Author's Note: Hey guys! I decided that last chapter was a decent way to end that bit of the story, so I'm moving on to the next ficlet. It's entitled "Cookies for Loki," and I suppose I should explain why. On Facebook (and I'm positive it originated from Tumblr, but I found it on Facebook) is a little birthday game. The days of the month were what you were going to do, and the month was who you were going to do aforementioned activity with. My birthday is the 14th of November (which reveals absolutely nothing about me since I share my birthday with 9Million people), and the 14th said "You will make cookies for..." and November said "Loki." So that's where this comes from. Longer A/N than usual, but I thought the absurdity needed some slight explanation.

Rain pounded the roof and thunder churned in the dark gray clouds. The smell of chocolate chip cookies wafted through the small apartment. I stood straight from where I had bent over in front of the oven, watching the baking pastries, and turned. A smirk lit up my lips.

Loki was handcuffed to my counter, looking annoyed. "What did you say your name was again, mortal?" he asked.

"Quincy Brooklyn Robinson," I replied with a lot of cheer for a rainy day.

"You are aware of how irksome you are, correct?"

"Yup! And you're chained to my counter while I make cookies."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Oh. I thought we were both saying things that were horrifically obvious." I beamed at him. Loki rolled his eyes to the ceiling while I smiled with annoying cheer just to get a rise out of him. As a general rule, I figured he was intolerant of us "mortals" and hated when we were happy. So the second he showed up in my apartment I cuffed him to the counter and went about making cookies. "So, is the weather stormy because Thor knows you're in town or something?" I asked. Loki's face reddened with anger and his icy blue eyes narrowed at me dangerously. He tugged on the handcuffs, and I started laughing. "You're stronger than just about every human being on this Earth, but you ain't strong enough to break those handcuffs. I had Thor try them out."

"You insolent little—"

Ding-Dong!

"Hold that thought," I ordered him, holding one finger out. Jogging to my front door, I opened it. My friend and roommate Rachel was standing there, smiling and looking happy, but at the same time exhausted. "Rae! Where have you been? You've been gone for weeks!"

"Long story. Tell you later." She stopped, staring over my shoulder in confusion. "Why is there a guy in a costume cuffed to the counter?"

Loki twisted around to glare at her. "This is not a costume you pathetic mortal! I am Loki! This is the royal garb of Asgard!" he spat. I half-expected Rachel to flip out and slash him with—was that a dagger I saw hanging from her belt? Where had she been?—her fingernails. Until I saw the knife of course. It was more of a stiletto if I had to say so myself. Completely silver from point to hilt to pommel. Vaguely I wondered where she got it from and why she had it, but I had more pressing issues.

Rachel's pale gray eyes flashed dangerously and her hand slid to the hilt of the blade. In a moment she had crossed over to him and was murmuring something—probably threatening—in his ear. Her new weapon was pressed against the skin of Loki's throat. I slowly edged closer and listened. "Look you overgrown twerp! I have spent the past several weeks with my nerves stretched so thin they were about to break. I don't need any more smart-aleck remarks from bratty demigods with daddy issues." My eyebrows crawled higher and higher up my head with each dark word my roommate said. She was usually so mild-tempered and good-natured. This sudden reversal of her temperament shocked me.

"Rachel. He's not getting out of those cuffs. How about you go take a shower and calm down. My cookies will be ready by the time you're done."

"They smell delicious by the way," Rachel commented. She passed me her knife. "Hold onto this. It'll kill him faster than most earthly weapons." I took the hilt carefully. After a bad incident a couple months back with a knife splitting me open, I was pretty apprehensive around them, but I didn't want Rachel to shower with it. So I took it.

My roommate stomped off to her room and I heard the shower turn on.

"Something's got her wired," I muttered, checking the cookies.

"You got that right." Loki agreed with me? My eyebrows shot into my hairline and my black eyes blinked with shock.

I was just pulling the cookies out of the oven—rain still barraging the roof—when Rachel came back in. Her brown hair was pulled into a fresh, wet braid—like mine—and her eyes were sparkling. She reached out to grab a cookie, but I slapped her hand away. "Wait until they've cooled," I scolded.

"Sorry. I can't remember the last time I ate," she murmured.

"That explains why you're cranky," I joked. "Sit down, let me hold onto your dagger, and don't kill Loki. I'll make you a sandwich."

"I can make myself my own dang sandwich," Rachel muttered darkly.

"I know. But I can see by your eyes that you're exhausted. When was the last time you slept?"

"Weeks maybe?"

"Dang." I set about the kitchen making an easy PB&J sandwich for my best friend and getting the cookies off the cookie sheet and onto the cooling rack. Setting a paper plate in front of her and a cookie in front of Loki, I sat on the counter and propped my feet up. "How do they taste?" I asked Loki. He was sort of nibbling on one edge, like he was wondering if I poisoned them.

"Adequate," he replied, taking a slightly larger bite.

I snorted. "Don't be so prissy. I make killer cookies," I snapped playfully.

Instantly Loki spewed crumbs everywhere. "Killer?!" he demanded. "Are you trying to poison me?" Rachel almost fell into her sandwich she was laughing so hard.

"No you moron!" she snapped through her gales of laughter. "She means they taste fantastic!"

Loki's icy blue eyes narrowed at me as I rolled off the counter, giggling like a schoolgirl. "It is not amusing. Do not mock me!" he spat at me. I stood up straight, my fingers touching the pommel of Rachel's dagger—which I had slipped into my belt.

"You're not in any position to be making threats, Your Most Royal Highness," I fired back. "Last time I checked, you were the one handcuffed to the table, not me."

My roommate's eyes widened and her eyebrows rose higher up her forehead. "Looks like we both went through a lot, huh?" she asked. I nodded, pulling on the end of my reddish-brown braid.

End Note: Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed. I'm a little busy right now to respond, but I love all of you. This ficlet will be a little shorter than the last one, but I hope you like it anyway!

Thanks!

~Cass