Woah. People ... actually ... liked that? Okay. Well. Two weeks later and y'all are getting another chapter! So...yay?

I do not own Loki. Um. Yeah. Enjoy?

Also, I'm way too lazy to read back through this and make sure there are no typos. So. Be patient, but don't hesitate to call them out either!

Four days after Tom moved in and settled all his belongings (which consisted of one sleeping bag, three outfits, and a laptop), Loki walked into the apartment to find the human lounging on a ratty couch, staring at a small television.

"Where'd all this come from?" he asked, stepping tentatively into the room.

"Dumpster," Tom replied, patting the couch. "And sister," he continued, pointing at the television.

"But ... why?" Loki demanded, moving behind the couch. His lawnchair had been relocated to a lonely corner near the kitchen.

"Living commodities!" Tom exclaimed, jumping to his feet. "Basic objects that are essential for ensuring our continued survival. I also got a coffeemaker - actually bought it at Wal Mart, and it was rather cheap, which is good, because I haven't too much money, but it only make a single cup at a time, but that's a rather minor drawback. Anyway - " and his features twisted themselves into a devilish grin - "Your name is Loki - "

"Are these items really necessary for ... erm, survival?" the Asgardian interrupted.

"Absolutely," Tom replied. "How can you go even a day without a proper cup of coffee?" When the only response he received was a blank stare, his eyes widened to nearly twice ther normal size. Couple with his mane of ginger curls, the expression was truly frightening. "You've never had coffee before, have you? Good God, how desperately deprived the Norwegians must be. Come on," and he grabbed Loki by the arm and dragged him out of the apartment. "We must culture you."

Once the two were planted firmly in line at the nearest Starbucks (less than a block away), Tom turned to Loki, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. Not for the first time since the two met - and had it really been only four days? It felt like Tom had been a thorn in Loki's side for much longer - Loki found himself plotting the human's death. Try as he might, the god just couldn't get his roommate to leave him alone. So he fixed Tom with a menacing glare, hoping the latter would remain quiet.

Tom didn't even twitch.

"You're Loki, right?"

Loki sighed internally and spoke with the voice he reserved for especially ignorant children and Thor. "I thought this had already been established. Yes. I am Loki, and you are Tom."

"No, I mean..." Tom clearly had been meaning to say whatever it was for quite a while, because his whole body was quivering as he spoke. "Your name is Loki. That's the god of mischief, right? The trickster?"

Loki nodded slowly, not quite liking where this thread was headed. Tom didn't secretly work for SHIELD, did he? "That is correct..."

Tom grinned impishly. "So do you play pranks and stuff on people? With your name and demeanor, you could probably get away with anything."

"I ... have been known to - "

Loki was cut off by the bored looking woman behind the counter. "Next."

Ton stepped up, all but sidelining Loki. "I'll have a venti half-caf light iced nonfat four pump caramel machiatto. And he will have ..." He took a moment to appraise his roomate. "Just a coffee. Black, one sugar."

The shit-eating grin never left Tom's face as he and Loki waited for the unimpressed barista to assemble their drinks. Loki kept quiet and tried (and succeeded, mind you) not to fidget uncomfortably. He was a god, dammit! No mere mortal had the right to fix him with such a humbling gaze.

He was startled out of his determined not-fidgeting by the emergence of a paper cup filled with a steaming, murky brown liquid. The colour appeared rather unappetizing, although the scent did something to combat that. He glanced at Tom, who gave him an encouraging little nod over the green straw he was sucking on.

So Loki took a sip.

Several days later, Tom was preparing for something or other, and Loki was preparing his sixth cup of coffee that day. As he tried to drink it, however, he found that something was wrong. Something was very wrong. He couldn't even swallow the abomination that was meant to be a relatively decent cup of coffee.

"MORTAL!" he called, beckoning Tom into the kitchen area. "There's something wrong with your coffeemaker."

As Tom started giggling hysterically, Loki tried very hard to not throw the cup, along with the revolting liquid it held, at the human's head. "It's not the coffeemaker," Tom laughed. "It's the sugar! I replaced it with salt! You've just been Loki'd. LOKIIIII'D!"