Thor, you could've died, and it's all my fault!" She buried her face in his shoulder.
He brought his hand up to stroke her hair, chuckling softly. "No, Love, it wasn't your fault. It was my fault, really; how were you to know that I've eaten peanuts countless times, but I'm somehow allergic to this American peanut butter?"
"But I made them."
"Yes, and I ate one." He chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "And it was a delicious death disk, I may add."
She pulled back, scowled, and slapped his shoulder. "Don't tease me."
"Why not? It's what I Love to do." He smirked. "See what I did there?"
Love rolled her eyes. "That may have been your worst one yet." Her face grew serious. "Are you sure you're all right?"
"Healthy as a horse." He smiled and thumped his chest with a fist. "Promise.