Paul's face pulls into brief but bright grin, cheeks ruddy like a schoolboy as they climb into the Chevelle Malibu he'd eyed since they were kids. He moves with purpose, moving his body only when nessecary, always unusually still but as he passes Loki he chances a very small touch: his fingers ghost along the small of Loki's back trailing softly as he moves, there and gone in an instant.
Paul still can't believe Loki's real.
They drive, and Paul stays fairly quiet as they finally pull into his workplace, a familiar car elevated on the lift. Paul waits to get out, looking at Loki.
"You shouldn't have wait." Not for his car. Not with what Loki does, how he chases the bad guys. How he's good. Paul loves driving Loki around more than anything, but acts of service has always been his love language. Getting Loki's car sorted out in a matter of 48 hours was almost as satisfying as his alternative job.
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Paul still can't believe Loki's real.
They drive, and Paul stays fairly quiet as they finally pull into his workplace, a familiar car elevated on the lift. Paul waits to get out, looking at Loki.
"You shouldn't have wait." Not for his car. Not with what Loki does, how he chases the bad guys. How he's good. Paul loves driving Loki around more than anything, but acts of service has always been his love language. Getting Loki's car sorted out in a matter of 48 hours was almost as satisfying as his alternative job.