Twisted Fate || Loki Odinson

10.

I carefully arrange the fork and knife on the table-- fork on the left, knife on the right-- then fold a napkin around them, securing it with a napkin band before placing each bundle into the basket. Just as I finish, an expletive echoes from the kitchen. My heart skips a beat, and I hurry towards the swinging doors, a frown etched on my face.

"What's wrong?" I ask, spotting Ben nursing his hand under the running tap.

"I burned myself," he admits with a grimace.

"Let the water run over it for 10 to 15 minutes. Afterward, I'll help you wrap it," I instruct, my tone firm but gentle.

"Thanks, Cass," he mutters gratefully, his eyes meeting mine briefly before returning to the running water.

"No problem," I reply, turning back to my tasks in the dining area, though my mind lingers on Ben's injury. 

Sometime later, Ben pokes his head through the kitchen door, his face a mix of pain and uncertainty. "Ready?"

"Yeah," I confirm, grabbing burn cream, gauze, and tape from the first-aid kit before joining him at a table. "Okay, let's take a look."

Applying the cream gently, I wrap his hand carefully with gauze, securing it with tape. "All set. How does that feel?"

"Better," he sighs in relief, but there's a shadow behind his eyes.

Observing him closely, I notice his distracted demeanor. "Something's bothering you today. What's going on?"

He hesitates, his gaze dropping to the floor before he looks back at me, his eyes filled with worry. "It's my mom... She's been diagnosed with cancer."

My heart sinks, the air around me growing heavy. "Oh, Ben, I'm so sorry. How serious is it?"

"They caught it early, but it's still scary," he confesses, his voice tinged with fear and helplessness.

Reaching out, I place a comforting hand over his non-burnt hand. "If there's anything I can do to help, just let me know," I offer sincerely, my voice softening with empathy.

"I appreciate that, Cass," he says with gratitude.

"We're here to support each other, right?" I smile reassuringly, trying to infuse some hope into the moment.

He nods, visibly relieved to share his burden. "Yeah, we are."

"I'll keep your mom in my thoughts," I promise softly, squeezing his hand gently.

"Thank you," he replies, his eyes shining with unshed tears.

Before I can say more, the sound of the door jingling interrupts us. "I should get back out there. Take it easy, Ben. The other cooks can handle it," I assure him, giving his hand one last squeeze before rising from the table. 

"I'll try," he nods, his expression softening just a bit.

With that, we part ways, each returning to our duties with a shared understanding and support lingering between us. 

|| || ||

I quietly unlock my front door, stepping inside and shutting it softly behind me. Sliding off my shoes, I nudge them to the side before setting the takeout bag on the table. I slip out of my coat and hang it up, the routine movements grounding me after a long day. Grabbing the bag, I head towards the kitchen, only to freeze upon seeing Loki sitting at the island, deeply engrossed in a book.

"You're still up?" I ask, setting the takeout bag down and trying to steady my racing heart.

He looks up, amusement dancing in his eyes and a smirk playing on his lips. "I was waiting for you."

My brows raise in surprise. "Oh." I glance at the takeout bag, trying to mask the sudden warmth in my chest. "Hungry?"

"No, I'm fine," he replies, shaking his head with that effortlessly elegant manner of his.

"Well, if you change your mind, feel free to dig in," I offer, opening one of the Chinese takeout boxes and spearing a piece of chicken with my fork. "So, what kind of trouble did you manage to get into?"

He chuckles softly, a melodic sound that always catches me off guard. "I practiced my magic."

"All night?" I ask, eyebrows raised in disbelief.

"Not all night," he clarifies, his eyes glinting mischievously. "I found various ways to occupy myself."

"Hmm," I hum thoughtfully, the image of Loki causing mischief bringing a small smile to my face.

"How was your shift?" he inquires, tilting his head curiously, genuine interest in his voice.

"Busy, but nothing out of the ordinary," I reply with a shrug, though my thoughts are heavy. "Something's been bothering me all night, though."

"What's on your mind?" he asks, genuine concern softening his features.

"Ben's mom," I begin quietly, my gaze drifting to the food in front of me. "She's been diagnosed with cancer."

His expression darkens, sympathy evident in his eyes. "That's dreadful."

"Yeah," I sigh, picking at my food absentmindedly. "It's especially tough with the holidays coming up. I feel terrible for him and his family."

"Do they know her prognosis?" he asks softly.

"They caught it early, thankfully," I begin, my voice tinged with sadness. "But with cancer, you can never be sure." I clear my throat, the memories of my own mother flooding back. "It's how my mom died."

His hand finds mine, a comforting gesture that grounds me. His touch is warm and steadying. "I'm sorry, Cassie. I didn't realize."

"It's not something I usually talk about," I shrug, feeling a lump in my throat as the memories resurface.

His expression softens further. "I understand. It must bring back painful memories."

"Yeah," I nod, blinking back emotions threatening to overwhelm me. The last thing I want is to break down in front of him.

"If you ever feel like talking about it," he offers gently, his voice soothing to my frayed nerves, "I'm here to listen."

"I appreciate that," I say softly, managing a small smile.