Meet Ugly #13 - The Last Seat
2018-Dec-24, Monday 08:59 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
felicitygsThis one is part of my Christmas gift to a good friend, using Loki's from two different universes--one Loki, the other John.
Merry christmas fox!!
13. we make contact before trying to steal the last seat on the subway/bus/train and I end up in your lap and fuck you, I’m going to stay here because I’ve had a really long day and this seat was mine - from this list of Meet Ugly prompts
It has been a very, very long day. First snow delaying all the trains, then being late for his first part time job, said snow and ice making him miss lunch to avoid being late for his second job, the customers (gods, the customers, there is nothing he loathes more than the customers at the holidays), and then, some well-dressed man in a suit who has just cut in front of him while he waits for the train home.
Another day, perhaps Loki would scold him, would point out that actually, the end of the line is the other side, does he not understand how lines work? Perhaps he should go back to primary school--but today, Loki is tired tired tired, and ultimately he just mutters it all in his head and swears he'll push this rude, well-dressed idiot out of the way in order to get a seat.
Except, once the dust is settled in the push and shove of people disembarking and people getting on, Loki sits down at the near same time as the line-cutting bastard, and winds up in his possibly tailored pants lap.
"Do you mind?" the well-dressed line cutter sneers, and Loki decides, actually, he doesn't care; someone this well dressed clearly hasn't been on their feet all day, dealing with holiday customers all day, and it would have been Loki's seat if this asshole hadn't cut in line in the first place, and another thing--
"No," he says, and if his exhaustion is mistaken for a blasé attitude, all the better. He shifts a bit, trying to get a little more comfortable on a frankly boney lap. A seat, after all, is a seat, and he still hasn't been pushed off.
He can't see the line cutter's face, but there is a very annoyed silence and tension behind him. Serves you right, Loki thinks, forcefully, but, after a moment, he feels a phone rest against his back.
"Fine," the line cutter snaps, and that is, somehow, that.
It takes a little bit, to get used to the oddness of sitting on some stranger's lap, the feel of a phone against his back, but apparently not so long; vaguely, he registers being pushed up right every now and then, and when he gets a shove, it's been half his commute.
"This is my stop," the line cutter says, crisp and professional and not like this hasn't been the weirdest subway ride he has probably had in recent memory.
"Ah," Loki says, and he stretches as he stands, yawning a bit, then takes the now (empty) seat. He gets a good look at the line cutter: black hair slicked back, green eyes a match for his own, sharp features and what looks like an excellent poker face; and in return, Loki's examined too.
"Thanks for the seat," Loki says, and gives a little salute.
The line cutter snorts, then gets off as the doors open, heading off at the steady clip of the well-rested.
***
It's a few days later, in the morning, when Loki is standing and hanging onto one of the aisle straps, volume turned up loud enough to block out most of the world, when he gets a tap on the shoulder.
"You," a voice says, and Loki turns, and well, there he is.
"Yes?" Loki asks, once he's turned the volume down enough to hear.
"You sat in my lap the other day," the man says, clearly miffed Loki doesn't seem to remember; Loki feels a bloom of satisfaction, because he is (perhaps)(certainly) still angry about being cut in front of.
"Oh, yes. Me." Loki pauses for a very long minute, then, finally, "I suppose I owe you something for lending your lap."
The look he gets is rather calculating; people are, to a one, easily swayed by bribes.
"What did you have in mind?" the line cutter asks.
"What about coffee one morning? You look like a nine to five kind of guy, so say tomorrow at 8, the coffee shop by exit three?"
"Sure," the man says, and he smiles, the tiniest little thing with the corners of his mouth, the most minute crows feet at his eyes. "I'm John, by the way."
"Loki."
It's a nice train ride, after that; they don't really talk, and John gets off at the next stop. Loki turns the volume back up on his headphones and closes his eyes, trying to brace for the day ahead; and as he does, he finds himself smiling inward at the date he's so accidentally made.
Merry christmas fox!!
13. we make contact before trying to steal the last seat on the subway/bus/train and I end up in your lap and fuck you, I’m going to stay here because I’ve had a really long day and this seat was mine - from this list of Meet Ugly prompts
It has been a very, very long day. First snow delaying all the trains, then being late for his first part time job, said snow and ice making him miss lunch to avoid being late for his second job, the customers (gods, the customers, there is nothing he loathes more than the customers at the holidays), and then, some well-dressed man in a suit who has just cut in front of him while he waits for the train home.
Another day, perhaps Loki would scold him, would point out that actually, the end of the line is the other side, does he not understand how lines work? Perhaps he should go back to primary school--but today, Loki is tired tired tired, and ultimately he just mutters it all in his head and swears he'll push this rude, well-dressed idiot out of the way in order to get a seat.
Except, once the dust is settled in the push and shove of people disembarking and people getting on, Loki sits down at the near same time as the line-cutting bastard, and winds up in his possibly tailored pants lap.
"Do you mind?" the well-dressed line cutter sneers, and Loki decides, actually, he doesn't care; someone this well dressed clearly hasn't been on their feet all day, dealing with holiday customers all day, and it would have been Loki's seat if this asshole hadn't cut in line in the first place, and another thing--
"No," he says, and if his exhaustion is mistaken for a blasé attitude, all the better. He shifts a bit, trying to get a little more comfortable on a frankly boney lap. A seat, after all, is a seat, and he still hasn't been pushed off.
He can't see the line cutter's face, but there is a very annoyed silence and tension behind him. Serves you right, Loki thinks, forcefully, but, after a moment, he feels a phone rest against his back.
"Fine," the line cutter snaps, and that is, somehow, that.
It takes a little bit, to get used to the oddness of sitting on some stranger's lap, the feel of a phone against his back, but apparently not so long; vaguely, he registers being pushed up right every now and then, and when he gets a shove, it's been half his commute.
"This is my stop," the line cutter says, crisp and professional and not like this hasn't been the weirdest subway ride he has probably had in recent memory.
"Ah," Loki says, and he stretches as he stands, yawning a bit, then takes the now (empty) seat. He gets a good look at the line cutter: black hair slicked back, green eyes a match for his own, sharp features and what looks like an excellent poker face; and in return, Loki's examined too.
"Thanks for the seat," Loki says, and gives a little salute.
The line cutter snorts, then gets off as the doors open, heading off at the steady clip of the well-rested.
It's a few days later, in the morning, when Loki is standing and hanging onto one of the aisle straps, volume turned up loud enough to block out most of the world, when he gets a tap on the shoulder.
"You," a voice says, and Loki turns, and well, there he is.
"Yes?" Loki asks, once he's turned the volume down enough to hear.
"You sat in my lap the other day," the man says, clearly miffed Loki doesn't seem to remember; Loki feels a bloom of satisfaction, because he is (perhaps)(certainly) still angry about being cut in front of.
"Oh, yes. Me." Loki pauses for a very long minute, then, finally, "I suppose I owe you something for lending your lap."
The look he gets is rather calculating; people are, to a one, easily swayed by bribes.
"What did you have in mind?" the line cutter asks.
"What about coffee one morning? You look like a nine to five kind of guy, so say tomorrow at 8, the coffee shop by exit three?"
"Sure," the man says, and he smiles, the tiniest little thing with the corners of his mouth, the most minute crows feet at his eyes. "I'm John, by the way."
"Loki."
It's a nice train ride, after that; they don't really talk, and John gets off at the next stop. Loki turns the volume back up on his headphones and closes his eyes, trying to brace for the day ahead; and as he does, he finds himself smiling inward at the date he's so accidentally made.