Author Notes: So this was born of Loki's flying motorcycle thing in the new Avengers trailer during a Balthier/FFXII binge. And I was like "Hey, flying motorcycles."
I actually have how they met and why and all that jazz worked out - and I actually wrote a fic proper about it, I just don't like it - but then I was like "Screw that" and then this was born during a couple very boring classes where I payed no attention.
Note that I know this would never, ever work. Not even in terms of crossover but in terms of character. Namely that Loki is clearly crazier/more unkempt in Avengers and Balthier would never abide that. And fifty bajillion other things, but I had fun and some of the snippets make me laugh.
"That's it, Loki. Just like riding a chocobo." His hand lingered a moment longer than necessary on the trickster's hip as laughter crept into his voice.
"I have never ridden a 'chocobo', you thrice-damned meat sack." He shifted his weight, and the machine bobbed disconcertingly beneath him.
The pirate clucked his tongue disapprovingly, "Such language, when you're the one who asked me to teach you how to ride my hover bike."
"Silence, mortal. How does one move this accursed metal beast?"
"Once you learn to keep it steady, we can work on riding it." Loki could still hear the amusement in his voice. Damned pirate. "Here, move your legs just a touch…"
Loki wondered if Balthier had had this bike built expressly for excusing inappropriate touches
"I apologized, did I not?" Loki sighed from his place at the wall of the garage.
"You drove us into a dragon." A thunk and a curse, "She hasn't been this broken up since Rabanastre, my poor girl…"
Loki sighed, fast losing patience with the mortal's ire. "If you would let me use my magic to fix it…"
"Absolutely not." He glared at him from under the machine. "The last time you used your magic on a skystone, it turned into a chocobo."
Ah, so that was a chocobo. "I'm certain I've got the knack of it now."
"You." Balthier stabbed the wrench in his hand in Loki's direction to accentuate his point, "Are never to do magic on or near the Strahl."
Enough. Loki grasped the Pirate's leather bound legs, pulling him from under the small chariot. Straddling him – no easy task when he was on a rolling board as he was – he cut off the protests with a kiss, his tongue smoothly working his way into the pirate's mouth.
"What ca I ever do to make it up to you?" He pleaded – falsly, but it made Balthier smile – and grinded himself ever so slightly against the pirate. Odin's eye, he loved those tight pants he wore.
"Well." He returned, putting his hands on the God's waist, staining the fine cloth with oil, though Loki didn't mind. "When you put it that way."
"Why did you kill your father?"
"He was insane."
"Hmm."
"Why do youwant to kill your father?"
"I'm insane."
"So you can turn into anyone? Anything?" He asked once, over ales in some backwater pub he'd dragged Loki to.
Loki blinked, startled by the question "It is a draining ability, but yes. Why?"
"It must be wonderful. To never be bound by one form, to go and be whatever you want, never having to worry about… who you might resemble." He ran a hand through his hair, something Loki had learned meant he was thinking of his father. The two did look similar, from what Loki had seen. And he could simpathize with not wanting to look like one's blood relations.
"It is seen as a cowardly technique, where I come from." He frowned – though it was true they would use it readily enough when it suited them.
"That's the thing, though. You could just turn into a bird… fly away." His voice dropped away as he gazed into some far-off distance.
Loki scowled, disturbed by this pensive streak in the usually proactive pirate.
"Perhaps tonight," He began, slowly, "I will show you some of the uses my shapeshifting can serve, besides escape."
Balthier's eyes flicked to the trickster, and a grin bloomed across his face.
Loki wondered if he'd planned this from the beginning.
"Pull the throttle, the throttle!" Balthier shouted, firing off another shot at their pursuers.
Loki gritted his teeth as another ullet whizzed past, trying to recall which one of the levers was the damned throttle-
"Left!"
"What?"
"Go left, you idiot god!"
Loki glanced up, just in time to avoid the pillar that came up out of nowhere, still trying to find where the thrice-damned throttle was-
CLIFFCLIFFCLIFF
He veered, bringing the bike to a skidding stop on the edge. Should they have fallen, he could have teleported away, certainly, but ever since the Bifrost he…
"What are you DOING?" Balthier practically spat, glancing anxiously over his shoulder for the pursuers they'd temporarily lost.
"What am I doing?" Loki fired back, gathering up his magic, "That's it, I'm teleporting us out of here-"
"Go over the edge!"
"What." Honestly, sometimes he wondered if Balthier was truly insane-
"It's a hover bike, you great idiot! Over!" Reaching down, he grasped and pulled Loki's leg, the machine roaring back to life.
Loki hated him sometimes.
"I hardly think that was an activity befitting a prince of Asgard." Loki said with a frown, trying his best to remain angry at the pirate. Not an easy thing, with his lips on his neck and his hands tugging at his belt.
He felt Balthier smile against his neck, "You had fun. Besides, a princess of Dalmasca did it, and with far less complaint." He grunted as he finally got Loki's belt loose. "Or were you referring to your driving? Because I think that was hardly befitting a prince of Asgard."
Loki shuddered as Balthier squeeze appreciately, struggling to come up with a scathing retort. "She spent years living in a sewer. I'd hardly think much of her – ah – her royal sensibilities."
He chuckled – though whether it was at Loki's comment or his desperately clawing at his vest (By the Norns, he hated this thing) he didn't know. "Don't let her hear you say that, she'll have you beheaded." He pulled away from Loki – he groaned, annoyed at the loss – though watching Balthier's fingers dexterously work the complicated ties of his vest open may have been worth it. Those were very multitalented fingers.
"Now then." He smirked as he shrugged off the garment, that damnably charming look that made Loki (though he'd never admit it aloud; the pirate's ego was large enough) weak in the knees. "Let's celebrate a heist well done."
When Loki was angry at Balthier, he would turn into some variety of small, fluffy creature and hide somewhere in the inner workings of the Strahl. Balthier would not only spend hours hunting him down(Fran refused to get involved in their 'lovers' spat') but fur would be gumming up the gears for weeks.
On a trip to Arcadia for parts (Loki was no longer allowed to help with repairs) Balthier had introduced him to "Gabranth."
Balthier had told him of Gabranth before – the man who had killed his brother, and now lived his brother's life.
As he'd looked at the man, all blonde hair and blue eyes and armor and muscle, he'd thought he reminded him of Thor.
As he'd looked in the man's eyes and seen sadness and pain and guilt, he'd seen himself.
He recoiled, and promptly teleported away.
"That was rude." Balthier commented as he sat on the edge of his bed, where Loki had bured himself beneath the quilts, "Basch didn't know what to make of you just disappearing like that."
"Did you get your parts?" Loki said, muffled by the heavy blankets.
"Hm? Oh yes. They had exactly what I needed, and then some."
Silence echoed through the chamber, until Loki – reluctantly, but he was hardly going to continue hiding beneath the sheets – came out, sliding over next to the pirate.
"What will I become?" At Balthier's raised eyebrow, he pushed on, "If I kill my brother. If I win. Will I be a God… or a monster?"
"I'm fairly certain there's an Esper said to hunt down kinslayers, but if I haven't seen him yet, you should be fine." Balthier said jovially – though he sobered at Loki's glare. He sighed, patting Loki's leg. "If the worst you have to fear is becoming a man like Basch, I wouldn't worry."
"He was so sad."
"You didn't expect him to be happy about his family's blood on his hands, did you?"
Loki looked into Balthier's eyes, the eyes of this man who had killed his father, and he knew they were no longer talking about Basch.
They'd visited Rozzaria – Balthier and Fran had a heist there, a proper one, but Loki had come along just because – and Loki discovered Balthier could not abide the heat. Dalmasca was one thing – it was hot, but it was a dry heat. Rozzaria was hot and wet and sticky, and with his vest and his leather pants and his always-at-least-a-cool-breeze Arcadian upbringing, Balthier simply could not take it.
So, finally having enough of his whining, Loki had intended – with the aid of a small ice spell, though it was something he hadn't attempted since… everything, fearing his newly awakened Jotun side – to cool down their rooms, as a treat for when the pirate returned.
But the stupid mortal had to go and return early.
Loki froze (figuratively, damnit), blood-coloured eyes wide as Balthier stood in the doorway.
"Oh." Balthier stated, roving his eyes over Loki's blue-skinned form. "We're going to have fun with this."
As they lay, panting – Loki's skin returned to it's flesh-toned form from the heat and the friction – Balthier grinned. "We need to do that more often. It was like having sex with an icebox."
Loki froze him to the ceiling for the rest of the day.
"You're getting better." Balthier commented as Loki smoothly shifted between gears.
When Balthier visited his father's grave – Loki had no idea why he did it, the body wasn't even there, but he did – Loki tagged along.
And he watched from the entrance to the cemetery as the leading man seemed to collapse in on himself, shoulders drooping and back slouching despite his vest's best efforts. He'd said a few words – Loki could have used magic to hear what, but he already felt he was intruding – alternating between harsh and spiteful and softer words where Loki could only see his lips move, before turning on his heel and making his way out.
At Loki's look, he simply said, "I don't know who to hate."
"You will be leaving soon." Fran spoke suddenly as Loki brewed his tea.
Loki started – she rarely spoke at all, much less to him, and without Balthier present – before he nodded. "The invasion is nearly ready." He ran a hand through his hair as he spoke. It was getting long.
"He will miss you." She shrugged elegantly. "He grows melancholy enough during those weeks you are gone. I fear how he will become when you leave for longer."
"I will visit again." The pirate was his only friend – not just an ally, but a friend – and he would want Balthier to join him in celebration. He liked Balthier's 'celebrations'.
She smiled – a rare, precious thing, Loki knew – and shook her head. "No. I do not think you shall."
Balthier didn't have a study, per se – there wasn't space on the Strahl for that – but he did have a workspace, one that Loki was loathe to invade. He appreciated a need for uninterrupted work time; the warriors three had numerous spider bites to attest to that.
But today was an exception.
He crept up behind the man, trying not to startle him – he could be working on something explosive, Thor – but, seeing he was bent over blueprints and maps, he cleared his throat.
Balthier turned, startled, "Loki! What can I do for you?"
"You're wearing glasses." He blinked owlishly, not sure what to make of them, and temporarily forgetting his original purpose at the sight of them. Had his eyes always been so green?
"Ah, yes. I fear I need them when I do this sort of work." He gestured to the desk, "My father needed them too. Eventually all the time. Hardly fit for a leading man."
He went to take them off, but Loki caught his wrist, "No. Leave them on." He purred, eyes half-lidded.
"Oh? If you insist." He smirked, before wrapping his arms around Loki's waist and pulling him into his lap. "Now, what brings you here this time of night?"
Loki 'hmm'ed softly, nuzzling Balthier's neck. He always smelled so good – oil and leather and cologne and musk. "I need the blueprints for the hover bike."
Balthier stiffened, pulling away to stare incredulously at the trickster, "What? Why?"
"Please? It's a surprise." Loki pleaded, wriggling eagerly against the pirate, "You won't regret it."
"Hm. Well," He looked thoughtful as he pulled the Asgardian closer, "You'll have to pay me back."
Loki curled his hand around Balthier's neck, tuggling gently on his hair, "I'm sure I can think of something."
Balthier's workspace was the only desk on the Strahl, but he'd made sure when he purchased (stole) it that it was a sturdy one.
Before the invasion began, Loki had requisitioned something from the Skrull engineers. They'd protested, they already had small single-rider vehicles for the invasion, but he'd handed them blueprints, and told them they were welcome to improve upone them, but to build it essentially to plan.
And he wanted two.
