Happy belated Thanksgiving everyone! I meant to post this last night, but got distracted by Tumblr.
Steve belongs to Marvel and this version of Jormungand belongs to me, but as a whole he belongs to whoever wrote Norse mythology
The next morning Steve was surprised when Jormungand apologized for being as forward as he had been, and his peace offering was a cup of coffee with just the right amount of milk and sugar. He then proceeded to offer to make breakfast.
"Cooking was a passion of mine before my banishment, and I've spent a lot of my time on Midgard learning how to cook midgardian food," Jormungand explained while mixing batter for French toast. "So far, breakfast is my favorite, just because there are so many different things human eat to get them started. On Asgard, almost every meal consists of mostly meat. Here, people eat things containing what I've learned are called 'carbs.' Pancakes, French toast, cinnamon rolls, crepes—I never saw any of that on Asgard." The batter was mixed and he set it aside to start cutting up fruit. "The sheer variety astounds me. It also delighted me, since I never truly got many chances to cook back in Asgard. " Once the fruit was cut he dipped blueberry cobbler bread he'd found in the pantry in the batter and began frying them up.
"So, I'm guessing cooking isn't really a common warrior's skill, then," said Steve as he watched Jormungand.
"It was considered women's work, along with the mystical arts. Magic," he simplified at Steve's confused look. "Men who practiced magic in Asgard were deemed 'argr'—an insulting slur meant to demean a man and question his masculinity. At first, I tried being more like the typical Aesir male, but quickly decided I wanted nothing to do with them. I still sparred and trained as a warrior, but I also learned magic from my father." He turned around and looked Steve dead in the eye as he said, "If my father had been at his full power and deemed you an enemy, and had he truly wished to succeed in his plans, you would not be alive today and Midgard would be under his rule."
"That's a little boastful, don't you think?" Steve asked as a plate of French toast was set in front of him.
Jormungand shrugged. "It is truth," he said, and then finished cooking their meal.
They ate in silence before Steve decided to ask something that had been bothering him. "So . . . Thor called you the Midgard Serpent, and the other day you said this wasn't your true form. . . ?"
"Indeed it is not," said Jormungand. "My true form is a serpent, not large enough to encircle the earth as myth suggests, but still large enough to take up a noticeable amount of space. I was growing faster than Aesir children and they became frightened of me, so they took their 'concerns' to Odin and he cast me out."
Steve frowned. "So you didn't really do anything worth getting banished?"
"Not that I can recall, no."
They fell silent again until Steve asked, "What about Hela and Fenrir?"
Jormungand sighed and put down his fork. "Fenrir grew even faster than I did, and he was aggressive even for an Asgardian. There was a prophecy, to do with Ragnarok, that claimed Fenrir would kill Odin, so Odin had him bound and chained in a cave beneath Asgard. Hela's only crime was looking the way she does."
Steve looked skeptical. "So Odin banished you because of prophecies and prejudice?"
Jormungand nodded. "Grandfather of the Year he is not," he said dryly, and then continued eating. After swallowing another mouthful he gave Steve a thoughtful look. "Why the sudden interest in my siblings and I?"
Steve shrugged. "Just curious."
"How does the saying go? Curiosity killed the canary?"
Steve let out a small huff of laughter. "Curiosity killed the cat," he corrected, and he couldn't help but laugh again when Jormungand's face reddened. "It's fine, people have to correct me on a lot of things, too," he assured the taller man. "Remember what I said the other day—you're not the only one out of place."
Jormungand's gaze dropped to the floor, a small smile gracing his lips. He looked up at Steve through his eyelashes, his face still red. "I know I already apologized for my behavior last night, but I still feel like I may have offended you; for that I am truly sorry."
Steve waved a hand. "Don't worry, it's already forgotten," he assured Jormungand. He went back to his food, never noticing how Jormungand's smile fell.
"This isn't working," Jormungand griped to Erika. "I did as you said and expressed my interest via 'flirting', and all he had to say was 'it's already forgotten.'" He groaned in frustration. "How many tireless days must I work to get that man into my bed?!"
"Dude, it's only been a week," said Erika, not even looking up from her current drawing. "So you flirted a little at the charity thing and made him breakfast—that was only one time. You gotta work a little harder to get Captain Hetero to go gay for you; go out for coffee, go see a movie, take him out to dinner—show him you're willing to commit." She paused, and then as an afterthought she added, "Are you willing to commit?"
"Will commitment keep him in my bed?"
"Yeah, probably."
"Then yes, I'm willing to commit."
Erika 'hmm'ed, chewing on the end of her pencil. "I'm surprised you haven't just love spelled him into banging you," she admitted.
Jormungand paused in his pacing and shook his head. "A spell is much like alcohol—the affected person cannot give their consent, for it clouds the minds and prohibits rational thinking; it wouldn't be real, and I will not bed any person without their consent."
Erika looked up from her sketchbook, smiling. "Our society needs more men like you," she sighed wistfully, and then went back to her drawing.
Operation Star-Spangled Serpent ("By the Nine, does this have to have a codename and does it have to be that?") was put into action following Jormungand's confession that he would wait for Steve's consent.
Jormungand hated getting up early, but he had been doing so lately in order to share a morning cup of coffee and a bit of conversation with Captain Rogers. He caught the captain a little earlier than usual one morning, before the man's post-jog shower, and had to use magic to hide his body's reaction to a hot and sweaty Steven Rogers (and oh, what he wouldn't give to share a shower with that man).
Jormungand's mind was still elsewhere when the captain returned, fresh as a daisy and ready for his morning coffee. "You okay?" he asked Jormungand, who quickly snapped back to the present and nodded quickly, moving to get Steven his coffee.
Steve glanced over at the counter and did a double take. "You baked muffins?" he asked incredulously.
Jormungand frowned. "Do people not eat muffins with coffee?" he asked, worried he'd mistranslated Earth culture (yet again).
"No, people do, it's just . . . . muffins take a while, and these look fresh . . . . how long have you been awake?" Steve asked, seeming genuinely concerned about Jormungand's sleeping patterns.
"I had a little trouble falling asleep last night, so I thought I'd make due with time usually wasted with sleep." It wasn't a total lie—he just wasn't about to say why he hadn't been able to sleep.
"Oh." Steve glanced towards the muffins again. "What kind are they?"
Jormungand opened his mouth, but then closed it. His eyebrows furrowed as he said "I don't remember what it's called. He then went to the pantry and pulled out a plastic jar. He showed the jar to Steve, who just stared at it for a minute before admitting, "I can honestly say I've never had a peanut butter muffin before." He picked up a muffin and studied it for a moment before taking a small bite.
The muffin was devoured within seconds and Jormungand beamed as Steve reached for another one.
A/N: Peanut Butter muffins are amazing.