How on earth did this happen? Loki wondered as he followed Darcy back to her house. What am I doing! This is crazy! It was doomed to end in disaster. He would say something insensitive, or he would be too strange, and she'd ask him to leave. He just knew it. His track record with women was pretty crash-and-burn. Although, Darcy...she was different. She wasn't anything like the girls he'd gone out with before. But what was he even thinking! He should not be thinking about Darcy in the same context as women he'd gone out with. They were just going to watch TV together- she'd said it herself, that this wasn't a date.
Oh God, he thought, just let me not ruin this. Please.
He really liked her. He sighed. Ugh. He really liked her. She was so funny, and attractive- good god was she attra- Good god! He'd very nearly missed the turn, and then where on earth would he have ended up. Trying to stop thinking and focus on driving, he went through the list of periodic elements, stating their names, abbreviations, and properties. It was his own personal mental stress-ball.
Darcy's car pulled up in front of a smallish two-story white-stucco building and Loki parked his bike behind her. Taking his helmet off he dismounted and ran a hand through his hair. Yeesh. It was getting pretty long now. He supposed he should get it cut, but hated going to barbershops. You asked for a slight trim and ended up being left scalped.
Darcy got out of her car and stopped when she stood in front of him. She stared up at him and then at his bike. Oh god, she was so beautiful. Her hair was all falling out of her ponytail and her eyes were so big and blue and nice and- oh god. Had she asked a question?
"What?" he asked, hoping he didn't sound like too much of an idiot.
"Do you have a death wish?" she asked, her eyes looking very serious.
Urgh! He knew it! He'd known he would fuck it up and he already had. He was so mad at himself. Jesus Christ! He was completely pathetic! He was about to just apologize and leave when she elaborated.
"Because, a motorcycle? Seriously?" she gesticulated animatedly as she spoke. "Dude, you know those are total death-traps, yeah? They're so unsafe."
Good god, woman, he thought to himself with fond irritation. She certainly seemed to love being dramatic. He was so relieved, though. This is ridiculous, he told himself as he was mesmerized once more by her face. She isn't into you, he told himself. Stop thinking like that. Not gonna happen.
"They're actually really quite safe-" he tried to explain, feeling like he should attempt to defend himself, but she cut him off.
"Deathtrap! Like if death was a mouse and and you were trying to trap it, so instead of cheese you put out a motorcycle to lure people to their deaths- a death-trap. And you, my friend," she poked his chest. "are lucky to still be alive after driving that thing." She frowned. "Plus weren't you in an accident, like, yesterday?"
"Well, technically, but it was pretty minor-" She raised her eyebrows skeptically. "I just like to feel the wind," he finished, feeling kind of lame. It was true though, it felt like flying when you were on the highway with the wind blowing in your face.
"Yeah, yeah. So stand in front of a fan or something. How are you gonna feel the wind when you're dead?" She pursed her lips. "Whatever. Don't let me tell you how to live your life." Turning to lead him inside he thought he heard her mumble, "Or die your death...motorcycles...stupid...injuries...cheekbones...ugh."
Not really sure what to make of that, Loki decided to just let it slide, and he followed her into the first floor apartment.
Throwing the door open, Darcy announced, "Welcome to my home, sir. Do take off your coat and stay a while. I'm gonna make tea. You want some?" she shook her head as she went through the living room and into the kitchen as he followed behind her. "What am I saying? You're British. Of course you want tea."
He smiled at that. "I'm not sure," he said, "but I think that might be racist." Jesus Loki, he winced to himself. Wow. What a way to be uncontroversial and cool. Yeah, call the girl you like racist. Idiot.
Darcy just laughed as she put the kettle on though. "You know, I think it might have been." She grinned at him. "Perhaps I'm a closet racist," she joked, putting on some strange voice that he assumed was supposed to be a British accent. "You've outed me, guvnor. I suppose the old pot oughtn't call the kettle black and...bah, I'm done. It's starting to be just a liiiiittle too forced."
Loki just looked at her, grinning. "What are you doing?" he asked, amused.
Darcy waved a teabag around. "Trying to be ridiculous! What do you think? Success?"
I am in deep shit, Loki thought to himself as he stared at her waving her teabag around with her nose being all cute and just...there...sitting on her face so perfectly, and she was just smiling the most adorable smile that made her look all rabbity and sweet, which was actually pretty funny considering how she had wanted carrots, and-
"I would call it a grand success," he assured her, pulling out a chair at the table.
"Well, good," she said, sounding satisfied. She took two mugs out from a cabinet and put a teabag in one. "What kind do you want?" she asked. "I've got Wildberry Zinger, Earl Grey, and Mint."
"Earl Grey, please." He was a black-tea drinker, no question. Black-tea, a drop of milk, and no sugar. The only way to fully enjoy a cup of tea.
She made a face that scrunched her nose up. "Ooookay then. If you're sure."
"What, you don't like Earl Grey?"
"Ick. No. That stuff is gross."
He furrowed his brows. "Then why did you even buy it?"
"I was trying to be healthy!" she exclaimed, snapping her finger at him for some reason. "Don't judge me! Black-tea is supposed to be healthy or something, so I tried it and it tastes so bad." She made a tragic face. "It tastes so bad, Loki."- He felt a little thrill hearing her say his name.- "And now I've got 19 teabags of it left, so thank god you like it then, I suppose, because it would just sit on the back of the stove forever otherwise."
Loki smiled at that. "Well, you could always throw it away, yeah? No point keeping it if you don't really like it."
"Oh my god, what?" Darcy asked, her eyes huge. "Throw away perfectly good tea? Jesus Christ, you are literally insane. I paid like three dollars for that! It'd be like tearing up three dollar bills and then setting them on fire. Do you know how wasteful that is? Not to mention dangerous. Fire spreads, man. Fire. Spreads. Just ask any forest. Or Katniss." She pursed her lips. "Well, never mind about Katniss, but definitely forests."
Loki laughed, wondering what Katniss was, and held up his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay," he said. "You win. It'll make for a nice conversation piece when you have grandchildren." He made his voice really high pitched, "'Grandma,' they'll say, 'why do you have that tea? We've never seen you drink it. Is it cursed?' And you'll say," He scrunched his shoulders and shook his finger at pretend children. "'No dears, it's not cursed. It cost three dollars, though, so I'm never getting rid of it. Take a good look at it, young'uns. One of you is going to inherit it when I die.'"
Darcy burst out laughing at that. "Oh god," she gasped. "Ooooh, ouch. My belly! Ahahaha...oww. You pretend to be me so well."
Loki felt this warm glow descend on him as it sunk in that he didn't need to be so careful around her or filter what he said, the way he did with most people. She seemed to like it when he was a bit weird. It was nice. Oh, she sometimes got all up in his case and really intense, but it was almost an ironic intensity, because he could tell it was all in fun.
The kettle started whistling shrilly and Darcy cringed. "Ack! Shhh, my baby, hush now. Don't cry like that. Oh god, I'm so sorry," she cooed to the kettle as she hurriedly lifted it from the stove and turned the flame off. She caught him looking at her as she was pouring the water into the cups.
"What?" she asked.
"Nothing," he said, smiling.
"It's stressful, okay? I always feel like a murderer when I make tea, because the kettle always ends up screaming at me and it's just scary...so...shush."
"Shushing," he promised. "Except," he couldn't help it. "Why not just use the microwave?" He nodded to the microwave sitting on top of her short fridge, belatedly noticing the unplugged cord hanging down the side of the fridge.
"Microwave it! Are you serious! Oh sure. Microwave tea. Sounds like a good idea, right?" she paused for a millisecond before barreling on. "Wrong! They're super unhealthy! I don't want to drink radiation, I want to drink tea. That poisonous machine is just here from the last tenants. No. I like to make my tea the old-fashioned way, thank you very much. Complete with the guilty murderer feelings."
Loki couldn't help laughing. Really, microwaves were perfectly safe, but he like how adamant she was about what she believed in. And he loved how she was constantly moving. Her expressions, or her arms...or her mouth. She was just always in motion. He wondered what she was like when she'd had a lot of sugar, or caffeine, and smiled at the mental picture. It was probably a good thing she appeared to be a tea-drinker.
She got the milk from the fridge and put it on the table.
"I'm going to let you pour it yourself because tea is sacred and I don't know the way you like it," she stated.
Be still my heart, he thought. "Thanks," he said, just putting a dash in.
She reached for the milk. "Well, you're welcome."
"Wait," he said as she poured milk in her tea. "What are you doing? Isn't that a fruit tea?"
"Yup," she stirred it around with her spoon. "Mmm."
"Doesn't it curdle though, when you put milk in?"
She grinned. "Oh my god, yes. And it tastes so good. It's all creamy and yum." She tilted her cup for him to see. "Look at that. Just look at that yummy curdling."
"Ugh," he said, making a face and leaning back. "Disgusting."
"Oi! Sacred tea rule. Yeah? Mr. black-tea drinker. How about a little respect?"
Chuckling, he shrugged defeat. "Okay, okay. You're right."
She glanced at the clock. "Aaah!" she cried, bringing the tea into the living room. "Come on! It's gonna start soon!" He followed.
The living room was small, but cozy. The front door opened into it, and there was a short hall at the far end that led into the kitchen, which was -again- small, yet cozy. To the left of the living room were two doors, which he assumed were a bathroom and a bedroom. The couch was against the right wall, and a coffee table with the TV on it stood about three feet away. The couch had three blankets of varying warmth degrees, and a few throw pillows. A lamp stood next to the couch, and she turned it on.
"Can you get the light?" she asked, curling up on the couch holding her cup of tea. She turned the TV on. It was already set to BBC America. He wondered if there was a story there, but he decided to just turn the lights off.
"Oh, wait!" she said, looking up at him with big eyes from behind her mug. Loki felt a little ache somewhere near his heart. She was so beautiful. "Can you get the carrots?" she batted her lashes at him flirtatiously and he could see a wide smile curl up beyond the outline of her mug. "Please?"
"Sure," he said happily, and went to get them from the fridge. From in the kitchen he heard her call, "Also the hummus! I want me some hummus! ...Please."
He grinned to himself. "Oh, Loki," he shook his head. "you are fucked."
"Oh my god thank you sooo much!" Darcy exclaimed on his return. "My hero."
His heart did a little skip. Calm down, buddy, he told it. He sat down next to her and offered her the food. "Milady."
The opening credits started, and he remembered again how excited he was for this. It was such a good show.
"Ooo-eee-ooo ooo-oo-ooo," Darcy sang along.
They looked at each other and grinned. Loki started singing too, his social anxieties forgotten in the moment.