Strangefrost Oneshots

part twenty-two ~ want a drink?

High School

Music blared and the ground trembled as bodies jumped around in time to the strong, thudding beat. 

Stephen could feel eyes on him from all over the room as he walked through it. He flickered his eyes over each person, his hands in his pockets. He shouldered his way through the crowd until he reached the door to the kitchen. 

He almost couldn't recall what had made him come to this party in the first place. Get his mind off finals, he supposed. A bunch of sixteen- and seventeen-year-olds making complete fools of themselves whilst pretending they're all so cool. 

Pathetic. But he was here now, so he may as well get drunk and have an ounce of this bizarre thing they called fun.

It was dusk out, and Stephen was just thinking of all the things he could be doing better with this time - studying, practising spells, sifting through a few mythology encyclopedias - when someone everyone knew, and loved, walked into the otherwise empty kitchen. 

Stephen lifted his head to the point where he knew his nose was in the air, like the snob he wanted people to think he was. At least they didn't bother him much if they thought that. Thor Odinson. Everybody's favourite jock and god of thunder. 

"Strange," Thor greeted. He truly had nothing against the rather large, muscular boy, however, there was an aura of arrogance and entitlement he gave off that made Stephen want to kick him in the nuts sometimes. 

A moment after his brother's arrival, Loki slipped into the room, his face straight and guarded as he glanced between Stephen and Thor. The tall, lean, sharp-eyed god of mischief traced Thor's steps to and from the fridge with a bottle of beer but the beverage didn't make it to his lips. 

"Odinson," Stephen reciprocated gruffly. 

With a dramatic, melancholic sigh, Loki flicked his gaze to Stephen. "You're going to have to be more specific than that, Strange."

"Oh, right," Stephen sighed. "Odinson - " he gestured to Thor. "- and Odinsdottir," he pointed at Loki.

Thor sniggered. "You've got to cut that hair, Loki. Strange is right - act like the man you are." And he left.

Despite Loki's now enraged, blazing eyes, his entire face stayed as calm as a cucumber. He discarded his beer on the table and balled his fists on his way past Stephen, who caught his arm to halt him.

He turned his head to Loki's ear. "For the record, the hair wasn't what I meant. It's hard to react to someone so attractively pretty without giving them a feminine title." He watched Loki's jaw clench and smirked. "Don't cut your hair. Or at least - not until you let me run my hands through it."

Loki inhaled sharply, sent Stephen a brooding look and slid from his grasp - gone in an instant. Stephen unbuttoned the first button on his shirt and smiled.

It took Stephen too long to shove Loki's charcoal turtleneck and olive jeans out of his head. He'd assumed not being able to hear his own thoughts due to the pounding music would have helped but it hadn't. By any means.

He closed his eyes in the middle of the dance floor and succumbed to the numb, blasting sound he knew was damaging his ears. He wasn't quite dancing, and neither was anyone else, he was swaying and hopping to the rhythm. The flashing lights of the disco ball scorched his eyelids. The cup of cheap vodka in his hand got emptier and emptier. 

Stephen tipped the cup up and found it completely barren of the foul, bitter drink. He stared at it for a moment before -

"Want a refill? The stuff's bloody awful but it rids you of the will to live, so I like it."