chai 💌

You’re lost in a daydream when a hand slides over the small of your back. You startle, spinning around to confront your assailant with enough force to scatter the onions you’re chopping in perfect semi-circle. Bewildered (and a little condescending), Loki blinks down at the shards of root vegetable scattered across his socks. “Did I scare you?”

You sigh, leaning your forehead on his shoulder. “Yeah. Yeah, give me a second.”

His hand rises absentmindedly to rub your arm, soothing up and down your bicep until your heartbeat slows. “It’s only me, dove.”

“You were scary, once.”

“Hmph! I'm still scary.” The onions disapparate with a wave of his hand and a little sizzling sound. “What are you making?”

“Soup.” He smells good. You press your nose against the slip of skin between his shirt collar and his throat, trying not to be too obvious about how you’re drinking in his cologne. “Everyone’s leaving for that peace conference in New Zealand tomorrow, so I thought we could do a big dinner before they go. Wanda’s coming to work on the main course in a bit but this needs to sit in the Crock-Pot for a few hours.”

“You were planning on cutting a hundred onions by hand?”

“Help me?”

Loki's devious fingers trail along the side seam of your t-shirt. “For a price.”

“What price?”

He peels you off his shoulder, just far enough to look at you, and you can tell by the way his skin crinkles around his eyes that he’s aware of your secret snuffling. He doesn’t call you out on it, though; only rakes his gaze over you and smiles. “I haven’t decided yet.”

“That’s not fair. I can’t agree to something I don’t know the stakes of.”

“You’ll have to, if you want my help.”

“I could just refuse and work alone.”

“Oh, but then I’ll grow so horribly bored that I will have no choice but to act out. And who knows what I’ll do.” His hands creep under your hem, admiring the give of your skin when he paws at it. “I can promise you that we won’t be finished in time for dinner.”

“Fine.”

You put him to work chopping vegetables while you start on the roux. He’s only half-hearted in his efforts though, more concerned with staring at the side of your face. He loves to study you. Sometimes you catch him trying to pace his breathing to match yours, late at night; or you’ll spot his cheek twitching to mimic your smile whenever you laugh. He’s picked up certain mortal turns of phrase, only to use them incorrectly in the hopes that you’ll lecture him.

Your eyes connect for a heartbeat, and the clock display on the oven is wiped clean by Loki’s seidr.

“Are we dating?” You only half-mean to say it; it was more a fleeting thought than a real concern, but the silence that had settled over the two of you was begging to be broken. The rhythmic chopping sound ceases, and you internally wince without looking back at him.

“Have I not been taking you on dates?”

“Yeah, but—”

“But, what?”

“Are we… dating dating?”

“Speak earnestly, sphynx. I don’t have time for riddles.”

“Is this just for fun? Or is it for serious?”

Loki Laufeyson is holding a knife. A year ago, the Avengers wouldn't have let him within ten feet of anything with a decently sharpened edge, and now he blinks his pretty eyes back at you—covered in onion skin and scraps of carrot—like you’re a particularly unreasonable puzzle that he is remiss to solve. “‘For serious’?”

“Like, together. Boyfriend-girlfriend.”

“Am I not sufficiently domesticated?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Then why are you asking me such asinine questions?”

“You know what? Nevermind. I get it.”

“Sphynx. Faerie. Look at me.” He turns you around by your waist, holding you in place so he can shoot you an irate-but-loving glare. “Stop speaking in riddles and tell me plainly: do you love me?”

“Of course I do.”

“Well, then that answers everything, because I love you, too.”

“Oh.”

His mouth curls with a certain rose-coloured cruelty. Loki leans in just near enough that his mouth ghosts over yours, but his hands hold you firm, thumbs digging a warning into your hips when you try to cross the rest of the distance. “You’re so verbose. Oh.”

“Stop making fun of me.”

His lips slide to the curve of your jaw. “I’m afraid that is an impossible request, darling. Now, can you get these into your pot-of-crock? I have a very short fuse left before I must ravish you and it burns hotter every second.”

“Wait! The— the carrots—”

“If you don’t hurry up—”

“you’re in my chem class, right?”

you glance up. he’s leaning against the wall like he thinks he’s smooth. “didn’t think you’d be here this late.”

you offer a tight smile, polite but detached. “just waiting.”

he doesn’t get the hint. “your boyfriend gonna be mad if i talk to you?”

your mouth opens to reply, but then you feel it - them.

liam appears first, dropping his duffel beside your feet, eyes calm but unreadable as he steps between you and the guy, casually hitting the vending machine button for you. “hey, babe,” he says without looking at the other kid. “you want the orange or the grape?”

“orange,” you murmur.

then theo’s there too, slower and quieter, leaning against the opposite wall. eyes sharp. arms crossed. but he doesn’t say anything at first - he doesn’t need to.

the guy gets the message almost immediately.

“didn’t realize you were- uh. i’ll see you in class,” he mutters, backing off.

liam hands you your drink, lips brushing your temple. “you alright?”

you nod. “he was just talking.”

“sure he was,” theo says flatly, finally pushing off the wall. he looks at you, not the guy, and adds, “next time just text us. we’re not far.”

“i knew you’d find me,” you say.

and it’s true. you don’t need them to yell or threaten or throw a punch - they’ve never needed that to make their point. they just show up. every time. without fail.

and when you walk out of the school between them, theo’s hand brushing yours and liam’s arm looped lazily around your shoulders, no one tries anything again.

Jimmy couldn’t help but think something was wrong with him. He attracted women so effortlessly – an everyday superpower that most men would give a whole arm for. And, as sweet and pretty as most of these women were, he couldn’t bring himself to do what he was expected to do with their attention. Whether they knew it or not, he tried so hard to make it work, but ultimately he couldn’t. Some of them were patient and understanding. Some of them thought he’d messed around with their feelings. If he wasn’t so confused and so in his own head about what the hell was the matter with him, he might have felt even guiltier about it.

Was he even attracted to women? The question had popped up in his mind a few times. Maybe if he got propositioned by someone who wasn’t a woman, that would be that. He’d be fully into it. He’d just be one of those gay dudes who women couldn’t help but fall for. But, he wasn’t gay, either. That's not to say he was straight. When he thought about it, he liked the idea of dating anyone, no matter what their gender was. His problem – the thing he couldn’t get over – was the whole thing of him not being all too eager about sex, contrary to what people might assume given his strange magnetism.

Sex was this vital aspect of relationships – Jimmy knew that. And, he knew, if he didn’t feel sexual attraction to anyone, and if sex wasn’t part of any ideal future relationship he might have, it’d be a dealbreaker for a lot of people. It had been. So, to stick himself with a label that could potentially doom him and his prospects at finding a relationship… well, as much as the label resonated with him, and as much comfort as he found in knowing that he wasn’t alone, he was a little scared, truth be told.

This worry loomed over him as he started to fall for you. It was why he held off on asking you out, because it seemed unfair to be the one to initiate anything with you if he knew full well that he wouldn’t be able to give you what all of his past partners had wanted. But, as always, he only had to wait for you to ask him. You were so nervous that he’d have felt cruel turning you down – not to mention, of course, he really did want to go out with you. And, so he did. He was so charmed by you that, after a few dates, he almost— almost— forgot about the issue of sex. But, the more he felt himself falling for you, the guiltier he felt. There wasn’t any reason for him to feel guilty, of course.

Regardless, that guilt is why he found himself sitting across from you at a quaint little diner – his suggestion, his treat. As he’d hoped, it was pretty much deserted, besides a group of four teenagers sitting on the opposite side of the diner and the two waitresses who were busying themselves by cleaning tables. The pair of you sat in silence as you ate. It would have been comfortable if Jimmy wasn’t agonising over the idea of telling you about the thing that had ended so many promising relationships. Even though he was close to full, he wished he had another burger or another serving of fries to keep his mouth out of action. But, he knew that it’d be better for the both of you if he just got this over with. Delaying the inevitable would only make things worse.

“So, uh—” He cleared his throat. “I think I’d better tell you something before things get too serious.”

“Sure.” You covered your mouth as you spoke, the last bite of food still mushed up in your mouth. “Is everything okay?”

He scratched his eyebrow and let out a nervous chuckle.

“Yeah. No. I mean, I don’t know.”

You grabbed your napkin and scrubbed the corners of your mouth and your fingers, conscious of the fact that you didn’t want to have shit all over your face when Jimmy was talking about something serious.

“What’s up?”

“I… I don’t know how to explain it all that well. But, I, uh, I guess… people assume I’m, like, some ladies man and that I sleep around. Maybe you do too. But, actually, I’m not into… sex.” 

You nodded.

“Okay.”

“I like you – I really like you,” he added, panic in his tone. “But, not in a way that involves sex… And… if that’s a dealbreaker for you, that’s okay. I just… I figured I should tell you now, before things go too far.”

As he awaited his fate, he looked anywhere but at you. Though, the second you spoke, his eyes darted straight to you.

“I don’t wanna put words in your mouth or make you label yourself or anything but… are you asexual?”

“Probably. Yeah.”

“What about aromantic?”

He shook his head.

“No. Just—just… asexual.”

You noticed his hesitation to use the word and you offered him a small, reassuring smile. He’d barely said the word aloud before – about himself, anyway. It’d cycled through his head plenty of times but it still scared him with how definitive it felt, no matter how accurate it was to his experience. Every time he’d tested it out, it filled him with nerves as much as it relieved him, in the way that only the truth could. 

He knew there was nothing wrong with him or any other ace person. Not everyone agreed with that, and even those who were accepting of asexuality weren’t always open to dating ace people. The people he attracted tended to fall in that latter camp. At the very least, it was nice to be met with support even when it was, more often than not, the end of things, like with any incompatibility in a relationship. He couldn’t begrudge anyone for their needs in a relationship, in the same way he hoped they didn’t begrudge him for his, but he couldn’t deny that it hurt.

“Well,” you said. “I don’t want to take away from your moment or anything, but this is probably a good time to tell you that I’m asexual.”

Jimmy stared at you for a moment before replying.

“You’re asexual?” 

“Yep.”

“So…”

“So, you don’t have to worry about sex with me, okay? The feeling’s mutual. No offence. Your charms only work so much on me.”

At that, Jimmy let out a much needed laugh. His posture relaxed as all that built-up tension left his body. A wobbly smile tugged at the corners of his lips. Tears brimmed his eyes. You reached across the table and grabbed his hand; you knew exactly how he felt, having been in his position plenty of times. It broke your heart that he’d been so nervous, no doubt from rejection after rejection. It wasn’t all doom and gloom for ace people, of course – this moment was evidence of that – but it sure felt like that sometimes. You’d be lying if you denied getting a little choked up as well.