"I assure you brother, the sun will shine on us again."
In 2018, after Thanos' snap, the God of Mischief yet again stumbles upon Midgard; Earth. Not realizing the events that preceded his arrival, Loki searches for answers on the dying planet, speci...
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THIRTY EIGHT: POP
"Get your hands out of that drawer!"
Loki winced as he felt a hand smack the back of his head. He turned around to glare at Svala, who stood in front of him with her hands on her hips. "I can't look?"
"The same shit is in there from all the other times you snooped," Svala argued, "nothing new."
"Yes, but, it's funny to think about why these were invented," he picked one of the toys up, a blue silicone one, "as in, who thought of this?"
Svala rolled her eyes. "Some lonely person. Or an unsatisfied one. Pick your poison," she shrugged, reaching over him to grab the dress she was going to wear for the day.
"Or," he prompted, using the blue toy to point at her, following her every move, "it's for women who like women."
She snorted, putting the dress over her head and shaking her hair out. "And how would you know—" she paused, then squinted at him knowingly. "You looked through my phone, didn't you?"
"Maybe." Loki answered vaguely, which basically meant he did.
"For the record, you didn't see us as anything, and the girls at the salon told me to take my mind off how heartbroken I was."
"I mean, yeah, but—"
"And I subconsciously picked this," she took it from his hand, "and I realized I still thought of your dumb ass, so I missed you even more. Story over," she concluded, putting it back in the drawer.
"Svala—"
"I'm also pretty sure you looked through my thoughts and dreams while I was sleeping after we reunited," she shook her head at him disapprovingly, "you sneaky little bastard!"
Loki didn't confirm or deny that assumption. "Honey—"
"Nah, 'cause now you done made me mad all over again—"
"Hey," he pulled her back when she tried leaving the room. She turned to face him, an irritated yet nervous smile on her face. "I'm not going anywhere now."
"I wish you would. You've gone soft over the years."
"Whose fault is that?"
"Well," Svala gushed, hugging his waist, "it's the coo—"
"No," Loki put a finger to her lips, causing them both to laugh, "stop it. We're going to New Asgard and you need to get the dirty jokes out now before you speak around the princess."
"Fine...fine," she huffed, looking away, "she won't even remember, but I guess."
"Demi..."
Svala frowned. "No fair! You get to call me slurs and I have nothing—"