#blue rly needs a kitkat

[to-skit-or-not-to-skit]

and maybe my god has a trot in her walk

[gingerwritess]

All I can think is “ vending machine “ idk why?? Maybe you can do something with that??

lmao i don’t think many people like this pre-dating idiots kick i’m on but look i’m just proud of myself for actually managing to create a plot and i rly love this so oops have some more t e n s i o n

also i’ll answer asks asap so sorry it’s taking me a while!!

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Thirteenth floor. Break room down hall H. Use code 1217. Now.

Who is this?

Your lover.

Right. Your lover, the not-yet-released psycho who’s pretending to be a doctor in the same facility where you work, and now apparently has a phone.

And your number.

Great.

We’re not dating, you type back. I’m busy.

I’m dying.

Good for you.

You grin to yourself—nice one.

A couple minutes pass with no response and you wonder if he’s actually dying…would that be the worst that could happen?

No. No, I don’t think that’d be too terrible.

But why would he ask you for help? I mean, it’s not like you’re friends—but then again, you’re the only one who knows who he really is…who else can he ask?

Fine. Be right there.

Turns out your fake doctor boyfriend already has a higher clearance than you. Your ID stops unlocking doors by the seventh floor, much to your chagrin, and you have to use the code Loki gave you to enter the psych/physiology floor.

Hall H turns out to be the furthest hallway from the elevators, so by the time you find it and start looking for the break room, you’re pretty sure he’ll already be dead. Since he was dying, after all.

You’re half expecting him to be lying in a puddle of his own blood, some other worker having discovered his real identity and not having as much self control as you did, but nope.

He’s still Robert Laing, reddish-blond and donning a lab coat that’s a little too short for him, staring at the vending machine in the corner.

“You came.” He doesn’t look up when you walk in, a dollar in one hand and two quarters in the other. “I’m shocked.”

“Of course you’re not dead,” you groan, turning right back around to walk out the door. “I gotta admit, by the fourth floor I was hoping—”

“I’ve given you every opportunity to kill me,” he snaps, making you stop in your tracks.

“You’re hard to kill. I shot the hell out of you that first time.”

He rolls his eyes. “Oh, please, your heart wasn’t in that.”

“Well, gee, I’ll be sure to mean it next time—”

“Next time?”

“I’m not very optimistic about our relationship, Doctor.” You cross your arms over your chest, scowling at him from the doorway. “Why’d you call me all the way up here? Just to rub it in my face that you have a higher clearance than me?”

“That was just an added bonus,” he sighs, turning back to the vending machine and waving his dollar at it. “I, erm…could use some assistance.”

Oh my god.

“You don’t know how a vending machine works??”

“I’m from another realm, stop laughing,” he hisses, and one of his quarters bounces off your forehead.

“HEY—”

“Just help me, woman. Please.”

“Well, since you said please…” you can’t help one more snort of laughter as you head over to him and take his money out of his hand. “Okay, what are you trying to buy?”

He points.

You try not to laugh.

“Okay, you have to punch in the code underneath it. B-4, see?”

“Here?” He points again.

“On the keypad, idiot.” You point to the keypad and watch him carefully enter the code. “Now you have to put in your money. Coins in here, bills in here. It’s a dollar fifty.”

“But I only have a dollar twenty-five—”

“Yeah, cause you threw one of your quarters at me, genius.” A big part of you wants to just tell him oh well, guess you can’t eat, but you fish around in your pocket for another quarter.

“Here.” You press it to his open palm, trying not to sound too annoyed. He’s just a big baby, you’re quickly discovering, death threats aside. “Found it on my way up, get your candy bar.”

There’s a beat of silence—shouldn’t have done that.

“…thank you.”

He sounds genuinely surprised.

“No problem. I mean, you are dying, after all.” You brush it away with a chuckle, smoothing out the corners of his dollar before trying to slip it in the machine.

“I didn’t know how to get you up here,” he admits, watching you closely. “Though nobody usually responds to my death announcements anymore.”

The machine spits his dollar back out and Loki huffs, trying to shove the bill back in the slot.

“Easy, Loki, stop it,” you laugh, taking the bill from him and trying to flatten it again. “Don’t force it in, just let it take it gently.”

You guide the dollar back in and this time it takes, whirring to life to retrieve Loki’s Snicker bar.

“That’s what she said,” you mumble to yourself as an afterthought, realising what you just said.

Loki coughs behind you.

“Sorry.” You turn around and give him a sheepish grin—he’s a little red in the face, but that might just be part of the facade. “Can’t help it.”

“That’s…quite alright,” he replies smoothly, taking the candy bar as you hand it to him. “Although…is that what she would say?”

“You disgust me.”

“And here we almost had a decent moment.”

“Almost,” you sigh, throwing up your hands in a helpless shrug. “I almost forgot you were Loki, to be completely honest.”

“Ouch. That seems unnecessary.”

“Dr. Laing isn’t completely unbearable,” you continue, holding up a finger to shush him. “So you can take…like, fifteen percent of the credit.”

He rolls his eyes again, ripping open his candy bar. “How gracious of you.”

“No need to thank me.”

You just stand there for a moment, arms crossed as he takes a tentative bite.

“Y’know, you seem more like a KitKat kind of guy.”

“I like chocolate,” he shrugs, “even more so when it comes with caramel.”

“Seriously?” You can’t help but grin—the more you talk to him, the less and less intimidating he becomes. There’s no way you’re letting this guy actually threaten you anymore.

“It used to be considered a delicacy meant only for the gods.” A flash of light fills the room and Loki’s back to Loki, gesturing at himself. “Back before your kind corrupted it.”

“Um, Loki, hate to burst your bubble, but humans invented Snickers.”

“Well, you’re not all terrible.”

Figuring you might as well take advantage of the opportunity, you flop down on one of the couches, staring at the god across from you.

…munching happily on a Snickers.

“Why are you doing this?”

He blinks and clears his throat, taking a couple steps closer. “What?”

“What are you getting out of this, all this pretending to be a doctor, getting hired here?”

“I have nothing better to do,” he answers carefully, studying your face with a quizzical gaze. “I certainly don’t want to be sitting in a cell talking through my emotions, so I might as well be putting my skills to use.”

“You’re actually taking patients??” You can only imagine what happens to them—Loki doesn’t come off as the kind of guy who’s taken his pledge to never harm. “What kind of doctor even are you?”

“To use your terminology, you’d consider me a neurosurgeon.” He sighs and lowers himself onto the couch across from you, still working on that candy bar. “Maybe in part a physician, as well.”

“Damn,” you whisper, undeniably a bit surprised. “That’s…a lot of work—for humans, I mean. Did you go to school for that?”

“I’ve studied my entire life. Never one particular subject, on Asgard w—they steer clear of limiting children’s knowledge to one specific field.”

“That’s pretty smart. Here, you’ve gotta pick one thing and just try to be good at that.”

“Identity can be terribly limiting,” he says quietly, picking at the candy wrapper. “If I identified myself as a ‘good’ neurosurgeon and only that, I don’t think I’d ever have discovered my aptitude for diplomacy, writing, mathematics, anything else.”

Diplomacy, neuroscience, math, writing, chocolate, caramel—this guy has layers, that’s for certain.

“So is this some kind of redemption plan?” You try for a smile, maybe feeling a little bit guilty for laughing before. “Gonna help a bunch of people to prove yourself and then make a big reveal to your brother?”

“That’s not a terrible idea.” He stands and stretches, crumpling his empty candy wrapper and tossing it into the trash bin. “Though I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if I were ever redeemed.”

“You need to meet a nice someone, maybe settle down for the next few centuries,” you laugh, following him out the door as he shifts back into Dr. Laing. “Have a few creepy, greasy-haired babies. Might be good for you.”

He laughs and holds the door for you to leave the room, heading away down the hallway as you wait for the elevator. “That’s the furthest from a future I’d ever want, darling.”

“I’m not your darling, dipshit.”

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hope you enjoyed, please reblog and feel free to send me ideas!

~ masterlist link in my bio ~

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