Chapter 2
Loki was bored. A bored Loki tended to be a recipe for trouble, so he decided it would be prudent to attempt to to find a distraction (as much for his own sake as the mortals'; Thor had devised a rather ingenious technique as of late for keeping him in line, and Loki had no intentions of depriving himself of his brother's attentions in bed if he could help it).
He wandered the tower in search of a diversion, eventually drawn to the kitchen by the raised voices of Thor's little band of earthlings. They were gathered around a small whirring box, arguing over what film to watch as far as he could tell. He watched in fascination as a bag of something hot and buttery-smelling was retrieved from what he had now deduced to be a tiny oven, after which it was upended into a large bowl. A different bag went in, a timer set for two minutes, and Loki could see that there were four more empty bowls set out to be filled. Was this how humans conducted food preparation? How horribly inefficient.
"What a strange oven," he mused aloud, catching the evil eye from Clint. "However do you prepare meals in such a confined space?"
"Oh, no, that's the oven," said Banner, ever the peacemaker (well, until he wasn't). He pointed out a much larger appliance on the other side of the room. "This is a microwave. It's meant to heat smaller things more quickly. For snacks and stuff," he said with a sage nod.
"Microwave," Loki echoed, eyeing the device with interest. This seemed to be the perfect opportunity for a bit of harmless mischief (Thor could hardly argue he'd done anything wrong if he was helping them, after all).
He spent a few moments observing the mechanism used to heat the food, deducing the pattern of molecule excitement fairly quickly. He waved his hand, sending a pulse of seidr in the direction of the remaining bags, and heated them all at once, the sudden burst of simultaneous popping sounds causing the other occupants of the room to jump. Loki offered the stunned mortals a saccharine-sweet smile, gesturing for them to open the bags. "I thought I could be of help," he said innocently.
Romanov recovered first, emptying one bag into a bowl and revealing the perfectly-cooked... whatever it was. "Looks fine to me," she said with a shrug, grabbing a handful, while the others rounded on Loki.
"What the hell was that?" Stark demanded, torn between disbelief and trepidation (with a hint of awe thrown into the mix that Loki saw clearly, despite his attempts to hide it).
"A macrowave," Loki deadpanned, wiggling his fingers.