What's a God to a Barista? (Loki x Reader)

Five - Gods and Shopping

Content Warning: Walmart as a bonding mechanism

When daylight finally broke, you were sitting on your couch, watching the god of mischief raid your fridge.

The adrenaline had worn off, and you were still processing every part of the deal you had just made. There was now a wanted criminal in your house, and you had agreed to let him stay there in exchange for not slashing your throat.
At least he had let you add to your side of the deal. Now, he couldn't leave your sight, or you would report him to the police before he could even reach you. Not like that helped you all too much. You were still helping someone wanted by SHEILD to hide.

Loki made his way back from your kitchen, plopping down next to you on the couch with a box of cereal. "Your cupboards are pathetically stocked," he said, his words muffled as he shamelessly shoved handfuls of dry cereal into his mouth.

"Yeah, well, you try being in student debt." You ?mumbled. In the better lighting, you had a closer look at his outfit. It looked like something you'd see hanging at a costume store - it was mainly green and black leather robes, with some gold decorating the chest and shoulder blades. You noticed that his hair was already longer than it was when he first attacked, and you wondered how it got so long so fast. Whatever, you thought, I don't have time to figure out Asgardian hair statistics. Not while Loki was munching on cornflakes beside you.

It dawned on you that you did need to go shopping. You had almost no food left (bedsides your cereal rations that the god was already depleting) and you were running low on pretty much every basic supply. You stood up, and Loki stopped his crunching. You clasped your hands together and turned to face him. "Ok, you remember my part of the deal? That you can't leave my sight?" He furrowed his eyebrows at you before nodding slowly. "Well, we're going shopping."

-

You had switched out of your pajamas and into a hoodie and some ripped jeans. Loki had magicked himself an outfit - which you didn't even know he could do - that made him look like he was going to the MET gala, before you forced him into something that was casual enough to fit your standards.

(A/N: hate to be that kind of wattpad author, but basically this)

Before you left, though, there was one more issue. "The hair is a dead giveaway," you noted, "Is there any way for you to change that?" To answer your question, he snapped his fingers, and his hair immediately swapped to a shorter, dirty-blondish cut. You gawked at it for a second before leaving and taking him with you.

Being the broke college kid you were, you didn't have the money for a car, so public transit was your best option. Now, with a criminal god in your presence, that seemed more like a curse. You became much more sure of that when you had your arm interlocked with his, holding on to the bars of a bus. You were sure that you were convinced that somebody was going to recognize him, and that it was going to be the end of you. You tried your best to swallow down the paranoia as you got off the bus.

"What's this?" Loki asked, squinting at the sign above your destination.

"It's a shopping mall. It's where people buy stuff." You said, latching on to his hood and dragging him through the front doors. "How out of touch are you with earth stuff?"

"A lot, apparently." He said, looking around at the entrances to every store. "To be fair, the last time I was here, I was sort of getting beaten up the whole time."

At least he has a sense of humor, you thought, directing him towards one end of the mall. "I'm pretty sure there's a Walmart here," you mumbled, scanning the signs.

Once you found it, Loki was already pulling away from you. Maybe keeping an eye on him is going to be harder than I thought.

It was evident that he was right about being out-of-touch with earth, because he looked around the Walmart like Alice in wonderland. You headed to the produce aisle, careful not to let him trail too far behind.

"So... um... what do you even eat?" You asked hesitantly.

"I imagine our diets are pretty similar," he acknowledged, picking up a potato and tossing it around. You snatched it from him, grabbing instead a bag of them and throwing it in the cart.

"Right," you said, "so I need bread, milk, maybe some chicken..."

He scrunched up his nose. "Never mind. You and I are very different."

"Oh really? And how's that?" You said, leaning over the rim of your shopping cart.

"Don't forget that I'm a prince, and a rightful king. On Asgard, I would be served like one." He scorned. A man across the aisle was shooting you weird looks, and you pulled Loki to the side.

"Alright, keep it down," you warned, "It's weird enough that you sound British in a Walmart in New York. It doesn't help to have you talking like a Shakespeare character."

"Fine." He grumbled, and you picked up your shopping again.

"By the way," you reminded him, "I'm not making you dinner while you have a theoretical knife at my throat."

He put his hand to his chest, acting over-dramatically offended. "I am not your slave, mortal."

You cocked your eyebrow, unimpressed. "C'mon, I need some other stuff."

Walking down the hair aisle, Loki trailed behind you, knocking products of the shelf and into your cart. After your cart had reached it's capacity, you whipped around to face him. "Do I have to babysit you this whole time? Is it your sworn duty to make my life a living hell?"

As you fished everything unwanted out of the cart, he smirked, sending you a shockwave of anger. "Now that you've said that, it's my glorious purpose."