Heimdall was having the oddest dream. In it, he was lying naked and thoroughly uncomfortable on the floor in the midst of an assortment of electronic parts while the sharp, pointed toe of a shoe was kicking him vigorously in the shoulder.

"Ow," he decided.

Heimdall opened his eye and blearily peered at what indeed turned out to be the pointed toe of a red, stiletto pump. These shoes were topped by shapely ankles, and a set of slim legs that extended vast distances to a daringly short skirt and untamed waves of blonde hair.

"Nooo," he moaned. "Not the other one."

"Heimu," she said warningly. "Are you peeping up Freya's skirt?"

"Go 'way," he groaned.

She tucked her fists cutely under her chin and shrieked, "Iyaaan! How very perverted of you. Although," she added in a more judicious tone, "it could actually be construed as a more normal interest."

"Wha?"

"You know, they have a term for this here . . . what was it again?" Freya tapped her perfect pink lips with a perfect lacquered nail. "Ah, I remember! 'Shotacon,' isn't it?"

"Wha?"

"Sexual interest in little boys," she explained brightly. "Onii-sama's hobbies have always been so varied." With that, she hopped over to the table to look into the box. "Oh, you have teacakes?"

"Wha? What, what are you talking about?" Heimdall sputtered, sitting up. "And I'm not a little boy!"

"Of course not, Heimu," she said pityingly. "I'm sure you must have been adequate."

Heimdall followed her gaze downward, and heat rushed to his face. He shoved aside the arm that had been draped across his waist as he scrabbled for a pile of circuit boards to dump into his lap.

Arm?

He gulped, and chanced a look beside him. And he blanched -- suddenly recalling in full force everything he'd happily forgotten while sleeping. "Freyr! What the hell did you think you were doing?" he snarled. He grabbed up the nearest object, which turned out to be his other glove, and began to soundly pound the other over the head with it.

Suddenly Freyr sat up as well, a coil of cable dangling off his head. "Freyr is not fond of children," he announced automatically. "Also, he has a headache." Freyr peered at the owner of the glove: "Heimdall. What are you doing here?"

"I live here, you moron!" Heimdall shouted.

"But I don't," Freya said. "Good afternoon, Onii-sama!"

"Is that . . . could it be . . . ?" Freyr said, stunned. Then he burst into tears of joy. "Ah! How Freyr has longed for this day! Freyr's beloved, adorable little sister Freya-chan has come to visit him at last!"

Heimdall groaned in disgust.

"Freya is not visiting, she is investigating," Freya corrected him. "The news reported that very suspicious activity was disrupting the neighborhood in this area, but Loki said it wasn't worth looking into. He said it sounded like it was only Onii-sama 'enjoying himself at the expense of others again.'

"I see he was absolutely right," she burbled. "Isn't Loki brilliant?"

Freyr and Heimdall scowled and chorused: "No."

"But Freya is not impressed by the evidence," she said, waving a teacake. "At all. We can cross pastry decorator off Onii-sama's list of skills."

"Perhaps Freya-chan has sampled one, Freyr hopes?" Freyr suggested.

"Don't be ridiculous," she said witheringly. "Such sloppy work. Even someone half-blind would notice they're here."

"What's there?" Heimdall said.

"And," she added, pointing at the chocolate strips decorating one cake, "Onii-sama, what awful writing."

"I was distracted by a vision of beauty," Freyr muttered, wounded.

"What writing?" Heimdall said. He noticed Freya was studying him critically; he glared back at her.

"No no, not him!" Freyr said. "My lovely Mayura-chan."

"Oh, I see." She snorted. "Still, berkano and berkano reversed would already be overkill, and you didn't even finish the last one, so you got wunjo reversed. And you should have known it would have twice the impact on a god."

"Wait. Berkano, wunjo, those are runes," Heimdall pointed out, confused.

"Of course they are," Freyr said, airily. "Berkano, desire for a love affair combined the reverse for lowered inhibitions. Very simple."

"Only you wound up with arousal and intoxicated enthusiasm," Freya giggled, "Onii-sama, that's such a funny mistake."

"It was, it was," he agreed, laughing ruefully.

"And how fascinating!" Freya suddenly donned a thick pair of glasses and a mortarboard hat, and held up a pointer. "Clearly, accidents are the mother of invention," she lectured, pulling down a chart to illustrate. "As we can see, with two gods, the runes were being transmitted outward and reflected back, like sonar. Ping, ping, ping!"

At that, Gullinbursti in the corner clunked to life and began to grunt along happily.

"Ping!"

"Grunt!"

"Ping!"

"Grunt!"

"Hold it!" Heimdall shouted over the din. "You're not saying that this idiot used runes on teacakes?"

Both of them stopped to stare at him as though he were the idiot.

"Heimdall did not notice them?" Freyr said.

"But they're perfectly obvious," Freya said.

Individually these two were bad enough, but both at once? Heimdall seethed. "Why," he ground out, "would anyone look for runes on a teacake?"

"But does that mean you didn't eat it on purpose?" Freyr said, surprised. "Heimdall doesn't lust after Freyr's body? How odd and perverted that you should not."

"But weren't you already having odd and perverted sex?" Freya said. "Just yesterday, Thor said he and Loki had dropped over for a chat, and that --"

"That bastard kicked in our door!" Heimdall roared. "And just what did he say?"

"Well," Freya said thoughtfully, turning her pointer to Heimdall, "that makes it all the more amusing, you know. If Heimdall would study harder and stop depending on others for high-level rune magic, this wouldn't have happened at all."

"Freyr must agree," he said, nodding sagely. "It is amusing. And Heimdall is slow."

"Yeah. It's a riot," Heimdall said grimly. He mentally scribbled down another addition to his wish list.

How Heimdall would enjoy killing Freyr and Freya.

"Other than that, the theory seems to be sound, and the test subjects have proved that it's effective," Freya mused to herself, now ignoring them both. She slapped a fist to palm. "Yes. Freya will give it a shot." With that, she palmed a teacake and tripped lightly back to the door. "Sooo sorry to have disturbed you. Do carry on!"

"But, but, but . . . Freya-chaaan!" Freyr wailed, scrambling after her.

She turned and neatly hooked him under the chin with a high-kick. "Onii-sama, thank you for being a guinea pig. Perhaps I'll see you again some time," she said cheerfully and slid outside.

Freyr landed on the floor in a daze. "Freya-chan was in Freyr's apartment," he said, marveling. "If that could happen, next time, Freya-chan might even appear in Freyr's --"

Heimdall smacked him hard in the face with the glove before he could finish that thought. "It's my apartment, too, and I don't want you fetching her back."

"What's this?" Freyr said, bristling in offense. "You don't find Freyr's adorable little sister attractive?"

"Not as attractive as you seem to," Heimdall said, adding under his breath, "you freak." He hoisted himself to his feet in a clatter of electronics. "Anyway, this isn't exactly the ideal time for visitors -- haven't you even noticed that neither one of us is wearing any clothes?"

"Freyr's body is perfect in every respect, inspiring awe in all who view it," he said, striking an exhibitionist pose. "Heimdall's body is, is . . . er," he finished lamely, "of great scientific interest?"

Heimdall gloved him again. "Shut up," he said.

"Oof," Freyr said. "Freyr's perfect features may be marred if Heimdall continues to take out his own inadequacies upon him."

"Who are you calling inadequate?" Heimdall snapped. "'Freyr-sensei' was all over me a couple hours ago."

"That," Freyr said with great dignity, "was all Heimdall's fault."

"The teacakes." That reminder sent Heimdall darting for the table. "They're mine."

"No! Freyr's teacakes!" he wailed mournfully, clutching at Heimdall's ankle. "They are meant to spark romantic interest in my lovely Yamato Nadeshiko, not to incite lust in underaged, irritable dwarves!" Gullinbursti immediately began to squeal in sympathy.

"Oh, shut up, both of you." Heimdall massaged his aching, empty eye-socket and sought patience. Sanity was past hoping for, and he still had to live with this particular lunatic. "Fine. I'll make it up to you," he said. "You can have pity sex."

"Really?" And to Heimdall's horror, Freyr instantly looked bright-eyed and bouncing at the prospect.

"Later," Heimdall snapped, evading the grasping arms and planting his foot squarely in Freyr's face. "Right now, I have a headache."

Four cakes left, he thought, examining the box, but that would be more than enough. Freyr had packed each cake in this botched batch with quite a wallop, and, as Freya had pointed out, the effects were spectacular when one went down the gullet of a god.

Loki wouldn't be fooled for an instant by whatever Freya pulled. But that ass Narugami spent half his life raiding the pantry at Loki's home, didn't he? And he'd eat anything, wouldn't he?

Two birds, one teacake. Revenge, Loki, will be sweet.