Day Three
In the morning, Loki knocks on Thor's door.
Thor doesn't think he can stand seeing Loki again knowing that his brother is just going to leave his home and family forever. He takes an extra long time to get ready, just so he has an excuse not to answer.
His friends made plans with him tonight—plans he accepted after storming out of Loki's room the night before, because he needs something to keep him occupied, something to move past his anger and accept the fact that his little brother wants to leave him.
Eventually, the knocking stops, and Thor actually focuses on brushing his teeth. Just to be sure, he makes his bed and tidies his room (sloppily, as he rarely does so), and finally, finally he goes to his door, expecting Loki to be well downstairs and eating breakfast.
Instead, he finds Loki sitting on the floor of the hallway. "Morning," Loki murmurs.
Thor's fists clench, though he holds his temper.
After a moment, he catches site of the shadows and redness circling Loki's eyes—he has cried recently.
Suddenly it's hard to figure out how to handle this, because his previous rage insists that he stomp downstairs and ignore his brother, but at the same time, the tears prove that Loki does care, at least a little—and he can't in good conscious ignore him now.
"I made pancakes," Loki says, and pushes himself to his feet. "They're downstairs. And I cleared my schedule for the rest of the week."
It's not enough. "You're still going to leave," Thor says and turns to go down the hallway.
Loki's eyes track him, but he doesn't move. "Not if you win the game," he says quietly.
Thor stops.
"I . . . told you there isn't much for me here." An unusually harsh exhale cuts through Loki's words. "It was the truth. You know as well as I do that things would go more smoothly with the family if I left. Father could pretend I'm normal and successful when I'm far away, and Mother . . ." Loki stops again, and back turned, Thor can still hear the anguish in his voice. "Well, she wouldn't fight with him so much."
Frowning, Thor turns to face his little brother and shakes his head. "That's not your fault."
"I know . . . but it burdens me to be here. Constantly expected to be a certain way yet overlooked. Borrowing your friends. I want to go to a place where people don't know me. Or you." Loki draws in a small breath. "But if I did stay," he says in a voice so soft that Thor strains to hear, "I'd stay for you."
Heart in his throat, Thor fumbles with his belt loops. "I made plans with Sif and them tonight."
He regrets those plans now, because all at once, he remembers how little time he and his brother have together. At the same time, he doesn't want to change his mind with such short notice and cancel on them either.
"That's fine," Loki says.
The following silence reveals exactly what they're not talking about.
Neither of them mention what dark secret Loki discovered the night before. It's too fragile a subject for the wreck that their friendship is now. Loki stares directly into Thor's eyes, as if expecting him to say something about the feelings he confessed—but Thor doesn't know what to say.
The silence grows awkward with the gaping hole, until Loki finally speaks. "Well, do you want me to join you tonight then?"
Thor pounces on the subject presenting an escape, and then stunned, he double checks his brother's sincerity. "You want to come with me to see them?"
Smiling, Loki shrugs. "Not particularly interested in seeing them, but yes, I want to come with you. Who knows? I might even behave."
Thor affectionately bumps his fist to his brother's chest. "You better."
And Loki's smile widens.
It feels good, almost as though Loki is considering staying. Deep down in his heart, Thor remembers that first night—when that gleam appeared in Loki's eye—and Thor fears he will not win the game. Even so, the game is a distraction. If he can show Loki he can be just as happy here as anywhere else, maybe Loki will decide to stay anyway.
"If I did stay, I'd stay for you."
Much more spirited, Thor leads the way downstairs and to the pancakes.
That night, Loki does behave. Too well.
Loki doesn't latch on to the sensitive subjects carelessly mentioned as he usually does. He remains bright and talkative and social, even going as far to drink a couple shots of beer, which is rare enough to note.
At some point, he even leaves Thor's side to follow Fandral into the kitchen.
For a few minutes, it eases Thor's mind to see him enjoying himself, and he drinks to encourage his good spirits. Then, Loki does not return from the kitchen, and a strange emotion starts to swirl in Thor's gut.
"Did you tell him?" Sif asks while Hogun and Volstagg play a video game.
"He guessed," Thor says. His eyes focus on the bright light beyond the door.
There's no noise, other than the unintelligible sound of a conversation, but Thor still feels slighted somehow. He came here to have fun with Loki, not for Loki to abandon him with Fandral.
"And?" Sif asks.
"I'm not sure."
He honestly doesn't know how his brother reacted to the news. It's no secret his brother takes interest in men, but incest is an entirely different subject. And—Fandral admitted years ago he was gay.
The thought sends the swirling feeling into a turmoil of rage. "What are they doing in there?" he blurts.
"Just talking probably." Sif smirks. "It seems Loki wasn't offended about the incestuous aspect."
Irrationally, Thor wants to wipe the smirk off her face with how similarly it matches Loki's, but Sif is just trying to help—he thinks. "How do you know that he wasn't offended?" he says.
"Because of how he's acting right now. It's clear he wants you jealous."
"Yeah? Well, it's working." Irritated, Thor bounces to his feet and stalks over to the kitchen where he throws open the door.
Inside, Fandral and Loki innocent sit on the counter while Loki fumbles with his phone. Their feet are bare and touching, and Fandral's chin lies too snugly on Loki's shoulder. More importantly, they're not kissing.
Momentarily stunned at failing to capture them in anything more than a conversation, Thor pauses at the entrance.
"Oh, Thor!" Loki says. "You're just in time."
Thor growls a low warning. "In time for what?"
"We were about to take a selfie," says Fandral.
And Loki giggles.
Loki.
Giggles.
"Come here, Thor," Loki says, "come join us. Try not to smash anything."
Adrenaline pumping, Thor crosses the entire room in exactly three strides and glares straight into the camera.
"Smiiiile," Loki says and his camera audibly snaps the picture. "Oh, Thor, that is the ugliest face I've ever seen you make. Why don't you take a few more lessons from your dashing friend?"
Fandral laughs. "I'm not sure I'd even want to try."
"Loki," Thor says lowly. His blood thrums to his heartbeat.
"Let's see." Another giggle. "Tipsy. Give me a synonym for tipsy."
Thor says nothing, even as Fandral surveys them both in confusion.
"Are you stumped? Does this mean I win?" Loki asks.
"Intoxicated," Thor spits. He's going to win. Right now. "Carnage."
"What is this?" Fandral asks.
They both ignore him.
"Ahaha, bloodshed. Violent much, Brother?" Loki giggles again and leans close enough to Fandral that their cheeks touch. "Jealousy."
Thor grabs Loki by the scruff of his collar. "Envy! We're going home."
As he drags his brother to the door, he sees more shots of beers scattered across the counter top and realizes Loki is much more drunk than he realized. Loki laughs wildly and waves to all of their friends, who look on with wide eyes, knowing better than to come between Thor and his rage.
"Thooor, you can't drive, you're drunk," Loki whines as Thor all but tosses him into the backseat of the car.
"I'm buzzed. You're drunk. And we're not driving. We're sitting here until I'm sober."
"In the car? So boring!"
"Shut up." Thor tears out his phone and to catch up on his text messages and status updates to keep himself busy, though it turns out to be more of a distraction from the lust narrowing in on the warm body pressed up against him. "Stop fidgeting," Thor snaps, and Loki stills.
It's utter quiet for one blessed moment, until Loki twitches again, his hand settling comfortably by Thor's leg. It stills before Thor has a chance to shout again, but a few minutes later, the hand inches closer to Thor's inner thigh.
Thor pushes the hand away. "Stop it," he growls.
Loki snorts. "Stop what? I'm just getting comfortable."
Another few minutes, and Loki's hand moves again, this time with much more certainty, as he plants it directly on Thor's crotch.
Jumping, Thor shoves Loki's hand away. "What are you—"
Loki presses hot lips to his before he can even finish the sentence, and all of the rage and jealousy coiled up in Thor's stomach releases in pure and unhindered want. He wraps arms around Loki's shoulders and presses their heads tightly together. The parking lot of the apartment complex is empty at this time of night, but it could be rush hour on a Monday and Thor wouldn't care.
"Mmm, Thor, fuck me—"
"Right here?"
"No, let's go outside first. Yes, you idiot."
Loki presses his chest to Thor's, and their hearts beat in unison through the fabric of their clothes. While Loki unbuttons his shirt, Thor mindlessly lowers his arms to give his brother room and grips the tight set of Loki's jeans. Panting heavily, Loki pulls off his shirt, and Thor sucks on Loki's collarbone, hardly believing his fantasy real.
"Please—Thor, ahhhh—I want you,"Loki moans breathlessly. His hands fumble with the buttons of Thor's jeans. "Hurry."
Thor helps him with his jeans, never once ending the contact between his lips and Loki's salty, pale skin, and once the pants lay in a heap on the car floor, he works on freeing his brother's pulsing erection.
"Ahhhh," Loki moans as it comes free.
Thor's own hardens at the sound. Loki's shirt comes straight off, and Thor presses him straight into the backseat cushion of the car. He wants to give Loki the next word—his brother is drunk and incoherently lusting. He could win. He could win right now, at the same time as Thor comes down on Loki—shared breath and sweat mingling.
Loki's trembling hips buck directly against Thor's.
Only then does Thor actually think about what they're doing.
"Loki, you're drunk," he says, and pulls so reluctantly away.
It doesn't help that Loki shakes his head, moaning full-heartedly, and uses his hands to grind their hips together. The car steams up with the heat and sweat their bodies release, and oh—he wants this so bad.
"Loki, I'm serious," he says through clenched teeth. "I can't do this."
"Thor, pleeease, I swear—I'm completely consenting."
The odd formation of the words from Loki's lips just proves Thor's point. "Get up. Get your pants on."
"Thoooor," Loki whines.
Thor shoves clothes at Loki and starts on his own, when he catches sight of someone making their way out to the parking lot.
Breath stuttering in his chest, he recognizes the man as one of Fandral's neighbors. "Fuck, get dressed," Thor says, and yanks a pair of jeans up his legs. The zipper doesn't close all the way, but there's no time to wait.
Loki sees the neighbor as well, and sobers enough to yank on the clothes. They scramble to the front seat, and Thor starts the engine and flips on the headlights so the glare will conceal his bare chest. He drives slowly at first, to make sure any effects of the small amount of alcohol have worn off, and then starts driving home.
Loki giggles in the passenger's seat halfway there.
"What?" Thor says. Then he notices the clothes Loki wears are far too baggy.
"You're wearing my pants," Loki says as if it's the funniest thing in the world.
Thor smiles. It's been an age. "Explains the zipper," he says, and Loki bursts into more peals of laughter. He buries the lust in his body with the relief that he still knows how his brother smiles.
When he gets home and ensures Loki is safely tucked into bed with a cool glass of water on his nightstand, Thor feels an abundance of guilt more sobering than the neighbor nearly spotting them in the parking lot.
He nearly fucked his brother.
His drunk brother.
And possibly ruined any chance of convincing Loki to stay.