Paradigm Shift | By : AlexPhoenix Category: Marvel Verse Movies > Avengers, The Views: 4077 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1 |
Disclaimer: I do not own anything in the Marvel/Thor/Avengers universes. The only thing I own is Alex, Ronan, and their actions/thoughts. This is all for fun; not monetary values. |
Chapter 8: Breakfast with a King
I had to hand it to myself; my momentum was astounding. My kitchen whizzed by my eyes in a blur. Both my eyes and my cooking-utensil-turned-deadly-weapon came to an abrupt halt. There, in the middle of my kitchen, with a Teflon coated pan an inch away from his nose, stood Loki. His hair was slicked back in messy waves, and his blue eyes were as wide as the plates I had on the counter. The gray shirt and black sweatpants still looked just as breathtaking on him then as they had the night before. His hand was wrapped around the handle of the pan, keeping it from colliding with his sculpted features while also not burning the hell out of his hand. It took a moment for my still static-y brain to register that he wasn't holding the pan handle; his long fingers were wrapped around my hand. I was completely unable to feel anything but the blood rushing through my veins. It was like a bunch of NASCAR drivers were holding a race within my vascular system.
He tore his eyes away from the scoured bottom of the pan and settled on me. His eyes were filled with amused remorse as he stepped around my extended arm. His hand didn't leave mine until he was well out of the trajectory of the makeshift weapon. I didn't think I could move my arm fast enough to hit him again, anyway. Adrenaline tends to give people the physical stamina to do things they otherwise would have never been able to accomplish.
"I apologize," he said softly. "I did not mean to startle you."
"It's uh..." I licked my suddenly dry lips, lowering the pan down to my side, "…it’s okay. You didn't."
One of Loki's eyebrows quirked up on his pale forehead. "I didn't?" he asked, sounding just as amused as he'd looked before. The newest addition to his facial emotions repertoire was confusion.
"No. Yes," I said. I let out a sigh. Trying to figure out a way to rationally explain exactly what had just happened in my kitchen that had made me almost bean him in the schnoz with flattened metal wasn't going to be an easy task. I turned away from him to set the pan back on the hot stove, and reached for the non-furry package of smooshed bacon. "I was startled before you snuck up on me."
"And why were you already startled? Did this spring out at you?"
I turned to see what he was talking about. In his hand was my discarded spatula, which had no doubt landed on the floor during my girly freak-out session. He skimmed his eyes over the metal, then slipped them over my face as a small smirk twisted his mouth up. He was mocking me now. Usually, I could handle people mocking me, seeing as I'm a pretty laid back person. I'll be the first one to say something degrading about myself. But, I had not yet had my coffee and I'd almost had a heart attack. Being able to deal with mockery was not in my vast system of abilities at that point.
"No," I huffed with a moue, grabbing the spatula from his hand. My fingers brushed his, and unlike when he'd had his pale fingers wrapped around mine a minute earlier, my skin tingled with pinpricks of tingly heat. It felt like someone had stuck pins in a freezer for a month and had then immediately stabbed them into my skin. The fact that the needles felt good made me think I was slowly becoming a masochist, and that I should make an appointment with a therapist tout de sweet. I shuffled over to the sink so I could wash off both my hand and the spatula. I hoped the water would rinse away the incredibly odd sensation that danced over my skin, as well as get the germs off of the utensil.
"I could've sworn I touched a spider," I continued, flipping off the water flow. I grabbed a handtowel to dry off the spatula with. Letting the cloth absorb the water droplets, I turned to face Loki and my cooking. Loki looked like he was desperately trying to not laugh at me. I wanted to hit him with the frying pan for real, this time. I shot him one of my best glares. I was really good at those when I hadn't had coffee yet. Loki's smile didn't falter even a smidgen under my glare. The wind rushed out of my sails faster than George Carlin could say Jack Robinson. One of three things was happening: I was losing my touch, my glare wasn't heartfelt, or Loki had been at the receiving end of so many evil eyes that he was immune to them now.
Instead of breaking his nose or throwing him a more earnest stink eye, I returned my attention to the stove. I flipped the finished pancakes onto one of the plates on the counter and squeezed another batch out of the bottle. I reached for the bacon for a third time, staring at the plastic wrapping like it was going to sprout furry legs and pump me full of venom. It didn't, and I let out a little inward sigh. It may be squished bacon, but it was still bacon and not a thing of my nightmares. I ripped open the package, placing several slimy pieces of meat strips into the replaced pan.
Loki cleared his throat enough to gain my attention. I turned my head to glance at him. One arm was wrapped around the small of his back. The knuckles of a loose fist were touched to his thin lips. His head was ducked down until his chin almost met his chest, and his sparkling eyes were glued on me. For all the world, he looked like the strangest combination of a five-year-old boy and dashing gentleman that I'd ever seen. He was so damned cute that I almost wanted to pat his head and tell him it was okay. I found that thought to be an odd one, especially after I'd just wanted to break his face. I needed to learn consistency, and I needed to learn it fast. I didn't reach out and pat him on the head, though. Especially not after he opened his mouth.
"I cannot help but notice that there are not any spiders in here," he said, still sounding way too happy about my admission of lunacy.
My shoulders dropped and I let the spatula fall against my thigh. My eyebrows shot up on my forehead, and I replied with as much wry sarcasm as humanly possible, "Thank you, Captain Obvious. I had no idea."
His eyebrows furrowed for a moment, then raised up on his lovely forehead at an upward slant. He stared at me like I was being a hilariously difficult child. I glared at him like I wanted to punch him in the throat. Without taking my menacing gaze off of him, I shoved the spatula under a pancake and flipped the fluffy confection. The action was, apparently, funny as hell, because Loki started laughing. My glare was crushed under the sheer shock of hearing such a beautiful sound come from his lips. His chuckle was contagious. A smile involuntarily tweaked the corners of my mouth up.
"You're not supposed to laugh at my glare," I said, humor sneaking its way into my words. "It defeats the purpose." I flipped the rest of the pancakes while watching him out of the corner of my eye.
"I'm-"
"You're not sorry, so don't even try," I cut him off, wiggling the spatula at him. I gave him a quick smile before turning away to put a paper towel on the only empty plate. I slipped the spatula under the crispy bacon, lifting it on to the towel-lined plate so the grease could get sucked off of the meat candy before we ate it.
While flipping the last three pancakes onto their assigned plate, I asked, "Do you want some coffee?"
"Coffee?" Loki inquired. He sounded confused, like he had no idea what the delicious drink was. I looked at him out of the corner of my eye. Even in my peripheral vision, the poor man looked baffled as all get out. I gave him the full weight of my gaze, and almost squeaked at how cute he looked. Yes, he was an incredibly sexy, handsome, masculine man, but the way his head was cocked to the side ever so slightly and the way his eyes became wide and innocent, he was friggin' adorable. He reminded me of a puzzled puppy. I wanted to give him a cookie and chew toy and snuggle him. Yep. Therapist. I needed one.
I couldn't help the stupid smile that spread across my face. Last night he'd been a total jerk. This morning he was being both a jerk and so cute that I wanted to squish his thin cheeks in my palms. I shook my head, trying to wipe the thoughts and the smile away from my facial area. It was pretty sure that any manly man would loathe the idea of a woman wanting to smush their rugged faces while making baby noises. Maybe Loki could join me in seeing a therapist. It seemed that he needed one, too. Seriously, people who switched emotions like they were changing lanes on a highway needed some form of mental help.
"Yes, coffee," I said, one again shoving a slew of thoughts to the back of my mind. I spun around on my heel to pick up the brass knuckles mug. "You sound like you've never heard of coffee."
"Because I have not," he replied. His voice was closer than it had been before. A quick glance over my shoulder proved to me that at least my sense of hearing was working well. He was standing only a few feet behind me now, whereas he had been standing at the other side of the kitchen before. What little was left of my previous smile bloomed into a half-grin.
"First Star Wars, now coffee? Have you been living under a rock?" I asked, lifting the coffee pot out of its little cove. I poured him a steaming cup of coffee. Vapor twisted up to the ceiling and my nose. The delightful smell filled my nostrils, making my mouth water like the sight of Loki had the night before.
"No," he replied. "I have been residing on Asgard. I do believe I have already explained this to you."
He sounded frustrated with my supposed forgetfulness. Yeah, he wasn't as good with the whole sarcasm thing as I originally thought. I took a point away from his "I-Like-This-Guy" roster. I turned around, coffee mug in hand, and gave him a look that clearly said that I thought he was being an idiot.
"I know that, genius. It's a saying we Earthlings have." I stated mockingly. I held the mug out to him. "Try this."
He glanced down at the cup, immediately taking it into his long fingers without so much as a quizzical eye twitch in my direction. I was almost surprised that he didn't say anything about my choice of drinking chalices. One would expect alien royalty, if he was that, to complain about a falsely blood stained cup with a fake weapon attached to it, just like one would expect them to have something to say about streams of curse words. Instead of questioning me about the odd mug, he slowly raised it to his lips, being much more cautious about the drink than I first gave him credit for.
"It's hot, so sip it," I instructed. My voice went low and soft as I gave him advice on how to not burn his tongue. I wasn't exactly sure why my tone had dropped to that of a helpful mother, but it had. Perhaps I didn't want him to burn himself on scalding liquid and start off on another tirade. It was a good morning so far, and I really didn't want that ruined by scorched flesh. Actually, the morning was kinda sucky, but I didn't want it to get any suckier than it already was. Yeah. That had to have been my reasoning behind turning into a mother hen.
He did as I had so softly directed him to, and sipped the hot liquid from the ceramic. His face contorted with disgust. His straight eyebrows swept upward, his eyes squeezing shut underneath the dark lines. His lips pursed together ever so slightly. And I, in all of my grace and humility, couldn't help but burst out laughing. Once the laughter had faded to the point to where I could actually see him through my squinted eyes, I glanced up to find him glaring daggers at me. It only made me laugh more.
"This drink," he said over my laughter, his voice as sharp and deadly as a freezing wind, "is terrible."
I let my laughter die to soft chuckles, hoping that he wouldn't throw the coffee on me for laughing at him yet again. Very carefully, I plucked the mug from his hands. My teeth burrowed themselves into my cheek so I wouldn't go into another fit of giggles when I finally spoke.
"Okay. So, black coffee isn't for you," I said, my face still split in a huge grin. "Good to know."
I turned back to the counter, dragging forward two crimson red ceramic jars as Loki regained his pre-coffee equilibrium. I popped the tops off of each of the jars as I opened the silverware drawer to get a spoon. Two spoonfuls of sugar, which was enough to make any type of medicine go down, and one and a half spoons of creamer later, I was ready to have Loki give the java another go.
"That...concoction, was bitter and disgusting. I've no idea why you would choose to consume something so deplorable," he griped.
I turned around with the doctored drink in my hand and held it out to him once more. This time he eyed it suspiciously, like it was going to turn into a coyote and tear his throat out. I gave him an understanding little smirk, stepping forward a little.
"To be fair, not many people like their coffee black. Not as far as I know anyway. I just figured I could start you from the bitter bottom and work you up toward the sweet summit. That nastiness was my fault, and I'm sorry," I said. I was quite proud with my use of so many alliterations so soon after waking up. Loki didn't seem to notice, or care, for that matter. He stilled glared at the mug like it was going to beat him to death with his metal shoulder piece.
"It's not gonna bite you," I smirked. He turned his glare on me.
"Like the package was not going to bite you?" he retorted. He motioned his hand ever so slightly at the bacon on the counter. I rolled my eyes to the ceiling, considering what he'd said. Yes, I had been scared that the bacon was going to turn into Gargantua. But, it hadn't, so I was okay.
"Touché," I said, nodding my head to the side in a curt movement. I looked up at him again. "But the bacon didn't sprout any fangs to nibble on me with, so my trepidation was unfounded. Drink."
I had to hand it to myself, I was getting really good at using big words before I'd consumed coffee. I was also getting really good at throwing Loki for a loop. His eyes widened ever so slightly as he stared at me. He didn't make a move to take the mug from my hands, and I quickly chalked that up to him being so flabbergasted that he had become frozen in place. My assumption was probably more false than Pamela Anderson's breasts, but it was a nice little notion.
I smiled, letting a little sigh slip out of my mouth as I reached for his wrist. To my second surprise of the morning, he didn't move back. I gently grabbed his hand and raised it to grasp the smooth surface of the mug. He didn't try to pull his hand back. He didn't try to knock me away from him. But, he did seem just as shocked as I was that he was letting me guide him to grab a cup. Funny how brains tend to just shut off when you've been broadsided by the unexpected. I had the distinct feeling that he never let people touch him much, which was why he was so surprised.
"It should be better this time," I said, my voice going low and soft again. Man, I hated that! It made me seem all sweet and innocent. Sweet and innocent was a concept that I was so far away from that I was in a completely different universe than it was. Unfortunately, the honey filled tone seemed like an involuntary vocal function. "Just try it. If you don't like it this time, I'll make you some tea."
He stared at me, his eyes boring into mine as though he could suck out my thoughts and feelings on a whim. After what felt like thirty minutes of intense staring, he tore his gaze away to glace down at the lightened brown liquid. My hand fell away from his as he lifted the mug to his lips and took another sip. My eyes widened of their own accord, hopeful, for some strange reason, that he'd actually like it this time. His face didn't distort into something out of Rodin's Gates of Hell, so he must've found it at least mildly enjoyable. He did however, give the coffee a considering look after he'd swallowed.
"That is," he started, wiping a thumb across his bottom lip, "much better."
A smile blew to my lips on a breath of delighted air. A jerky nod pulled my head down once. "Good. Glad to hear it."
I wheeled myself around so I could pour my own cup of life elixir and fixed it up in my own special way, leaving Loki to sip at his java to his heart's content. One spoon of sugar and a half spoon of creamer later, I was letting brown life's blood trickle its way to my stomach. With every sip, I took a deep breath in through my nostrils, inhaling the steam from the cup like it was going to imbed vast amounts of creativity and limitless avenues of thinking into my cerebral cortex. It wouldn't, but I'll be damned if it didn't smell that way!
"Are you going to make love to the drink, or are we going to eat something with substance instead?" Loki asked. His voice was a lovely combination of humor and frustration. It was a wonderful way for him to remind me of his presence in my kitchen. Yep, the coffee was working if I thought his irritation with me and my coffee drinking habits were lovely.
"Give me a moment," I said, holding up a finger in the direction of my kitchen table, where his voice sounded like it had come from. "I need to make sure I can move without attacking the coffee maker in a fit of passion."
He let a chuckle slip from his lips. From how quickly he stifled the sound, I think the laugh had slipped past his anti-humor defenses. There had to be some faulty wiring in his somberness machine. He really needed to get that fixed. After all, he usually sounded amused in some way. Yeah, the humor was intertwined with some other emotion, but he still exhibited cheerfulness most of the time. Well, at least he had for how long I'd known him. Then again, the man was all over the map with his feelings. Who the hell knew what was going on inside his nutbar. Er...brain.
I, reluctantly, set my mug on the counter so I could retrieve two more plates from the cupboards. I separated out two eggs, three pancakes, and four pieces of bacon for each plate. I got two sets of knives and forks out of the silverware drawer, and set one pair of the utensils on the counter next to my plate. I felt like a waitress as I walked over to the kitchen table, balancing one of the ceramic circles on an open palm while the metal pieces were curled in my fingers.
Loki, as I'd suspected, was already seated at the rinky-dink faux crime scene, and somehow managed to look like he was the royalty he claimed to be, even though he was sitting at a particle board table. Perhaps it was how he was sitting. He sat sideways in the dark wood chair, his ankle settled on his knee. One elbow was propped on the edge of the table, and a long finger was crooked under his slender chin. As I set the food down on the table, he regarded me with the kind of gratitude someone would give an eighteenth century tavern wench. It kind of made me want to smack him on the back of the head. My palm itched with the need to knock him off his high horse. I told the itch to slow its roll and go have some more coffee.
And so, it did. I sat down the plate and eating tools in front of his highness, and instantly whirled around so I could sink my teeth into a strip of meat candy. Shuffling over to the counter gave me enough time to wonder how a person could ride the emotion pendulum so often and not puke their guts out on an hourly basis. I shoved the thought of puking out of my ear hole, and plucked a piece of bacon from my plate. I shoved it into my mouth while watching Loki warily eye the pork, hen byproduct, and flattened cake fluff.
"Sorry I don't have syrup," I said through a bacon chipmunk cheek. "My pantry isn't stocked with it. Hell, my pantry isn't stocked with much. Can't fit anything in there except for a rat and prayer." I mumbled the last two sentences as I scooped up my plate, turning around so I could lean by butt against the counter edge. After swallowing the bacon, I immediately shoveled a sawed off piece of egg into my open mouth. I was usually a shy eater. For me, eating in front of people was a huge no-no. I couldn't, for the life of me, explain why that was. But, it was something I was adverse to regardless of if I knew why I hated it or not. Although, apparently mornings took away my capacity for bashfulness, as well as any sense of eating etiquette.
"That is perfectly alright," he said. He picked up his fork to delicately cut into his stack of pancakes. The metal stabbed into the pastry, then waggled at the empty seat on the other side of the table. "Why do you not sit down?"
"Uh..." was my intelligent reply. I twisted my torso around, grabbed my witty coffee cup, and resumed my previous position of straight-backed ass leaning. I loved being flexible.
My Gumby characteristics were pushed to the back of my brain to join the pile of other discarded thoughts as I took a sip of coffee and tried to articulate why I wasn't sitting at my kitchen table with Loki. Well, my grandfather had loved to eat while standing up. It drove my Grandma crazy enough that I was pretty sure he did it just to bug her. So, I could pass it off as a familial trait. Then again, I was so tired that even thinking of sitting down made me want to pass out for a week. That was a pretty good reason to not plop my ass in a particle board seat.
"Because I'd rather not fall asleep in my food," I finally responded.
Loki swallowed his mouthful of food before cocking his head to the side, his eyes sparkling underneath his dark lashes. A ghost of a smile played across his features. I just kept on amusing this man when I wasn't even trying. Maybe I should be a stand-up comedian. Maybe I should go dunk my head in boiling oil.
"Do you really believe that you would slip into a slumber simply from sitting down?" he asked, slicing into an egg.
"That's the theory, Alliteration Albus," I replied into my coffee cup. Loki made a barely audible sound that was somewhere between a scoff and sigh. My small smirk was expertly concealed behind a cylinder of ceramic, and was quickly turned to a groan of pleasure. Unlike the Rolling Stones, all it took was a good cup of coffee to give me satisfaction.
"Just as the spider on the counter was a theory?" Loki asked, dismissing both his new nickname and
my noises of contentment. I shot him a watered down glare before twisting around to set my mug back on the counter.
"That was no theory," I replied, picking up my fork and shoving an entire egg into my mouth. Fuck manners. I was hungry. Once I'd swallowed, I said, "The spider was probably a really lucid hallucination brought on by exhaustion." Funny how easily that explanation came to me. Will caffeinated wonders never cease?!
"A hallucination?" he asked. He sounded almost...disappointed. Disappointed by my explanation? Disappointed by my tiredness? Disappointed by the fact that I was most likely having visions of things that terrified the shit out of me? Who knew? Point was, he sounded like I'd just told him he'd gotten a D on his mid-term. I glanced over at him, curious to see what his dissatisfied expression looked like.
Thoughtful, was what it looked like. He was blankly staring at the opposite wall, his jawline rolling as he chewed on his food. For once, I actually wondered what someone was thinking. Usually, I couldn't care less what was going on inside someone else's head. But, for some reason that was beyond my scope of understanding, I really wanted to know what was swirling around in his mind. Of course, he could've been considering if there were any flaws in Einstein's theory of relativity, or he could be thinking about how pretty ladybugs were. For all I knew, his wheels were turning, but his hamster was a skeleton. I'd met an abundance of people like that. My onslaught of overthinking filled the air as we ate. Neither of us spoke again until most of the food on our plates had been consumed. Loki was the one who broke the thick silence.
"Who is the redheaded girl in the portrait?" he asked. It was an innocent question. It was actually much more innocent than the one he'd asked the night before, but it still hit a sore spot in my soul. I stopped mid chew, staring down at the center of my plate for a few seconds too long. With a good deal of discomfort, I swallowed a large chunk of unchewed bacon before responding.
"No one you need to know about," I said succinctly. I picked up my coffee cup, draining the cooled liquid in one large gulp. Loki cast a sideways glance at me as he finished the rest of the food on his plate. He set his fork down gently, so that the metal didn't so much as whisper a clink against the ceramic circle. With a deliberately graceful motion, he scooted his chair back and stood up, picking up his plate and mug before sauntering over to tower his form above me.
"You are very mysterious," he said. His eyes were slightly narrowed as he looked down at me with what I could only describe as an intense interest. Of course, my description was probably inaccurate because I sucked at reading people. That tends to happen when you're as socially adept as an armchair. While I tried to gauge his facial expressions, his eyes tried to crush me with their quizzical heft. I needed to escape the weight of his gaze without twitching like I'd just been tasered, so I turned around to set my empty coffee mug down on the counter one last time.
I opened my mouth to say that my air of mysteriousness was all in a day's work. What came out instead was, "Says the self-proclaimed space alien with a superiority complex."
I winced. Yeah, the guy made my thought process go all sorts of wonky, but that was no excuse for my brain-to-mouth filter to just flip its switch to Fuck You. Then again, it did that no matter what. I really needed to get that fixed. I needed my filter fixed like Loki needed his anti-humor machine fixed. Ronan was good with machines. Maybe he could repair ours for us. I reached for the coffee pot so I could refill my cup while dodging Loki's vexed gaze. I actually had no idea if his gaze was vexed or not, but finding out was the very last thing on my to-do list now that he'd woken up.
"Self-proclaimed space alien with a superiority complex?" Loki repeated, a lilt on the end of his sentence forming it into a curious question. He didn't sound too angry. I supposed that was a good thing. Unless he was so pissed that he was calm. Been there. Done that. Destroyed a junk yard because of it.
"Gee. It sounds even better when you say it," I mumbled. I immediately stabbed myself in the metaphysical foot.
Shut up, Alex! I cried within the confines of my own head. If he's so pissed that he's calm, you will be his junkyard! He was nice enough not to murder you in your sleep. Don't push him!
My hand was less than an inch away from the coffee pot handle when a sheen of scales sprouted from the hard plastic. The black handle morphed, turning slender and long and alive. A blunt nose poked up from the glass. Two beady eyes steadied themselves on the tasty tidbits that were my phalanges. I bit back a scream of panic, shoving my open palm to the left of the coffee maker. My fingers wrapped around the handle of a butcher knife and pulled it from the bubble man that it had been so quietly resting in. As I brought the knife down on the handle-turned-cobra, a pale hand waved through my peripheral vision. The snake returned to its original form, and my knife sounded with a lovely crack when it connected with an inanimate object.
In one fluid motion, I lifted the knife again, spun away from the counter, and braced myself to attack the man that I'd just made breakfast for.
While AFF and its agents attempt to remove all illegal works from the site as quickly and thoroughly as possible, there is always the possibility that some submissions may be overlooked or dismissed in error. The AFF system includes a rigorous and complex abuse control system in order to prevent improper use of the AFF service, and we hope that its deployment indicates a good-faith effort to eliminate any illegal material on the site in a fair and unbiased manner. This abuse control system is run in accordance with the strict guidelines specified above.
All works displayed here, whether pictorial or literary, are the property of their owners and not Adult-FanFiction.org. Opinions stated in profiles of users may not reflect the opinions or views of Adult-FanFiction.org or any of its owners, agents, or related entities.
Website Domain ©2002-2017 by Apollo. PHP scripting, CSS style sheets, Database layout & Original artwork ©2005-2017 C. Kennington. Restructured Database & Forum skins ©2007-2017 J. Salva. Images, coding, and any other potentially liftable content may not be used without express written permission from their respective creator(s). Thank you for visiting!
Powered by Fiction Portal 2.0
Modifications © Manta2g, DemonGoddess
Site Owner - Apollo