Just Go Along With It ✔️

There should be a limit to how many times one checks their phone whilst waiting for a date. More specifically, there should be a limit to how many times boyfriends can skip out on date night due to the fact their frat mates called it Halo night. Specifically, your boyfriend. As usual, you've arrived early for the date, gotten the table reserved for Thor Odinson, waited for Thor Odinson, and now, every five minutes, the waitress checks up on you with doe eyes, sad eyes, as if to simultaneously say are you sure a Thor Odinson exists? and poor girl.

You don't want sympathy tonight.

Tonight, you were going to make it your night. It was always about his achievements - and now you wanted to tell him yours. You wanted to tell him you'd just gotten your dorm sorted out for uni, were up for a promotion at the little bakery you slaved away half your waking hours at, and got ninety eight in one of the early exams.

It wasn't like today was a big night or anything.

It was just...Thor and you never talked that much anymore. He was so busy having fun with his new-found friends on the university's football team (Go The Warriors!) to speak with you.

"Since he isn't coming, how about dinner on the house?" the server asks you. Her voice is dripping with sorrow for you. She's probably been in your position too. Statistically speaking, many have.

It's then the door to the quaint little restaurant slams open, and a lithe figure darts inside. Your heart stops - is it him? Did Thor actually separate himself from those people who had turned a gracious man into a bullheaded one? Did he remember?

No.

He did not.

"Sorry I'm late, babe," the man seats himself before you, running a hand through his messy hair, tying it into a loose bun. You've never seen him before in your life. "Traffic's crazy this hour, forgive me," he ad-libs, and looks to the waitress, who gives him the largest look of scorn, "We'll be ready to order in just a moment."

You're dead silent, watching this man with reluctant curiosity. Do you know him? Does he know you? What kind of crazy, long-haired, two piece suit wearing man rushes in to save a broken relationship?

Apparently, this one.

"...I'm Loki," he whispers to you over the menu, "Thor's my brother. I'm sure he never told you about me. Just go along with it, okay?"

So you do.

"So, bucko, what'll it be? A serving of disappointment with a hint of well deserved break up?" A different waitress asks, siding up to the table. Her jaw is set, ready to fight tooth and nail for your honor. It's lovely to think she'll do it, but this isn't Thor. He needs that speech, not his supposed brother.

Loki takes a deep breath. "I was actually wondering if there were any vegetarian agnolotti remaining?" he cooly replies, "As for my reason why I was late, I was kept back at the office," he reads the waitress' badge, "Helena."

Helena cocks her head, chewing on her lip, "There's agnolotti, yeah, but are there any feelings in your cold heart? What kind of guy leaves his date waiting for nearly an hour? And because of work? If you're married to your job, don't have a significant other!"

You feel your neck heat up with the fires of embarrassment. The flames of fear. You hoped they'd swallow you up, just to get you away from this situation. Gods, this Loki was only being nice actually being here, and now, everyone's defending you like an estranged wolf pup to a foreign pack.