summary: "You're staring again." It's no surprise they have an attraction to one another, and that everyone seems to notice it but them.

rating: PG

author's notes: Two days. I'm. Not. Ready.

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~ fiery eyes, bold heart ~

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"You're staring again."

He looks over to see Loki observing him with a familiar look on his face. It's a face reserved only for when his brother is plotting something; or when Thor is going to end up looking incredibly stupid. He'll assume the latter on this occasion.

"What?" Thor asks, and he can tell his confusion irritates the dark-haired man as he rolls his eyes.

"You're practically drooling, brother," Loki replies in a tone that feigns stoicism, but he can hear the underlying amusement hidden in his words.

"I-I am not, what… you are imagining things," he defends. "I am simply observing their progress in training as a king should." Loki hums, unconvinced and crosses his arms, turning back towards the few Asgardians who desire to be future warriors.

Most of their warriors perished in Hela's attempted conquest, and those who are left are helping the new recruits. She's the head trainer, and Thor can't help the bit of pride that swells in his chest, along with the stutters of his heart whenever he watches her spar with someone.

She deserves it, too; being a general and leader of a future army. It's not her Valkyrior, it never will be, but after everything she has been through under his father's rule, he wants to show her that he's different; that he won't use her or anyone else as if they are disposable tools. He respects her and her loyalty enough to know that she (as well as his brother, of course) will call him out on anything he needs to be called out for, and will make sure he remains as pure as possible from kingship.

So of course he'll observe them (because he's certainly not staring at her mesmerizing way of fighting; he never understood it when his brother said fighting is an art only when done properly but now he most definitely does).

Thor almost forgets about the conversation they'd been having before he hears Loki say, "You are staring at her, brother. Despite what you choose to believe, I am not a fool."

The older god lets out a hearty laugh and swears he sees Brunnhilde's movements falter as her brown eyes flicker towards him for a moment; this distracts him and the smile lingers on his face until he feels Loki's elbow gently nudge him in his side.

"You prove my point, you witless oaf," he teases, and Thor places a hand over his heart in mock offense.

"Loki," he says dramatically. "Is that affection I hear from your insults, brother? Do you," he gasps, his voice dripping in sarcasm. "care?"

His brother grins and elbows him again – harder – and he winces, trying to remember when his little brother ever became this strong.

"Of course I care, idiot," Loki says fondly, and Thor shakes his head (he expects to feel his hair sweep around his neck, and he's slightly disappointed that he doesn't). "I care just as much as I know that you, my dear oaf of a brother, look at her," he points to Brunnhilde, "with as much affection as you did with the mortal girl; perhaps even more."

Thor tries to hide his surprise. Damn his brother for being so perceptive.

"Loki, you are reading into things, as the mortals say it, yes? I do not favor the Valkyrie." Thor lies about as well as he cooks. Horribly.

His brother laughs, an unconvinced, but a sincere laugh that brings a small smile to Thor's face. The mischievous smirk soon reappears though, and he begins to fear for his dignity.

"Perhaps you are right, Thor," Loki says, voice smooth and cool as ice. "What could you possibly see in the woman anyways?"

Thor retaliates almost instantly.

"What?!" he exclaims, his voice booming. "How could you possibly say that brother? She's kind, and beautiful, and strong, and…" the older god freezes, heat spreading through in his cheeks.

Loki, on the other hand, has a grin so wide, it looks as if his face will split in half. He lifts one hand to cover his mouth, and Thor scowls as he hears a snicker come from the dark-haired man.

"Damn you, brother," he grumbles, and Loki erupts in laughter. His eye wanders to the young warriors, and it doesn't surprise him to see smirks littering their faces. Thor turns his gaze to Brunnhilde, and fear thrashes in his chest as she stares at him – in shock or awe he can't decipher.

A curse involuntarily slips from his mouth under his breath and Thor silently prays to the Norns as she stalks over towards them.

Loki leans in. "It looks like you're screwed, dear brother," he says, mirth filling his tone. Thor draws in a shaky breath as Brunnhilde stops a few feet from them and crosses her arms.

"You," she inclines her head toward him. "Walk with me." Her voice is commanding in a way that makes one only want to comply.

"And you, Lackey," she continues and points at an amused Loki. "Shut up and go help the recruits." His brother rolls his eyes and sighs – he always hated being told what to do as a child.

"Yes ma'am," he quips, tone playful and far from genuine. He pats Thor's shoulder and mutters a quick "don't die" before elegantly walking towards the new warriors.

Brunnhilde wraps her fingers around his wrist and drags him from the room, and he tries to bite back the knots of anxiety that twist in his stomach. She pulls him into a vacant corridor and crosses her arms again – an action that's only making him even more nervous.

"Val," Thor starts, and he clears his throat that all of a sudden feels so dry. "How much did you –"

"So who is she?" Brunnhilde interrupts; she does not meet his eye, but she doesn't have to. He can hear the bitterness in her voice, just as he can see the tension in her stance as she clenches her jaw.

"What?" he asks after a beat of silence, not quite hearing her question. She huffs in frustration.

"Who is she?" she repeats. "The one you speak so highly of?" Thor sort of stares at her, not really understanding until it dawns on him, and he has the urge to say oh. She thinks he meant –

A chuckle manages to escape his throat. She tilts her head ever so slightly, and fixes him a glare that makes her look about ready to tear his limbs from his body. He sends a mental string of curses to Loki as he fidgets.

"You think this a joke?" she asks, in a way that shows she doesn't expect an answer, less someone wanted a bottle thrown at them. Thor has a feeling that if she had a bottle, she'd throw one at him. "You think you can –"

Thor laughs again, and grasps her arms. "Val, I was talking about you." She freezes, shock once again enveloping her big, brown eyes, her mouth agape. Thor can practically hear Loki's applause, as this is the first time he has ever seen Brunnhilde – the woman who always has a retort on her tongue, speechless.

"Oh," she says, soft and quiet, and after a few waves of stillness, she punches him in the arm, hard enough to make it sting but not enough to bring too much pain.

"Ow," he murmurs as he massages his arm. "You hit hard." The corners of her lips tilt upwards into a small, but brilliant smile.

"That's what you get for surprising me." Thor winces, and her expression brightens.

Brunnhilde latches onto him again – though this time, he notes with glee that she grabs his hand, and steers him back to the training room. He threads their fingers together, and she gives him a glance of exasperation as she shakes her head, but he doesn't miss the way her smile widens.

When Loki turns his attention back to them, his eyes immediately draw to their intertwined hands, and he smirks knowingly.

"Told you, you were staring, brother."

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fin