Chapter Text
…
87
Peter huffed, weight bouncing foot to foot as his eyes tracked the luminescent figures flickering down the number line, descending soundly along with him in the spacious elevator. Scanning the papers in his hands, he fought the urge to sigh again. At least he’d be moving to the downstairs couch, where all the pillows were – maybe he wouldn’t spiritually die on the spot writing his blasted, ridiculously lengthy essay. Possibly.
…
86
Oh.
Fumbling with his phone, he opened up the group chat, typing out a long, key smashed message claiming that he didn’t even have the source for the essay, despite the fact that history was the one singular subject where sources were fucking glorified. He got no sympathy from MJ other than a file from the source, captioned ‘here you dumbass nerd’. Ned sent him a thumbs up, claiming that Peter could just say he was hanging out with the avengers. Pretty sure Mr Stark would yeet him out of a window if he did that.
‘Or he’d be proud’
Or he’d be proud. Nevertheless, he closed the group chat, saving the file. He didn’t crop out the caption.
Peter grinned, a warm feeling igniting in his chest. He let it be, allowing it to drown out his remaining frustration. Though it quickly returned when he opened the picture from the file, eyes practically watering at the info-dump of hell presented so carelessly to him.
…
85
Ding!
His mindless internal rant continued long past the spread of doors, trainers squeaking in shared annoyance. It spiraled continuously until a numb buzzing overtook the words, prompting Peter’s steps to somewhat diminish. He fired off another hurried text to the group chat, automatically preparing to banter with the unknown person hanging just around the corner. Hopefully that’d let some of his nerves out.
Maybe.
Though as his foot raised in the air, his eyes latched onto something. He stopped. Stared.
Peeking around the corner, eyes agape, a jumble of nerves and rising excitement overshadowed his thoughts. An impulsively rigid grip on the papers tensed through him, phone almost slipping out his grasp, forgotten.
Settled coolly on the couch, legs slightly over the armrests, lay Loki. He was occupied with a book, eyes fleeting impressively quickly over the pages. Peter dimly registered the bold, fancy text spelling “Hamlet” among his typhoon of thoughts, feet welded to the floor. The God (literal God, there’s a litERAL gOD in front of him holy shi-) remained unaware to his internal debate, mindlessly turning the page.
Does he go up to him? Does he initiate normal, human interaction? Wait, can he be considered human? Can Peter be considered human?
Uh. Nevermind.
I mean, okay, he seems really cool, and from a bit – a lot – of procrastination induced hacki- uh, research (which Mr Stark would definitely kill him for), he had gathered that Loki hadn’t actually been in control over the whole New York thing? If anything, he just seemed...manipulated? Like, he might just need a second chance. Especially with how awesome his magic was, ignoring the fact that Peter had secretly been dying to meet him-
Even still, nerves bubbled up dangerously inside of his chest. They were cut by the rush of excitement that still enveloped his thoughts – a faint buzzing was present in his neck, yet there was no threat. No danger. Even as he stared at the man, he couldn’t bring himself to be scared.
God, Mr Stark was really gonna kill him for this.
Loki looked up slowly, face carefully neutral as Peter walked over. It remained indecipherable, expression only slipping slightly as he scanned the teen. He looked at him curiously.
“Uh, hey! I’m Peter. It’s nice to meet you!” Shifting the papers under his arm, Peter smiled, voice light and genuine, crinkles framing the warmth in his eyes. His hand reached out before he could stop himself, the other scratching the back of his neck nervously. “I mean, I’ve only really heard of you, so it’s so cool to finally be able to meet you. Damn, uh, I said that twice, didn’t it?”
The man considered him for a moment – eyes glistening with an odd emotion Peter couldn’t even begin to analyse – before hesitantly reaching out and shaking his hand. Neither commented on the way the other’s palms shook (for completely different reasons). “Loki, of Asgard. It’s...” His voice seemed to get caught on the word, eyebrows slightly scrunched. “...nice to meet you too.”
Peter beamed.
“Can I sit here?” He gestured vaguely with the papers, almost letting one slip. Catching it just in time, he looked down, arranging the pile back into place. “I just need to get this assignment done and I’ll be off. No offense, but I’ll be wanting to finish this as soon as possible – it sucks.”
“I suppose so.”
Peter flopped down on the couch with a sigh, dumping the papers down mercilessly, causing them to scatter. He arranged them back, flipping the first one with a heavily exaggerated turn, missing Loki’s small, smug smile as he did so. Just the sight of the lines alone made him want to run back out of the room again, but he refused. Pen in hand, source open, he began to write.
Their shared, comfortable silence was broken by the thumping of a pen. It bounced on the ground, the timid clatter grating against Peter’s ringing ears. The teen glared harshly at the paper, his own traitorously terrible handwriting staring back at him.
He ran a hand through his locks, body lazily flopping against the sofa cushions. “Ugh.”
“Frustrated, spider-ling?” The words were teasing, though something else lingered behind them.
“Uuughhh, yeah.” He begrudgingly bent over to pick up the pen again. “6 goddamn paragraphs and I’m still- wait, what?” Peter’s head snapped comically to Loki, eyes like saucers. He only got a raised eyebrow in return, grin peaking out from behind a book cover. “I- wh- did you just call me ‘spider-ling’?”
“Is the name not familiar? I thought, what, with your whole arachnid theme and all-”
“I- I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The spider-themed superhero stated dumbly, faux-casually leaning against the couch. He sank almost completely into it, flustered face obscured. “I- I mean, I greatly appreciate you calling them arachnids, instead of insects, like some certain people, but I really don’t know what you mean.” He crossed his arms, turning to face Loki, who was eyeing him in thinly-veiled amusement. Peter pouted, looking no less intimidating. “Where did you get that from?”
“I am the Lord of Lies, child. God of Mischief. Don’t try to fool me.” A beat passed between them. They held each others gazes until Peter relented, arms thrown in the air.
“Ok, yeah! Fine! You got me. But I’m not a child.”
“Not a child?”
“No, not a child.”
"Alright, spiderling"
The god turned back to his book, smirking. Peter huffed, though this time it was for an entirely different reason; his thumb skimmed the phone screen, pages and pages of information staring back at him. He slumped dejectedly, the device held loosely in his hands. Just looking at the pages made him want to cry. His eyelids covered the top part of his eyes, highlighting the heavy bags parallel to them.
Sensing a sudden shift in mood, Loki’s eyes flicked up, lips pursued. His eyebrows pinched. The teen fiddled with the hem of his jeans, deep in thought. Suddenly, his expression cleared, excitement coating his features as he turned. “Have you ever tried Boba?”
Loki’s entire brain crashed and restarted in the span of 2 seconds, blinking at the words in muddled confusion. “Huh? B- what?”
“Boba.”
He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I got that part – but what is it?”
“Boba. ‘Bubble tea’,” Loki perked up at that, for once parting with his book. “if you want the proper name. It’s basically tea but with little chewy tapioca balls (a kind of starch – wait, you don’t know what starch is, do you?) at the bottom. Some people use ice and stuff to make it all slushy, and it’s super super nice! You can get so many different flavours and toppings, it’s amazing.”
“I see.” Loki replied uncertainly after a moment of thought, voice tinged with curiosity.
“Oh my god, do you wanna go get Boba? Wait, have you even been outside the tower yet?” A dull shake of the head. “Y-You haven’t? At all?” Another smash, now more confused.
“I’m not allowed to – the Avengers consider me dangerous, and no one outside of SHIELD and Stark’s little boy-band know that I’m here. They don’t trust me, naturally.” Loki explained, a sour, bitter edge to his voice. Not at Peter, who was regarding him with an odd look: the boy seemed...riled up about something, eyes somewhat darkened – though this didn’t seem to be directed at Loki. Strange. Ever since he’d been trapped here, he had been treated with at least some amount of hostility by everyone. Not that he could blame them, as much as it hurt irritated him.
Though this...boy, albeit puzzling in his cheeriness, seemed to throw that normal out the window within a few seconds of meeting him. He was so much more pure and innocent than anyone he had ever met, greeting him like a kind stranger at a coffee shop. Worst part was, no matter how much his brain screamed in self-loathing, he couldn’t pick up a single trace of lies; it was all genuine, and it made him want to cry and/or yell in various emotions he could not place. Damn him.
Said boy’s voice brought him back, all sullenness disappearing in favour of a bright, gleaming smile. “Weeellll, they can’t really stop you if they don’t know you went out in the first place.”
“What’re you implying?”
Peter’s eyes lit up in what Loki recognised best – mischief. He was starting to like tolerate the teen more by the minute. “What do you think I’m implying, God of Lies?”
“Hmph. Wouldn’t Stark be cross with you?”
“Nah. Not on my watch.” Peter gave a dorky salute, making Loki stamp down another grin. “Wanna go and get some? Dude, I’d love to show you around the city. Wait, ohmygod, there’s so many places we could visit!!” Loki’s expression was tainted with a mix of confusion, amusement and excitement – the teen could tell by the timid simmer in his eyes, the quivering corners of his lips. Peter had always been observant.
“I-...okay? Sure?”
“Great!!” Peter glowed, essay already forgotten. The god didn’t have time to open his mouth to say anything, such as, I dunno, ‘how are you going to get me past this ridiculously high-security system’ or ‘what the hell are you doing’, before he was looped around the arm.
“H-hey, hey, wait-”
Yoink.
One Asgardian kidnapping later, both were stood in line at a quaint, hole-in-the-wall Boba shop. Outlining the surfaces with golden and shimmers and glows, lamps hung down from the ceiling. Among the cosy walls were paintings, strung around the shop – some were covered by lush, emerald leaves, stemming from plants that drooped just a few feet above your head. It was comforting. A sense of chatter drifted around, a harmony with the faint whirring of machines.
Loki’s similarly emerald eyes drifted around the shop, hands in the pockets of his sleek, black suit. Around his neck hung a thick, green-white scarf that reached around his belt line, accompanying a long, smooth snake tie. He suppressed a grin at the thought of Peter’s reaction, practically bouncing on his feet at Loki’s impossibly quick change of wardrobe; (“So you can just change whenever you want? Wooaahh!! That’s so cool!!! :D It’s like you have your own Animal Crossing outfit wheel to use!- Wait? You don’t know what- oh yeah, sorry. Man, I’m gonna have to show you it.”)
He proceeded to call the outfit “a vibe”, or whatever that means. Slang is weird here.
Although the ‘Animal Cr’... animal thing intrigued him equally as it confused him, it was in the far corners of his mind, recalling just how genuinely fascinated in his seiðr the boy was: not scared. No fear. Just pure, childish excitement. He didn’t know how to feel about that, cheeks flushing at the unexpected praise.
“Sooo, what are you thinking of getting?” Peter asked nonchalantly, almost dropping the phone in his hand as he swung his arm. The other was tucked into the crevice of his jean jacket, bulking over the gray ‘Stark Industries’ hoodie underneath.
Loki sent him a look, pointing out the obvious: “I don’t know what the options are.”
“Ah. Right. Sorry, uhh….the board up there,” he pointed to the menu situated above the cash registers, “shows you what they have to offer. They have lots of berry ones, fruit blends – you can also change the type of tea, by the way.”
The god considered this for a moment, silently reading off the menu. Most of the berries or teas he had only ever heard of, provided his little and heavily guarded time on Midgard. His eyes caught on a green variant, labeled “Matcha Tea”. There was a cute hand-drawn swirl of cream on the top.
“I think I’ll get the...’Matcha’ one.” Peter searched for it, eyes glinting.
He grinned, raising an eyebrow at Loki. “Just because it’s green?”
“I- Yes, do you have a problem with that?”
“Nope! Just wondering” Peter rocked on the balls of his feet, hands clasped behind his back. He smiled at Loki. To his dismay, he automatically returned the gesture.
“Alright, spider-child”
He lightly swatted Loki on the arm, who only chuckled quietly. “Hey!- Now that-” He pointed accusatory at the god “that is too far for me, sir”
“Hm.” The teen huffed. “Though, if you do want to know, I must preserve my aesthetic.”
Peter let out a faint noise of approval “Fair. Oh, and also, the Matcha one is super nice here – not a lot of places get it right, but this one is amazing.” Loki hummed at that, satisfied.
A ding sounded, prompting Peter to walk up to the counter. His previous anxiety seemed to skyrocket, hand automatically reaching behind his neck. Loki noted this with a small smile, privately glad he was not tasked with ordering, since, well... he had literally no clue how to do it.
“Hello! What would you like to order?” The girl at the counter smiled, lightly dusting her hands off on her apron. There was a slight accent to her voice, dark skin glowing in the face of the soft fairy lights. Her hair was braided in an intricate plaid, dark, thick brown locks weaved with small flowers.
“H-hi! Could we get, uh, a-a large raspberry blueberry Boba and-”
–--
After a small yet increasingly heated battle over who got to pay (which Peter won with the tool of his Puppy EyesTM, to Loki’s great soft dismay), the two were sitting outside on a patterned wooden bench, watching as leaves flitted around in the air, caught in the swing of the wind. Peter sipped leisurely at his own drink, leaving Loki to examine his own skeptically, watching the tiny tapioca balls whirl around at the bottom.
After some subtle deliberation – where he observed how Peter was visibly unaffected by the concoction – he took a tentative sip.
He blinked. Twice.
Peter faltered, looking at Loki out the corner of his eye, taking in how stunned he looked. He wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. “D-do you like it?”
“I-” Loki’s lime eyes flicked from Peter to the drink. A beat passed, before he drank more, far far less speculatively. The teen squashed down a giggle as the god practically inhaled the drink, relieved to have found something he liked (well, liked may have been an understatement).
“You can buy packets of the pearls and the tea yourself, by the way. There’s, like, special mix versions and stuff – some people even theme theirs after animals or add multiple different flavours to increase the vibe.” Loki looked impossibly more happy at that, the lights in his eyes quietly raving. He didn’t comment, making a mental note about his liking for tea, apparently.
They sat, content, sipping their drinks.
“So….you haven’t been outside? Since you came to live at the tower?”
…
“Wanna see the sights?”
Loki’s natural compass had lead them to a library. Peter flicked through the pages on his phone, pouting. The god’s head peaked out from over his shoulder, scanning the test highlighted on-screen. “It is quite far from here, I dunno if we’ll be able to get there….”
“There are other ways.” That got him a reaction, Peter’s head snapping towards him. He looked confused.
He was silent for a few moments, voice quiet and face scrunched. “Other ways?”
“You have been to this library, no?”
“I- yeah I have. It has lots of good books you can’t really find anywhere else.” He felt something inside of him burst at that, determination rising. “Why, what are you- what are you planning?”
“Hold my arm and shut your eyes.”
“W- huh?”
After a few moments of staring, Peter hesitantly grabbed Loki’s arm, gaze flitting to and fro questioningly before ceasing as his eyelids shut.
“Now think of the library street, what it looks like, feels like, etc.” The trickster felt a click in his mind, fingers curling around a string of seiðr. The twine tensed, looping around both Loki and the other matter, guiding his mind to another area.
With one fell swoop, his heart pulled on the string, enveloping them both and sending them away.
–--
Peter blinked rapidly, stumbling on his feet. He felt nauseous, instinctively leaning against Loki to steady himself. The god flinched as he was broken out of his concentration but didn’t say anything, merely positioning the other again unsurely.
Once the fog cleared, Peter gaped. His mouth fell open.
“Woah...”
The pair were placed carefully shielded under a cherry blossom, wind blowing peacefully around them – across the street was a bookshelf-like arrangement of shops and cafes. The road curved, weaving in and out of trees and flowerbeds. Charming little stalls and benches dotted the square, fountains reflecting puffy clouds hovering above. A steady smell of baked pastries and coffee permeated the area: an aroma to accompany the sweet scent of flowers, rich in hue and bedded peacefully among the soil. They were slightly moist to the touch, most likely from last night’s rain.
Peter took in a long breath, content at the buzz that didn’t overpower his senses. He noticed out the corner of his eye Loki tilting his head, taking in the scene.
Loki’s own eyes widened a little bit, impressed at the picturesque layout they had found themselves in – of course, it was nothing compared to Asgard. Yet he felt more at peace being here than he had been most of the time at ‘home’, chirping birds looping around his thoughts. Now he really saw why Peter had been so desperate to get him out of the tower.
Peter opened his mouth, awe gleaming in his eyes. Though before he could speak, someone else overtook his question.
“Yo, what- where did those 2 come from?” Said two turned in various degrees of panic.
Oops.
“Dude I swear they just teleported here or some shit what the fuck-”
“Should we call someone?”
“Nono, I’m pretty sure we should ask them for their autograph. I mean- what if they’re the Avengers or some shit, man-”
Glancing at each other, they both incredibly inconspicuously speed-walked across the street. In his poorly-disguised panic, Peter missed the special wink Loki gave the huddle of teens, innocently sipping his bubble tea.
Instead, he let out a small ‘aha!’, turning Loki’s attention away from the now spluttering and severely concerned group. He pointed, finger coming into line with a sweet bookstore. The windows were clean and sparkly, reflecting the plethora of literature available behind the doors. Loki didn’t waste a single goddamn second of thought, striding over to them at almost running pace, driven by the survival instinct in him that screamed book s.
He willfully ignored Peter’s whispered “i’m fast as fuck, boiii”
---
Peter could not tell if bringing Loki to the library was a blessing or a mistake.
Not once, not twice, but three fucking times he had had to physically stop Loki from looping a massive, figurative string around a bookshelf and teleporting it with him. As hilarious as it was watching him tug the furniture around like a tired dad with his kid on a sleigh (which Loki seemed to notice, curse him, exaggeratedly lifting a shelf for Peter to wheeze uncontrollably at), if he did it anymore then they were most definitely gonna get kicked out. He wasn’t sure if gods had that vulnerability, but he was not going to risk it.
Which lead them to this predicament.
“Okay, now just click the green button- No, not that one. The other one that says ‘Borrow’”. There was a satisfying tap from the screen, the menu sliding to reveal an empty list. Loki turned to Peter, silently asking for guidance. “Right, okay, now put each book into this box right here,” He slapped the bottom of the machine like a sack of dirt, “with the bar code facing upwards.”
Loki silently stared at the book, emotionless “...What’s a bar code?”
“Huh? Oh, it’s” He flipped it over, pointing to a spot on the back “this thing. The machine scans the lines, identifies which book they belong to and then puts it on the list. It’s like a neat lil identification thingy.”
Satisfied, he placed the hardcover into the box, watching as “Macbeth by William Shakespeare” popped up on the screen. There was a green checkmark next to it – Loki assumed that was a good thing.
Peter grinned, hands in pockets “Alright, now just do that with all of them.”
A few minutes later, Loki had his hands full again, to which he mindlessly hid all the books into his seiðr storage. The spider hero didn’t seem to notice, preoccupied with the struggle of tugging the receipt out from the machine. It was caught, crumpling under the pressure of Peter’s irritated hands. Finally, it relented, somehow not having ripped apart in the process.
“Oookaayy…so we need these back here by the 5th of September. So you have...like….just over two weeks to read all...” He trailed off, eyes the equivalent of the Windows blue screen. Peter blinked, boring into the spot where the books once were. “I-”
Loki returned his confused look, fiddling with the tassels of his scarf.
“I- where did-”
Blink. “Oh. The books. Yeah, I just teleported them away.” He misunderstood Peter’s even more confused look for outrage, holding out his palms in a ‘don’t shoot me’ gesture “Don’t worry, they’re safe”
“I- you just teleported them??”
“….Y-yes?
“What.” Peter stood there like a pole for a split second, before hurrying out of the door. Loki followed close behind, hand pushing it to ensure that the boy didn’t smash face-first into it. “Okay- wait, so. Basically, you have this portable storage...thing, that you can basically carry anything around with? Dude there’s so much you could do- can you put a plane into it? Like honest to god go to the airport and steal yourself a private plane to use at will? Like a bootleg private jet.”
Loki’s utter bemusement remained unanswered, watching dumbfounded as the teen turned around to face him, now excitedly walking backwards: “Or you could carry a whole vault into it – like break into a bank and instead of breaking it open you just fuckin cease it out of the wall. Wait ohmgod is that where all the daggers come from??? How many do you have?? Surely you have to maintain them or something.”
It turned to fondness, Peter’s wild gesturing narrowly missing anyone who walked past them. “Okay, that brings up so many pranking possibilities though, like, for real, you could do so so much witht hat- ohmygod I have to tell Ned and MJ about this later...I just said their names, didn’t I? Welp. Anyway, holy shit man that’s-”
He was abruptly cut off, bumping sideways into a pole. Loki only just managed to grab him in time to save his face from getting decked by cement. The god was just about to tease him before an increasingly panicked part of his brain yelled out, making him realise something.
Loki could feel a piece of twine interlink them both, still wrapped around his fingers. He cursed once, unable to stop the until-now forgotten string from yanking them both away.
‘Well, shit‘ was his final thought as his brain whizzed, disconnecting from the street.
---
Both landed in various degrees of gracefulness; Loki managed to stay on his feet, only just avoiding tripping over his boots. Peter, on the other hand, slammed into a counter, already-pounding head suffering among the noise. He sat sprawled dramatically on the floor, looking dead.
The trickster clumsily gazed around, feeling every defense crumple in utter perplexity. His brain stuttered, completely unaware of the boy getting to his feet behind him. Both peeked cartoon-ishly around the corner, taking in the sight. A thick sense of coffee drifted through the air.
They were situated in the doorway behind a counter, surrounded by various machines and clatters. Voices piled over each other, resulting in a blend of conversations, chair scrapes, clinks, clanks and laughs – it was almost intolerable for Peter. Or it would have been if he was actually paying attention - he looked elated, turning to Loki with a sense of mischief that filled him with simultaneously dread, despair and eagerness. It screamed chaos.
“Dude, we’re gonna be employees at fucking Starbucks”
–--
“Put the apron on.”
“I am not putting the apron on, spider-child.”
“C’monnnnn, pleeasee? This’ll be so much fun!” He looked at Loki akin to a pleading puppy, holding the scrunched up, dark green apron in his hands. It irritated him how much these two things convinced him: as absolutely disastrous the idea seemed, it did promise lots of chaos; he could not deny such an opportunity.
Before he could plead for any more mercy, an old, stoic man came out from around the corner. He was dressed in an all-black uniform, the name-tag “Chad” perfectly complimenting his scrunched up features, mouth tilted disproportionately down. “What are you two boys standing around for? We have a hell of a lot of customers, so it’d be nice if y’all went and did your jobs!”
He harshly pushed past them, muttering about ‘lazy teenagers’. Peter feared that he would have turned around again if he made any more noise, hand clamped over his mouth to squash down the laughter threatening to escape him – Loki did not help one bit, exaggeratedly impersonating the man in the most childish way possible.
Barely composed, Peter turned to the remaining apron. His grin fell.
–--
“Hey Mr. Lo- uh, adhge- Liam, can you pass me the strawberry syrup?” Peter fumbled with the cream lever, glaring at it as if it had offended his family.
“Straw- what the hell is ‘strawberry’?”
“I- Dude, you don’t know what a strawberry is??”
“No???”
“It’s the red liquid in the bottle near you. Just...yeet it over here, I’ll catch it.”
Peter turned back to the cream-maker, giving it a sold thwunk or two before it finally decided to work, spilling a ridiculous amount of whipped cream onto the cup. Dramatically, the teen flung a straw out from the container beside him, not sparing a glance as a hard bottle thumped into his hand. He turned to open the lid, before doing a double-take. Triple-take.
“Yo is this- is this freaking ketchup?”
“What is-”
“Where did you get ketchup from?? DO STARBUCKS EVEN HAVE KETCHUP??”
“I DON’T KNOW, EVERYTHING LOOKS THE SAME TO ME – YOU MIDGARDIANS NEED LABELS”
–--
“Okay, so this one is a penny, this one is a dime – aka 10 cents,” Peter pointed to each penny in turn, “this one is a nickel, which is 5 cents. There’s also this quarter, which is 25 cents, and also a 50-cent. Then all of these add up to 100 cents, in order to make 1 dollar, which is this:” He held up a small gold coin, shining under the artificial LED lights.
The young hero had been assigned the role of accountant – they had discovered impressively quickly that Loki was terrible with American money, simply because he did not know what it was in the first place. “There are also slips of paper, called dollar bills – so uhhh, like this one is 1, this one is 5-”
“Why are there SO MANY??”
“I don’t know, variety??” He flung a coin into the air out of amusement, disguising it as frustration. It made a dent in the ceiling. “Look, I’ll handle the money-”
“Thank god-”
“And we’ll split the drink-making between us.” Loki drizzled another spiral of syrup onto the cream. It was perfectly circular, much to Peter’s momentary awe and annoyance.
“Right. Okay. Fine. Pass the measuring cup, Jeff.”
“My name is not Jeff!”
“Really?” Loki asked, voice muffled by the nutrient bar in his mouth (yes, it was stolen). He gestured vaguely to the name-tag on the boy’s apron, which hung down slightly under the weight of the fabric – it was far too loose, being held together by a thick belt and sheer willpower. “I thought that it was.”
“It is not!”
“Identity fraud.” He drawled, lazily tossing a cookie into one of the cups; it was a miracle half of the liquid didn’t spill out.
Peter huffed, grinning behind one of the blenders. “Whatever, Liam”
“Hey-”
–--
With a shimmering, plastic smile, the woman behind the counter prattled off another set of instructions, obviously deciding that the first set was not already enough. “Oh, and also 3 pumps of vanilla, if you could. Could you also add some pumpkin spice to it, honey? Maybe some cinnamon in there too.”
If Peter didn’t have super-human speed, he would have lost himself long ago, hurriedly scribbling down the list of orders. Almost piercing a hole in the cup out of internal resentment, he slapped on a fake smile of his own, nodding along. “You got it!”
He turned on his heel, striding over to Loki with an expression that screamed ‘kill me’.
“Sorry, Liam – I have a pile of orders waiting, so I’m gonna have to hand this over to you.” The heavily puzzled god didn’t have time to respond, watching Peter speedily hurry off, wiping his forehead with a towel. He shrugged, deciding not to bother the already stressed-out teen.
Said decision wavered once his gaze landed on the contents of the boy’s messy scrawl, decorating the cup in what looked like the entire Declaration of Independence. A quick, exasperated scan yielded zero recognition, almost every single item foreign in some shape or form.
Looking across the counter, Loki sighed. He grabbed hold of a random machine.
Improvise, Adapt, Overcome.
–--
Peter watched from the other side in absolute dismay, eyes watering at the cups of cinnamon Loki was vigorously pouring into one of the blenders. Some part of him lacked the energy to stop the embodiment of chaos, forcing him back to his own task with a shake of the head.
If someone died to the hands of Loki’s deadly spice concoction of bullshit, at least it wouldn’t be his fault – he was a witness, not an accomplice.
–--
Peter gaped.
“Oh, this is just wonderful! Thank you so much honey-”
“Uh- there really is no need, ma’am-”
She flapped her hand dismissively, shoving the note into Peter’s hands. “Nonsense! Take it, consider it a tip”
The poor boy only broke out of his stupor in enough time to send her a shaky, stuttering “have a nice day”. He swiveled.
Loki leaned against the counter, a shit-eating grin around a green straw, looking far too pleased with himself. He wiggled his eyebrows, motioning with his head to the smooth, new bill in Peter’s limp hands. The teen looked down, then back up.
“I can’t tell if I admire you or absolutely hate you – what did you put in it?”
The trickster spread his arms out towards the cacophony of jars. Each appeared to be opened or missing some of its contents in some way, remains dusted on various parts of Loki’s apron.
“Oh my God.”
–--
“And your name?”
“Patricia.”
“Uh- right.” Loki tried not to show any of his disarray on the outside, fingers scribbling down what he heard with a flourish. “And will that be all?”
“Yes, yes”
“K, we’ll have it ready in a moment.” With a quick nod, he retreated, subconsciously handing the cup to Peter. The scrawl faced the inside of his palm, protecting Peter from the demon. “Here, Jeff.”
“My name is not- y’know what, nevermind.” Completely unaware of the utter despair that awaited him, he flicked on a blender, automatically stirring another fruit mix with a long spoon.
…
“Okay, we have a Cookies and Cream Frapp for- w-what the fuc- fudge.” Peter could feel the brain damage situate itself in his headache, having a literal stroke over the key smash of letters that stared back at him. “For, uh- Pa- Pe….what...ph..oh, Patricia!”
He ignored the judgmental look fired at him in favour of telepathically questioning Loki. An utterly helpless, painful shrug was all he received in return.
It took all of Peter’s remaining self-control to not burst into laughter-induced tears right then and there.
–--
"Mummy, what are they doing??" A young girl pointed to the counter, pig tails swishing with her blue dress. Her mother sighed, taking in the scene while sipping her coffee. Their evening was definitely unique, she thought, not sure whether to accept this event as a nice break from the world or sigh in dismay at the weirdness of humanity.
"LIAM, PASS ME THE CARAMEL"
"WHAT THE HELL IS CARAMEL??!!"
"JUST GRAB THE YELLOW BOTT- I SWEAR TO GOD IF THAT'S MUSTARD-"
Thunk.
"LIAM-"
She slowly looked over to her daughter, wiping the table with a tissue. Her husband looked on in utter confusion, eyeing the two chaotic men behind the counter with a look that screamed 'what in the actual fuck'.
"I don't know honey, just look away."
---
“That’s ridiculous- you know what? I can get you fired right here, lemme speak to your manager. Because you-”
“I-I’m sorry sir, but there’s really nothing I can do.” Peter scratched the back of his neck, leaning backwards to compensate for how much the man was leaning into his personal space. “I can set you up with a different drink-”
Slam. Peter flinched, the sudden assault on the counter wreaking havoc on his senses. Almost breaking the pen in his hands, he winced. “A different drin- did you listen to a word I said? I’m expecting you to do your job, is that so hard-?”
“Excuse me?” Both men turned, and Peter couldn’t help but slump in relief at the familiar voice; what did not comfort him, though, was the dangerous, malicious poison dripping from it. “I’m sorry, can you stop harassing him and just let him do his job, sir?” Through some incredible force, Loki managed to make the title sound demeaning.
“He’s not doing his job, IN THE FIRST PLACE!” He sneered, now over the counter enough to topple over it. Both employees wished that he would.
“Maybe if you actually gave him a proper order or let him get to work, he would.”
Scoffing, the man pointed a finger at Peter, voice high and mocking. “This little kid? He looks as incompetent as they get-”
Loki didn’t know why. Maybe it was the voice, the fact that he was threatening fucking Peter of all people, the one person who had treated him nicely and normally from the start, or the flash of hurt he saw flicker across the teen’s face before he turned away, fumbling with a coffee cup and blinking rapidly. But something inside of him snapped, the heat inflaming his chest, spinning strings into webs and clogging up his mind.
He leaned in dangerously close, voice practically biting into the man, “Listen here, you sad sack of shit, if you can’t deal with the fact that not everything will go your way all of the time, which I hope it doesn’t for you, you can take your shit, and get out.”
He swallowed, eyes reflecting a type of fear that had Loki smirking. It took one more deadly, death-promising look that only the god could produce until the man turned away, hurrying out of the door with his tail between his legs. The twine snapped before he could control himself, a distinct thwap emitting from behind the glass.
“Wh- did he- did you just-”
Peter gaped as the man ran, no, galloped out into the sidewalk, weaving in and out of incoming people, baa-ing madly. It took several seconds for the teen to register this information before he was leaning against the counter for support, wheezing. The laughter was music to the god’s ears.
“Oh my god-” He uttered breathlessly, wiping the tears from his eyes. Peter turned to Loki, adoration in his eyes “dude, that was amazing, thank you so much.”
Loki didn’t have time to unpack all of that, turning away to hide the shakiness in his hands, “Yeah, yeah, whatever spiderling” The god didn’t know what to feel about the sudden surge of protectiveness that had blasted through him, still running red-hot through his cold blood – all he knew how to do was ignore it, hitting the button on the blender more forcefully than he probably should have.
---
Another shrill ding resounded, the ringing completely deaf to Peter’s ears – it had faded into the background by now, an occasional sound forming into a rhythm of time passing by.
What was not deaf to Peter’s ears, or rather his eyes, was the person causing the ding; a visibly tired, goofy man walked up to the counter, faded black hoodie haphazardly slapped onto his torso. He swayed slightly, stopping entirely once their eyes met.
Both men paused, taking a moment to stare into each other’s souls in silent questioning. It seemed that fate was horribly dreadful. Their collective stupor expanded when a certain black-haired god popped out from around the corner, face devoid of emotion.
“Uh...h-hey Scott.”
The man flitted between the apron-clad ‘employees’, dazed. He raised an unreadable eyebrow at Loki, who shot him a small, unenthusiastic wave with a syrup bottle. Peter scratched the back of his neck, cream smeared over his right cheek.
“...sigh. You know what,” He threw his arms up, utterly defeated, “I’m not gonna ask. I’ll take a Large Latte – pump in an extra 3 shots of espresso and I won’t even tell anybody.”
–--
One more look at Loki was all it took for Peter’s will to live to crash and burn. “I swear to- Liam, stop taste-testing the- Scott! Tell Liam to stop taste-testing all the drinks!”
“I- huh?! Who’s Liam?” Scott yelled tiredly, steaming coffee cup clasped in his hands.
“Mr. Loki!”
“Mr- I- w h at?” He didn’t get a response, watching practically dead inside as Peter attempted to wrestle a cookie from Loki, blinking in surprise as he fazed right through the god.
A moment of silence passed, the trickster quietly munching on the mermaid biscuit.
“I- I hate you and all, but that was super freakin' cool”
–--
Loki collapsed onto the couch, a weird sensation of joy overtaking his exhaustion. He huffed, his mind running through the chaotic events of the day – it stuck out like a sore thumb among the bore and straight up depression of the past few weeks. Strangely enough..it was..nice.
The rush of air, brain so suddenly exposed to the parts of Earth he didn’t even know existed left him wanting more; the walls of the tower now felt more claustrophobic than they had before, his only way of coping with said fact being the delightfully big pile of fresh books sitting on the table.
“Busy day at work, huh?”
Loki blinked, the events of the day now merging to form one question: “What the hell did we just do?”
“I dunno, but it was fun as hell. I’m gonna have to swing off now, homework and all.” He bounced up from the couch, beaming at Loki. “Have a nice day, Mr. Loki!”
…
“You too, spider-child.”