Frostbite

Red, Black, and Blue

"—sort of empty skull do you ferry—"

"I said to visit soon!"

"The sun has barely risen in the subsequent day you absolutely idiotic—"

Peter sat up before he even thought of opening his eyes and by the time he rubbed away the crust and pried them open, it was about an hour before he had to leave to make it in time for the second bell. Mom's and Thor's bickering filtered through the pitch darkness of the room; the thick blanket he had kept over the window would've been good enough to block the sunlight from his senses, but when Mom saw she'd cast spells on the frame, the pane, the glass, and still she'd bought a pair of black-out curtains in dark blue.

He slid out from under his ridiculously soft sheets and fumbled for his AcaDec sweatshirt, then jeans, and right when he was pulling on one sock that stopped at his ankle and another that reached the middle of his calf, the door swung wide open.

Peter squinted and shielded his eyes. "Oh, dude."

"Good morning, Nephew!" Thor greeted, climbing sunshine breaking through behind him. He was in jeans again, a brown leather jacket over his shoulders and that same red scarf from last night slung around his neck and hanging just past his waist. And, was he, he kept the beanie— "It is to my knowledge that the children here wake quite early for their lessons, much earlier than on Asgard for reasons I cannot fathom, so I had taken care for Heimdall to inform me when it was appropriate for my next visit—"

"And it was not," Mom's voice echoed faintly from down the hall.

"—and it was because I said soon and this morning certainly qualifies as such." He smiled brightly. "Would you like to eat?"

"Sure! An-And good morning to you too, Mr. Thor!" Peter tacked on quickly, hurrying to his feet to scoop his notebooks and binders into his arms and ducked through his open bedroom door. Dirty blond brows pinched together.

"None of that, lad. Call me Uncle!"

"Oh, um..."

Ben was the only uncle he ever had. Richard was his only brother and Mary was an only child and even if May had always been a Parker in his eyes, she had three sisters; Annie who'd died before he could meet her, Jan who lived down in Boston and sent a postcard every Christmas and a birthday card with twenty dollars every August, April who was just gone. And even then, Ben became less of an uncle and more of a...

He bit the inside of his cheek.

The wafting scent of celery, onion, and thyme accompanied a faint bubbling and the rhythmic stirring of a stirring pot. Loki, clad in a dark gray robe and looking way too elegant at way too early in the morning, looked over his shoulder from his spot in front of the stove and raised a short glare that zipped right over Peter's head.

Thor waved a hand and smiled down. "In your own time, then," he reassured as he tousled brown hair. "In the meantime, I suppose 'Mr. Thor' will suffice. Or simply Thor, if you feel daring."

Peter managed a grateful look back.

"Good morning," Loki greeted softly as he patted his son into the seat at the head of the table, then cast a mildly exasperated glance at Thor when the latter plopped down in the chair to his left. "How was your rest?"

Peter set his things down on the floor under his chair. A couple pens rolled. "Good! I think I caught up on a lot."

Breakfast was served with the huge pot of celery-onion-thyme soup moved to a mat at the center of the dining table. Plates of dried haddock and bread and butter filled the surrounding space like they were about to feed ten people instead of three, but he guessed between his enhanced metabolism and the other two's literal other-worldly stomachs, this was normal.