Here I am again, being unproductive. Shocker, I know. Despite having several fics on my computer for this fandom, this is the first I'm actually posting. Inspired by a dream I had of talking to Chris Hemsworth in my college cafeteria. This will be multi-chaptered, but more drabble-ish than linear. Also, my college!Thor resembles Hemsworth circa his photoshoot for GQ(also check out the pop-quiz video for that shoot, you'll thank me later). I dig the blond mane and clean shave.

Credit to Blue-Winter-Angel, as usual, for beta reading this. Much love, m'dear.

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing but my OCs. You'll know them when you see them, promise.


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A wave of artificially cold air washes over Beth as she steps into the cafeteria. It's nearly one-hundred degrees outside and the soft cotton of her thin button-up is sticking to her upper back. She gathers her dark hair off her neck and twists it into a sloppy bun, making her way toward the lunch line. Too hot to eat a proper meal, she picks up a container of fruit salad and a bottle of peach iced tea. She peruses the selection of baked goods and tries to decide between an oatmeal chocolate chip cookie and a peanut butter brownie. She ends up choosing a raspberry turnover instead. She pays for the items and steps out of the line, looking for her friends. Most of them are still in classes, but Leo and Howie have an hour free this time of day and usually spend it with her.

Unable to spot the guys immediately, Beth strolls through the seating area. She checks each table to see if they've joined up with other students she doesn't recognize, but comes away empty-handed. Frowning, Beth resigns herself to dining alone. The majority of the tables are slam-full, however, so she scans for an available seat. In the back, close to her usual spot with Leo and Howie, is a table with only a single occupant. She approaches the young man somewhat bashfully, never quite comfortable with engaging a stranger. He's going to town on some peanut butter brownies, idly thumbing through a thick textbook. Pages of notes are spread at the seat across from him, lined with streaks of blue highlighter. He seems friendly enough – at least, she doesn't think he'll bite her head off for intruding on his space – so she clears her throat softly.

Stormy blue eyes flick up to hers at the sound and Beth almost – read: pretty much – swoons. She hasn't seen a pair of lookers like those in a long time and tries not think of them as bedroom eyes(she fails). It's the lashes that really do her in; Beth's always been a sucker for long lashes, and damn if he doesn't have them. She recovers quickly enough to avoid social awkwardness, but she's sure he noticed her pause. She swallows, a nervous habit she's had since sixth grade. "Uh, sorry. Do you mind if I sit here? I don't see my friends and everywhere else is ful."

The smile he gives her is easy and full of pure sunshine. It also takes out her left knee, but that's neither here nor there. He closes his textbook and gathers up his notes, clearing space for her. "Not at all. I can hardly claim ownership of this table just by occupying it."

She smiles a little as she takes a seat. "That's really all it takes. Thanks."

"It is no trouble." He takes another large bite of his brownie, swallows thickly. Beth tries valiantly not to follow the bobbing of his Adam's apple. "What is your name? I see you in here often during this time."

"Beth," she replies, prying the lid off her fruit salad. "I usually have this hour between classes, so I use it to take lunch. What's your name? I don't think I've seen you here before." In fact, she knows she hasn't seen him. She'd never be able to miss him, with eyes like those.

"I do not usually take my lunch in here, but today I desired peace from my friends. I have a test in my next class and their personalities are not conducive to studying." He grins again, and are those butterflies or starlings in her belly? She can't tell. "My name is Thor."

"Thor?" she repeats, trying not to giggle. "Like the Norse god?"

"Like the Norse god," he agrees, eyes twinkling. "I have no mighty hammer to wield, though. My brother is less fortunate. Our parents named him Loki."

Beth's eyes widen with mirth. "That is hilarious. Are your parents Scandinavian?"

"My father is. My mother is English; they met on one of his business trips." Thor chuckles, and the deep, rich sound of it makes Beth want to shiver. "He is very set in his ways, and takes his culture quite seriously. I think my mother thought he was joking when he talked of naming us after the old gods."

"Joke's on her, I see." Beth smiles, swallows a bite of cantaloupe. "But it's an interesting name. You're the only Thor I've ever met."

"I am honored," he says, and does that smile ever leave his face? "Though I cannot say you are the only Beth I have ever met."

"I won't hold it against you. My name is ridiculously common." She takes a sip of her peach tea. "My parents have zero interest in Norse mythology."

"And yourself?" Thor asks.

"We did a small unit on it in middle school and I really enjoyed it. I didn't pursue it much after that, so I don't remember many of the stories. I do remember Loki being my favorite, though. I liked that he played tricks."

Thor makes that laugh again and thank God she's sitting because there goes the other knee. "My brother would be pleased to hear you say so. He takes after his namesake when the occasion strikes him and not many are fond of it."

"He sounds like fun."

"I think so, though I also think he plays tricks to stoke our father's ire. It is not hard to do."

"My mom's like that. It takes about one or two words to set her off just right. It is pretty spectacular to watch. You know, when it's not aimed at you."

Thor laughs. "My mother's wrath is of a subtler kind. One does not realize the danger until it is too late. Loki is the same way, although he looks dangerous to begin with so most are wary already."

"Your family sounds like a great screenplay." Polishing off the remainder of her salad, she turns her attention to the raspberry turnover. "So what are you studying?"

"At the moment, microeconomics."

Beth shudders. "Sounds excruciating."

"It is," Thor agrees. "Excruciating, but necessary. I am to take over the family business one day and a degree in business can only aid me in that endeavor."

"I'm glad journalism doesn't require that. My worst class was the public speaking. Now I just take a bunch of fun writing classes."

"You wish to be a journalist?"

"Not quite. I want to be a novelist, but journalism covers a few different types of writing and it'll be easier for me to take jobs or internships in that field."

"What do you write about?"

"Romance, certainly. I can't help myself. I like tragedy and drama, also. Oh, and mysteries. I haven't tried writing a mystery yet, but I think I will when I have a little more free time."

"I would enjoy reading your work sometime."

Beth can see only genuine interest in his eyes and something more than attraction warms her. "Really? I've got a short story on my tab –"

The plucky strings of a guitar interrupt her sentence and Beth glances over at her phone. The screen is lit up, Leo's dorky face filling the glass. "Oh, there they are. I'm sorry, can I take this?"

Thor's acquiescence is easy. "Go ahead."

"Thanks." She swipes the screen and puts the phone to her ear. "Hey, where are you guys? My lunch is practically over."

Leo's voice crackles softly over the line. "Sorry, the research for our final essays took more effort than originally anticipated. We're still on the second floor of the library."

"I told you not to wait until the last minute."

"Yes, yes. You're wise and all-knowing. What are you doing?"

"Having lunch with the god of thunder," she quips, flashing Thor a grin. Her belly clenches when he drops her a wink.

"What?"

She can practically see the blank expression on Leo's face. "I was forced to make a new friend in the wake of your thoughtless abandonment."

"My sincerest apologies, Cherrybeth. You gonna head our way? You've still got about fifteen minutes before your next class."

Though she'd originally been desperate for their company, Beth is now reluctant to leave Thor behind. "I suppose I can spare a few minutes of my precious time."

"How gracious," he deadpans. "See you in a minute."

Huffing a laugh, Beth ends the call and rises to throw her garbage into a nearby trashcan. Returning to the table, she sighs a touch dramatically. "Alas, I need to get going. Gotta check on my bookworms before class. Thanks for letting me sit with you, I enjoyed it."

"I did, as well." He takes her hand, making her jump a little at the unexpected contact. Then, even more unexpectedly, he places a gentle kiss to the bend of her knuckles. Beth feels the blush before it blooms and curses her Irish complexion. "Perhaps I will see you again."

Beth knows she's supposed to respond to this, as per social etiquette, but his eyes are very distracting. As is the phantom burn of his lips on her skin. Christ. "I hope so," she says honestly. She wants to cringe, but she knows she's never been able to play coy. Best to be straightforward, anyway; Thor seems the type to appreciate it. If the sparkle in his baby blues is anything to go by, Beth is correct.

"Then it will be so," he murmurs. "Enjoy the rest of your day, Beth."

"No promises," she jokes, adjusting the strap of her satchel. "Good luck on your econ test."

He thanks her sincerely, they share one last smile – damn that mouth – and suddenly Beth is back out in the murderous heat. She visibly wilts under the glare of the sun, but slips her Wayfarers into place and heads for the impressive library at the other end of the large courtyard. Ignoring how miserable she is in her tight jeans – what the hell had she been thinking this morning – Beth replays Thor's words in her head. Given that he's seen her around the cafeteria on the occasions he's been there, she's sure he'll find her again. Maybe even as soon as tomorrow, though she tries not to get her hopes up. While she's pretty confident in her personality and looks, she's no stunner. That would be her friend Winnie, a woman so Southern she can charm the pants off a magnolia tree if she so chose. Winnie is the kind of lady that keeps men coming back, whereas Beth can score a coffee date or two, maybe a week of bland text messages if she wears red lipstick. She's okay with this, really, because as much as she enjoys male companionship her degree is her number one priority until she graduates next spring. Thor is different, though; Beth finds herself hoping fervently that their paths cross again, despite how campy it sounds.

Something in her gut tells Beth that Thor is special. He's not some run-of-the-mill jock with short-sighted goals. She'd had barely an hour to talk to him, but she just knows there was more beneath the surface. She knows it the way she knows Bruce Wayne is Batman; the way she knows the color orange offends her mother's sensibilities. Beth has never been prone to seeking out adventures or other extraneous situations, but she's willing to make an exception for this pseudo-deity. Perhaps all the time spent in Winnie's attractive company will rub off on her.

After all, something productive ought to come of associating with a Southern belle capable of obtaining six phone numbers in under half an hour.

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