With a grunt, Thor heaved himself upright — debris and drywall dust tumbling off his shoulders like they weren't even there.He lumbered toward the couch in the corner of Dove's living room as if crashing into someone's home was an everyday sport.
And Dove?Still frozen there, plank in hand, mouth halfway open.
That was until the guy — Thor, apparently — just dropped into his couch with a satisfied sigh.
The couch groaned under the weight like it might file a restraining order.
"Beer," Thor grunted, rubbing his eyes like a guy waking up after a bender. "You got one?"
That snapped Dove back to reality."You—what?!"
He stared at the man like he'd just asked for a kidney.That was the last straw.
"You crash my ceiling, break my furniture, and now you want a beer?!"
Thor just gave him a lopsided grin, like that was perfectly reasonable.
"Yes," he said simply.
And Dove—because the universe clearly had a personal grudge against him—found himself stomping into the kitchen anyway.
He had a stash.A secret stash.His last six-pack.
And with a sigh that probably aged him five years, Dove grabbed a can, cracked it, and handed it over.
Thor grabbed it like it was a holy relic and took a long, satisfied pull."Ahhh," he groaned. "That's better. Mortal brews… crude, but they have a kick."
"You gonna pay me back for that?" Dove deadpanned.
Thor just chuckled."Depends," he said.
"Depends on what?"
That's when Thor sat up, eyes a bit clearer now — though still bleary — and started spinning a story.
"See," he began, gesturing grandly with his beer can."I was… let's say engaged in a friendly gamble with some… old acquaintances. Gods, mostly. Big egos. Long story short: I lost."
He took another long swig.
"Lost my hammer, my seat at the table, my dignity, apparently. So until I can reclaim it," — he thudded the empty can onto the floor — "I can't go back."
That last bit hit Dove like a slap.
"You can't go back?"He narrowed his eyes.
And then it clicked.
This lunatic was going to be stuck here.
In his apartment.With his beer.And — oh god — probably with more holes in the ceiling before this was over.
"You mean you're gonna stay here?" Dove asked, voice strained."On my couch. For free?"
Thor beamed, like Dove had just handed him another drink.
"Exactly!"He winked, as if this was a vacation plan.
And Dove?He just stood there, plank still clutched in his hand, soul leaving his body one ounce at a time.
"Why? Are you my long-lost cousin or something?" Dove groaned at last."Because my landlord's gonna evict me faster than you can say 'Skol' if you keep breaking stuff!"
Thor laughed — deep and booming — and reclined further into the couch like a king on a throne.
"No worries," the god slurred."You mortals worry too much."
And Dove?He stared at the hole in the ceiling, then at the smug drunk on his couch, and thought:
Of course. Of fucking course this was my life now.