AN: So I wasn't really sure how to categorize this; the nearest tag we could come up with was Modern AU, but that's not precisely accurate, right? Because Loki and Sif and all do exist in modern times within the MCU? The point is, this is whatever AU you'd call it when the Asgardians are just regular folks, living in modern day America and not being powerful warriors and fighting Thanos. Maybe I should call it Regular People AU. Or Midgardian AU.
. . . . . .
Frigga would not want anyone to think that she doesn't trust her sons. They're the apples of her eye, her greatest accomplishments in this world: they're strong and fearless, and they've got brains (well, Loki more than Thor) and an unshakeable sense of right and wrong (well, Thor more than Loki). They're good boys, who've grown into good men, and she trusts them both implicitly.
But that doesn't mean that they don't occasionally need a nudge in the right direction—a bit of wisdom and guidance from someone a little bit older and wiser, someone who perhaps sees things a little more clearly than they.
Which is why she has no qualms about offering her opinion on Loki's dating life.
"So I heard from Jane yesterday," she says, opting to come at the subject from an unexpected angle. "They've decided they're going to name the baby Bestla."
"After Grandmother?" Loki asks, glancing up from his newspaper. "That's lovely."
"And she wants you to call Thor. She says he's starting to fret himself into pieces about his impending fatherhood again and that you're the only one who seems to calm him down."
Loki looks gratified for a moment, before his expression returns to its usual placid default. It still breaks her heart a little, these moments when he's surprised at his brother or his father seeking out his company, but they've been happening less and less as the years go by. "I'll call him after work," he promises.
She smiles at him, and he smiles back, and she is so thankful, once again, that he chose to return to his home city after finishing his MBA. Thor is three hours upstate, coaching football at a small private college, and while she's thrilled that he got his dream job at such a young age, it does mean she doesn't see him or his wife nearly as often as she'd like.
But Loki came back to Asgard, which was very unexpected and very welcome. It's not that she thought he'd hate being in the city—it's a bustling metropolis, so there's plenty for a young man to do, and besides he got a great job offer here—but she remembers how much he insisted, especially during his difficult teenage years, that as soon as he graduated high school, he was getting away from Asgard (away from his father, really) for good.
But these days father and son have worked things out, for the most part, which means that Loki didn't mind coming back home, and Frigga gets all the joy of having her younger son close enough to come by for breakfast now and then.
"I can't believe I'm going to be a grandmother so soon," Frigga says, and then adds, carefully nonchalant, "Although I also can't believe that, as competitive as you two always were with each other, you've let him beat you in walking down the aisle and in giving us our first grandchild."
"Mother," grumbles Loki, but there's fondness in his eyes.
"Now, I don't want to be one of those mothers," she says. "So I'm not going to point out that maybe being so busy at work that you're willingly working on a Saturday—" she gives his sharp suit and briefcase a pointed look— "is part of the reason you haven't met someone nice yet."
"May I remind you that Father has worked at least one Saturday a month for as long as I can remember?"
He's right—being district attorney and then mayor for one of the largest metropolises in the US is a demanding job—so she ignores him. "Well, like I said, I'm not pointing it out."
"Yes, I'm impressed with how well you're avoiding the subject," he says drily, and mother and son share a sharp grin. Thor takes very much after Odin, in both appearance and personality, but while Loki gets his looks from his biological parents, in temperament and mind he's Frigga's son, through and through. They've always understood each other completely, no words needed.
Which is why she knows what his response to her next comment will be, but she has to say it anyway; maybe if she does so enough, it'll eventually get through his skull. "Well, while you are toiling away at the office, I will be having a much nicer time: lunch with Gná. And I believe she's bringing Sif along; they're having a mother-daughter day."
"Oh really," says Loki flatly, raising a perfectly skeptical eyebrow as he peers at her over the top of his coffee cup. As expected, Loki has immediately caught onto the drift of the conversation.
Undeterred, Frigga just beams at him. "Isn't it lovely that our little Sif has returned to Asgard? Well, hardly little anymore, is she? I really can't believe you don't see her more, Loki, given that you actually live in the same apartment building."
"It's a massive building," he reminds her, not for the first time in the last four months. "A hundred and sixty-four units, in a skyscraper: it's not exactly like we're next door neighbors. And may I remind you, I do see her, all the time. We've gotten lunch together four or five times since she moved back. And you've had her and her parents over for Sunday dinner a few times, and you made us all do the Fourth of July together . . ."
"But you could be seeing her more," Frigga says, and is not surprised at Loki's exasperation.
"I'm not going to date her, Mother."
"Why ever not? You two were so close when you were young."
But she knows Loki, knows that he will answer "Because I have no interest in dating her" just as surely as she knows that his statement is a lie. Because her poor boy could never really get past the fact that Sif never noticed his massive crush on her in high school (and junior high and elementary school, really) and instead followed Thor around like a lovesick puppy for years.
Well, as much as Sif Tyrsdottir has ever behaved like a lovesick puppy, which is admittedly not much.
Thor and Sif managed to get past it; Sif moved on, and was genuinely happy for Thor when he met and married Jane, and there is no awkwardness or resentment when the three of them are together. The only lingering negative feelings are all on Loki's side. It's not precisely that he's never forgiven Sif, because he was never precisely upset with her, but there's still a certain tension there. He never really moved on. He certainly made an effort to close himself off to the possibility of anything ever happening with Sif, but he didn't do a particularly good job of moving on.
And now he refuses to even entertain the idea of pursuing her, despite how much they've all grown and changed since high school, despite the fact that she just happened to move into his same building when she moved back to Asgard (and if that's not a sign . . .).
And despite the way his eyes linger on Sif whenever they're in the same room these days. Loki claims he's over Sif; he might even believe it. But Frigga sees the truth he won't admit to himself.
Which is especially frustrating, because ever since she moved back, Sif's started gazing at Loki the same way.
"But you two always get along so well," Frigga points out; one last try before she gives up on this method of persuasion. "You always did."
"We always argued, if that's what you mean."
"Yes, she was the only person you thought worth arguing with."
"Mother dearest, mother mine, if you do not drop this subject I will be forced to abscond with all these delicious pastries, and you will have have to eat your yogurt alone."
"Fine," says Frigga, putting her hands up in a placating manner. "No more talk of Sif. Then if you will not ask her out, may I set you up with someone? Agneta, from the clean water charity, has a niece she's been wanting to fix you up with for ages."
Loki eyes her suspiciously. "What's she like?"
"Brilliant, apparently. Graduated top of her class at some Ivy League or other. She's a glaciologist at MCU now."
"Glaciologist?" Loki perks up. "That does sound interesting. Fine, Mother, you may set me up. Although in my experience, blind dates rarely lead anywhere."
"Well," says Frigga cheerfully, "if this one leads nowhere, I actually have several young ladies in mind for you."
"You're really keen to get a second grandchild, aren't you?"
Of course he'd assume that this is all simply about her wanting grandchildren to spoil. Her dear, sweet boy has always been a walking contradiction: extremely self-assured when it comes to his own mind and abilities, extremely self-deprecating when it comes to his relationships with other people. That's why he reacted so badly, and went through such a difficult patch, when he learned he'd been adopted. He'd always felt Odin preferred Thor, so learning of the adoption had felt to him like proof of what he'd always suspected: that he was the less-valued son. It still breaks her heart to think of those days, and she'll regret, all her life, the way she and Odin handled the truth about Loki's past.
So she reaches out a hand; Loki looks at it curiously, but reaches out and takes it. "This has nothing to do with grandchildren," she says softly. "This has to do with me worrying about you being alone. If that's what you prefer, that's fine, of course. But I think it could make you happy, to have someone to come home to. So I want that for you, because I love you. My children's happiness is the most important thing to me."
Her son is not given to big emotional displays—not unless he's upset, anyway—but in that moment she sees pleased surprise and warm affection in his expression. So she's not surprised when he says "Fine, Mother, I will go on your blind dates, if it makes you happy."
"Thank you, dear," she says, and squeezes his hand.
"And now—" he releases her hand to check his watch— "I need to be on my way if I'm to make it downtown before the conference call with the Boston office."
"You're making the Boston office work Saturdays too?" Frigga demands, a gentle teasing in her voice, and Loki smiles at her.
"Send me the information on this niece of Agneta's," he says. "I promise I'll try to go into it with a good attitude."
"Thank you for coming all the way out here to have breakfast with your mother, darling," Frigga says, and then, since she thinks Loki could stand to hear it again, "I love you."
And Loki looks pleased and surprised again, and presses a kiss to her cheek, and disappears out the door, briefcase in hand.
And Frigga watches him go with a satisfied smirk. So Loki refuses to give in and admit that deep down, he wants to ask Sif out? That's fine; she never really expected that avenue of persuasion to work. And now he's unwittingly agreed to participate in plan B.
. . . . . .
"I told you blind dates go nowhere."
Frigga looks up from her laptop with a look of surprise. "Oh, hello, darling, I didn't know you were coming by. So Agneta's niece was a bit of a letdown?"
"I mean, she was a perfectly lovely person," Loki shrugs, leaning back in the armchair he's settled down on. "Very intelligent, fascinating job, very kind. But she was the most indecisive person I've ever met; the date was a pain from beginning to end. I call her and suggest dinner, and ask if there's any restaurant or cuisine in particular she's interested in. 'Oh, I don't care, you decide.' What night would be best? 'Oh, I don't care, you decide.' We have our meal and I ask if she wants dessert: 'Oh, I don't care, you decide.' I ask if she wants to walk through Observatory Park: 'Oh, I don't care, you decide.'"
Frigga bites down a laugh at his imitation of the girl's (apparently) sing-song voice.
"I can't decide if she genuinely has no opinions, or if she thought that she was being a good date by just deferring to me in every decision, but it did not make her a good date. It just made me wonder the whole time if she was enjoying herself at all, because she wouldn't offer a single opinion."
Frigga fixes her features into a commiserating expression. "Oh, I'm sorry, dear. Agneta made her sound like such a wonderful girl, but I can see how that would be quite irritating. And I can see how you'd be the type to prefer a more decisive sort of young lady."
"What I'd prefer is to not have to bother with dating," Loki grumbles. "If you really want me to have someone to come home to, maybe I should just get a dog."
"You hate dogs," she reminds him.
"Fine, a snake."
"I don't think that snakes are very good company," she observes. "And also: you hate snakes."
He heaves a heavy sigh and she smiles. "Do really hate dating that much? Are all your dates this bad?"
There's a moment where she can see him deciding how much to tell her. And then he admits, "That was my first date in . . . a while."
"I wasn't fond of dating when I was your age," she admits. "It felt like too much work with not nearly enough payoff. And then I met your father." This brings a fond, reminiscent smile to her face. "And suddenly I understood. That's not to say that we didn't have to work at the relationship. But knowing it was him I was working toward . . . that made it all worth it. When you find the right person, it's worth it."
The tiniest smile tugs at Loki's lips. "You make it all sound so pleasant."
"It is pleasant," she says firmly. "We just have to find the right girl. So, are you ready for the next young lady on my list? Ingrid—you remember Ingrid—has been dying to fix you up with her granddaughter. Very talented girl, apparently; does technical illustrations for textbooks and scientific journals and the like."
Clearly Loki's most recent blind date has not made him eager for the next one to come along so soon; he gives his mother a very expressive look. She gives him a very expressive look of her own.
He breaks first. "Fine," he says with a half-smile. "I'm quite busy this week, but next week, I will call Ingrid's granddaughter."
"I think you're going to like this young lady," says Frigga.
This is a lie; she does not think that Loki is going to like this young lady. But sometimes white lies are necessary in a good cause.
. . . . . .
"I do not see us having a second date," Loki informs her over dinner two weeks later. Odin is out of town for a few days, so Frigga drove downtown to dine with Loki at the new Wakandan restaurant that recently opened near his apartment.
Frigga furrows her brow. "Really? Ingrid spoke so highly of her. What was the problem?"
"The problem," says Loki, "is that she barely said two words to me the entire evening. I'm assuming it was shyness, since I prefer that to the alternative, which is that she disliked me so much that she couldn't bother stringing together sentences of more than two words. 'So what do you do?' 'Illustrate.' 'And what do you illustrate?' 'Books.' 'And how do you like that?' 'Fine.' And she did not ask a single question, or start a single topic of conversation, all evening." He makes a face as he takes a sip from his drink. "I understand social anxiety, genuinely I do. But after an entire meal together, I didn't know anything more about her than I did when I started."
"But Sigyn was very quiet too," Frigga points out. "You didn't seem to mind that." Sigyn was Loki's girlfriend for a year and a half while he was in college; she's the closest he's ever gotten to settling down and having a proper grown-up relationship. The girl was sweet but as timid as a mouse; Frigga liked her perfectly well but hasn't missed her one bit since Loki broke up with her. She gets the sense that Loki feels about the same.
"Oh. Well, yes, Sigyn was . . . I didn't mind it with Sigyn, I suppose." Loki seems momentarily flustered.
Frigga nods and wisely says nothing. She's long suspected that Loki pursued Sigyn because she was the exact opposite of Sif: a way to distance himself from the girl who broke his heart, to convince himself and others that he felt nothing for his old friend.
The waiter appears then, bringing several brightly colored bowls of stew, a plate of steamed greens, and two white, pillowy mounds of some kind of bread.
"This smells delicious," says Frigga, looking at the spread, "but I'm not really sure how to go about eating it."
"Ah, let me show you," smiles Loki, then pulls off a chunk of his bread, smashing it a little with his thumb and then using it as a scoop for the stew.
"Since when did you become an expert on Wakandan cuisine?" Frigga asks, following his example with her own stew. "This restaurant just opened last week, and it's the first one in the city."
"I was actually here the day it opened."
"Business meeting?" she guesses, and he hesitates, just a little.
"Sif and I came here after work one day. It's not a big deal," he's quick to add. "We just happened to run into each other in the lobby of our building, and we both were planning on going out for dinner, so . . ."
It takes no small amount of self-control to simply smile at that, but Frigga's playing the long game here; she can't risk putting Loki off now by making a fuss about his meal with Sif. "How did she enjoy the food?"
The smile that crosses Loki's face just then is more fond than he probably realizes. "You know Sif; she'll eat anything."
Frigga laughs at that. "Remember the time she and Thor dared each other to drink an entire bottle of hot sauce?"
"I remember both of them lying on the couch and moaning all weekend," Loki snorts.
"How is she doing? I haven't talked to her since I had lunch with her last month."
"Really well, I think," says Loki. "She said they're going to have their first prototype ready by the end of the year." A hint of pride touches his voice. "If they can get this to work, they're going to revolutionize the motorcycle industry."
"If you'd told me that one day our Sif would be COO of an engineering start-up . . . I mean, it was always you who was so serious about going into business someday."
And for a moment there's something on Loki's face that she can't quite read. "Sif's always had a way of surprising people," he says quietly. And then he looks back up at his mother. "But tell me, how's planning going for your fundraiser?"
They chat over this and that until the meal is done and they're wandering down the sidewalk toward Frigga's car. "I am sorry your date with Ingrid's granddaughter turned out to be a disappointment," she says. "I'll keep that in mind: you'd prefer someone with a little more self-confidence."
"Yes, isn't there anyone on your list of potential dates who's a bit more outgoing?"
She turns a bright smile on him. "So you're going to keep letting me set you up?"
He shrugs a little. "I know you'll keep asking me until I do. So I figure I might as well exhaust your list as quickly as possible and then I can go back to being a hermit."
"So you want someone a little more outgoing, a little less timid, yes?"
"Yes, let's give that a try."
Frigga considers this, then bites down a smile. "You know, my massage therapist saw your picture once and thinks you're very handsome; she's hinted I should set you two up. And she's not someone I would call timid. What do you think?"
"Wonderful," says Loki, though not in a tone that would make someone believe him. "I'll go out with your massage therapist."
And Frigga gives him a beatific smile.
. . . . . .
"Now that was an experience I have no desire to repeat again," says Loki, shaking his head and setting his lemonade down on the side table. A cloudy day has lessened the usual heat of late August, and the family is taking advantage of the cooler weather to sit on the massive back porch. "I think I only got three words in all evening. I've never heard someone chatter that much. I don't know how she drew breath."
"It's a pity your brother's married, then," chuckles Odin, turning a page of his book. "He was certainly a chatterbox in his younger days. They might have been well suited for each other."
"Really, Mother," says Loki, "she must be a terrible massage therapist. I don't know how you could possibly relax while she talks that much. And that fast."
"Really? She never speaks during our sessions," Frigga says truthfully. "But then she knows I prefer not to talk." And then some impish part of her prompts her to add, "Although now that you mention it, she can be a bit chatty before and after our sessions."
"It was absurd," Loki says, then adds drily, "Although now I'm something of an expert on treatments for diabetes in domesticated cats, so I suppose the evening wasn't a total loss."
"Oh, I'm sorry, dear," says Frigga. "I hope you let her down easy, though; she's an excellent massage therapist. I'd hate to have to find a new one."
"I have no doubt he did," says Odin. "I know my boy is always a gentleman."
A pleased sort of surprise fills Loki's expression for a moment, before he carefully wipes it away. "I certainly tried to be, Father. So, anyway, another one bites the dust, as the song says."
"So what is it, exactly, that you want?" Frigga asks. "The last date talked too little, but this one talked too much."
"I don't mind a girl talking," says Loki. "She ought to talk. I want her to talk. But I want it to be a conversation, where both of us contribute. And with your massage therapist . . . you could tell she was uncomfortable with silence; she'd start chattering about something nonsensical every time there was the slightest lull. I don't mind small talk, but a girl who's not afraid of silence would be nice."
"So a girl who's not afraid to speak, but won't speak just for the sake of hearing her own voice, is what you want."
Loki nods his agreement. "A girl who's mature enough to know it's okay if we're not constantly talking. And who is at least slightly interested in things I have to say." He shakes his head, taking a sip of his lemonade. "You know I trust your taste, Mother, but the girls you've come up with so far have all been less than impressive."
Loki doesn't seem to notice anything odd about that statement, but Odin turns to look at his wife with a thoughtful, knowing expression on his face; he always has seen through her when no one else can. Time to distract Loki before his father can speak.
"Well, this next girl should be a better choice, then; I know that she's neither too talkative nor too shy." Indeed, she knows a great deal about this girl. Including exactly how Loki will feel about her.
"Fine," sighs Loki. "But just how many girls are you going to set me up with?"
"I only have one or two more in mind," says Frigga. "And if you don't like any of them, I'll leave you alone, I promise."
"All right, fine, I'll do it," says Loki. "But I hope you're right about this girl being better company than the last one." His phone rings just then, and he goes inside to answer it.
As soon as he's out of earshot, Odin turns to his wife. "What, precisely, are you up to, my darling? Surely you know pleasant, companionable young ladies to set Loki up on dates with."
"Don't worry," smiles Frigga. "It's all part of the plan."
. . . . . .
"Remind me how you met this girl," Loki demands. "I cannot figure out how you could have crossed paths with her, because as far as I can tell she spends all her time at home, the spa or the gym."
Frigga grins unabashedly, knowing that Loki can't see it over the phone. "Daughter of one of your father's colleagues," she says. "And I'm surprised you said that, for the way her mother described her made her sound like quite a catch."
"Oh, she's gorgeous," says Loki, sounding thoroughly unimpressed. "Absolutely stunning. Could probably be a model, as she reminded me a time or six."
"So what was the problem?"
"Absolutely no ambition," says Loki. "She is doing nothing with her life: no job, no volunteer work, no school; she seems to have no plans beyond living off her parents' money. Until, I assume, the day that she can live off her husband's money."
"Oh, really?" Frigga asks, putting concern into her voice. "She genuinely does nothing?"
"She does have fifteen thousand Instagram followers," he says drily. "I know, because she made me look at her profile. And now I know the importance of having a 'strong brow game.'"
"Ah," says Frigga. "So you'd prefer your dates not to be Instafamous?"
"How do you even know that word?" he demands.
"Sif taught me," says Frigga simply.
There's a pause. "Ah," says Loki. There's another pause. "It's funny—but nice—that you two have become so close since she moved back."
"We've always been close," smiles Frigga. "I mean, there was a time when hardly a day went by that she wasn't playing in our backyard, or you and Thor in hers. That means a lot of putting band-aids on skinned knees." Something occurs to her and she finds herself chuckling. "Remember the time we couldn't find you two, and we were all convinced you'd run away or been kidnapped? And then we found you—"
"—in that big oak tree in their backyard," Loki remembers. "That one was all Sif's fault. She was mad at her parents about something, so she wanted to go hide up in the leaves where they couldn't see her, but she didn't want to be bored up there alone so she talked me into coming."
"Or when she convinced you to take your bike off that jump in the seventh grade and you broke your arm?"
She can hear the smile in Loki's voice when he responds. "She felt so guilty about that, remember? She took notes for me in our science class every day for weeks."
"You two were so close back then," Frigga reminisces. "What happened?"
She regrets the words as soon as they're out of her mouth, because she knows how Loki will react. And she's right. "High school happened," he says tightly. "Her massive crush on Thor happened. That mess when I learned I was adopted happened."
"I'm sorry, dear," she says. "I didn't mean to remind you of unpleasant memories. Not when we were having such a good time analyzing your date."
It works; Loki chuckles a little, and the sad mood is shattered. "Well, I'm about ready to give up on this blind date business."
"Not yet," she insists. "I know this woman from the Women's Shelter board. She's definitely got ambition; she works in HR at a major corporation, and she serves on several boards and charities."
Loki grumbles. But in the end, he agrees.
. . . . . .
"I am giving up on dating."
"Come now, is it really so terrible, darling?"
"With the women I've been seeing lately, yes."
It's two weeks later and Frigga is at Loki's apartment downtown on a rainy evening; she'd come by to drop something off for him, and when the weather suddenly took a turn for the worse, he'd invited her to stay a while and wait the rain out. "Surely they're not all that bad."
"There has not been one girl you set me up with who I wanted to see long enough for us to have dessert," Loki informs her, and Frigga feels a stab of guilt—and then hardens her resolve. Stay the course, she tells herself. It's going to work.
"What was wrong with this girl? I've always found her very good-natured and easy-going."
"That was exactly the problem!" Loki declares. "She was too easy-going."
"I didn't know it was possible for a person to be too easy-going," comes a familiar voice from behind them, and they both turn quickly to see Sif standing in the doorway, looking very sharp in a blazer and t-shirt, and smiling at them both. "I was going to knock," she explains, "but when I got up here your door wasn't shut all the way, so I just . . ."
"Sif, darling!" exclaims Frigga, and gets up to greet her former neighbor with a hug. "It's so lovely to see you! I haven't seen you since . . . it must have been Amora's bridal shower last month. Come in and talk a while, won't you? Or was this meant to be a brief visit?"
She glances at Loki, who is suddenly sitting very still, his face a perfectly emotionless mask.
"I was coming up to return this umbrella to Loki," Sif explains, and her gaze slides briefly from Frigga to her son, and then back again. "But I've got time to sit. If Loki doesn't mind my invading his space again."
"Again?" Frigga asks, at the same time that Loki says "You are always welcome," a bit stiffly.
Sif puts the umbrella on the rack by the door and walks into the living area. She never responds to Frigga's question, but Frigga files that piece of information away carefully: this is not the first time Sif's been up here, but she's not such a regular guest that she's certain of being welcomed.
"So who was too easy-going?" Sif asks, sliding onto the loveseat in the living room and pulling one foot up comfortably beneath her. There's something about her—the sharp blazer or the strong bobbed haircut or just the sense of confidence she exudes—that makes her fit perfectly here in Loki's sleek, modern apartment.
Now if only Sif and Loki could see how obviously she belongs here.
Frigga's trying to think of how to quickly change the subject—she certainly wants Sif to think that ladies find Loki desirable, but she doesn't want it to go so far that Sif gets discouraged that Loki seems to be dating everyone but her—when Loki speaks up clearly. "A woman I went on a date with a few days ago. Beautiful woman, very smart. Works in HR at Roxxon. Serves on the board for the Women in Crisis Center."
Oh dear, he is rather transparent sometimes, isn't he? Frigga, at least, knows exactly what he's doing, exactly which insecurities are making him brag about women he's going on dates with, and she fights the urge to sigh and shake her head.
"Oh," says Sif, after the tiniest hesitation. "She sounds like quite a woman. But, she's too easy-going?"
Loki hesitates, and then he grins—a genuine one. "She agreed with absolutely everything I said. Which seems like it would be nice, but which actually got very annoying, very quickly. So then I started making contradictory statements; she still agreed with every single one. By the end of the meal, I was saying deliberately inflammatory things, just to see if I could get a rise out of her, and each time it was just 'That's an interesting idea, I see where you're coming from.'"
Sif rolls her eyes. "Yes, I can see you making deliberately inflammatory remarks on a date."
"Well, I don't usually do that," Loki says, and Sif grins, and he grins back, and Frigga just sits on the sofa and watches the pair of them with bated breath.
"Well, that's good to know," says Sif. "If I ever set you up on a date, she needs to be willing to argue with you."
Loki gives a little smile, mostly amused and just a little self-deprecating. "Exactly. You know me better than most. Don't you agree that I need someone who will call me out when I need it?"
Sif grins at that. "You definitely need someone who won't put up with your crap." She falls silent for a brief moment, looking down at her hands, and completely misses Loki's lingering gaze.
"Definitely," he says quietly.
"So was this another setup?" Sif addresses her question to Frigga. "Your doing again?"
So Loki's been telling her about all the blind dates—probably for the same reason he told Sif about this one. Frigga wonders if he even sees what he's doing, and she wonders if he thinks about how Sif might feel about it.
(Because the more she watches the pair of them together, the more she's convinced that Loki's attempts to play it cool—to act as though he's some sort of ladykiller, constantly going on dates with desirable women—is the reason that the normally confident Sif is being so uncharacteristically hesitant when it comes to her clear attraction to him.)
(Of course, there's also another possibility: that Frigga is completely misreading things, and Sif isn't interested in Loki at all. Frigga is ninety-five percent certain that this is not the case. But that five percent is what keeps her from just telling Loki that Sif wants to date him.)
"It was," Frigga answers. "And it seems I've picked another dud, I suppose. I hope you were nice to her, Loki, for I shall have to see her at our board meeting next week and I wouldn't like for there to be any tension between us."
"Of course I was nice, Mother, I'm always nice."
Sif snorts. "Were you being nice when you let that goat loose at the Homecoming game?"
That's a genuine smile on Loki's face. "All right, these days I'm always nice."
The trio lapses into a companionable silence. Frigga sees Loki look at Sif for a long moment, and then look away. And then she sees Sif look at Loki for a long moment, and then look away. And she fights back a sigh. These two sweet little fools.
And yet, this is not the first time Sif's been to Loki's apartment.
And yet, he's confided in her about all these dates.
And Frigga hopes that means something.
"So how many more blind dates are you going to set him up on?" Sif asks, and Frigga snaps back to attention.
"I really just had the one more young lady in mind," Frigga says. One more young lady, and hopefully that will have been enough to prove Frigga's point. "She's a physicist. I'd hoped you would appreciate that, Loki, given your interest in the subject in school."
"Of course," says Loki promptly. "That sounds quite nice, to spend an evening with a physicist." And he shoots a glance at Sif out of the corner of his eye.
"Yeah, she definitely sounds like your type," says Sif, and Frigga wonders if Loki hears the faint note of resignation in her tone.
And Frigga bites back a sigh. These two sweet little fools.
. . . . . .
From: Loki
Sent: September 26, 10:07 pm
Honestly, where do you keep finding these girls? This one seems to have been tragically born without a personality.
From: Loki
Sent: September 26, 10:08 pm
I'll give you full details on Saturday.
. . . . . .
Saturday is Tyr and Gná's anniversary, and as is their usual tradition, they've invited family and friends over for lunch, including their neighbors, Odin and Frigga. This year, they've expanded their guest list to include Odin and Frigga's son, who happens to live in the same building as their daughter.
(Frigga had rather been hoping that it would occur to the two young adults that they could carpool, but Loki'd had an errand to run and came alone, and Sif hasn't even shown up yet.)
It's turned out to be one of the last fine weekends of the year, before autumn starts in earnest, so they are planning to eat out on the back patio. Frigga is pleased to have been invited—both to celebrate with her dear friends, and to watch Loki and Sif interact—and especially pleased that the timing worked out for her to be able to attend; Jane's due date is only a week away, and Frigga's leaving Monday morning to be with her daughter-in law at the birth.
Odin, Frigga and Loki arrive a few minutes early; Gná greets them warmly and hands them drinks, then bustles off to go check on her husband, who's finishing the meal in the kitchen. Odin follows her to go to chat with his old friend Tyr, leaving mother and son alone in Tyr and Gná's front room.
"So apparently the blind date didn't go well."
"Oh, yes, that date," sighs Loki. "No personality whatsoever. She had no interests, no hobbies, she couldn't name a book or a film or a song she liked: 'I don't know, I just listen to whatever.' From talking to her, I got the sense that she's usually just into whatever her current boyfriend is into."
"Well, you're always so proud of your taste in everything," Frigga teases gently. "Wouldn't you like to have a girlfriend who would adopt your preferences without question?"
Loki shudders. "How dull," he says. "Is it so much to ask to find a woman who's a fully formed human all on her own? Who has her own thoughts and opinions? Who loves me but also functions without me?"
"I am sorry, dear," says Frigga, and she partly means it, too. "I seem to have done a very poor job of setting you up these past few months. Luckily for you we've reached the end of my list."
"Yes, I suppose that is lucky," he grumbles, but he's smiling.
Time to put phase 2 of the plan into action.
So Frigga says, with as unstudied an air as she muster, "It's just that you seem to have very specific criteria. You want a girl who's decisive, confident, ambitious and driven, to whom you enjoy talking and who talks neither too much nor too little, who's willing to call you out and argue with you when needed, and who 'is a fully formed human all on her own, with her own thoughts and opinions.' That's quite a tall order to fill, dearest. You think people like that show up every day? Where do you expect to find such an extraordinary young lady?"
And in that moment, as though her entrance had been perfectly timed to answer Frigga's question, Sif walks through the front door.
And the significance of it is not lost on Loki, Frigga can see; he stares at Sif more openly than usual as she hangs her jacket and bag in the front closet, and greets them both warmly, and walks back into the kitchen to find her parents.
"Did you plan that?" Loki hisses at his mother as soon as Sif's out of earshot.
"Did I plan for Sif to arrive right at that moment?" Frigga asks with an amused grin. "I'm honored that you think so highly of my abilities, but no, I'm not quite that good." Although if she was that good, she would definitely have planned for Sif to arrive right at that moment. The fact that it happened without planning has got to be some kind of divine intervention.
And then she hesitates, choosing her words carefully. It looks like they may have just had a breakthrough, but proceeding requires a delicate touch. "But what, exactly, do you mean? Why would I have planned for Sif to arrive just then?"
"Oh, so it's an accident that you described Sif perfectly, and then she showed up immediately after? Very subtle."
Bingo.
"But Loki," she says gently, "You know I wasn't describing Sif. I was listing the qualities that you, personally, have told me that you're looking for in a girlfriend. That's all." And then she smiles. "I must say, I find it very interesting that when I listed all those qualities, you immediately recognized Sif as their embodiment."
Loki stares at her.
Frigga smiles serenely back.
And then he turns and wordlessly walks out the front door.
Surprise stays her feet for a moment, and then she hurries after him. She finds her son standing out on the sidewalk, back to the house, spine ramrod straight, hands clenched at his sides; he doesn't turn when she calls his name, so she walks around in front of him to see that his eyes are closed. He seems to be attempting to get his emotions back under control.
"Loki, what is it?"
His eyes fly open, as if he's startled by her proximity; in the moment before he turns his head away, she's surprised to see his eyes are suspiciously bright.
"Can we not talk about it?" he asks tightly.
She was not expecting this reaction; has she taken her prodding about Sif too far? But she also saw, perfectly well, the warm delight in Sif's eyes when she walked into the house and saw Loki standing there. They're so close. One of them just has to make the first move.
"Darling, you know I don't want to do anything to make you unhappy," she says gently. "But can you tell me what's wrong, please?"
He glances around, confirming that they are alone here in the yard. "I simply . . . I don't want to talk about Sif anymore."
Frigga raises her eyebrows in question.
Loki look at her a long moment, and then he relents and lets out a bitter laugh. "Fine. Yes, I know she's exactly what I'm looking for in a woman; of course I know that. I've known it since before I was even consciously noticing girls. Although I suppose I didn't notice until just now that every date you've set me up on lately has failed because of all the ways those girls aren't her."
Yes, well, that was the plan, she thinks to herself. "Then what's the problem?" she asks, and is surprised by the vehemence of his answer.
"That she doesn't want me!" he bursts out, then quickly schools his expression. "She's never wanted me," he continues more quietly. "She only ever wanted Thor."
He certainly has a knack for holding on to old hurts, doesn't he? "Darling, that was ages ago," she says gently. "Sif got over Thor in college. Well before he met and married Jane. It's been years since she felt that way."
"But she chose him," he says helplessly, and his eyes are too bright again. "I was always an option, all growing up, but she chose Thor. She always chose Thor. Even after him . . . every man she's dated since then has been a clone of him. Remember Haldor? He and Thor could have been twins."
He sighs, and his shoulders slump, just a little. "I thought I was over her," he says quietly. "It took me years, but I thought I'd finally done it, finally moved on, and then she just waltzed back into my life and started being . . . perfect, again. And I tried so hard to ignore it, to be happy just being her friend, but the last few weeks . . ."
And Frigga can only stare; this is the most emotion she's seen out of her boy since . . . well, since he learned he was adopted. But this time, there's something she can do to help—something more than simply love him and hope for the best. "Are you so sure she's not interested now?" she asks quietly. "You two seem to have gotten close again. Maybe . . ."
"I'm not her type," Loki says again, as though that's the end of the conversation, as though Sif's former preference for outgoing and athletic means she will never go for slim and clever.
"People can go for more than one type," Frigga insists. "And people can change."
"Can they?" Loki asks skeptically.
He really refuses to believe this, doesn't he? To believe what's so obvious to an outside observer.
All right, Frigga admits she may have made a tactical error: she's been trying, for the last three months, with all these dates, to subtly bring Loki around. But maybe this is a situation that actually requires bluntness. Luckily, she can do bluntness. "They can," she says firmly. "As you would know if you'd stop feeling sorry for yourself and really look at Sif when she talks to you."
There's a long pause, and then his expression changes, very subtly: the self-deprecation in his expression lessens, just a bit, to let a spark of interest and hope show through. "How does she look at me?" he asks, almost reluctantly, as though he's afraid the answer won't be what he hopes it'll be.
And Frigga gives him a warm smile. "The last few times I've seen her, the answer is: a bit like the way you look at her."
Loki stares, all his defenses dropped for once, letting his dumbfounded hope show through. "Are you saying . . . You think . . ."
"I don't know for certain," Frigga says. "I just think she might be more open to it than you expect." She puts one hand on his shoulder. "Think about it, won't you?"
The look on his face is one she hasn't seen on him in a long time: hope and optimism. It's still a bit hesitant and unsure, but there's not a hint of his habitual languid impassivity, and it does Frigga's heart good to see it.
And just then, in the second instance of miraculous timing today, the front door opens and Sif walks outside.
"Hey you two, we're going to start eating soon, if you want to come in."
Loki freezes at the sound of her voice, then turns and looks slowly over his shoulder at the young lady standing on the front porch. "Sif," he says, his voice tight and unsteady and a bit too loud.
"Loki?" she responds when he doesn't go on.
Loki turns back to shoot a questioning look at his mother, who was not expecting him to make a move so soon, but is more than happy to give him an encouraging nod. He closes his eyes a moment, then asks, "Could I borrow you for a second?"
"Of course," Sif says, and starts making her way down the stairs.
"I have to know," Loki says under his voice to his mother. "I just . . . I can't take wishing and longing and not knowing any longer."
And it takes all of Frigga's self-control to simply smile and whisper, "Good luck, dear."
Sif reaches them then, and Frigga smiles at her. "I'll see you inside, shall I?" she says, and walks away, leaving the two young people standing together on the sidewalk.
"Look," she hears Loki say behind her, his voice tinged with uncertainty, "I might be about to ruin our friendship, but I . . . I just have to ask you something."
"Okay," says Sif slowly, as Frigga climbs the front stairs.
"It's just . . . are you free tonight?" is the last thing she hears before the young couple is out of earshot.
But when she steps into the house, she dares a glance behind her, and sees that Loki and Sif are staring at each other, too focused to notice her pausing to watch.
Loki says something, too quiet for Frigga to hear, and Sif smiles and ducks her head, just a little, and tucks a piece of hair behind her ear.
Frigga holds her breath.
And then Sif says something, and all the tension in Loki's shoulders vanishes in an instant, and he breaks out into a relieved smile, one of those rarely seen smiles of his that fills his whole face, and Frigga can't remember the last time she saw her boy so happy. Come to think of it, she can't remember the last time she saw Sif so happy either.
And she finds herself smiling widely as she walks back to find the dinner party.
"What are you so pleased about, wife?" asks Odin when he sees her.
"Oh, you know," she says. "It's just nice when a plan comes together."
. . . . . .
Loki and Sif's first official date is that night; Bestla Thorsdottir is born the next Thursday, and when Loki travels up to see the baby that weekend, Sif comes with him. Jane seems to grasp the significance of that right away, and gives the pair of them a very pleased smile, but Thor doesn't pick up on it until he, Odin, and Frigga walk into his backyard and find Sif pressing Loki up against the shed and kissing him really quite thoroughly.
"How long has this been going on?" Thor demands, and the couple breaks apart quickly.
"A week?" Sif says breathlessly, as Loki seems to have been rendered uncharacteristically speechless. "Yeah, it's one week today."
"It's been quite the week, apparently," Thor says—perhaps inspired by seeing Sif's tousled hair and Loki's dazed expression.
"Quite the week," Loki agrees.
But once the initial surprise wears off, Thor is loudly and exuberantly pleased with the match, stating that he's so glad two of his favorite people in the world have found each other, and wondering how he never noticed how perfect they'd be together.
Odin already knew they'd started seeing each other, so he's not surprised, but he gives the pair of them a fondly amused look before following his older son inside.
And Frigga reaches one hand out to grasp Loki's, and the other out to grab Sif's. "That's one way to update your brother on your relationship," she smiles, and Loki looks embarrassed. (Well, slightly embarrassed—as much embarrassment as can fight its way through his dazed state.)
"Sorry about that," he says. He's clearly only speaking for himself, though; Sif looks far more happy than apologetic at the moment.
"We had to deal with Thor making a fool of himself over Jane for months," Frigga says dismissively. "He can deal with finding you kissing your girlfriend in his backyard."
What she doesn't say, but thinks very loudly, is that she hopes Loki and Sif follow Thor and Jane's example in settling down into domestic bliss. She doesn't say that she'd love to help plan another wedding, and that it'd be nice for Bestla to have a cousin someday. But given the way that Loki and Sif are looking at each other, she's fairly certain none of that needs to be said.
And it turns out that she's right.
. . . . . .
fin