Title: A Meeting
Character(s): Loki/Puck/Odin/Oberon.
Pantheon(s): Norse/Faerie
Rating: PG
Warning(s): Mild innuendo.
Summary: Two old friends meet in a park, in the same town as a convention. In their boredom, they start causing mischief.



A man with violently blond hair, and expensive sunglasses, sat on a park bench, pretending to be reading the paper. His eyes were moving, but not over the words. He was watching for the person he had come to meet, and also at the people who were lounging around the park.

It always amused him to watch them, engulfed in their own, little lives, as though anything they did mattered in the long run. He saw nothing more than rats running a maze, looking for cheese that wasn't there.

He turned his head to the left, watching a couple in their early twenties be nauseatingly giggly together, and he had to push down the desire to turn a hose on them.

And while his head was turned, he sensed someone sit down next to him.

"You're late," the blond man said.

"Nonsense," the newcomer said. "So, are you going?"

"To the convention?" he asked, looking over at the newcomer, whose hair was New Castle Gold, and whose features were pinched.

His friend nodded.

"Why would I go?"

"I dunno," the newcomer said, shrugging, "it's a good chance to show off, isn't it?"

"I suppose so," he said, turning his attention back to the people in the park, and finally folding the paper and setting it at his side. "But then, if I really felt like showing off, I always have these little meetings with you."

"If that's good enough for you. Personally, I prefer a little recognition for my work, especially after a year's worth of hard labor."

"You always were a little over-eager for 'recognition' for your ... 'hard labor.'"

"Well, it's not my fault–"

"I don't care that he won the award last year."

"Whoa, there." He raised his hands in surrender. "I know how well you did, and how hard you worked."

"I told you," he said with a skowl, "I don't care about it."

"Yeah, maybe if you keep repeating it, you'll start believing it."

"I hate you."

"Liar."

"No, really. I mean it this time."

"Shut up. You do not."

"I don't have to put up with this."

"So, leave."

"You're a horrible friend."

"Then, why am I your best friend?"

"Low standards."

"Ow!" the newcomer said, putting a hand to his chest. "That pains me. Truly!"

"Now, who's the liar?"

"I suppose," he said with a huge sigh, "you have a point."

The blond man snorted again. "Drama queen."

"You would know better than I would."

"You're just not going to let me forget that time in Dublin, are you?"

"Or that time in Berlin ... or Copenhagen ... or the time with the twins! I nearly forgot about them."

"Yes, thank you for making sure I don't forget the twins."

"Really, there's nothing to be ashamed of."

"Thank you. That makes me feel so much better."

"I knew it would."

The newcomer pulled up his arm, and rested it on the back of the bench. After a few moments, his eyes came to rest on a couple cuddling on a blanket.

The man was middle-aged, his brown hair speckled with grey. His tan had an orangish tint, and his glasses were reminiscent of Buddy Holly's. He wore a blazer with patches on the elbows, a white shirt, faded jeans, and loafers. Very much the personification of the professional scholastic, in the midst of a mid-life crises.

The woman was young, barely older than a girl. Her skin was also dark, but not nearly as orange. Her hair fell in long, black ringlets around her head and face. She wore a blue sun dress, with purple flowers, and blue flip-flops. Her hair cascaded around both of them, as she positioned her face over his, and began kissing him.

"Well, well," the newcomer said, "look what we have here."



The violently blond man followed his friend's gaze toward the two.

"Well," he responded, "what do you think his wife would think, if she saw such a thing?"

"Oh," his friend said, his pinched features looking rather menacing, as they were pulled into a smile, "I don't think she would like that. Not one little bit."

"So, what do you think?"

"I think that certain parts of his anatomy should start to shrink."

He waved his hand in the man's general direction. The man, in turn, suddenly shifted. He pushed the woman off of him, and sat up straight. The woman sat up beside him, asking him what was wrong. She tried to wrap her arms around him, but he didn't move. He sat rigidly, the only thing moving were his eyes, which were abnormally large behind his glasses.

"And maybe," the violent blond added, "another part of his anatomy should compensate."

The man's eyes grew even larger, if that was possible, and his hands shot to his face, covering the lower half. He started to panic, as his nose started poking out from behind his hands.

Just as the tip started to poke out, he quickly tried to excuse himself. She tried to move his hands so that she could see what was happening, but the more she pawed at him, the more he tried to get away. He started to yell at her for touching him, and she began to cry, begging him to let her see.

People all around them started to stare. Some tried to pretend they were doing something else. Others stared openly, without shame.

"How long do you think it will take him to get home?" the violent blond asked.

"A better question is who is he going to call to fix it."

"An even better question," a new voice said, "is how long it will take for you to return him to normal."

The two friends stiffened slightly.

"Yes," another new voice said, "I'd also like to hear how you're going to do that."

"Odin, Oberon –"

"I don't want to hear it, Loki," Odin said. "You and Puck return that man to the way he should be."

"You realize –"

"Yes," said Oberon, "we realize that this is what the two of you do."

"Just get it done," said Odin.

Loki waved his hand, and the man's nose returned to normal. Then, Puck waved his hand.

"Is everything in order?" Oberon asked.

"Yes," Puck said, disgruntled, "everything is back to normal."

"Good," said Odin. "Now, do try to behave yourselves, gentleman."

Then, Odin and Oberon turned and walked away, in whatever direction they had originally come.

Loki and Puck sat there, in silence, until long after Odin and Oberon had gotten out of sight. Not wanting them to suddenly come back, and be caught in the middle of something they had just been told to stop. Better to at least pretend to behave, and keep the peace, then, let their kings know they had no intention of stopping, and get punished.

So, after a little while, Loki looked back toward the giggling couple he had originally noticed. They had gone back to being nauseating, once they realized that there was nothing to stare at, with the man and his over-sized nose. Again, Loki had the urge to turn a hose on them, but thought better or it. He waved his hand, and they were suddenly silenced.

"Now," Loki said, "where were we?"