Work Text:
Darryl Gets Done in By Craigslist (or How Darryl Accidentally Became A Dom)
Craigslist was officially the bane of Darryl Jacobson's existence.
Well, technically Thor was the bane of Darryl's existence but it was a lot easier to put the blame for Darryl's latest misadventure on Craigslist than to blame a giant blond Asgardian with enormous muscles and a giant hammer that summoned lightning.
Thanks to Craigslist, Darryl was now, to his everlasting shock and mortification, a dom.
It all began with a misunderstanding. Okay, not a misunderstanding. Mis-hearing? Selective hearing? Whatever one wanted to call it, Thor heard what he wanted to hear when he talked to Darryl. Those conversations usually involved Darryl trying to get Thor to pull his weight as a flat mate. That's how Darryl ended up as the not-exactly-proud owner of a grayish pumpkin thing and a bunch of large gold colored discs that Thor swore were Asgardian money worth a 'gazillion human dollars' each. Darryl had the distinct feeling he'd been given coasters or some other knick-knack but it wasn't like he was going to argue with Thor. It was impossible to argue with Thor. That's because Thor didn't listen.
And Thor was most certainly not listening when Darryl told him they couldn't have a servant.
What happened next ended with Darryl and his new prescription for Xanax.
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It began on a Saturday morning.
Saturdays used to be Darryl's favorite day. He'd spend Friday nights out at the pub with his mates from work and sleep in on Saturday morning. If he was awake, he'd sit around and watch the Saturday morning cartoons.
Thor didn't believe in sleeping in.
Thor didn't much care for cartoons.
Thor liked to begin each Saturday doing something for Darryl, in theory to show his affection for Darryl but what Darryl suspected was Thor's way of trying to pretend to pull his weight. There was the time Thor tried to make pancakes. And the time Thor tried to make coffee. It took the Great Bran Flakes Debacle to convince Thor to stay out of the kitchen for good. After that, Thor took it upon himself to try to get Darryl to exercise on Saturday mornings because 'women like muscles.'
Darryl wasn't a big fan of exercise. At least, not Thor's version of exercise.
It took him a good thirty seconds to realize that the horrendous ringing he was hearing was not, in fact, Thor but the bloody doorbell or, rather, some imbecile with their finger on the bloody doorbell at seven in the bloody morning.
Darryl waited to see if Thor got up first.
No such luck.
Tugging on a pair of sweatpants, Darryl staggered to the front door, carefully dodging Mjolnir on the way. He flung open the door, fully intending to give the person on the other side a piece of his mind.
At least, that's what he intended.
What happened instead was that Darryl found himself staring with his mouth hanging open at a man dressed from head to toe in black leather and a studded black leather dog collar around his neck. "Y-you must be here for Thor."
"Are you Darryl?" The man looked him up and down, his gaze lingering a little too long in places Darryl wasn't comfortable with. Especially such a hairy, middle aged man with what was obviously a beer gut. "I'm Sal."
Darryl kept his eyes on Sal and shouted, "Thor!"
But of course there was no answer.
Thor's bike was gone which meant Thor could be miles away or up the street.
"He said to be here at seven," Sal said eagerly. "And I was here. Right on time. On. The. Dot. You'll tell him, right?"
Weird, Darryl thought. But then again... Thor. "So he's expecting you then."
"Yes, sir."
"Well, I suppose you could come in and wait."
"Thank you, sir." Sal walked in slowly and kneeled next to Mjolnir.
Darryl stared at him.
Sal kept kneeling.
"Um... uh... Perhaps you'd be more comfortable waiting on the sofa? Or in a chair?" Darryl stammered. "Not that there's anything wrong w-with what you're doing, that is."
"Are you displeased with me?" Sal asked, raising his gaze from the hardwood and peering at Darryl under lowered lashes.
"N-no! Not at all. You're...um... just fine." Darryl tried to walk casually to the window but he was pretty sure it looked like he ran across the room. He looked to the left and to the right. No sign of Thor. Great. He was going to have to make conversation with this nutter until Thor showed up. Taking a deep breath, Darryl turned and hoped he sounded conversational as he asked, "So, uh, Sal... How do you know Thor?"
"We haven't met in person yet, sir," Sal answered, still staring at the hardwood floor.
Darryl knew that Thor didn't have a smartphone or a computer. That left... He glanced over at the landline which Thor used liberally to order takeout using Darryl's credit cards. "But you know each other?"
"We spoke yesterday."
"For the first time?"
"Yes, sir."
"Did he call you?"
"No, sir," Sal said and he sounded uncertain now. "I called him. About your ad on Craigslist."
"Ad? What ad?" No. Dear God, no. What had Thor done now? And was it going to be worse than Thor's visit to the local elementary school where he described a bloody battle against some fantastic creature in horrifying detail that still had the local parents giving them both dirty looks?
Sal pulled out his cellphone, tapped at it and held it out to Darryl.
Darryl stared down at the bejeweled Hello Kitty cellphone case, then back at Sal, sighed and took the phone.
And then he saw the ad.
Servant wanted to satisfy every whim of an Asgardian prince and his average Human flat mate. Must be obedient, willing to work hard and play harder, a good cook, someone who will clean under the sofa and behind the refrigerator, open to new adventures and discreet.
"I'm very discreet," Sal said softly.
Before Darryl could answer, the doorbell rang again.
"That must be Thor's seven-thirty," Sal told him. "He told me he was booked solid with potential servants."
"Booked solid," Darryl echoed and then he cheered as a thought suddenly occurred to him. "Well, off you go then. You'll have to reschedule."
For the first time since kneeling on the floor, Sal looked up, eyes flashing so fiercely that Darryl took a step back. "No way. This is a test and I'm not going to fail. Thor wants me to wait and I'm going to wait right here until he comes. I'll show him how obedient I can be."
"But --"
"I'm very obedient."
The doorbell rang again.
Thor didn't come home until Sunday morning and when he finally arrived, there were nine women and eight men in varying degrees of terrifying bondage gear, kneeling on the living room floor waiting for him.
By then, Darryl was drunker than he'd ever been and he'd put an ad on Craigslist of his own. Surely someone would take an insane Asgardian Avenger off his hands.
Not quite the end.