This is a long-overdue gift fic for Arashi Wolf Princess, whose friend vampygurl402 prompted me with a request for Thor/Sif and romance. I don't normally write Thor/Sif, but I have to say, I kind of like this one.

Sif was a general. Sif was a warrior.

She refused to be beaten by her boyfriend's houseplants.

Thor's basil was curling up and turning grey. His buttercups were wilting.

Thor had the greenest thumb Sif had ever seen. He could make anything grow bright and beautiful, and it was thrilling to see him tend so gently to delicate green buds, to see him coax them into florid bloom.

Sif, however, did not make things grow. If these plants were anything to go by, she was the queen of death. Despite her following Thor's carefully handwritten instructions to the letter, measuring out water and plant food meticulously, his plants seemed determined to die without his care.

Thor was to be gone for one week. He was flying back to Oregon to visit his family, which was no picnic. Odin, his violent, narcissistic drunk of a father, was dreadful to Loki, his fractured and rebellious foster brother, adopted at six months old when Thor was seven, and Frigga, his mother, was worn thin trying to keep the peace. Throw in a handful of extramarital affairs and a sprinkling of child abuse, and it was no wonder that Thor only went to visit once a year.

Sif had visited with him the year before. Loki, then sixteen, spent the day clinging to Thor's side with his nose buried in Stephen King's Christine; Odin had grabbed Sif's ass while she helped dry and shelve dishes after dinner; Frigga had done her best to make Sif feel at home, hustling and bustling to keep everyone fed and comfortable and out of Odin's reach, but, unfortunately, her best just wasn't enough.

Thor was a very good boyfriend for letting Sif sit this one out.

That, of course, just made her feel all the more guilty for letting his garden wither and die.

But come Saturday, Sif was determined to make his first day home so wonderful, he didn't even notice the death of his plants. She was up at five to make Thor's favorite foods - peppermint muffins, cloudberry butter, peach anise sun tea - and by the time he made his way through the front door at seven, thanks to a Red Eye flight, she was ready to greet him with a long-awaited kiss.

He tasted like airport mocha and cinnamon gum, and he couldn't embrace her because his hands were full of a duffel bag and a Tupperware of his mom's orange-caramel brownies. It was one of the best kisses they'd ever shared.

"God, I missed you," Thor groaned.

Sif stole his duffel and slid it into their bedroom, pushing him towards their breakfast nook. "I made your favorite."

Thor flopped into a chair and immediately grabbed a still-warm muffin, gently splitting it in half and slathering it with cloudberry butter, taking a massive bite and humming in satisfaction. "Baby, you're the best," he said through a mouthful of crumbs.

Sif sat across his lap, snuggling into the front of his wool coat and wrapping her arms around his neck. "I'm pretty great," she concurred, grinning, leaning in for another long-awaited kiss.

Thor set his muffin down and lifted Sif up so that she could wrap her legs around his waist, palming the curve of her hip with warm hands.

After they were suitably full, Thor talked through the family's latest insanities - Loki, who had started taking classes at the local community college, had brought home both his girlfriend and his boyfriend to meet the folks; Odin hadn't touched a bite of solid food for the entire week Thor was there, except to feed steaks to his two bloodhounds, Geri and Freki - and Sif rewarded every sentence with a feather-light kiss to his stubbly face.

"You did good, baby," Sif murmured, brushing a strand of hair that had fallen free of Thor's ponytail back off of his forehead. "I'm really proud of you for toughing that week out."

"It wasn't all bad. Mom made an octuple batch of brownies, and Loki made me this little planter out of a toy goat. I'm going to put lavender in it, keep it by the oven so it stays warm."

Sif hid her face in Thor's hair. "Thor... There's something I have to tell you."

"What's up, buttercup?"

In spite of herself, Sif laughed. "You fucking dork." She kissed his temple, then bit her lip, considering the best way to break the news to him. "Your plants are dying. I followed your instructions, but, I swear to god, they have a death wish or a suicide pact or something."

"So? I asked you to take care of them, not guard them with your life. Baby, I've had that basil since before we were together. I've made my peace, cut my losses. I just wanted them taken care of as long as possible so I could make the most use of them."

"You're not mad?"

"You thought I'd be mad? Sif, I didn't expect you to be a plant whisperer. You already take such good care of me; you don't have to extend that quality of care to my plants, too. They're my responsibility."

"Hey," Sif said, smiling softly. "You take pretty good care of me, too. This is an equal partnership, buddy. I make muffins for breakfast, you make chicken pot pie for lunch."

Nuzzling at Sif's neck, stubble harsh against soft skin, Thor murmured, "You want me to make chicken pot pie for lunch, baby?"

"God, yes," Sif moaned. "I have missed your cooking almost as much as I've missed you."

The first batch of pot pies goes in an hour later, and that batch very nearly burns, so distracted are they by relearning each other's contours after a week apart. Lips still kiss-swollen, they crack the flaky pastry top of one of the pies, sighing happily at the savory billow of steam and feeding each other bites still too hot to eat.