Osculatory Mishaps, a ragnarok fanfic

AHAHAHA OMG look what I found in the midst of my general pc cleanup: file reads December 2006. What was I thinking, writing this? D: Very old, but why not post the thing in all its unfinished, unpolished glory? I'll continue it someday, though – jj will never abandon her first fandom.

I TOLD You I'd Write That Loki/Gustave Thingy Someday

(yes, that is the title)

A Stylized and Meandering Account of Loki's Various Imagined Interactions with a Barely-Named Minor Character

(written mostly for my own amusement)

"Regroup!" Chaos sighs, fanning himself and kicking at refuse fluttering by his feet, as tattered and dirty as his clothes. "So the disaster at the tower's over, Loki'n Lidia are back from kicking evil ass in some alternate world with this hot elf chick, most of us need new threads, and the day is saved (except for the people Skurai killed, damn him). Everybody's okay, no missing limbs or gaping wounds or anything. Did I get that all right? Good. Now. Do we have a gameplan?"

Midafternoon at Geffen, even under the shade of an increasingly empty tournament stadium, is sweltering hot. Loki leans against the wall, silent. Fenris tucks a lock of hair, limp and matted, behind her ear.

"By taking leave without prior notice… I'm afraid I've forfeited my position as a contestant in the tournament. Any and all prizes I would've incurred are all gone. Technically, the vehicle should have been ours, but…" She bites her lip, uncertain. "I'm sorry, Chaos."

"Naw, what're you sorry for? We thank you for saving both our lives. Especially Iris –"

"Master Fenris! Master Fenris, there you are…"

There is a sound of rapid footsteps, a figure running towards them, closer, closer, and Loki catches a glimpse –

His first impressions are this: boy; voice still cracking; a buoyant, energetic gait; the swish of a cloak, gilded with runes and other such ornate symbols mages are so fond of; a lanky body, sturdy enough but lacking the lithe, lethal grace of one trained to fight (to kill); a thatch of dark hair; pale, unmarked skin; innocence, in the bright, cheery inflections of his accent, in the set of his face; two bright, black oilspot eyes overflowing with friendliness, and warmth.

His name is Gustave.

"Please let me come!" he exclaims, his face alight with imagined adventures. "I'll do all I can to help!"

"So he's coming?" Iris asks.

"Well," Fenris sighs, "he does have the vehicle."

Chaos chips in: "And it's free. We can save a lot."

Lidia cheers.

Loki does not care for Chaos' party's penchant for acquiring stragglers, one after the other

– you mean, kind of like the way the shoebox under your bed gradually fills up with random knickknacks, and before long it's full of those little odds and ends, but you don't have the heart to throw them away because you might actually need them, someday? But aren't you one of us 'stragglers', and isn't it better with more people? Besides, I miss Lady Reina, even if she was with us for only two weeks –

nor does he care for Gustave's overly verbose interjections. They are not helpful, and rarely make sense.

Their first conversation goes:

"Hello."

"…"

"Sir Loki, right?"

"Yes."

"Ah, hi, I'm Gustave, remember me? Before, at the market – when you and Miss Iris and Miss Lidia asked about the Geffen tournament? I'll be joining you party from now on, or at least until you reach Swartzward, but I hope I'll be able to accompany you to the end of your journey, and everyone is so nice, Master Fenris is really wonderful, I'm learning so much, and I'm having tons of fun with everyone! But I want to properly introduce myself to you –"

"Be frank, what do you want?"

"Uh, I beg you pardon?"

"What do you want of me?"

"Well, um, you see I just wanted to meet you, like, to get to know each other and all that –"

"No."

"...oh. Okay. Sorry."

Gustave leaves, then, but there is a determined set to his expression that Loki does not like.

He fits in surprisingly well; and even more peculiar, it is Lidia who warms up first.

Initially, she is inclined to dismiss him, but the black-haired youth approaches her immediately, thanking her for finding his money bag, my, he must have dropped it, and how good of her to pick it up for him, Miss…? Her reaction is awkward, miffed, but a tiny bit impressed, and soon there are noogies and smiles and attempts at adoption over some tavern's lunch table. (I'm an orphan, he had said, so no one will miss me if I travel with you.)

Lidia announces, "Never thought I'd want a little brother, but…" and Sessy makes it official, purring luxuriously on his lap with his fingers buried in the cat's fur.

Iris bemoans this turn of events. "She's evil! She'll corrupt him," she wails. "He's too nice for that! Besides, you like me better than that hag, don't you, Gus?"

"I like you both –" he starts, trying to be heard over Lidia's indignant screeches and Iris' angry rejoinders, and blushes when people turn to stare.

They argue for some time, until the others suspect that the two are using him as just another excuse to keep with their long-standing fights, except: Lidia is nice to him, humors him – which means keeping her ribbing good-natured, listening shame-facedly (just acting, of course, but at least she puts up an appearance) when he scolds her for thievery – and Iris spoils him, sincere in her affections, glad to have someone else take her place as the 'baby' of the group.

In the end, it is Chaos who 'adopts' him.

"Aw, the kid's cute," he says, then looks away, unreadable. "Reminds me of my …family… back then, in the village."

Fenris is nothing but approval. "A proficient, enthusiastic student. Gustave has potential, but what is laudable is that he is keen to develop it." She continues, cheeks dusted with pink: "I've never tried to take an apprentice before. It is… rather nice."

Even Reina, before she leaves, concedes that perhaps humans are not all that bad, when he impulsively hugs her goodbye.

All throughout, Loki is the only one indifferent.

This does not go unnoticed – and if Loki were anyone else, he'd be annoyed with Gustave, with the way he keeps close, a too-noisy, exuberant shadow. He's already had experience with nosy would-be friends, after all, and Gustave is no Chaos.

As it is, he simply remains indifferent.

"Hey, want to go with us to the outfitters, Loki? We need new supplies, and maybe go look at their armory if you want extra weapons."

"…no."

"Loki, Loki, look, Chaos found a poring, isn't that cool? Let's go closer, Loki, it's cute!"

"No."

"Good morning, Loki, do you wanna take a bath togeth –"

"No."

Gustave's everyday good cheer belies the ferocity and mercilessness of his spells. He can fight, not just in a public arena fenced in by civility and codes of conduct. He can fight, and he can be vicious.

Loki learns this the day they are attacked by a warren of enraged face-worm mothers. He is half-aware of Chaos, slashing away somewhere to his right, Iris on support duty. Lidia screaming. Energy from Fenris' spells. But he is preoccupied with right here – dodge razor tongues – stick sword in eye – hack slice hack – one down two to go – sonic ball – dodge! – slice, missed – damn –

– and suddenly Gustave is there ahead of him, decimating the two heads in a sickening explosion of teeth, carapace, blood, and brain matter. He makes a show of looking back, eyes feverish, and his grin is sharp, excited, more than a little battle-crazy.

If you expect my acknowlegment, Loki thinks, you will not get it. Not like that.

"Temperance," he says instead, and thinks of Ibrahim, laughing crazily amidst showers of blood. He thinks of the way this boy turned away just before blasting them, closing his eyes against the carnage.

"Sorry," Gustave murmurs, afterward, his robes streaked with blood and entrails. He's not meeting Loki's gaze. "That was the wrong way to go about it, I know."

Next day: a casual clap on the shoulder, the familiar sunny smile.

"I'll win ya over, somehow. By being myself, okay?"

Time passes, and Loki grows into it. The boy, Gustave, is part of Chaos' ragtag group now; a comfortable, familiar presence and not worth the effort it takes to ignore him.

"Loki, let's go take a bath together, just a quick one, the girls haven't had one yet and we need to save, we don't have enough – "

"Fine."

" – hot water. … eh? Really? Great, let's go!"

"Fenris is really amazing, you know, just incredible. She knows all these spells, hundreds of years old, a thousand even; powerful incantations we thought were lost forever. It's such an honor to learn from her, so exciting, but sometimes I don't like sparring with her – I get beaten all black and blue. I heard you fought her, and Chaos too, before joining them – man, that must have been really something right? Wasn't it hard, even for you?"

"Yes."

"Everybody here's just so strong, aren't they."

"Mm."

"Are you even listening, Loki?"

"I am."

"…oh. Okay."

"Hey, Loki."

"Yes?"

"Oh… never mind. Good night."

Honestly, Loki thinks, what do you want from me?

One day when everyone else is out, Iris sneaks into the bedroom and paws through Lidia's satchel in search of a missing brooch. Exasperated with the too-many things crammed inside, she up-ends the dratted thing, the contents falling helter-skelter to the floor. The brooch isn't among them. Iris huffs, then sweeps everything back inside. She fails to notice a small flask of golden liqueur, lying slightly concealed behind someone's house slippers.

Somehow this ends up in the hands of the youngest member of the party, who, retiring to their room after dinnertime, stumbles upon a sweet honeyed treat.

This is how Loki finds him: pink-cheeked, weaving drunkenly, beaming, gaily exclaiming, "ahh, Loki, it's Loki," with a most alarming tendency to throw his arms around a person and cling. Like an excessively tenacious octopus, except no octopus is in the habit of babbling nonsense in one's ear.

Loki tries to prise skinny arms from around his neck, but Gustave hangs on stubbornly and wraps his legs around Loki's knees, his laughter turned to gloomy muttering.

"Wh-hic-why don't you like hic-me? I wanted to be-hic pals, really wanted–"

"What?" Loki asks, but Gustave either doesn't hear or doesn't care, just talks over him, and he doesn't understand, judging from all the time they'd spent together, they had become friends of a sort, or at least comrades, Loki knows a little more about that, is learning more every day; he isn't as ignorant about normal human affairs as he once was, and he knows; he hears it in Gustave's breathy complaints, feels it in his pliant, persistent grip: it's not 'friendship' or 'comradeship' or 'acceptance' that is the problem here, it's something else entirely.

Honestly, what is it he wants from me?

"I tr-hic-tried, you know, t' be friends with you," the boy whines, frowning up through unfocused half-lid eyes. "But, but hic sumfing's still wrong, sumfin's mis-hic-missing, an' I dese– devers– I oughta know why!"

"We are –" Loki begins, but the rest dies in his throat when Gustave hoists himself up and kisses him.

Then he promptly passes out.

This is how everyone else finds them:

Loki, on the floor, shock still evident in his eyes and the curve of his lips, and Gustave, slumbering contentedly on top of him.

It's Not Over Yet, Okay?

(i mean, this is obviously just their beginning)

Lol it amuses me to no end that there is actual FANART for this pairing, even though around 80% of Ragnarok fans have probably forgotten all about Gustave. To be honest, I can't remember that much about him, either – except that he was cute, a bit earnest, and really, really excited about the magic competition at Geffen. (Must reread before continuing this)

To my knowledge, this is the first time he's been in fic – but I hope it isn't. If you've seen him around, do contact me! :D Many thanks for sticking with the fic long enough to read this!