“First meeting,” Sif repeated, nodding, and taking a long sip from the glass Fandral had refilled for her. “It’s a little quiet, but I have high hopes for the future, and our jackets are gonna be amazing, you see.” She gave a sigh, rolling her eyes. “Maybe I should tell them off. Maybe after a few drinks I’ll phone them, right now, tonight.”
She raised an eyebrow at him, having a little trouble turning her head to look at him what with how he was pressed up against her, and how her head would spin now if she moved it too quickly. She gave a quiet snort in case he didn’t see the eyebrow. “Maybe the cake wouldn’t be so warm if it wasn’t cuddled up against the— wait, what am I? Nevermind, point is, you’re sharing my body heat. How many strip-games do you even know?”
Fandral took a sip from his drink and made a sound. “I don’t think that’d be a good idea. You get drunk, tell them your feels, and then they’ll just say ‘Oh you’re drunk.’ and blow it off as foolishness. I say call them-Thor-when you have enough liquid courage and tell him you want to talk about something later. And then when you’re sober you call him and can cancel or not. I suggest that you don’t.” He thought of what their jackets might be, smirking at the thought of Sif’s cutting off on her mid drift. That would look mighty nice.
“What are you? Hmmm…beautiful.” He smirked and chuckled at his own cleverness. What was she in terms of food? “I think you’d be a mix between an angel food cake and a devil food cake.” He drank more and thought of how many strip-games he knew. He knew quite a few, some he made up, some he didn’t. “How many periods have you had up until today? I know a bit less than that. Strip-Black Jack.”
Sif sighed and rested her face against Fandral’s head again, her skin tingling and ever so slightly numb. Especially her lips. She bit her lower lip experimentally and lifted a hand to cover her mouth to hold in the laugh bubbling up. Her hand didn’t exactly feel like her own hand, either. It was sort of depressing and hilarious at the same time, but she didn’t come here to be depressed. She was hanging out with Fandral, they were in the haappy-buzz stage of drunk, he was telling jokes, and she could be a lot worse off. She was determined to enjoy at least this one night.
“You know what, Fandral,” she said, dropping her hand and letting out a sigh. “You’re right, for once. I’m drunk. But I plan to send Thor a strongly worded text before the night’s over that I will follow up on. And you are too obsessed with cake and stripping,” she added, lifting her hand again and poking his cheek.
“Look at it this way,” Sif wasn’t really sure why she was defending her point when she knew Fandral was right. Everyone loved Steve Rogers, he just had that sort of attraction around him, a personality people found it hard to hate, but she decided she was allowed to be biased for a while. Thor was really the only thing she had against him, but it was a pretty big issue, all puns aside. “Less people to share booze with at meetings. Hey, this can be our first meeting!”
She took the glass gratefully as he handed it back, taking a long sip as she rested her head against his, cheekbone in his hair and moving around until she was comfortable, sighing. “Talk to them, huh. That’d go really well. I know exactly what I’d say, and I don’t think anyone needs to hear it.”
“Yeah, our first meeting for the “We don’t hate Steve Rogers, but we sure as hell don’t praise his bitch ass twenty-four-seven” Club. We’re gonna take over the world, bitches.” His hand continued to rub Sif’s thigh as he spoke. He didn’t like to think about Rogers. It led to bad thoughts. He would get all worked up with thinking about how not perfect Rogers is. He got up a bit grabbed a bottle of Rasberry Vodka and then settled back down, cuddled up against Sif.
“Well, I for one, would LOVE, absolutely love to see that happen. Oh dear god, I’d love to hear you tell them off, yes please.” He all but moaned. He wiggled in his seat. He was a sucker for conflict. He finally opened the bottle and pressed his lips to it. He drank it fast until he couldn’t breath and then finally pulled away and let out a deep sigh. He felt warmer and he wanted to take off his tank top but refrained from it. He licked his lips and looked up at Sif. “Wanna play strip poker? Or strip something? I’m getting warm. The cake is getting warmed up. I need to cool down.”
“First meeting,” Sif repeated, nodding, and taking a long sip from the glass Fandral had refilled for her. “It’s a little quiet, but I have high hopes for the future, and our jackets are gonna be amazing, you see.” She gave a sigh, rolling her eyes. “Maybe I should tell them off. Maybe after a few drinks I’ll phone them, right now, tonight.”
She raised an eyebrow at him, having a little trouble turning her head to look at him what with how he was pressed up against her, and how her head would spin now if she moved it too quickly. She gave a quiet snort in case he didn’t see the eyebrow. “Maybe the cake wouldn’t be so warm if it wasn’t cuddled up against the— wait, what am I? Nevermind, point is, you’re sharing my body heat. How many strip-games do you even know?”
The grin fell off Fandral’s face instantly. “Shut up. Green is my color. Don’t be a bitch. I love you but I will force you to sit and watch my girl on girl pornos.” He set the liqueur on the table and popped his neck. “Yeah, well, you said cake. You didn’t specify you wanted it a baked cake or a me cake. So I’m cake. And I have deliciousness in me. I win.” She splashed tequila on his face and he let out a small squeak. “Hey! Hey, hey, hey! No. Bad Sif! If you keep misbehavin’ I’m going to punish you. I don’t know how, but I might take all of your drinks away.” He rubbed face to get rid of the liquid, but smiled slightly.
He went over and plopped down right next to her and lay his head on her shoulder. “I won’t take your drinks away. I’m not that mean. But I don’t think I’ll make us breakfast tomorrow if you keep avoiding the topic at hand here. I don’t wanna push you to tell me, but I think you’d feel better if you did. But,” he shrugged and patted her knee. “that’s your prerogative.”
Sif grinned even wider as Fandral’s expression went serious, rolling her eyes as she downed the rest of her glass, pausing to cringe and cough for a second. Her throat was in fire with how quickly she was going through it, now, and she could feel a tingling in the tips of her fingers, a small buzz at the back of her head. When he set the liqueur down on the table, she reached forward and took the bottle, glancing down at her glass, then gave a shrug— she couldn’t be bothered getting up to clean the glass of the tequila, and were was the harm anyway— before filling the glass with it.
When he sat next to her, she laid her own head aganist his, where it was resting on her shoulder. “You better not take my drinks away, you’d regret it too much. It’d be the only thing on your mind while I, like, exact my revenge for the rest of the night. And the last thing on your mind, cause you wouldn’t wake up.” She took a long sip from her glass, punctuating with a silence, before giving a frustrated sigh. “I think you might know what I’m going to talk about, anyway….”
Fandral knew what she was upset about. He loved the internet. He loved gossip. He hated stupidity. Sometimes though, all of that just seemed to mingle together. He sighed and let his hand rub Sif’s thigh. “Yeah,” he whispered. “I know.” He licked his lips, craving a drink but feeling to comfortable to move to get one. “I don’t want to say that I’m upset because I don’t think I have a right to be, not like you, but…I kind of. I don’t know.” His fingers started making out abstract patterns on her thigh. “I don’t like Rogers. There I’ve said it. Not like it’s a secret, but I don’t like him. I don’t know how I feel about this, how I feel about them. I just know that I hate that Thor’s done this to you. You don’t deserve to be hurt like this, Sif. You’re a classy lady. Classy as FUCK. And Thor’s a dick. But whatever. I’m just gonna be here for you since I’m sure Thor can handle himself.”
Sif sipped quietly as Fandral spoke, staring at a spot on the table, but not really looking at it, unblinking. She was glad that she didn’t have to be the one to tell him, that he knew already, and, though she was conflicted about it, she felt an odd triumph at his words. Someone agreed with her. And of course it would be Fandral, one of her closest friends, but also Thor’s. She could have handled it if he wanted to remain neutral and say nothing, but not if he took Thor’s side. It wasn’t a fight, but she couldn’t help but feel she’d won something against him, to have Fandral there for her.
“We should make a club and get shirts, I’m sure we’re not the only people…” She mumbled in response to his comments about Steve. She reached out her hand and gave Fandral’s a quick squeeze to say thank you, releasing it again afterwards. “He just— I found out, like, third hand, which I really didn’t appreciate.”
The grin fell off Fandral’s face instantly. “Shut up. Green is my color. Don’t be a bitch. I love you but I will force you to sit and watch my girl on girl pornos.” He set the liqueur on the table and popped his neck. “Yeah, well, you said cake. You didn’t specify you wanted it a baked cake or a me cake. So I’m cake. And I have deliciousness in me. I win.” She splashed tequila on his face and he let out a small squeak. “Hey! Hey, hey, hey! No. Bad Sif! If you keep misbehavin’ I’m going to punish you. I don’t know how, but I might take all of your drinks away.” He rubbed face to get rid of the liquid, but smiled slightly.
He went over and plopped down right next to her and lay his head on her shoulder. “I won’t take your drinks away. I’m not that mean. But I don’t think I’ll make us breakfast tomorrow if you keep avoiding the topic at hand here. I don’t wanna push you to tell me, but I think you’d feel better if you did. But,” he shrugged and patted her knee. “that’s your prerogative.”
Sif grinned even wider as Fandral’s expression went serious, rolling her eyes as she downed the rest of her glass, pausing to cringe and cough for a second. Her throat was in fire with how quickly she was going through it, now, and she could feel a tingling in the tips of her fingers, a small buzz at the back of her head. When he set the liqueur down on the table, she reached forward and took the bottle, glancing down at her glass, then gave a shrug— she couldn’t be bothered getting up to clean the glass of the tequila, and were was the harm anyway— before filling the glass with it.
When he sat next to her, she laid her own head aganist his, where it was resting on her shoulder. “You better not take my drinks away, you’d regret it too much. It’d be the only thing on your mind while I, like, exact my revenge for the rest of the night. And the last thing on your mind, cause you wouldn’t wake up.” She took a long sip from her glass, punctuating with a silence, before giving a frustrated sigh. “I think you might know what I’m going to talk about, anyway….”
“Yes. This is how I work. I become cake. Not just the embodiment of cake, but the entire cake. I. Am. Cake.” Fandral chuckled. “And of course I strip. I’m gracing you with the honor of seeing me with less clothes one. I won’t even charge you if you want me to take my pants off. But I don’t wear banana hammocks. Just silk underwear. I don’t even know what I’m wearing right now.” He stood up and undid the button on his jeans. He sucked in his wee gut, because he likes his calories, and peeks down the space between his pants and undies. “Yup, green boxerbriefs today. Ain’t you a lucky gal?”
He picked up the liquor bottle again and drank from it, his eyes never leaving Sif. He slowly brought the brought the bottle down from his lips and stared at Sif. “Liqueur…in cake? You want the liqueur in the cake?” A smile creeped upon his face. “Well it’s Lady’s night. Give the lady what she wants.” He walked over to his kitchen and grabbed the liqueur out of it’s hiding spot. He nearly skipped back to Sif, his shit-eating grin never leaving his face. “Liqueur.” He pointed to the bottle. “Cake.” He then pointed to himself. He placed nearly-empty tequila bottle down on the table. He opened the Chocolate liqueur and downed a gulp. He made a face and licked his lips. “Okay, the liqueur is in the cake. Have your way with me.”
Sif rolled her eyes and immediately downed the rest of her glass as Fandral stood and started to unbutton his jeans. She was well used to Fandral and his antics by now, but she definitely wasn’t drunk enough to be on the same page as him if he was stripping in front of her. She refilled as he checked, then leaned back in the couch again, draping an arm over the back of it and crossing one knee over the other, quirking an eyebrow at him.
“Green’s not your colour, Fandral.” She teased with a grin, then turned her head to watch him leaving the room, beginning to regret her earlier words as she started to make the connection he must have, and decided that whatever was coming was going to require another long, potent swig from her glass. She promptly indulged herself, just as Fandral re-entered, and sighed when he pointed to himself, but continued to grin. “I meant the cake you said you wanted to make, Fandral!” She said through a laugh, dipping her index and middle finger into her glass and flicking tequila in his face. “Probably better you don’t use the oven right now anyway.”
She knew she was putting off telling exactly what was bothering her, and that she wouldn’t be able to keep it up much longer given that she did say she would speak if he put the liqueur in the cake, which, technically, according to his words, he did, but she hoped he’d forget.
Sif shook her head at his story, still grinning as she kicked her shoes off and left them under the table, so that she could curl her feet up comfortably under her on the couch. “You flunked, and made up for it with chocolate.” She repeated, still shaking her head in wonder. “Only you.”
She rolled her eyes, swallowing the rest of her glass as if to make a point, even if she wasn’t sure what that point exactly was, before answering. “That’s because I know I’ll talk when I do, and I didn’t feel like it yet. I don’t really care now.” She spoke in an off-handed tone, holding out her glass for him to pour her some of what he was drinking.
“I am a motherfuckin’ boss in the kitchen and you fuckin’ know it.” Fandral smiled broadly. “I make the best stuff ever. I am a fuckin’ boss in the kitchen, everyone knows this fact, Sif. Everybody. Even Pluto knows the Kitchen is my bitch. And Pluto’s not even a planet anymore-which is still bullshit if ya ask me.” He was beginning to ramble. The alcohol was starting to mingle with his blood and make him feel all loopy and hot and delicious. Like Cake. Fandral was cake. “I am cake.” He stated and set his bottle down and took off his shirt. He wasn’t wasted, but he was getting warm, and he was thinking about food. He didn’t give a shit right now if he sounded like an idiot. He tugged his tank down a bit and dropped his shirt down on the ground. “Sorry, it’s getting warm. And I’m getting buzzed. And I want to make cake but I want to eat it now. I’m not making sense. Whatever, you wanted me to talk right?” He grabbed the bottle and topped Sif off. “This is what you get. Oh hey, I think I have some flavored liqueur somewhere.”
“You are boss in the kitchen,” Sif readily agreed as she watched her glass fill with alcohol, at Fandral’s doing. Not only did she not want to argue with him when they were both drinking, she wouldn’t argue with him over this, anyway. She took a sip from her glass, wincing as the potent strength of the alcohol hit the back of her throat, before taking another sip and enjoying that one a little, once the initial surprise had passed. She could feel it travelling like heat down he throat, and took a third, even longer sip, catching sigh of Fandral’s shirt on the floor when she lowered the glass.
“I wanted you to talk, so you turned into cake and started to strip?” She joked, shaking her head of the sudden mental image of Fandral as a hired stripper busting out of a cardboard cake. She wondered who’s birthday it was in this mental image, before deciding she really didn’t want to know and really didn’t want it to continue, which warranted a fourth sip. “You should but the liqueur in the cake, then I’d take over talking.”
Fandral took another drink, pondering possible reasons. “Stupidity. Ignorance. These are just generalization but the who-oh.” He look at her and gave a weak smile. “Ah, so yes. I talk. Well. Um…” Immediately he thought of Clint and frowned. He started chugging the Tequila and only stopped when his lungs started to burn. He pulled away from the bottle with a gasp, some of the liquid escaping and running down his chin. “Um, probably something similar to your case. Not really but, well just stupidity. And yeah. Oh so, have you heard that everyone and their mother has a pet now? Kitty…Clint, um Stark. And uh…well,” He winced at himself. Stupid Fandral, stupid. He almost mentioned Thor. “So yes. Animals up the wazoo.” He tilted the bottle in her direction.
Sif gave fond but exhasperated sigh as she listened to Fandral, her eyebrows raising as he chugged at the tequila. She’d been so caught up in her own— her own bad day, she was just going to label it that rather than go through all the emotions— that she hadn’t even asked Fandral how he was. She was frozen for a moment, watching him sheepishly and letting a slow smile spread across her lips.
“…..Pets.” She repeated, raising her glass of vodka and coke and taking two long sips, pointedly. “Do you want a pet? I suppose I can see the appeal…” She trailed off. A pet. Forever grateful to its owner for as long as it was given food, and shelter. Dogs were especially loyal. Maybe she should get a dog.
Fandral shrugged at the question. He liked animals. He didn’t like responsibility. Animals came with responsibility. And there was the problem. “I like animals but I don’t think I’m ready to deal with all that shit. I want one so I can have something to come home to everyday that will be happy to see me but I don’t wanna feed it.” He slowly drank from the tequila bottle as he thought. Maybe something parents gave their kids. “Maybe a pet rock, or sea monkeys. They’re fake pets. What about you, Sif? Wanna be a cool kid and get a pet?”
Sif smiled again against the glass as she took another sip. That was such a Fandral answer, and it helped, in that moment. She needed his consistancy to help keep her grounded, reassure her, she thought, but everybody be damned if she ever actually said as much.
“It wouldn’t be happy to see you anyway, if you didn’t feed it,” she pointed out. “Remember that thing they make us do in high school, when you have to carry an egg around everywhere and bring it back in one piece?” She asked, her smile spreading into a grin as she imagined how Fandral would have fared at that. “Maybe a pet rock would suit you.” She leaned forward and topped up her glass, tilting her head a little as she thought. “I dunno. It’d be fun, I guess.”
Fandral switched the bottle of Tequila for a bottle of Smirnoff. He sat down on the armrest of the couch and thought back to High School. “I don’t remem-oh. Wait. Hold up. Wait a minute. Put a little love in it. I got an F for that. I lost my egg. Well, not really. I used it when I was baking. F for the pet egg, but I got an A motherfuckin’ plus of my cake. Chocolate always wins over the lady teachers.” He winked at Sif. He didn’t need to charm the teachers when it came to Home Ec. He was a boss in the kitchen, everyone knew that.
Fandral looked at Sif and frowned. “Drink more, woman. I can still understand every word you’re saying.” He finally opened the bottle and downed a few gulps. “You came here to get shit faced drunk. And you’re drinking a mixed drink. Soda and alcohol. I have an entire table free for you, and you make a mixed drink.”
Sif shook her head at his story, still grinning as she kicked her shoes off and left them under the table, so that she could curl her feet up comfortably under her on the couch. “You flunked, and made up for it with chocolate.” She repeated, still shaking her head in wonder. “Only you.”
She rolled her eyes, swallowing the rest of her glass as if to make a point, even if she wasn’t sure what that point exactly was, before answering. “That’s because I know I’ll talk when I do, and I didn’t feel like it yet. I don’t really care now.” She spoke in an off-handed tone, holding out her glass for him to pour her some of what he was drinking.
Fandral took another drink, pondering possible reasons. “Stupidity. Ignorance. These are just generalization but the who-oh.” He look at her and gave a weak smile. “Ah, so yes. I talk. Well. Um…” Immediately he thought of Clint and frowned. He started chugging the Tequila and only stopped when his lungs started to burn. He pulled away from the bottle with a gasp, some of the liquid escaping and running down his chin. “Um, probably something similar to your case. Not really but, well just stupidity. And yeah. Oh so, have you heard that everyone and their mother has a pet now? Kitty…Clint, um Stark. And uh…well,” He winced at himself. Stupid Fandral, stupid. He almost mentioned Thor. “So yes. Animals up the wazoo.” He tilted the bottle in her direction.
Sif gave fond but exhasperated sigh as she listened to Fandral, her eyebrows raising as he chugged at the tequila. She’d been so caught up in her own— her own bad day, she was just going to label it that rather than go through all the emotions— that she hadn’t even asked Fandral how he was. She was frozen for a moment, watching him sheepishly and letting a slow smile spread across her lips.
“…..Pets.” She repeated, raising her glass of vodka and coke and taking two long sips, pointedly. “Do you want a pet? I suppose I can see the appeal…” She trailed off. A pet. Forever grateful to its owner for as long as it was given food, and shelter. Dogs were especially loyal. Maybe she should get a dog.
Fandral chuckled as he took is ashtray from the table and tapped his cigarette. “Yeah. If I get low on one thing, I got get three more. It’s my own type of OCD.” He quickly put out his cancer-stick and switched the tray for the bottle of Tequila. “Oh yes, it’s lady’s night, and the feeling’s right. Oh yes it’s lady’s night, oh what a night.” He winked at Sif before he took a sip, blinking rapidly as the drink danced its way down his throat. “So, madam, who or what decided to piss you off? And why are you drinking instead of killing this source. Wait!” He turned to her with a huge grin on his face. “Did you already kill them? Do you need me to help you hide the body?” If he sounded too hopeful, it was because he was.
Sif re-examined the coffee table, with the new knowledge that Fandral apparently had at least three of each bottle she could see, and shook her head in wonder. Sometimes she wondered how she ended up with such crazy friends, but she honestly couldn’t imagine her life any other way. She took a long sip for her glass while rolling her eyes good-humoredly at Fandral’s singing, before her expression quickly closed off at his question.
“Who said I was pissed off?” She replied almost automatically, and winced slightly at how dead her own voice sounded to herself. There was no point in pretending otherwise with Fandral, he knew her too well. “What normally does?” She said instead, glancing over at him then back at her glass with a small frown. “I thought you were gonna do most of the talking for a while, I don’t feel like explaining yet.”
Fandral had gotten the heaviest alcohol he had and set it out on his coffee table. He already had Nickleback blasting, loud but not loud enough that he couldn’t heart the doorbell. He was in the kitchen lighting a cigarette when he heard the chime, singling Sif’s arrival. He checked the jello shots in the fridge before he walked over and opened the door. “Hey!” He smiled widely and stepped aside, letting her in. “Everything we need is on the coffee table. Go pick your poison.” Once she was inside Fandral closed the door and followed her to the living room.
Sif stepped into the living room after giving Fandral a wide, genuine smile. Great as her mood wasn’t today, she actually was really happy to see her friend, and possibly even more so when she raised her eyebrows at the array before her on the coffee table, dumping her handbag on the edge of the couch and laughing.
“Everything we need and then some,” she said, fixing him with an amused grin, then stepping forward and reaching for an opened bottle of vodka, settling into the couch with a sigh as she mixed it with some coke. “Do you always have alcohol in, just in case, or something?” She asked, not really surprised if he answered with the affirmative.
