#uf chapter 9

[geminijackdaw]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

“Thor…” Loki begins after several false starts, trying to feign disinterest as he prods at a slice of carrot with his fork. “We should go fishing, sometime,” he suggests. “We could go up to the mountains for a few days, just the two of us.”  It’s the height of summer, so the best game is out of season.  He’s never been overfond of roughing it, but Thor is, and he considers it to be an enticing offer when he makes it. Instead, his brother only shrugs.

“Seems a little dull after bilgesnipe, doesn’t it?” Loki feels his jaw tighten. Of course Thor would see no difference, but not dull, quiet. He’s never nearly been gored by quiet.

[geminijackdaw]

Six Sentence Sunday 7/28/19

He and Lorelei cross paths every year or so, and he finds himself eagerly counting down the days as the next occasion draws near, until they next find themselves hiding away in secretive corners to steal kisses and whisper hilarious unkindness about everyone they know. It always starts easily enough, the kind of teasing comment he’d break out before, that flyting-level of acceptable mocking that’s all in good fun— but there’s no gentle caution with the laughter, no Loki, no.

Lorelei urges him on, laughs harder the deeper the comment would cut. The jokes they tell each other sail right past the threshold of cruelty, but it’s only words, all in jest, just dark thought and secrets to share between them. The kind that would horrify anyone else, that he’s always had to keep to himself.

[geminijackdaw]

Six Sentence Sunday 21/7/19

A shadow falls across the pages, and an instant later Thor tugs the book from his hands and snaps it shut. Loki narrows his eyes at him, then more at the glare overhead, but when his vision clears and his eyes adjust to the light, Thor is looking down at him, disappointed, mouth quirked to the side and eyebrows tented. “Would you put that book away and stop ignoring me?” He plunks down next to Loki on the sun-baked step. 

“Ignoring you?” he repeats, eyebrows raised. He speaks slowly, calmly, but his voice is cold and sharp as a knife’s edge and Thor doesn’t seem to notice the warning in it. He takes a firm hold of Loki’s shoulder, squeezes in a way that he might mean to be friendly. It just feels intrusive, the heat of Thor’s heavy hand radiating through the already sundrenched black of his shirt.