The clang of the tattoo shop's bell startled him much less than Brunnhilde's shouted greeting.

"Bread Boy! You are brave to enter my shop without an offering of treats in hand. What can I do for you?" The short, but nonetheless intimidating woman crossed the shop to meet him near the entrance.

"I'm, ah, looking for Sif. Have you seen her around?" He tried not to convey his distress, his hurt and shoved his hands into his pockets. Brunnhilde's face looked confused and then suddenly split into a sort of horrified shock.

"Oh shit. Shit! Oh my god, Bread Boy, I totally forgot.I'm so sorry!"

"What?" Loki tried to keep up with her onslaught of apologies and hurried explanation.

"Sif asked me to - shit. Sif was in a fight last week. Well more self-defense really. Defending us from this asshole that came into the shop and started spewing a bunch of hateful shit, ranting and raving about how women don't belong in this field and getting in our faces. I was about to grab my baseball bat to talk some sense into him but Sif just dropped him with a right hook before things could get any worse. She knocked him out cold, face down on the ground. Messed up her hand, so she took the week off. Pretty hard to tattoo with a busted hand. She asked me to run over and tell you but I got so caught up, I totally spaced it."

Loki's mind reeled at the information. Sif was hurt. Sif was safe. Sif had not forgotten about him. He hardly heard Brunnhilde's voice continue on.

"I'm sorry Bread Boy. But Sif should be back on Monday morning if you wanted to book an appointment?"

Loki spent all day Sunday in anxious anticipation, slaving away behind his counter and becoming more and more resolute in his plan. Bright and early Monday morning, he turned the sign on his shop to "Be Back Soon", ushering grumbling patrons outside with an apologetic smile and retreating into his back office. A moment later, he emerged onto the street, two green boxes tucked under one arm, his other hand absentmindedly fingering the thin paper carried in his coat pocket.

He greeted Sigrund at the little reception desk, stating his 8:00 am appointment, and followed her towards the back of the shop, gesturing for him to enter the small office.

Loki's heart stopped at the sight of her, Sif seated behind a messy desk, deep in concentration sketching out a design on translucent paper. Her right hand had a clean bandage wrapped across her knuckles, but she didn't appear to be in pain. In fact, Loki thought she looked radiant. Positively beautiful.

He cleared his throat and stepped deeper into the office. Smiling at her small startle of surprise. "Oh! Loki! Hello, I'm sorry Brunnhilde didn't tell you," she sprang out of her chair. Loki lifted the green Ingrid's boxes and placed them on a bare space of her desk.

"I brought you something," he opened the lid of the Get Well Soon cake and the box holding lemon tarts, her favorite dessert to show her. "It's good to see you, Sif."

"Thank you, Loki. It's so good to see you too." She crossed from behind her desk to stand in front of him, reaching a hand forward as if to touch, before pulling her arms back across her chest.

"I'm sorry I haven't been in. I've been missing it, missing you. I was planning to stop in tonight after work. I've just been a little busy," she holds up her injured hand with an apologetic shrug.

"I know, and that's why I made an appointment to come see you instead."

"An appointment?" She furrowed her brow. "Wait, do you mean you're my eight o'clock appointment?"

Loki fished his hand back into his coat pocket. Gently, he pulled the napkin out with a reverent touch, lifting it to display her sketch of his trusty kettle, the first and most beloved art she had gifted him.

"I want you to be the one to do it." He pressed the napkin into her palm and shed his coat, pushing the sleeve of his sweater up to expose his left forearm, the place where she had traced her fingers all those nights ago. "The past few months spent with you have meant more to me than anything else in my life. I want you to do the tattoo."

She was quiet for a long moment, looking a bit shocked at his request and his confession before her face broke out into a smile and she lifted a long hand to cover her giggling mouth. Before he could question her response, his napkin was gently placed on her desk and her own sleeve pushed up to her elbow. His eyes caught her new addition immediately, the tattoo shining and looking a bit tender. It's his kettle, a near identical match to the sketch he had just handed to her, gracing the previously blank space of her forearm his own fingers had traced just weeks before.

"These past months have been truly inspiring. I think I'm addicted, to your kokekaffe, to your desserts..." She raised her eyes to meet his. "Apparently we had the same idea."

He balked, caught completely off guard and his heart hammered at what this means. Slowly, he reached out and takes her wrist in the circle of his long fingers, his other hand brushing gently across the outline of his kettle on her skin. He watched her shiver with half lidded eyes, her free hand raising up to touch his chest ever so gently. "Loki," her voice was breathless, almost a question, a plea.

"Sif," he answered, tugging her wrist behind his back to pull her body into his in a smooth, slow motion. One of his arms wrapped tight across her back to hold her flush against him, his other hand threading into her hair, feeling her breath stutter and watching her eyes flutter. He kissed her, deeply and fully with all the passion he'd felt growing for her. Her bottom lip was soft and plump caught between gliding lips and the sound of her moan, made him gasp. She returned his kiss with equal fervor, knowing just when to nip and roll at his bottom lip in a way that turned his limbs to jelly.

She pulled and turns them, lifting her bottom to sit on the edge of her desk, and hooked one of her legs up and around his thigh. He moved his attention to the curve of her jaw and down the line of her neck to find the dark flourish of ink at her collarbone, kissing and laving at it, feeling Sif's hands claw at his shoulders and her breath hitch in his ear. He's overcome with the desire to trace his lips, his tongue across every one of the tattoos that adorn her, sliding one hand under the hem of her waffle knit sweater and tracing the tattooed skin of her hips under his thumb.

"Hey Sif -whoa!" Brunnhilde's embarrassed interruption shot Loki upright, and he barely caught the cake box that Sif's startled flail pushed towards the floor. Sif furiously tried to smooth her mussed hair, while Brunnhilde looked at the ceiling and backed out of the office. "I was gonna ask for help with a design, but I can figure it out. Maybe close the door next time. Nice to see you, Bread Boy!"

Sif and Loki looked at each other with flushed faces and laughed. She picked up the napkin and held her other hand out for him, "C'mon, let's go work on this design. And then I have some ideas for ways to work up an appetite for those lemon tarts."

Loki laughed and took her hand to follow her out to the floor. "Sounds delicious."

Thank you so much for reading!