Yes, the title is very creative, I know.
Pre-Thor AU. Similar to The Star, this has that unrealistically large age gap between Loki and Thor. And similar in simple, lighthearted, slightly sappy fluff too. I was picturing a two-year-old and someone in their late teens when writing this.
RainbowStarMountain: this is not exactly one of the suggestions you came up with, for another ficlet about a much younger Loki and older brotherly Thor, but this post is still largely due to your encouragement to write another snippet :) Thank you dearly!
Another story of similar fluffiness and age gap is underway, but probably will be longer. Maybe a multi-chapter.
I hope you enjoy!
"There is still more than ample time, regardless of the outcome of your effort today…" Fandral pats Thor's shoulder uncomfortably. He looks unsure as to whether his sympathy will be welcomed or insulting.
Thor merely nods and grunts. He wants no pity.
"We will be in the usual place for the evening before dinner, should you wish for our counsel," his friend says, before departing. Sif and the other Warriors wait for Fandral in the hallway outside. Thor hopes they will spare him the humiliation of discussing his failure outside his company.
Their usual haunt is the main training field. Thor expected to spend the evening there too, practicing with a grander, stronger, better balanced hammer than the practice weapons he had trained with thus far.
At Thor's insistence, that afternoon marked his second attempt at lifting Mjolnir. His father said, afterwards, "If this pride is your motivator, then… no, Mjolnir will not yield to you just yet."
He is grateful at least only his parents and four closest friends had bore witness. Unused to such disappointment, Thor converts it to irritation.
As he mulls over it, he slides his heavy brown boots from his shins and feet, beginning to unlace them with quick, gruff yanks.
"Hm?"
At the chirp of sound, Thor glances up from the shoe in his lap. His little brother stands at the threshold of his bedchamber, the top of his head barely reaching the lowest door hinge despite the added height of soft spikes of his black hair. Small head tilted to one side, Loki is probably sensing Thor's irritation as Thor works on his shoes.
He almost forgot Loki had been in the Vault too, holding onto a brass buckle on Volstagg's pant leg. His eyes had flickered with different colours from the eerie surrounding relics, watching his older brother strain with both hands wrapped around Mjolnir's sleek handle.
Thor glares.
Loki stares.
"What do you want?" Thor asks curtly.
"Pick me up?"
"I'm busy."
"Hm," is all Loki replies with, entering the room to wander around.
"Don't touch anything," Thor warns, half-heartedly brusque only for the sake of it. He reaches out his palm to touch the feathery tips of hair on Loki's head when his younger brother passes him.
"I hope you restrain any anger from the innocent diners and waitrons tonight." Frigga's voice comes from the hallway as she approaches after Loki.
"If you place aside your pride, Mjolnir will comply sooner than you may think." She observes Thor with her strangely gentle sternness.
"Father said that earlier."
"Well, perhaps there is wisdom in it." All gentleness now. Thor nods mutely after a moment.
She squeezes his hand before leaving, not taking Loki with her. Loki continues exploring the bedchamber as Thor begins dressing from his training garb into attire for dinner.
After he locates the pair of shoes he wants, he realises Loki is watching him again curiously. His round chin points skywards to see Thor's face from his miniscule height.
"You stare a lot," Thor says shortly, with the last dregs of his earlier annoyance. Loki pats Thor's black pant leg. Thor sighs. He sinks into a sitting position on the floor before pulling his shoes on, so Loki can look at him without bending his neck.
"Hammer too heavy?" Loki inquires.
"It will not be, one day." Thor tugs the knot in the left shoelaces extra tight.
He looks at Loki, then asks seriously in an undertone, "Promise not to remember how I failed today?"
He wonders if Loki understands. Certainly, his eyes are fixed thoughtfully on Thor's and his lower lip is pushed out as if taking in the words, like Frigga's gardens absorbing rain.
"No," Loki says consolingly. He reaches out his short arms towards Thor. "Pick me up?"
Thor rolls his eyes before standing, hoisting his brother onto his shoulders as he rises. He decides to assume that means Loki agrees.
Thor eyes it curiously.
The shabby wood-and-steel implement looks distinctly out of place lying on the floor of his polished bedchamber. Thor has no idea to who it belongs or how it got to be there.
Frowning, he stoops to pick up the hammer by its long handle, feeling the tiny nicks and scratches in the wood grain beneath his palm.
There is little cheer from the doorway. Thor glances at Loki. His little brother often followed him around after dinner, so he thought nothing of it tonight. Loki stares at him expectantly, hopefully.
"Pick up?"
After a few seconds, Thor chuckles. He imagines their mother or a palace servant spent a politely bemused few minutes of their evening deciphering Loki's request for the implement.
"Yes, Brother, this one I can lift very easily."
Thor sets the tool down on one of his lower shelves before scooping Loki up into the crook of his left arm. He lightly brushes the soft tufts crowning his brother's head. Loki beams.
"Thank you, Loki."