The Joker

2.

"What'll it be?" asked a peppy, African-American girl with a long, fluffy afro. Her pearly, white teeth shone at Loki, who had no idea what he wanted.

"Uh, Mr. Odinson?" Peter nudged, kicking Loki under the table. "What kind of milkshake do you want?"

"What do you suggest?" Loki asked, raising an eyebrow at his young companion. "Really, Peter, I have no idea what these are." His knuckles rested against the side of his face in boredom.

Peter, however, remained irritatingly positive. "He'll have a chocolate shake, a glass of water, and..." Clearly unsure what to say next, Peter looked back to Loki. "Are you hungry?"

"What?" Loki asked, caught off guard.

"Hungry. This place has the best curly fries in Manhatten."

"Curly fries? What's a curly fry?"

"They don't have curly fries across the pond?" the waitress asked, placing a hand on her curvy hip.

"Pond?" Loki questioned again. He spoke English well, but some recent phrases were still new to him.

Peter audibly sighed. "She means the U.K., Mr. Odinson. Where you're FROM." His eyes were wide, and he was being awfully obvious. Either that or it was incredibly bad sarcasm. Nevertheless, Peter continued. "Like I said, he'll have a chocolate shake, a glass of water, an order of chili-cheese curly fries, and a double cheeseburger."

"And for you?" the waitress asked Peter. The boy missed it, but there was a definite flirtatious smirk hiding around the corners of her mouth. She was attracted to the boy, and Loki thought she was a very pretty girl. Peter should be lucky to court her. She was beautiful and even a bit funny (Loki could tell by the way she talked), but Peter was awkward, both in speech and in stature.

"I'll just have a glass of milk and some pancakes," Peter said cheerfully, still not realizing the waitress liked him.

"She liked you, you know," Loki said when the girl was gone.

Peter snorted. "What? I mean, I know she thought you were weird and all because she was smiling a lot when she talked to you, but you think she likes me?" He put his hands behind his head and leaned back in the booth contentedly. "Are you sure she wasn't interested in you, Mr. Odinson?"

"Call me Loki," the trickster replied. "And around people who shouldn't know who I am, you can call me...Bjorn."

Peter grinned mischievously. "Bjorn? Are there any people actually named Bjorn anymore? That's lame."

Loki's eyes narrowed and he leaned forward. "Now listen here, you little shit-."

"You're mad because I called your idea lame? Look, Loki, no offense, but if you can't handle the fact that you had a bad idea, we need to regroup here. What would I do if Aunt May made you mad and you turned her into a pile of goo or something?"

Loki rolled his eyes. "Who is this Aunt May person, and is she as infuriating as you?"

Again, Peter chuckled. "Look at who you're talking to. Last I checked, you woke up in Central Park with no idea how you got there, no money, no roof over your head, and no way to call your brother. Be careful how you talk to the guy that's buying you food."

His threats were idle. Loki hadn't known Peter long, but he did know that he was too annoyingly kind to just let Loki walk. Still, the god decided to humor him. "You're right. I'm sorry. This Aunt May. Is she your real Aunt?"

The Spider-Man nodded. "Yeah. She took me in when my mom and dad died. I was really little. Lived with her ever since."

Loki smiled his first genuine smile since arriving here. "You're adopted too?"