Man!ponytails. And long hair. And stuff. Basically, the most untapped(ha!) resource of the Thor fandom. EVERYONE HAS LONG HAIR THE LADIES AND THE GENTS AND I JUST ASDFGHJKL Hair. So, I had an idea.

Y'know how little kids tug on each other's ponytails/pigtails/braids if they like someone? Yeah. Cute but dumb, like most little kid stuff. Except I'm going to make that an Asgardian courting ritual. You like someone? Tug on that damn hair. You want a dance with them at some sort of party? Give that shiny braid a yank! You think they're just to damn fine to not snog? Tug on that ponytail and kiss that pretty face.

So. Loki's gonna tug on Thor's hair a lot in this fic.

You have been warned.


After the war...

"Thor," Frigga called, smiling softly. She knew her son well; he couldn't help but eavesdrop. He wanted nothing more than to be as good a king as his father, and listening to his deep booming voice as he discussed political matters seemed to the toddler the perfect way to learn. "Come in, now. We have someone you ought to meet."

Thor scrambled into their room, launching himself towards Frigga's side with wide eyes. A small bundle, wrapped in his father's cloak, rested in his mother's lap. It smelled strange, sweetly milky and warm - like a baby - and yet very cold, like snowy air in the earliest part of the day. "What is it, Mother?" he peeped, tightening his hands in her skirt to pull himself up higher.

"A very little boy," Frigga said, quiet, stroking Thor's hair. It had only just reached his chin in silky blond waves; by the time he was to choose a bride, it would spill down his back in a warrior's tail, and she would grasp it - wind it 'round her fist, if she loved him as passionately as she ought to; who could resist her sweet little boy? Frigga thought - and pull gently, claiming him as her husband. She hoped that day was a long, long way off; she wanted her children to stay children for a while yet, innocent and small. "Your father found him in the snow, stolen by Frost Giants and near death with cold, and brought him home. He is to be your new brother, Thor."

Thor's whole face lit up, eyes wider than ever and shining with happiness. Baldur was his older brother - sometimes he played with Thor, but mostly, he just ignored the little thunderer in favour of his own friends - and Thor was determined to be an even better older brother than Baldur was.

"What is his name, Father?" Thor asked, looking up at Odin. From this angle, most of his face was obscured by a thick, dark beard; only the tip of his sharp nose was visible.

"He is called Loki," Odin replied. "You will be good for him, Thor. You will show him the right paths in life, and one day, you both shall rule."

Thor grinned. "Loki." He peered into the bundle and laughed.

Little Loki's soft, round-cheeked baby face was contorted. He puffed his cheeks out yet further, green eyes crossed comically, and blew a raspberry at Thor with a silver-tipped tongue, waving his little starfish hands at him and grasping at air.

"Hold him, will you, Thor?" asked Frigga. "My arms grow weary." True, she was lying; Odin rolled his eye at her, seeing through the farce immediately. She knew Thor wanted to hold his little brother, knew Loki wanted to be held, knew neither would ever ask for it; so, easily, she manipulated Thor's caring nature and within seconds, the orphan was cradled against Thor's skinny chest.

Thor smiled down at Loki, bouncing him gently and kissing his forehead. Loki giggled wetly, a little babyish laugh that made Frigga twice as glad of his arrival, and grabbed Thor's finger, gumming at it. One little tooth nicked his cuticle and Thor restrained a wince.

"We do not bite our brothers, Loki," Thor chided gently. "Not unless we are gentle. We only bite hard if we are fighting monsters."

Loki giggled again and relinquished his finger, still wrapping his little hand around it and holding tight. Thor grinned, dimples in his cheeks, and lifted him up high to blow on his bare little belly as he'd seen court maidens do to their own children and charges. Loki laughed even harder, eyes alight and cheeks flushed with it, and with one hand, he very purposefully grabbed hold of a fistful of Thor's hair and pulled.


Only six hundred and forty nine words of story, but THERE BE MORE A-COMIN'! BATTEN DOWN THE HATCHES! THAR BE A STORM APPROACHIN'!

Please review for schmoop and future Thorki. Also, yay for Odin not yet being a dickmelon.