Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/596132.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M, M/M
  Fandom:
      Thor_(Movies), Thor_(Comics), Thor_-_All_Media_Types
  Relationship:
      Loki/Thor, Clint_Barton/Phil_Coulson
  Character:
      Loki_(Marvel), Thor_(Marvel), Balder_(Marvel), Amora_(The_Enchantress),
      Sif_(Marvel), Karnilla, Ensemble
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe_-_High_School, Shenanigans, Family, Incest, BDSM_Gone
      Wrong
  Series:
      Part 2 of Yolare
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-12-17 Chapters: 5/5 Words: 15124
****** yolamus, yolavimus ******
by cm_(mumblemutter)
Summary
     Thor and Loki take two steps back.
***** Chapter 1 *****
The prodigal son stays at home:
Loki and Thor are fighting.
Loki and Thor have been fighting for over a month now, ever since Loki found
out about Thor's college plans. "They have a good criminology program," Thor
had said, early on, and it was only later that Loki realized he was going there
with Sif. It's not that Loki cares, it's that Thor chose to evade his question
when he'd asked, off-handedly, about Sif. He hopes they get married, and spawn
a dozen beautiful, half-witted children with anger management issues.
Mom knocks on the door as Loki as trolling some asinine forum dedicated to the
school's athletic divisions. "Go away," he yells. There are about two hundred
threads devoted to Thor. It's downright disgraceful.
"Your brother's leaving," Mom says.
"Good."
"Loki." She sounds exasperated, but after a while he hears her footsteps fading
away.
Thor is hardly so accommodating. Loki puts up with his wheedling at the door
for a good while before he finally gives up: Thor is liable to break the door
down or do something equally dramatic if he doesn't get his way.
"What do you want," he asks flatly, holding on to the door frame.
"I'm leaving."
"Yes, I heard. I'm surprised there isn't a parade in honor of your departure."
"I don't want to fight."
"I wouldn't call this a fight - don't most of your fights involve your fists?"
Thor runs his fingers through his hair, and says, "Loki."
"Just leave. Goodbye." He starts to close the door, but Thor jams his foot into
it, ignores Loki's offended gasp and hauls him into his arms. Loki struggles
fruitlessly for a moment, then abruptly gives in, all the tension bleeding from
his body as he buries his face in Thor's neck.
"I'll miss you," Thor murmurs, his breath hot against Loki's temple.
"You'll have Sif to keep you company," Loki replies, but the words are lost in
Thor's skin.
Someone clears their throat, and they both jump apart, Loki backing
automatically into his room. Mom's staring at them both, the oddest expression
on her face. "We have to leave soon," she says, her voice strained.
"Yeah, okay." Thor raises his hand to Loki's face, then thinks better of it and
allows it to drop to his side. "You can drive up with us," he says.
"No, I don't think so." Loki retreats further, shuts the door behind him
slowly.
 
The first week:
The apartment settles into some sort of gloom after Thor leaves. Thor has
always been a buffer between Dad and him, and now that he's gone they can
barely be in the same room together without resorting to screaming.
"It's because you're so alike," Thor said once, in the weeks before he left.
"Please. We aren't even biologically related. How are we alike at all?"
"You're as much his son as I am. And you should have a conversation with
Heimdall when he's had too much to drink. He'll tell you the stories."
"Thanks, but no."
Thor's an idiot; he knows nothing at all.
 
The second week:
Loki declares that he'll take over Thor's room, dumping most of his books in
there. Of course, it means he spends most of the time when he's not on his
laptop in Thor's room, curled up on his bed. Mom comes in once, to pass him a
plate of cookies. Loki sits up and pulls his headphones down. "You should move
all his stuff to storage," he says.
"Oh I couldn't," she says, looking around fondly. "I can't even pack Balder's
stuff, and he's been gone years."
"I can do it for you," Loki offers helpfully. Thor's been gone for over two
weeks and Loki's not heard hide nor hair from him, although he keeps updating
his stupid Facebook page often enough. This despite Loki's lengthy lectures
about their egregious privacy policies, with Thor's standard response being,
"All my friends are on there. Besides, I don't have anything to hide." Loki
would argue the second point, but it's never worth it with Thor.
"Oh no," Mom says, idly touching one of Thor's trophies. "Maybe after he
graduates and moves out. By then you'll be gone too. All my boys. You have
enough space for your books? You can always store them in Dad's study if you
don't."
"No, I'm good," Loki replies, and pointedly puts his headphones back on so
she'll go away, which she eventually does.
 
And then:
Thor calls him in the fourth week, after Loki ignores all the emails and text
messages he starts sending after the third. "I just emailed you," is the first
thing he says.
"Yes, to ask me if you should pledge. I replied, by the way."
"I said other things. Your reply was only the one word."
"It was the only thing worth replying to. To be honest I couldn't read the rest
of it. How are you in college when you don't even know how to use the
spacebar?" Loki sits down at his computer table and unlocks the screen. There
is also a blinking invite to a videoconference. Loki rejects it, as he's
rejected every other attempt, and two seconds later another one pops up, this
one with a little frowny face attached as a note. "Will you stop that, I'm
already speaking to you."
"Yes, but I can't see your face."
Loki contemplates, idly, sending Thor a virus that will corrupt his hard drive,
but he's done that twice before and Thor always just asks some nerd to repair
it for him. Although this is college, so perhaps he hasn't yet gathered a crowd
of worshipping hangers-on.
He hangs up the phone and accepts the invite. Thor's face pops up, open wide
and beaming.
"So let me guess," Loki says, crossing his arms. "You're ignoring my advice and
joining some atrocious frat as we speak."
"I was kind of invited," Thor replies, only mildly defensive. He waves his hand
in front of the camera. "Can we not talk about that? How's school?"
"It's school. Everyone misses you. Not a day passes without some girl
collapsing at my feet in tears lamenting your departure. I fear we will never
get past it. And of course you were invited. How's the lovely Sif? You're not
planning something drastic like moving in together, are you?"
"She's good, and no we're not." Loki turns away to mess with his iPod, and when
he turns back Thor's gaze has softened, and there's a faint smile on his face.
"Are you behaving yourself?"
"Best behavior, always. You know me."
"Uh-huh." He shakes his head. "Listen, I have to go. Swim practice. I'll talk
to you later, okay? Accept my chat invites next time."
 
The girl:
"I'm Amora," the only girl in detention says, offering him a brilliant smile.
She's blonde, blue-eyed and Loki pegs her for yet another cheerleader type at
first, but that impression only lasts as long as it takes for him to find out
that she got expelled from her previous school.
"Burnt the place to the ground?" he says to her, the next day. "That's
impressive."
"Oh please. As if I would ever get my hands dirty. This manicure didn't come
cheap." She holds up her hands: long, almost claw-like nails painted the most
hideous green and edged with rhinestones. "They said I was responsible for
inciting arson. I'm sorry but did I put a gun to anyone's head? No."
Loki clucks sympathetically. "It's hardly your fault if other people are so
easily influenced."
"Precisely."
Loki will remember this moment afterwards as fireworks going off in the
distance while they stared at one another with identical expressions of
recognition on their faces. As if they were lost halves of the same soul,
reunited after centuries apart.
 
What really happens:
Amora says, "So the parental units are going to be away for the weekend. You
want to come hang out? If you take that as an invitation to slobber all over me
I will punch you in the face."
As it turns out, two hours after landing in her bedroom her panties are on the
floor and Loki is ineffectually attempting to eat her out.
"Have you never done this before," she exclaims at one point. "Oh my god you
haven't." When she stops laughing she pets him on the head. "That's good,
though. It means you haven't picked up any dirty habits I have to break."
A part of Loki wants to snap at her, to tell her he's not her dog to be trained
to give head on demand. Another part of him is so turned on he can barely see
straight and is willing to be trained to give head on demand.
The latter inclination wins out.
He makes her come at some point, by which time his jaw aches and his lips are
starting to go numb. "Well," Loki says, lifting his head. "That was only
slightly humiliating."
Amora stretches and yawns, throwing her arms above her head. "It gets better,"
she says.
"Fuck you."
"Mm. Considering how good you've been, sure why not."
 
The plan:
The main reason Loki decides to influence the elections is Amora, who comes up
to him one day at his locker and starts blathering on about America Chavez and
the prom committee and all Loki knows about the class presidency is that it's a
hallmark of popularity with precious little actual power - Balder was class
president at one point, and Thor as well. Loki recalls Thor barely campaigning,
winning by a landslide, and subsequently taking his duties seriously by
delegating most of them to his army of ardent admirers. He doesn't know what it
was like during Balder's reign, but he deduces it was more of the same.
"I just don't understand," he tells Amora. "You want to be in charge of
decorating the gym and deciding what vastly unimaginative theme this year's
prom will be based on?"
"My motivations are my own, it's best you don't ask," Amora says somberly.
"Do you plan to burn down the school again?"
"Don't be silly, I never repeat myself."
"Pig's blood?"
"No. And do you actually care why I want to be on the prom committee?"
"No, but. What's in it for me?"
"I'd offer you sex, that usually works for most guys, but see you just made
that face so that's out."
"What face?" He has excellent control over his facial muscles. He couldn't have
made a face.
"How about you do it because it's fun?" Amora says impatiently, waving him off.
"And I'll owe you."
"That works," Loki says.
 
Starting small:
"She hates me," he grouses to Leah, in an attempt to garner support. "Punched
me in the face for absolutely no reason. I almost went through a glass window.
That's attempted murder."
"Clearly that has nothing to do with how you got Billy Kaplan suspended."
"That was entirely not my fault. Besides, it was only for two weeks. Look, he's
back in school now annoying everyone with his hippie, liberal, tree-hugging
ways."
"I like him, and I like America." Leah says firmly. "Much more than I like
you."
"Look, will you help me or not?"
"No, most certainly not."
 
The chosen one:
As is stands, America Chavez is most likely to gather at least half the votes;
the rest of the student body will split their votes between Phil Coulson and
the remaining two candidates.
Clearly the only solution is to get rid of Candidate One and Candidate Two, or
at the very least, put them in a position that only a few close personal
friends will vote for them.
"By why Phil," Amora asks.
"Look at him, doesn't he have a reassuring, presidential face?"
"If by that you mean non-descript and nerdy, yeah, I guess? You have not
answered my question."
Loki sighs. "He's white and male. Those who've lost their candidate will surely
vote for someone familiar instead of switching over to America."
"Our president is black," Amora reminds him.
"Outlier." He strokes his chin thoughtfully. "You're right though. In this
school it might not be enough. Perhaps if he were dating someone more popular.
Someone of the jock persuasion."
"Like a cheerleader?"
"No. Yes, maybe. I think some of our male cheerleaders are gay."
"Wait, he's gay?"
"Yeah. Not out, but we can fix that."
"Okay I'm sorry but that's not how this worked in my school. The gays don't get
elected class presidents, they get taunted and thrown into garbage bins. It's
why I had to burn it down."
"Yeah, that was why."
Amora tosses her hair over her shoulders, and it falls in a golden cascade of
curls down her back. "So we need to get him out of the closet then."
"He just needs the right boy."
"Are you volunteering?"
"Not my type," Loki says. Not that he has a type particularly when it comes to
guys. 'Related' is probably not a type. "I'll think of someone."
 
The boy:
Clint Barton aka Hawkeye aka the only other archer on the team of note since
Sif graduated, ignores Loki when he sidles next to him on the bleachers during
some insipid pep rally they're all forced to endure.
"I've heard of you," he says, right as Loki is about to open his mouth.
"Everyone says you're bad news."
"That's unfair." Loki sticks out his hand, and after a beat Clint takes it.
"I'm just different, that's all. Surely you understand what it's like to be
different, Clint."
Clint squeezes Loki's hand a little too hard before letting go. "No," he says.
"I don't think so."
Clint's parents were carnies, but now he's in foster care, in a mostly stable
environment from what Loki can tell, if not exactly one that's loving. Clint is
not the most popular kid, but he's on a winning team and is a creepily
excellent shot with the bow and arrow, so he's popular enough. Loki has to work
with what he has.
"I'm adopted, you know," he tells Clint, trailing him into the bathroom. "My
biological parents were cult leaders."
Clint seems unimpressed, but then he asks, "It bother you?"
"Yes."
"Where I come from doesn't," Clint says. His expression never changes from
being flatly steady, but at some point he shrugs. "I'll see you around, Loki."
Clint is also, amongst other things, failing two subjects.
Loki, coincidentally enough, happens to be an A student in both.
 
Cherry picking:
Candidate One is easy enough, in that he's a not-so-secret pothead who, through
a series of coincidences, ends up starring in a production of Romeo and Juliet
with the principal's daughter, who was the understudy until the lead actress
had to drop out.
Two days after they are both busted for getting high in a backstage dressing
room, Darcy pokes him in the back. "If I find out you had anything to do with
this -"
Loki turns his widest eyed gaze onto her. "Why does everyone blame me for
everything? I haven't even spoken more than three words to you since school
started. Your choice, by the way."
Darcy flushes slightly. "My mom says I have to sever all ties with your entire
family if I want to stay here."
"Oh," Loki replies. He hadn't known that. It doesn't matter, anyway. "My point
still stands. It's hardly my fault." He pauses. "So what medieval punishment
does your mother have in store for your latest misadventure?"
"Ugh. Drug counselling. It's not even a drug, come on. My life is hard, I need
to de-stress."
"And what about Romeo?"
"Same. My mom would probably have kicked him out if it wouldn't look so
hypocritical. She kept telling me this as if it were my fault." Darcy's gone
back to staring at Loki accusingly.
Loki maintains eye contact, and his general air of innocence. "Too bad, I
suppose he won't be able to run for class president anymore, will he?"
Darcy shrugs. "He's more upset he can't play Romeo anymore." She leans forward
conspiratorially. "Between you and me, I'm kind of relieved to be out of the
play. He's an awful fake kisser. Plus I think he would rather it was Jane
still."
"Why would anyone prefer Jane over you," Loki sympathises.
Darcy pokes him again, with her pencil this time. "You're such a dick," she
says, but then she laughs. "Okay, stop talking to me now, Momzilla has all the
teachers spying on me, I swear."
Loki turns back to the front and smiles at the teacher, just beginning to frown
at him.
One down, one to go.
The second candidate Loki corners at a party, where she's nursing a coke and
pretending to seem happy. Loki knows that fixed expression of forced cheer
well. He hands her a real drink and sits down.
She peers suspiciously at him. "Aren't you like, Thor's brother or something?"
Loki grits his teeth. "Yes, that's me. Thor's brother. He graduated last year."
"Oh I know, I was so sad. He used to jog right past my bedroom window every
morning at six, in the tiniest of shorts -" Loki pushes the drink closer to
her, and any residual guilt he might have had utterly fades away.
 
Two hours later:
"But I don't want to go to law school," she wails, as Loki hands her another
tissue. "No one understands how much pressure I'm under. Everything needs to be
perfect, all the time, you know? I don't think my parents even like me all that
much."
"I understand," Loki says. She hiccups, and turns faintly green. Loki moves his
feet away warily, but she waves her tissue around. "I'm fine, I'm fine."
"You have to follow your heart," Loki tells her. "It's all you have, in the
end."
"It is, isn't it?" She sniffles again, and then she opens her arms and envelops
Loki in a hug he's too startled to avoid. "I don't know why I thought you were
a creep. You're really not so bad. I'm so sorry."
"Yes," Loki says, patting her awkwardly on the back. "So very many people are
mistaken in that respect. It's not your fault."
This one will take a little more time. But Loki can be patient.
 
Meeting the parents:
Amora brings cookies, the first time she comes over. "Freshly home baked," she
beams at Mom and Dad, who are disgracefully charmed. Amora smiles, simpers and
compliments, and by the time Loki's over being impressed and is moving towards
boredom, she has them both eating out of her cookie dough covered hand.
"Don't forget to come join us for dinner," Mom calls out as they make their
escape, Loki dragging her along by the hand towards his bedroom.
"They seem nice," Amora says, once they're alone.
Loki snorts.
"No, honestly. Lovely parents you have there." She shrugs, then smirks, and
with Amora you can never tell whether she means it, or is just telling you what
she wants you to hear, or fucking with you because she thinks it amusing.
It strikes Loki then, then he knows very few things about her, and he could
probably list them in neat bullet points:
- She is far smarter than she looks, acts, or what her grades would indicate.
- She has terrifying younger twin sisters that speak in synchronicity and that
she continuously screams at over the phone, yet loves to death.
- Blonde is her natural hair color, but not this exact shade of blonde.
- She has no moral compass.
- She lies. See above.
- Loki probably shouldn't trust her.
Amora throws herself onto his bed, and Loki flops down next to her. They both
stare at the ceiling for a while, until Loki says, "Did you have many friends
in your old school that you miss?"
"There is absolutely no-one in that shithole of a school that I miss."
"No-one? Not even a boyfriend? A few?"
Amora's laugh is laced with bitterness. "No, no fucking boyfriend. And about as
many friends as you do. Less, even. You're a guy, you still get second
chances." She lets out a frustrated sigh. "Are we talking about our feelings
now? Do you want to pass a sharing stick around, so we can have a good cry?"
Loki raises himself up onto an elbow and says, "You were prom queen. I have the
photos."
"You're such a little creep," she says, twirling the string on his hoodie
around her finger. "Come on, don't be boring. Let's fuck or something."
"Or something," Loki tugs on the string until she releases him. He drops back
down onto the bed, says, "Let's talk about Phil Coulson."
It's because Mom calls him out to help her with carrying groceries into the
kitchen that he leaves Amora alone in his bedroom. It's not a problem,
everything he might want to hide is properly encrypted. Except of course that
stupid webcam chat thing that Thor insists on using.
The first thing he notices when he comes back into the room: Amora, sitting
stiffly in front of the PC. The second thing: Thor's face, eyes dark and
glittering even through the mediocre resolution of the camera. Loki clears his
throat. "Amora," he says, then chases her out of the room, tells her, "Mom
wants you," and doesn't let her argue before he slams the door in her face.
"I told you three pm," he says, when he takes Amora's vacated seat.
"It's five past."
"Oh. Where did the time go?"
"Who is that girl?"
"Who, her? That's just Amora." Loki stops, says, "Hang on." He gets up and
escapes into the hallway, where Amora is sitting with her leg drawn up and her
back against the wall.
"You better have a good explanation," is the only thing she says.
"No, I really don't. But - what just happened?"
"Other than your brother's an asshole? Nothing at all," Amora says airily.
"So wait." Loki has to parse this for a moment. "You don't like him?"
"Ugh. I have not formed an opinion on someone this fast before." This is not
strictly true: Amora can form long-lasting impressions on someone simply based
on a passing glance. Mostly negative ones, but it's Thor. "Can I come in now?"
"No," Loki says, and slams the door. He opens it a second later. "What I meant
was, give me five minutes, you're the best."
He's grinning when he slides back into his chair. Thor is not. "Who is Amora,"
he demands.
"Just a girl. Was she rude to you? That's just her personality, you get used to
it."
"No, she wasn't rude. She was just -" He blinks. "But I suppose you're busy
now."
"Yeah, can't keep the ladies waiting, you know how it is. Perhaps later?"
"I can't later. Or the rest of the week, my schedule's super tight."
Loki says, "Well then, I suppose we will do this when we do this." He closes
the chat without waiting for Thor's response, and yells, "Amora you can come
back in now."
 
Sacrifices:
Loki joins the chess team.
It's not as if his social status could get any lower at this point.
 
The hard sell:
"Why are you in the closet, Phil?"
"I am not in the closet."
"But you're not out of it."
"What would you have me do, put an announcement on Facebook?"
"That's a good start to embracing who you are."
"Loki, can we stop talking about my sexuality and start playing chess now?"
"What?" Loki looks down at the chess board and picks up a piece. "Oh, right.
Checkmate. It's just that I'm tutoring that kid on the archery team, the one
they like to call Hawkeye? You may have seen him around." From the sudden
awareness in Phil's eyes, he has definitely seen Clint around. "He's gay too."
Phil sighs. "Just because two people happen to be gay and you happen to know
them does not mean they should be together. That is not how it works." He
smiles slightly. "When did you start playing?"
"What?"
Phil waves at the board. "Five moves ago. You could have checkmated me five
moves ago, but you took my bishop instead."
Loki frowns. "No, did I? Mistake I suppose."
-
"Sure," Clint says, frowning at his math problem as if it will solve itself if
he only stares at it long enough.
"What?" He didn't expect it to be this easy. Phil would be the type to notice a
boy like Clint, if more for his natural athleticism than anything else. The
nerds always like the archers: living vicariously through them with fantasies
of Middle Earth and elves. Loki doesn't get it either, it's not even a remotely
useful skill nowadays.
"Phil seems nice. Why not."
"He's on the chess team," Loki bursts out, exasperated.
"You're on the chess team," Clint points out. He idly taps on the page with a
pencil, raising his brow as Loki shakes his head. "Also, I thought you were
trying to set me up with him."
"Ah, yes. I was. Fantastic, then." He picks up Clint's phone and keys in Phil's
cell number. "Call him, he's free this Friday. I checked."
***** Interlude I *****
Loki was nine when he first became aware that Thor was strong and naturally
athletic and gifted with an easy sort if charm, and he was in many ways exactly
the opposite. He also became aware that Thor being Thor meant he was beloved
almost universally, and Loki, simply by being that opposite, was not.
It didn't matter, not for years, because Thor's own love, given easily and
without reservation to Loki above all else, was surely enough.
And then one day it wasn't, and it did.
That was the year he dared Thor onto the roof of Hogun's house, because Hogun's
parents were never home to ensure they didn't misbehave. It didn't take much
persuasion, Thor was already inclined towards daring feats of utter stupidity,
and when he finally made it onto the roof and raised his hands up in victory
Loki couldn't help but call out, "Now jump." Thor hesitated, and Loki beamed up
at him, "You can do it. I believe in you."
As punishment for Thor's broken leg and arm, their parents made Loki keep Thor
company the entire summer that he was laid up in his cast. Even though Thor
told Dad that it was entirely his idea and that Loki had tried to stop him from
climbing up there to begin with.
Hogun, the quiet, deceitful rat however, had gone ahead and told them
otherwise.
It wasn't a bad summer, all things considered, despite Thor's incessant whining
over being cooped up. They played a lot of video games, and when Loki got tired
of losing all the first person shooters he brought out the chess set that was a
birthday gift from Dad when he turned nine. His triumph over being better at
Thor at something only lasted as long as it took for Thor to declare the game
stupid, overturn the board and hobble off in a fit of annoyance.
Loki still favored that slow burn of pleasure in his belly though.
"Did it hurt," Loki asked once, reaching under Thor's leg cast to scratch for
him, because Thor's hands were too big. Thor had looked so pale, and Loki,
who'd been laughing as Thor flew off the roof, stopped abruptly and ran over,
falling to his knees and starting to cry as Thor refused to stand.
"Not really. I remember being cold, but that's about it."
"Shock," Loki said. He attempted to extract his fingers, but Thor mewled
unhappily so he put them back, idly worrying at the skin. "I heard the
paramedics talking. They said you were in shock. You shouldn't have jumped."
"Well, I know that now." Thor shrugged easily. "But you said you believed I
could do it."
"I say a lot of things," Loki replied. "It doesn't make them true."
***** Chapter 3 *****
The weekend getaway:
Thor calls him on a Thursday, tells him, "Listen, a friend of mine said I could
use his parents' cabin for a couple of days. It's a great place, not even far
from home. I'll come pick you up?"
"Can't," Loki says, only half listening. Amora is IM'ing him pictures of
Candidate Two in a delicate position with a boy. "I'm grounded," he continues.
He's been grounded almost continuously since Thor left for college, Dad giving
him increasingly frustrated speeches about his behavior that inevitably end
with Loki shouting at him that he's just unhappy he's not like his biological
children and storming off.
"I spoke to Mom. She said it's fine. I said we were just gonna hang with a
couple of friends."
"You negotiated with her before you even asked me? Did you tell her it's so you
can get your cock sucked - is she happy that I can provide some use to the
child that matters?"
"Don't come if you don't want to, I'm not forcing you."
"No, fuck no. I want out of this place, I've been trapped here for months."
Thor sighs. "I'll pick you up Friday morning. Just -"
"What?"
"Nothing."
Loki leans forward in his chair. The face of the boy in the photos looks
familiar. The hair at least is almost unmistakable. "Hey, did you ever fuck a
girl named Jessica Lee -"
"Who?"
"Captain of the chess team, honor roll - no, she's not your type at all. I'm
hanging up now." He cuts the line over Thor's confused protests. The body's
different. Thor's cock is definitely bigger than that.
     amora you can't just photoshop thor's head onto someone else's body.
     why not? he's not here to defend himself, and everyone will believe
     it's true. he still has a legendary rep.
Loki cannot argue with her logic.
     at least make his cock a reasonable size. there's suspension of
     disbelief because people want it to be true and there's... this.
     how do you know what his cock size really is?
     he's my brother.
     it's not as if any one of the girls he's screwed will come forward
     and claim he's bigger than this.
Amora's distaste for Thor is delicious, if somewhat frightening. If she'd moved
here while Thor was still in school even Loki wouldn't have been able
accurately predict the result, only that it would have been incendiary.
Possibly literally so.
     look, don't worry about her, okay? i've got this.
     all right.
-
Amora shows up as he's packing to leave the next morning. Technically he's not
allowed visitors, but Mom and Dad make an exception for her because they hope
she'll be a calming influence on him. If only they knew.
She's glaring at him now, as he tries to decide how many hoodies he'll need. At
a cabin. Overlooking an actual lake. Perhaps there will be an earthquake and he
will drown. Fitting, that.
"You're not paying any attention to me," Amora pouts, as Loki continues to
ignore her.
"Yes, that is the intention."
"But I'm your girlfriend. You're supposed to spend your weekend with me. You
can't just gallivant off with Thor whenever he calls. What will you even do
with him? Go fishing while he tries to figure out which end of the rod the worm
is supposed to go on?"
"Thor did very well on his SATs," Loki says evenly, when he's done suppressing
his laughter. "Besides, since when are you my girlfriend?" Amora widens her
eyes beguilingly, a hurt expression crossing her face. "Don't play me, Amora.
Our relationship has been going so fantastically."
"Fine," Amora says. She stomps her foot, but then leans forward and tugs on the
string on Loki's hood. "Stay, come on. I'll make it worth your while."
"Tempting," Loki replies, gently extracting himself from her grip. "But I'm
still grounded, and it's either Thor or these four walls for the next three
days. Despite your lovely offer to entertain me, and I am touched, believe me -
"
"Please. Now who's playing whom?" She loses interest, wandering over to the
window as Loki returns to packing. "You could invite me along."
"You and my brother in a confined space for days? I don't think so." Loki's
phone vibrates, and he picks it up to glance at the message. "He's here."
Amora trails him downstairs, where Thor, unfortunately, has gotten out of the
car and is leaning against it. His bright smile upon seeing Loki fades when he
spots Amora. "Thor," Amora says, with exaggerated cheer. "How lovely to finally
meet you."
"Amora," Thor nods his head shortly.
Amora beams. "Why, just yesterday I was telling Loki how even though you've
graduated, your -" she pauses, and flicks her gaze up and down Thor's form,
"presence is still felt."
"We need to go," Thor tells Loki, pushing himself up from the car. He holds his
hand up to take Loki's bag, but before Loki can hand it to him he's accosted by
Amora, who kisses him soundly and thoroughly for far too long. By the time they
break apart Loki's panting slightly, even though it's entirely for show.
"I'll miss you, lover," she says, before she spins around and starts trotting
off. "See ya, Thor." Thor glowers at Loki.
"How's Sif," Loki snaps in response, and tosses his bag at Thor's chest. Thor
catches it easily, barely missing a beat. "We broke up."
"Great. So I'm the substitute?"
Thor shoves his bag through the open back seat window and says, "Just get in
the damned car, okay?"
Loki's spirits rise once they're on the road, and Thor allows him to pick the
music. "I really don't like that girl," Thor says, about fifteen minutes in.
"The feeling's mutual, believe me."
"What happened to the other one - Leah?"
"We're just friends." At Thor's look he adds, "Yes, a boy and a girl are
capable of being just friends. And Amora's not going anywhere, so you might as
well get used to her."
Thor makes a face, but doesn't pursue the matter. Just as well: what is there
to say? Everything bad Thor could say about Amora applies to Loki as well. He
turns the music up to avoid any further attempts at conversation, and ends up
dozing on Thor's shoulder the rest of the way.
 
The house:
The first day, they do nothing but lounge around near the lake. Well,
technically Loki lounges, opening bottles of beer a safe distance away. Thor
spends half the time in the lake, the other half entreating Loki to come onto
the deck, and after a while Loki gives up and moves his stuff closer to the
water, gingerly testing the wooden boards before he steps onto the deck. Thor
emerges from the water eventually, collapsing next to Loki and grinning at him.
"How's your knee," Loki asks, handing Thor a bottle.
Thor grimaces and stretches his leg out. A fight, Loki had heard, that had
gotten massively out of hand as usual, one that left Thor with a busted knee
and out of competition for the entire semester, depending on how long it would
him to recover. Loki doesn't bother asking what it was about: it's always
something worth fighting over, always something requiring Thor's fists. It's
just that usually Thor isn't the one getting injured. College boys must be
tougher than the ones in high school.
Loki flops onto his belly and tries to go back to his book, but Thor keeps
making wheedling pay-attention-to-me noises, and at one point snatches the iPad
away from Loki. He holds it out over the edge of the platform and says, "Come
take it from me."
Loki narrows his eyes, considering his options. "So you would take advantage of
my fear of water to taunt me," he says, and Thor's grin fades away. Loki holds
out his hand.
Thor gives the iPad back. "What are you reading," he asks, after not five
minutes have gone by.
Loki sighs, and shuts the cover. "Nothing important. Hand me another beer, will
you?"
The owners also own all the property surrounding the cabin, so they're entirely
alone, and by the time dusk rolls around Loki's fairly drunk, and Thor sways
when he stands to go back into the house.
Thor throws together a meal from the well stocked pantry, but even after eating
Loki's not just drunk, but drunk and sleepy and annoyed for no reason that he
can discern.
"So this friend of yours, does he have a name?" Loki knows full well what his
name is. And that his mother's a state senator, his father runs an oil
contracting firm and that he's not just Thor's frat buddy, he's his mentor.
"Yes," Thor replies. "He's just a guy I know."
"So you're not fucking him then? That's reassuring," Loki says testily, to
absolutely no response. "I'm going to bed," he declares, standing up abruptly.
Thor merely shrugs. He hasn't bothered to put on a shirt, and his skin is
already tanned a dark gold, the hair falling across his shoulders drying into
curls. "Goodnight."
"Goodnight," Thor replies, and doesn't raise his eyes. Loki stomps upstairs and
chooses a room at random, ends up collapsing on a four poster bed, asleep
almost as soon as his head hits the pillow.
-
Thor's nowhere to be found when Loki wakes up, half-hungover and partially
sunburnt despite his best efforts to stay out of the sun. He cobbles together a
breakfast of cereal and a glass of juice from the kitchen. There's a plate in
the sink, but no Thor. When there's no sign of him even after an hour, Loki
decides to explore.
 
The basement and the beginnings of a really bad idea:
Thor finds him soon enough, dressed only in jeans that ride low on his hips and
a towel around his shoulders, just as Loki's casually trying out a long, pearl
handled whip. "Where were you?"
"There's a heated pool."
"Ah. So his mom's a state senator, you said?"
"That door has a keypad on it," Thor says admonishingly.
Loki waves him off. "They must have forgotten to set it." Thor looks
unconvinced; Loki should not have demonstrated to him that one time how easy it
was to get past most keypad locks. And safes. He idly picks up fur covered
handcuffs as he waits for curiosity to overcome Thor's reluctance to intrude.
"I told you not to snoop."
"Yes, but look at this. The stuff people get up to behind closed doors.
Interesting, wouldn't you say?" He drops the handcuffs and picks up a cat-o-
nine-tails in a dark reddish hue, swings it around experimentally as an
expression of wariness jumps into Thor's eyes.
"No," he says, before Loki can even open his mouth.
 
Five minutes later:
"Why do I have to be the one that gets handcuffed," Thor says, as if there was
any alternative.
Loki just puts his wrists together in response, offers them to Thor. "You can
if you want to -"
"No, that's fine." Thor looks away and a vein in his temple jumps, briefly and
delicately. "This is your game."
"It's not a game. It's an alternative lifestyle choice."
"You're so full of shit."
 
Fifteen minutes later:
Thor agrees to the handcuffs, objects violently to the ball gag and is
ambivalent on the cock ring. Loki files it all away for future reference.
He laughs as Loki chooses the items carefully, laying them out neatly on the
bed. "Aren't we going to use the bed?"
"I didn't say you could speak," Loki says. Thor raises his brow, but keeps
mostly silent after that. He even obliges when Loki handcuffs him to the
bedpost, securing the padded metal carefully around his wrists. The fur they're
lined with is a virulent shade of red, bright against the wood. The bed is
sturdy enough that it doesn't even shake when Thor tugs on the cuffs. "Too
tight?"
"Oh? Am I allowed to speak now?"
"When I ask you a direct question, yes, you're expected to answer." Thor
smirks. He's obviously not taking this seriously, and Loki sighs. He traces one
of the veins on Thor's forearms with his fingertips, and predictably enough,
Thor tries to kiss him. "No kissing," Loki says.
"No kissing?"
"This is not about that."
Thor's eyes go heavy-lidded and dark. "So what's it about?"
"Submission."
Of all the reactions he'd expected, just about the last one is for Thor to
reply with a simple "Okay," and turn to press his forehead against the post.
Loki touches Thor's back, feels the muscles flex under Thor's perfect, unmarred
skin.
"Do you require a safeword?"
"A safeword?"
"It's as if you were raised in a cave."
"I'm allowing you to handcuff me. This could change."
"No, you've already allowed me to do that. And I have the keys. How do you not
even know what a safeword is."
Thor says, "Just because you know how to use Wikipedia," then stops abruptly.
"I want a safeword."
"Okay," Loki says.
 
The really bad idea:
He picks up the tails he'd chosen earlier and sweeps it lightly across Thor's
back. "Are you sure I can't gag you," he asks, once again, and Thor shakes his
head vehemently, once again. It's fine. This is more than enough.
Thor giggles at first, voice muffled against the polished wood. "Is it supposed
to tickle?"
"No." Loki steps back. The whip feels heavy, the leather warm in his hand. This
all has the air of the faintly ridiculous about it, though. He can't imagine
how anyone could take it seriously.
Still.
The first real strike makes Thor gasp, a sharp intake of breath, his whole body
jerking and spine snapping upwards.
So Loki does it again.
And then again. And again.
By the fifth strike, Thor is hunched forward, sweat starting to sheen his skin.
When Loki moves towards him and asks, the whip dangling awkwardly from his
hand, "Are you all right? We can stop if you want to," he just grins at Loki,
though.
Fine then.
The sixth strike elicits a muffled gasp from Thor, and for the first time the
whip breaks the skin, just barely, delicate bubbles of blood rising to the
surface.
Again, and again, and yet again. Loki loses count. His hand hurts, and he has
to wipe sweat from his eyes to clear his vision. It's so hot he can barely
breathe, and he struggles out of his t-shirt, throws it aside.
He starts varying his strikes after that, starts making patterns in red on
Thor's broad back, the top of his shoulders, the curve of his spine where his
jeans ride so very low. He has no idea what he's doing, but this stopped being
even remotely funny right about the time Thor started clutching the post as
much as his restraints will allow, his entire body leaning into it for support.
His hand still hurts.
He pauses briefly to transfer the whip to his other hand, to flex his fingers.
There are indentations in his palm, deep red grooves in the shape of the
handle.
Thor hasn't said a word yet, not a single one, even though his gasps
increasingly sound more like he's suppressing a scream, and Thor has always
been this stubborn, always been unable or unwilling to back down from any kind
of challenge. Stupid, willful. Idiot. Loki can't stand it.
His hand hurts.
"Come on, Thor. Tap out. It's an easy word - only the one syllable, even you
should be able to say it."
He swings the whip one more time, and Thor collapses onto his knees, his head
pressed against the bedpost and his breath harsh and jagged. Loki puts the
entirety of his strength into the next one, doesn't know anymore how not to,
and Thor screams, finally.
"Stop, Loki. Stop. Please."
Loki drops the whip and falls to his knees, wraps his arms around Thor from
behind, and Thor groans but doesn't say a word when Loki fumbles for the keys
and uncuffs him. There's blood everywhere, so very red, and all Thor had to to
was say the word, "All you had to do was say it," and Loki's voice is so thick
and choked the words can barely escape.
"Red," Thor says, hoarse. He turns around in Loki's arms, their bodies slick
with sweat and blood as he pulls Loki into him. "Red."
 
The aftercare:
They don't talk about it. Loki applies antiseptic to Thor's marks, marveling at
how deep some of them are, and Thor winces and just asks quietly, "Do you think
they will leave scars."
"I don't know," Loki replies. He kisses Thor's shoulder, on one of the few
unmarred spots. "I suppose they'll be gone when training starts again. You can
always make up a story about them, anyway."
"You're better at this than I am. I'll say whatever you tell me to."
"Tell them I ruined you," Loki says. "They'll believe it."
 
What Wikipedia doesn't tell you about aftercare:
They stay for another night, Thor dozing the afternoon away in the living room
while Loki cleans up, scrubbing away dried smears of blood as best he can. He
makes pasta for dinner, which the two of them mostly pick at in silence.
"Are we okay," Thor says eventually.
"Define okay."
"Loki."
"Finish your food," Loki replies. "I'm exhausted. I'm going to bed." He chooses
another room at random, and falls into a dreamless sleep.
He takes a shower when he wakes up, and is coming down the stairs just as Thor
is packing up. "This is all your fault," is the first thing out of Loki's
mouth. "I had plans for a perfectly nice weekend."
"With Amora," Thor replies flatly.
"Yes with Amora. Get over it already." Thor's return glare assures Loki he will
do no such thing. "I'm not driving," Loki says grouchily.
"But I can barely even sit," Thor protests.
"Fine, you can lie down in the backseat. But I choose the music. And where we
eat." Thor looks briefly as if he's about to argue, but wisely keeps his mouth
shut instead. When Loki passes him to grab his stuff Thor propels him lightly
into the nearest wall. Loki's arms come up automatically to brace against
Thor's waist, but he drops them when Thor winces.
"Next time," Thor says, "no more bright ideas. No more snooping around."
"Next time," Loki says, and tilts his chin up, "stop being so easy."
-
Thor dozes on his belly in the backseat as Loki drives. Two hours and he gets
lost, and of course Thor's crappy car doesn't have GPS, so he has to rely on
his cell until it dies. He pulls into a supermarket to ask for directions, ends
up buying a map, bottled water and Thor's disgusting energy drinks.
When Loki returns to the car, Thor is still asleep, one arm fallen to the
floor. His t-shirt has ridden up, and Loki can see the dark red strips he'd
left crisscrossing the lower curve of his spine. Loki opens the back seat door
and crawls in, puts a cold bottle against his back. Thor starts, and mumbles
something incoherent before opening his eyes.
"Loki," he says. "Are we home?"
"No. We're kind of lost."
"We are?"
"Your stupid car continues to be the worst."
"It's just a car. It goes wherever you tell it to." Thor sits up, rubbing his
eyes wearily before looking around him. The parking lot is entirely deserted.
"Where are we?"
"Lost. But I have a map. It's made of paper." He rescues the fallen bottle from
the floor and hands it to Thor, who presses it against his cheek.
"It's really hot."
"Your stupid car -"
"Is the worst, yes."
"The air-conditioning doesn't even work properly. And why can't you install
GPS? Would it kill you? You're the goddamned prince of everything, Mom and Dad
would buy you a decent car if you'd only just asked." He bares his teeth, and
shoves at Thor's chest, furious enough to attempt to hit him even though laying
physical violence onto Thor is about as unwise as it gets.
"Loki, that's enough," Thor says, but when Loki continues to shove at him all
he does is grab Loki's wrists and pull him into the seat, until they're nothing
but a tangled mess of arms and legs and rapidly beating heartbeats. His breath
sounds odd to his ears, shallow and uneven. He's probably having a panic
attack. It figures. Thor's hands are on his back, petting him as if he were a
scared child, and Loki wants to push him away, but instead he starts to cry.
Thor kisses him then, on his forehead, cheeks, eyes, and finally his lips, and
Loki can't stop himself from kissing him back. Can't stop himself from kissing
him, period, hot and messy as Thor's hand winds itself into Loki's hair and
Loki arches up into him. When they finally break apart, Thor slides his hand to
Loki's face and wipes away his tears slowly and carefully.
"You're an idiot," Loki says shakily. "An idiot with a car to match."
Thor doesn't reply, just brushes his thumb across Loki's lower lip.
-
Loki continues to drive with fresh directions, and Thor sits up front with him
instead of in the back. It must hurt, Loki catches him grimacing when he thinks
Loki's not looking, but when Loki says, "You can go back into the backseat and
lie down if you want," he merely shakes his head, and curls his fingers around
the back of Loki's neck briefly.
They make it home by dusk.
Loki parks the car and stares at the steering wheel for a while before he can
unbuckle himself to get out. He doesn't look at Thor as he clambers out to take
over, but as they pass one another Thor says, "Hey," softly, and Loki halts.
"You should come up. They're probably waiting for you."
"No, I think I'll head back. Tell them I need to be somewhere." His fingers
catch Loki's wrist, and Loki sways into him for a moment before he pulls away.
Back home, he tries to sneak in unnoticed but Mom comes out of her bedroom
right as Lokis making his way to his. "How was your weekend," she asks
brightly, but her face falls when Loki blinks heavily at her. "Thor?"
"It's late. He left."
She starts towards him, but Loki, mercifully, reaches his own door. He grabs
blindly for the handle, pulls it open and slams it shut behind him.
He's curled up in bed when she knocks softly and then comes in when Loki
doesn't respond. She places a cup of cocoa on Loki's desk, then sits down on
the bed next to him. There's a distant look in her eyes when she says, "I
didn't want another child, you know. Your brothers - Balder was a good boy, but
Thor, well. Your brother." Her hand brushes across his forehead. "But your dad
brought you home, and you were the tiniest of babies, and very quiet. I knew
you were meant to be ours, just like they were." Loki squeezes his eyes shut,
turns his face away. "And Thor, he loved you so fiercely, from the moment he
laid eyes on you."
"Do you know who they were?" Loki's tried to find out, and failed most
miserably. He blames it either on Dad, covering his tracks well, or the fact
that nobody at all cared to remember about the baby abandoned to die.
"No," Mom says, steely-voiced. "I never needed to."
"What if I need to, though?" He opens his eyes, and regrets it immediately
because she looks so sad, so stricken. "Mom," Loki says, his voice breaking.
"What's wrong with me?"
She doesn't respond, only leans down to pull him into her familiar embrace.
-
Near dawn, he wakes up from scattered, blood-drenched dreams and reaches for
his phone. Thor sounds mostly asleep when he picks up, but his voice is so
warmly pleased when he says, "Loki," that Loki almost hangs up.
Instead he moves the phone to under his head and says, "How's your back?"
"Itchy." Thor yawns into the phone.
It makes Loki yawn in turn, and his eyes start closing once again. "I should
hang up, let you go back to sleep."
"I'm not asleep," Thor replies, barely audible. "Stay on the phone."
"No. Goodbye." But his body refuses to move, and so he falls asleep to the
sound of Thor breathing evenly in his ear.
 
Back to work:
"What's that," Candidate Two asks, as Loki's walking with her to class. It's
convenient, targeting people who aren't idiots. It means Loki gets to share
more time with them in his classes.
"Nothing," he says, unsuccessfully trying to hide the flyer from her.
She snatches it from him and says, "The play? I didn't know there were open
roles. Oh wait right, I'd forgotten the leads got busted for smoking pot."
"Yes." Loki shakes his head reproachfully. "Don't tell anyone, okay. I'm sure I
won't get it, I just want to try."
"I promise I won't." Her steps falter, and Loki slows down along with her, as
she considers. "I've always wanted to."
"Have you?" Loki had absolutely no idea.
"But I hardly have the time."
"Of course you don't. You'll come with me though, for moral support, right?"
"Uh," she hesitates, and Loki puts on his poutiest face, the one that
unfortunately only sometimes works. This, luckily, happens to be one of those
times.
 
Best laid plans:
"What do you mean you're in the play?" Amora says, tapping her foot
impatiently.
"It's not as if I knew I was going to be the only one auditioning."
"So now you're in the chess team and you're a drama geek." A pained expression
comes across Amora's face. "I don't think I can be seen with you socially any
longer." She twirls around and starts walking off, heels clicking loudly across
the floor.
She's kidding. Surely she is.
"Your social status was already sealed from the day you started hanging out
with me, Amora," he calls plaintively after her, but she pretends not to hear
him. "Besides, all of this is because I'm doing a favor for you. Your stupid
prom committee, remember. That can change."
Amora stops. Twirls back towards him. "You should have just let me put the
compromising pictures online. It would have ruined her for certain."
"I'm a feminist," Loki says weakly.
"Sure you are," Amor says, and starts laughing, and doesn't stop until Loki
kicks her in the shin. They both stop messing about to observe as Clint and
Phil walk down the hallway together. "They look disgustingly happy," Amora
says, curling her lip up in disgust. "This better work, Loki."
"Please," Loki says smugly. "I'm the best."
 
One month later:
"I heard there was a situation at school," Thor says, frowning disapprovingly
at him from the screen. "A near riot?"
"I had absolutely nothing to do with it."
"Uh-huh." He crosses his arms.
"I refuse to be judged from afar. It wasn't my fault." It absolutely isn't. How
was he to know that if you took one cute, determined Latina girl and one non-
descript recently out white guy and stirred up rivalry between them with online
screeds both for and against both parties, that other kids would get involved,
and lines would be drawn, and tensions would run so high that Principal Lewis
would have to declare that the elections were off this year and there would be
no class president at all.
It's not as if he's some expert on political ideologies. It's high school.
Thor continues to look unimpressed, and Loki puts his hand on his cheek and
slumps forward in despair. "Stop it, okay. I've had a terrible enough week as
it is." Chiefly because Amora has declared him an abject failure and the
absolute worst, and he cannot even disagree. Thor's gaze softens. "Can we talk
about something else?"
"I heard you were in the school play."
"No," Loki says, and groans. "I had to drop out, it's a long story. You're not
helping me feel better."
"What would make you feel better?"
"I don't know. Are you alone?" He squints at the screen as Thor nods his head.
"Take off your shirt."
Thor pulls his t-shirt over his head and tosses it aside. He's put on some
weight, mostly muscle, and his shoulders gleam faintly as he rubs the back of
his neck self-consciously. Loki swallows through a mouth gone dry, and
considers asking Thor to put the shirt back on, just to see him take it off
once more.
"Are you recording this?"
"Yes. Now the jeans, please."
There's a brief moment of hesitation, but then Thor shuffles backwards so more
of his body comes into the frame. He kicks off his sneakers and hooks his
thumbs in the low waist of his jeans, sliding them along the inside before he
undoes the first button. He starts on the second, but Loki says, "No. Slower."
Thor allows his hair to fall in front of his face as he lowers his head, and
obeys.
***** Interlude II *****
In grade school, Loki, awkward and unburdened by tact and self-preservation
instincts, swiftly found himself isolated from his peers. Which suited him well
enough, but not Thor. Who, as Loki had expected, was beloved by almost
everyone. At some point he realized that Thor's popularity trickled down to him
in interesting ways, ways that he could use to his advantage if only he could
figure out how.
Thor had a close knit group of friends, the "fortunate few" that were his inner
circle. Loki called them morons, behind their backs and directly to Thor's
face, but Thor seemed possessed with the idea that they would all be great
friends.
Loki resisted for as long as he could, but Thor was capable of sneakiness as
well, and soon enough Mom was telling him, "Loki why don't you go with Thor to
Hogun's." At Loki's resounding negative response, she shrugged, "I suppose you
could stay and help with the chores instead."
"I resent this," he told Thor, already plotting revenge. But Thor only laughed
easily and swung his arm around Loki's shoulder, pulling him along. It was the
first of very many occasions Loki was forced to hang out with Thor's so-called
BFFs, all of whom had precious few redeeming qualities, as far as Loki could
tell. Fandral was vapid and vain, Volstagg was a giant pig, and Hogun was sly
and untrustworthy, and of the three the only one that openly disliked Loki.
Which drove him up in Loki's estimation, but not by much. "You could use better
friends," he complained to Thor.
"You just need to get to know them better," Thor replied, cheerfully oblivious.
"What, I haven't suffered enough?"
It wasn't all bad though - he did get to spend more time with Thor, who,
despite being an idiot as well, was at least an idiot who sincerely enjoyed
Loki's company.
"You do realize your friends hate me," he pointed out once, exasperated at
being forced to go along to the third showing of Transformers.
"Of course they don't hate you."
"Yes, they do."
Thor stopped practicing his karate moves long enough to say, "They just don't
know you well enough yet. They will."
***** Chapter 5 *****
Happy holidays:
Balder comes home for winter break. He's been out of the house for so long that
Loki's almost forgotten how stupidly beautiful he is. He brings with him a girl
that's just as stupidly beautiful, if far less actually stupid, if the
sharpness of her gaze as she smiles hello at Loki is any indication.
"Come on, give your big brother a hug," Balder says, opening his arms.
"I'm adopted, haven't you heard."
"Please." Loki allows himself to be enveloped in Balder's giant bear hug. He
has no beef with Balder in general, partly because they both grew up being
outshined by the middle child in the family, if far less so in Balder's case,
and partly because Balder is so susceptible to Loki's schemes and tricks Loki
stopped bothering due to it not being sufficiently challenging. "Baby bro,"
Balder says, thumping him on the back. "You got taller. Where's Thor?"
"Coming later," Loki says.
He stands aside for Mom to come rushing over to hug him and then the girl,
whose name Loki didn't catch the first time around. "Karnilla," Mom says,
beaming and clasping her hands. "I'm so happy to finally meet you. Welcome to
the family, dear." Oh, so this is a thing, then. Loki must not have been paying
attention. There's an engagement ring on her hand. Huh.
They all spend the afternoon lazing around in the living room playing board
games and drinking - or rather everyone is allowed to drink but Loki, only at
some point Balder gives in to his pointed glares and pours his beer into Loki's
cup when Mom's not looking. Balder used to be a quarterback, so Loki gets to be
the one to tell him about the dismal performance of their team since he left.
"They were hoping for Thor. I think Coach Dimitri actually begged, and he's
never even seen Thor touch a football."
Balder grimaces. "Oh, they would."
"So where is Thor anyway," Karnilla asks, sliding her hand into Balder's.
Balder turns expectantly to Loki, who shrugs, but checks his phone to track
Thor's progress through GPS. He doesn't mention it to Balder though, and by the
time Thor shows up, to much fanfare, it's almost evening.
Loki only stands and stares.
"Hey," Thor says.
"What the fuck did you do to your hair?"
"Loki," Mom admonishes. "Don't be rude." She touches Thor's shorn head gently,
says, "It's certainly different."
"It was too long," Thor says, but to Loki.
Loki opens his mouth to inform Thor of the difference between trimming one's
hair and lopping all of it off, but Balder punches him in the arm and laughs,
stepping forward to hug Thor. "I like it. You look less like a girl now.
Remember when Loki convinced you that you were the reincarnation of some Nordic
princess and braided flowers into your hair?"
"I still have the pictures of you in that dress," Mom sighs."You were so
pretty."
"You always did want a girl," Thor kisses her on the cheek before he moves
towards Loki, who deftly avoids his touch.
"It's a stupid haircut," he hisses, when no-one else is listening.
"Okay," is all Thor says, before he's dragged off by Balder to meet Karnilla.
 
Negotiations:
He is decidedly not waiting up for Thor. And when Thor finally knocks, Loki
quite pointedly texts him that he's asleep. Thor, the jarhead, must have left
his phone in his room, because he still opens the door and comes right in,
making his way to Loki's bed.
Thor pokes him, and Loki puts his pillow over his head, mumbling, "Go away,
sleeping now."
"You don't sound asleep," Thor replies evenly.
Loki uncovers himself. "I was hoping you would get the hint. Oh, for heaven's
sake don't pout. It's far less cute when you look like you're about to be
shipped off to boot camp."
"You don't like it?" Thor has the nerve to sound confused. Loki sighs and
shifts onto his back. Of course Thor takes it as an invitation and clambers on
top of him, nipping at Loki's chin in what he probably imagines is a playful
manner.
"I am not going to fuck you," Loki says firmly. "Not looking like this."
 
An hour later:
Loki pets the fuzz remaining on Thor's hair, asks, "But why. It's your
signature look: Thor, with his hair flowing golden in the wind as he flexes his
muscles and shows off his jawline."
Thor puts his chin on Loki's belly and says, "I have no response to that. Was I
just complimented?"
"No."
"Ah, good. I thought you'd hit your head or something."
"You did ride me pretty hard. I will probably have a bump on my head tomorrow."
Thor extracts himself from Loki, sits up on his knees. "Let me see."
"No. Go back to your room before someone catches you." Thor tries to lean
forward but Loki raises his knee and presses his foot against Thor's chest.
"Go," he says sternly, as Thor encircles his ankle with his fingers. He's
genuinely sleepy now, and if Thor doesn't leave immediately he never will, and
Balder's an early riser. Thor merely continues to kneel there, his fingers warm
on Loki's ankle.
"If my hair bothers you so much," he begins quietly.
Loki groans. "Oh god if I tell you I don't care will you go away?" He starts
kicking out in annoyance, and Thor finally gets the hint. He leaves laughing
though, and Loki feels his imprint on his skin long after he's gone.
 
Trapped in the closet:
Thor and Loki are expected to attend the semi-annual police ball to celebrate
the city's finest and honor its chief, to be paraded around as the picture
perfect family unit while dad kisses ass and is ass kissed in return. It used
to be Balder and Thor, when Loki was considered too young, but now that
Balder's gone, or in this case: gone to conveniently spend time with Karnilla's
family, the mantle has fallen to the two of them.
Dad smiles when they emerge from Loki's room, both in their suits. "My boys,"
he says, swinging one arm around each of them. "You make a father proud."
"Do we," Loki starts, but Thor reaches back to squeeze his shoulder and shoot
him a look, and he lets it go.
At the ball, the best of what the city has to offer milling around making idle
conversation and possibly deciding the fates of thousands with handshakes and
surreptitious winks, Mom and Dad get dragged away soon enough, and Loki loses
Thor to mini-sandwiches and the hope of getting some alcohol.
He finds him again, deep in conversation with an old friend of their father's,
sidles up just in time to hear him say, "You should consider it."
"Consider what," Loki cuts in. "The military? Be all you can be and all -
that."
"After college of course. Men like your brother are -"
"Better off alive."
"We don't need another body on the front line, son. We need leaders."
Next to him, Thor has gone very still. Loki can't tell what he's thinking,
except: he is in fact just stupid enough. It would probably suit him fine, as
well. Dad's been grooming him for law enforcement almost since birth.
"It might suit you, too. From what I hear, the Chief's youngest could use some
discipline," the General says, his eyes narrowing in a vicious, familiar glint.
Loki snaps his jaw shut, counts to ten. "It's not for me, but you're right of
course. Thor would be an excellent soldier. He certainly enjoys violence -"
"That's quite enough," Thor cuts in. Loki doesn't know who he's speaking to,
but he's heard that tone of voice often enough that he would probably just keep
on sniping, save for Thor's fingers, bruising on his wrist. The General blinks
and looks, briefly, stunned and duly chastised.
In the ensuing awkward detente, Loki manages to wrench himself away from Thor's
grip. But Thor only exhales, his entire body relaxing as he holds out a genial
hand. "It was good to see you again, Sir."
"You too, son." He ignores Loki entirely, which suits Loki well enough. Thor
grabs him by the elbow and propels him away, and Loki doesn't think to try and
escape until he's shoved into a room and the door shuts behind them.
"Did you just literally put us in a closet?"
There's a click, and the light switches on. Thor looks around him. "It's the
coat room," he says, unnecessarily. A faint smile crosses his face. "There was
a girl, last year -"
"Oh please, do stop. Your sexual escapades are of little interest to me." Loki
starts pacing up and down.
Thor says, "Just calm down, Loki."
At that he stops, and spins to glare accusingly at Thor, who's taken the
liberty of settling down on a coat that's fallen off the rack. "You're actually
considering it."
"It's either that or the police academy."
Loki pinches the bridge of his nose wearily. "There are other options, you
know. You could go to medical school, become a doctor."
"Can you imagine me as a doctor?"
Loki reaches down, touches Thor's tragically shorn scalp. "Is that why you
shaved your head?"
"It's only hair."
"Oh, you've not heard all the girls - and quite a few boys swooning about it,
and its magical chlorine immune properties. Word has already gotten around. I
heard they're holding a memorial service to mourn."
Thors gaze turns soft. "I've missed you."
"The feeling is not mutual." They both start as a phone rings shrilly. But it's
neither of theirs. Loki rummages around for it in the pockets of the coats it
appears to be coming from, but the ringing stops and he loses interest. Instead
he picks up a mink coat, black as night, and wraps it around himself. "How do I
look?"
"Very expensive."
"Do you want to role play? I can be the bored, lonely socialite and you can be
my bit of rough trade on the side."
"No."
Loki leans his back against the door, says, "I locked it."
"There are hundreds of people right outside."
"Try not to be too loud then. We know how you get." He hugs the fur tightly
around him. It has a slippery, cool feel to it.
Thor still hasn't moved. Instead he scuffs his dress shoe against the floor.
"Come here," he says.
"You come here."
Instead of standing, Thor merely gets to his knees and shuffles forward. He
reaches under the folds of the coat and wraps himself around Loki's waist,
unbuckles Loki's pants so very carefully, and proceeds to blow him with the
slow, studied concentration of someone with all the damn time in the world.
Loki whines, and bucks, but Thor holds him still, until Loki's banging on the
door in frustration. Thor actually stops to shush him, presses a kiss to the
skin exposed by the open V of Loki's pants. Everything goes rapidly downhill
from there, from Thor laughing, quiet and low, to Loki entirely losing it, the
pleasure spiking low in his belly, until - "Oh shit," Loki says. There's not
enough hair for him to grab on to anymore, so he just drag's Thor head back by
his shirt collar, more instinct than anything else, and comes messily,
gloriously, on his face.
"I can't -" Loki begins, and then just slides bonelessly to the floor. Thor
looks entirely defiled, his shirt's a mess and come is streaked liberally on
his cheeks. Loki doesn't want to imagine what he looks like. "You're a mess,"
he says, after a moment. It's delightful.
"I would have swallowed," Thor says, lip curling up in mild distaste.
"But I do so enjoy you like this." He darts forward, bites and licks until
Thor's face is scrubbed shiny and pink. "What would the good General think of
you now?"
"He wouldn't care. I don't care."
Loki's still too buzzed to argue. Instead he rests his head against Thor's
shoulder and reaches down to squeeze Thor's hard-on through his pants. "Would
be unfortunate if we had to go back out like that."
"Mhm," Thor says, breath hitching when Loki tugs lightly. "It would."
-
"All right?" Loki asks, holding his hands out to the side and turning a slow
three hundred and sixty degrees for Thor's inspection.
"Good. What about me."
"Hm. Your earlobe's bleeding a little, but nothing that noticeable."
Thor tugs on his ear, wincing slightly. "It's fine, let's go. We're late enough
as it is."
Loki starts towards the door, "Oh and your fly's undone," he tosses over his
shoulder.
"What? Oh - funny."
"You always fall for it, so. Yes."
 
Happy holidays, part two:
Karnilla is not what she seems. There's a seemingly endless reservoir of
spitefulness in her that she hides quite well, which Loki can normally
appreciate, but all of Balder's other girlfriends have been beautiful, dim
lightbulbs with single syllable vocabularies. Karnilla, as Amora puts it, is a
"Giant fucking bitch. Your brother can't marry her."
"It's none of our business," Loki says. He does not actually care: Balder can
marry whomever he wants to. Besides, she seems to make him genuinely happy, so
there's that. Amora has that by now familiar glint in her eyes though.
It's Balder, so sowing seeds of discord isn't exactly hard. The first fight
comes soon after Amora remarks upon Karnilla's plans to move back south after
they're married. "They're all so polite down there," she enthuses, as Karnilla
fixes a deadly smile to her face. "The 'y'alls' and the 'ma'ams.' You must
invite me."
"We haven't decided yet where we're going," Balder says.
"Oh, sorry. Just that Karnilla mentioned." Loki grabs Amora's sleeve and tugs
her away, because sometimes Amora doesn't know when to stop.
By the third day, a hushed strain has settled over the household, and Loki's
starting to enjoy himself, despite his earlier reservations. Amora says, when
Loki expresses some remorse, "Please. Your older brother's even hotter than
Thor. I bet girls just throw themselves at him like suiciders jumping in front
of trains."
They do, actually. There was an incident that Loki only heard about, that
involved a girl clinging to his leg like a spider monkey, even though Balder
denied it played out that way and insisted Loki stop spreading those rumors.
"Wait," Loki says, as Amora's words sink in. "You think Thor is hot?"
"I have eyes. It doesn't mean I think he's attractive."
"Yes it does. Amora."
"Are you going to be jealous now? Because I don't do jealous."
No, Loki decides. He is not. Amora and Thor. The mere thought.
-
They're both cuddled together giggling over the latest fight when Thor shows
up, arms crossed. "Amora, please leave. I want to have a word with my brother."
"This can't wait?"
"No." Amora's not that stupid, not with Thor glowering like that. She makes
herself scarce, whispering a "Good luck," to Loki before she slinks away.
Thor hauls Loki up by his hoodie until their faces are an inch apart, his
fingers gripped against Loki's throat. "Whatever game you and that - girlfriend
of yours are playing, it ends now."
"I'm sure I don't understand what you mean. Do unhand me."
"This might be just your way of passing the time, Loki. But making a girl cry
just because you can?"
"Who? Karnilla?" Oh, that bitch. Loki's always found it regretful that crying
mostly only works on men if you're female. "It wasn't me," Loki protests. "It
mostly wasn't me," he amends when Thor's face hardens even further. "I have no
control over Amora's actions. Girls, they have the oddest notions. Besides, if
you think Karnilla is some sweet southern girl you're sorely mistaken."
"I don't care who she is, other than that Balder loves her and I won't see you
or Amora destroy their relationship."
"If it's strong surely it will survive anything we can come up with." He shoves
at Thor's hand, and Thor finally releases him. Loki adjusts his hoodie and
glares. "That hurt," he says, feeling his throat gingerly. "Don't ever touch me
again." Thor reaches out, but Loki throws his hands up defensively. "Not ever,"
he snarls, and Thor backs away, allowing him to stomp off.
Karnilla says, when Loki passes her by in the hallway, "Watch your back, kid.
You're playing in the big leagues now."
Rock, hard place: Loki's not invested enough in Balder and Karnilla's
relationship to want to see them broken up, but a gauntlet has been thrown, a
challenge issued. And then there's Thor, who, after Loki rebuffs any attempt at
further communications, settles on watching Loki and Amora with suspicion,
almost daring them to try something.
It's almost a relief, in the end, when Sif finally arrives.
 
Keeping the peace:
"So," Sif says, sitting down in front of Loki as he's trying to work on his
laptop. Loki tries to ignore her, points to the headphones over his head, but
she merely crosses her arms and waits patiently. Loki's played this game with
Thor before, it only ever ends with him losing, so he sighs and snaps the
laptop shut, pulling over his headphones impatiently.
"You know, Sif. I'm really glad you got back together with Thor. My brother
single in a college full of hot co-eds is always a recipe for disaster. He
keeps getting tagged on Facebook -"
"Loki."
"The fifth time's the charm, surely. If anyone can keep him faithful, it's
you."
"That's enough." She slams her palm down into the table, and Loki jumps. "I
just had a conversion with Balder, which I would suggest both you and Amora try
- but neither of you care, so nevermind -"
"Oh my god will you get to the point already."
Sif scowls fiercely. Loki is duly intimidated. "My point, Loki, is that Balder
loves Karnilla, and is also aware that she's not the sweet little thing she
makes herself out to be."
"She's a cunt," Loki mutters.
"I will slap you."
"She's an asshole? Which non-gender-specific insult would you like me to use?"
Sif puts her hand to her forehead, as if his mere presence is giving her a
headache. "Christmas is two days away. Please just dial it down until it's
over."
"Or else what?"
"Loki," Sif says, "Just because Thor lets you walk all over him doesn't mean he
doesn't also know where all your skeletons are buried."
 
Gifts big and small:
Christmas arrives with relative uneventfulness. Karnilla and Balder are
nauseatingly happy once again, to everyone's relief, and Loki even buys her a
gift as a peace offering, with Thor's credit card. "I still don't understand,"
he tells her. "How could he possibly be of any use to you? Other than being
beautiful eye candy."
Karnilla shrugs, but when Loki turns away she says, "Love doesn't always make
sense. You don't get to choose."
Loki tries to think of a witty reply, but he can't, so he just swallows and
makes his escape.
Amora uninvites herself for dinner unexpectedly, after a low, heated
conversation with Thor that Loki only catches the tail end of, when he wanders
onto the balcony. There is something about the way they're both standing: Amora
with her arms crossed over her chest defensively, and Thor with a blank
expression on his face, that prompts Loki to clear his throat and ask with
false cheer, "Everything okay?"
Amora shakes her head, but only says, "Everything's fine. I'm leaving." She
brushes past him, and Loki wants to stop her but at her glare he lifts his
hands up in surrender and allows her to pass.
"What did you do," he snaps at Thor, once she's gone.
Shame flashes across his face. "Nothing. Loki, I -"
"So the only girls not worthy of your protection are the ones that are mine? "
"It's not like that."
"No, I get it. Go to hell."
He leaves Thor there, flushed and guilty.
Amora won't answer his phone calls, and Loki gives up after a while, figuring
he'll try again once she's calmed down. Perhaps after the New Year. Instead he
calls Leah and invites her over. "Amora won't be there, okay?"
"Did the two of you finally implode over your own terribleness?"
"Mm."
"My mom doesn't believe in Christmas," Leah says finally.
"Yes I know. That's why I'm inviting you."
"I'll ask. We'll see."
Sif spends Christmas dinner with her own family, and Loki's pleased to note
that she barely speaks to Thor as she leaves. It's not Loki's problem if Thor
can't keep it in his pants whenever they're broken up, or that his various
conquests aren't shy about announcing to the internet that they hooked up with
the mighty Thor. Loki's coming to the dreadful conclusion that college is
exactly like high school, only on a larger scale and with more access to
alcohol and debauchery.
Dinner is a chore, what with Thor's focus the entire, dreadful meal on Loki.
And Leah, who insists on being charmed by him, to the point where she puts her
chin on her hand to smile at him as he regales her with one silly family
anecdote after another.
"Oh I remember that Christmas," Dad interrupts at one point. "Loki would always
somehow figure out what gifts he'd gotten beforehand, no matter how hard we
tried to hide them. So that year, we very carefully hid a fake gift while we
arranged for the real one to be driven up by his Aunt Gaea. I can't recall what
that fake gift was, but Loki was devastated."
"He sulked for about a week," Thor says. That was also the year their dog died,
Loki recalls. It was a stupid, ugly dog who loved Thor and hated everyone else,
and when he got hit by that car Dad told Thor that he'd gone to a better place.
Thor took it at face value, until Loki set him straight, and then he couldn't
stop crying. Loki never could understand why Dad was so upset when he'd found
out; better that Thor be made aware of the truth than to live with a lie.
"Hey, you remember Sammy?" Loki asks now, and Thor's smile fades away.
"He was a good dog," he says.
"He bit me. Twice."
"Excellent judge of character, then." Leah smiles at Thor, who starts to
chuckle. Loki gives up, decides to focus on stuffing his belly full of food and
ignore everything, and everyone, else.
-
Thor corners him in the bathroom after dinner, presses Loki up against the
sink. He kicks Loki's feet apart, slides one knee in between his legs, arms
coming down to grab at the edges of the sink.
"Get away from me."
"I'm not touching you." He blows lightly at the curve of Loki's throat.
Loki shivers. "Fine, then let me clarify. No touching, no invading of my
personal space. Stop it." He's had enough. "You can't just decide we're done
arguing."
"We are never done arguing, Loki. I'm just suggesting we could put it on hold
for a while. I'm leaving soon."
"Perhaps next time you won't send your girlfriend to fight your battles for
you."
A flicker of a smile crosses Thor's face. "As if I could tell Sif to do
anything."
"Leave me alone." He puts his palms against Thor's chest and shoves, but Thor
doesn't so much as budge an inch. And then of course his fingers just naturally
curl into the material of Thor's t-shirt, and Loki can't make himself break the
contact.
Fuck.
Balder, bless him, chooses then to knock on the door. "What are you guys doing
in there for so long. I thought only girls went to the bathroom together."
"Thor had a little too much eggnog," Loki says."I'm just ensuring he doesn't
choke while he's emptying his stomach." This time when Loki shoves at him Thor
steps away, to obligingly make retching noises.
"All right, gross," is all Balder says in reply, audibly backing away. "But
come down fast, we're opening presents."
-
Loki's presents are the usual assortment of shiny gadgets, although Dad says,
"This only encourages his bad behavior, I feel."
"Technology isn't evil, Dad," Loki says, surreptitiously taking a photo of Thor
with his new iPhone. Thor moves to sit next to him and whispers into his ear,
"My gift for you is in my car."
"What, no dick in a box?" He pulls out his gift for Thor, which is an
assortment of beanies, hats and a princess tiara that he'd dug out of storage.
"To protect your head," Loki says, "Until the hair grows back out."
Thor puts on a fedora, and the tiara on top of it.
"How do I look?"
"Hideous," Loki replies, but when Thor presses his leg against Loki's, he
doesn't shift away.
 
The forgotten principle of personal space:
It's close to midnight by the time everyone goes to bed, but Loki can't sleep.
Instead he paces, and then when he's tired of pacing he texts Thor, and then
when there's no response he ends up making his way down the hallway and into
Thor's room. Thor's lying on his back, and he only opens his eyes when Loki
straddles him, pressing his palms down against his belly.
"Hey," Loki says.
"Hey yourself."
Loki's gifts are strewn across Thor's nightstand. Loki picks up the tiara and
puts it on Thor's head, adjusting it until it pleases him. "Well, aren't you
the prettiest princess ever." He steals the fedora next, and puts it on his own
head. It's a size too big and almost drops into his eyes, and Thor smiles
lazily up at him.
"That's the wrong hat. If I'm to be a princess you need a crown."
Loki puts his hand to Thor's lips, waits for him to open his mouth so he can
slide his fingers inside. "No, I'm not the prince. Just the interloper there to
despoil the princess and wreck havoc on the kingdom."
Thor's hands are on his waist, thumbs pressing against his hip bones. Loki
draws in a breath, and then another, as Thor slides them further up his back,
pushing forward so Loki has to bend with them, curl in towards Thor. Thor sucks
wetly on his fingers and Loki moans, whispers, "Oh, your highness. Look at
you." He removes his fingers and replaces them with his lips, his tongue, until
he feels dizzy, lightheaded. Wants to fuck Thor, and Thor nods his head when
Loki says exactly that, croons it into his ear.
"Please," Thor says. "Loki."
Afterwards, Loki tells Thor, "Turn around," and Thor obliges, pressing his
cheek against the pillow to blink sleepily at Loki.
Loki touches his back, where almost all of the whip marks have faded away save
for the one, cutting delicately across the lower half of his spine and down to
his hip. "I made up a story," Thor says. "I fell and cut myself on a rake."
"And they believe you are capable of such clumsiness?" They. Sif, and when they
are broken up, others. Girls and the occasional boy; Thor has been busier since
he got to college. The girls Loki doesn't care about, the boys he's somewhat
ambivalent towards. Sif though.
Thor shrugs, follows it with a shiver when Lokis fingers reach the curve of his
hip. It hits him that the scar might be permanent, though it's surely too soon
to tell. Thor grips the sheet, tight enough that his knuckles show white, and
says, "This isn't your fault."
"Who said it was," Loki counters.
"No, I meant." Thor lets out a low moan as Loki's fingers dig into his side,
fading out when he stops. There's a hitch in his breath when he says, "I don't
know what I meant." His eyes are glazed, barely focused.
Loki removes his hand, presses it to Thor's cheek. "I don't know if I can.
Maybe - maybe not right now." He's just a kid, he wants to say. He doesn't
understand anything. Certainly not enough to handle what Thor is asking.
Maybe asking.
Thor seems to understand though, he nods his head and slides forward so their
foreheads are pressed together. "Go to sleep," Loki whispers, too loud.
Thor nods his head and closes his eyes.
 
Back to the future:
Thor is downing a hasty breakfast and Loki is stealing pieces of his bacon and
nattering to him about the continuing horrors of high school when Karnilla
comes into the kitchen, heading towards the fridge. Loki's content to ignore
her and even Thor only spares her a distant smile before he turns his attention
back to Loki.
Karnilla grabs a glass for her juice and says, "Wow, if I didn't know better
I'd say you guys had make up sex last night."
Loki makes a face, even as Thor stiffens. "Oh stop it, Karnilla. As if I would
ever sleep with someone with such a misshapen cranium." Karnilla rolls her
eyes. "There's still time," Loki adds brightly. "You don't have to marry into
our family."
"Hush," Thor says, but he doesn't sound mad. Instead he pushes his plate
towards Loki and tells him, "Finish it. Then we can go for a drive before I
leave."
An air of faint confusion settles over Karnilla, and Loki barely refrains from
smirking at her as he follows Thor out the door.
-
In Thor's car, Loki says, "Is that a GPS system?"
"Yes," Thor says. "I also had the air conditioning fixed. Merry Christmas."
Loki ignores his air of smugness to fiddle with the screen, pre-programming
routes for Thor as he puts the car into gear. "Where are we going? Don't you
have to start heading for Sif's? Where did her parents move to again, Florida?"
"No," Thor says, frowning somewhat. "Not that far. I have instructions
somewhere in the glove compartment."
Loki rummages around until he finds the handwritten address, because Sif can't
text message like normal people, and sets up the destination for Thor to
follow. He contemplates, briefly, arranging for a convenient misdirect, but in
the end he doesn't. Thor will reach Sif safely and before nightfall if he
leaves now. "You're already late," he informs Thor.
"Then I'll be late."
The place is still deserted, the road up to it still riddled with potholes that
Thor's car can barely take. It feels like years since they've been there,
although it's only been a few months. Loki glances at the backseat when Thor
stops, but he doesn't get in, and neither does Thor. Instead he drums his
fingers on the steering wheel and says, "I miss this place sometimes."
"But only sometimes." Loki tries for a smile, but he can't quite make it.
"More than sometimes," Thor says.
"Things change. I suppose you have to move on."
"That's not what I meant. Loki, I -" Thor stops, then says. "Mom tells me
you've decided on a college?"
"More or less."
"It's halfway across the country."
Loki shrugs. "It's where I want to go." Needs to, at this point. To not be
defined, for once, by who he's not. He slides his gaze over to Thor. "You could
always transfer," he says, and doesn't mean it.
Thor offers him a grin. "We'll see," he replies, and means no. "We can talk
about it afterwards. There's still another year."
"I suppose there is," Loki replies, and when Thor curls his hand into his, he
doesn't pull away.
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