This chapter was inspired by the song, "Kiss Me" by Ed Sheeran. Also "Take Your Time" by Sam Hunt.


Chapter Eleven: Eschew

Loki couldn't believe it. He would have laughed at the absurdity, if it wasn't a nuisance for him. While Jane was watching the stars, she decided to lie down to see them better. He took his eyes off her for all of two seconds and soon heard the sound of snoring. The mortal fell asleep. He sighed. Sleeping on the ground would not be comfortable. He'd have to carry her in. Why did she have to fall asleep right now? Watching the stars was supposed to make her open up more, but she barely talked and only said a few things, nothing personal. This was another failure. He turned towards her, intending to pick her up when he stopped. Her face, usually scrunched up in anger or in a scowl when scolding him, was lax. Her mouth was slightly parted in a snore. She looked… peaceful. He tilted his head, watching her and decided he could let her rest a few more minutes.

/


/

Something about this didn't feel right. After Fandral took Sif out to the balcony, he then led her to the banquet hall where they were now sitting atop one of the tables, having a meal. So far the fake date was going well and nothing was odd about it. It wasn't as if she and Fandral were on a real one. The idea made her chuckle. Her and Fandral.

"What is it?" he asked, smiling.

She returned his smile, raising her eyebrows. "Nothing. Just thought of a joke."

"Tell me."

"You and I," she grinned, looking at him, waiting to hear him laugh at it as well. Her smile fell. He wasn't laughing. His face was somber, no hint of the mirth that was there a second ago. "What is the matter?"

His mouth opened and then closed as he shook his head. A smile appeared a moment after and he said, "Nothing."

The off feeling started nagging at her. "You don't agree?"

The smile was there, but it was forced, Sif could tell. "It's not that," he started. "Just what would be so terrible about being with me?"

Sif felt her lip pull upward into a smirk. "Fandral the Dashing? Yes, because everyone wants to be with someone who can't keep a relationship longer than a night." She was chuckling again. "You don't take these things seriously."

"Who's to say I wouldn't?" His face was serious now.

"Fandral, what do you care?" She looked at him in concern.

His face slowly became more cheerful, not as forced this time. "You're right. It's nothing." Then he glanced down before looking back at her and asking, "So, you find me dashing?"

Her eyes widened. "What?"

"I never heard you refer to me as that before."

"That's what everyone calls you," she insisted. "I was using it as an example."

He grinned. "Yes, a fine example. I am dashing, aren't I?"

"It's nice to see your pride wasn't too damaged."

He smiled softly here for no reason Sif could fathom and said, "You damage me every day."

Sif stared blankly at him. Then she eyed his goblet. "How much mead have you had?"

Fandral laughed, eyeing his cup as well. "Too much, it seems." He started shuffling towards her, extending his holder to her. "Thank you for the lovely evening, Milady. Now if I may escort you to your room."

Sif rolled her eyes. "There's no reason to enact this part as well."

"Where is your sense of romance?"

"Out the door," Then she added, "Like the chances of this curse being lifted."

Fandral shook his head, smiling at her. "Stubborn, little teapot."

"Conceited candleholder." She smirked.

"I'll have you know, I'm a candlestick."

"Is there a difference?"

He pursed his lips. "No."

"Just walk me to my room," Sif sighed.

Fandral held out his holder. "After you, Milady."

Sif started down the chair and then onto the floor, Fandral close behind. As they walked down the halls, she wondered why he reacted strangely to her joke. They were friends, so what was it between friends to make jokes like that? Surely, he felt nothing beyond the bond of friendship. Sif found this thought funny as before. Fandral the Dashing could never love one woman, certainly not her. She glanced sideways at him, and caught his gaze. He held it, surprising her. "What is it?" she finally asked after a beat.

"Your eyes," he answered, never taking his gaze from hers. "They're beautiful." He smiled in a friendly way, and then turned his attention ahead of him.

Sif stared at him, struck speechless. She blinked and shook the moment away. Fandral the Dashing would never love one woman, especially not her. She smirked then. "Fandral, please, I've heard all of your lines."

"Have you?"

"Am I not always there with the others when you charm the barmaids?"

"Fair enough, but you have not heard all my lines."

"I've heard a millennium of them."

"Is this a challenge?"

"What?" Sif stopped, prompting Fandral to stop as well, and the two turned towards each other.

"I, Fandral, hereby accept-"

"Wait, wait-"

"-the challenge issued by you, Sif-"

"I did not challenge you-"

"-to tell you lines you never heard me use before," he finished, grinning wickedly at her.

Sif laughed in disbelief. "What?"

Fandral shrugged. "I thought I was straightforward. You said you heard every one of my lines. I accept your challenge. You will hear lines you never knew existed."

"I doubt it." Then with a lopsided smile, she said, "Alright. Tell me."

Fandral shook his head. "Not now, Milady. One does not simply reveal all his tricks in one evening. There is finesse involved."

Sif rolled her eyes, starting to shuffle forward again with Fandral following suit. "You can't wow me."

Fandral smirked. "Challenge accepted."

/


/

Jane sat at one end of the table as he sat at the other. Tonight she wasn't wearing one of her dresses, but instead was in her Midgardian garb, the flannel shirt and jeans. It was the evening after they watched the skies together, and Loki couldn't shake the image from his mind of her in a state of wonder, staring up at them. So much so that he half envisioned the stars above them, but it must have been his imagination because she didn't notice them. Stars lit her eyes, lighting her features in a dim glow. She was pretty, even in her unflattering garments. For a mortal.

"Thank you," Jane said then, startling him from his thoughts. "For last night," she continued, "The stars are beautiful here."

Loki opened his mouth to respond, but fell silent upon realizing she was closer now. Before she sat at the end of the table, but now she stood next to him. When did she move? He blinked, trying to figure out how he could have been so unfocused, until all thought vanished from his mind and he forgot how to breathe. Jane's face was inches from his own, her brown eyes bright with stars. This close, he noticed flecks of gold, he never saw before. He felt her breath on his lips.

Loki's eyes snapped open, his mouth opening in a silent gasp. His body felt feverishly cold, sweat beginning to perspire on his skin. He should have known. A dream. A very realistic dream. He cut off a laugh though his nose. Realistic. As if Jane Foster would ever be so forward. As if she would want to be that forward. Though startling to realize he had a dream about the mortal, he couldn't complain. Ever since she arrived, he stopped having those horrible nightmares from him.

Where was he anyway? This didn't feel like his bed. And he didn't remember having something next to him. He was suddenly acutely aware of a body curling into his side. He slowly turned his head, seeing Jane Foster, who was all, but pressing against him, her hand fisted in the fabric of his shirt as her head leaned against his chest. The mortal was a cuddler. Good or bad, Loki wasn't sure. All he knew was that he was closer to her than ever before, but not in the sense of lifting the curse. How'd they end up like this? He remembered watching the stars and then she fell asleep. He was only watching her a moment – how did he allow himself to fall asleep as well? No matter that. How did they wind up so close? Jane must have been cold during the night and instinctively grabbed the nearest warmth, ironically him. If she knew who she was curled up against, she'd have screamed and run in fear. In sleep, she looked so peaceful. So blissfully unaware of the monster she slumbered next to. The monster she clung to for warmth. He decided that as she slept, he would let her lean against him. Her warmth wasn't unpleasant and he'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy it in the barest sense. It had been a long time since he was in the company of a woman. His eyes roamed her face, noting the curve of her chin and her forehead, and how the latter pressed fully into his chest. She was pretty, he decided, for the third or fourth time. In her own way.

Then, as his senses were coming back to him, he realized his hand was clutching something. He looked down, finding Jane's other hand balled near her stomach, where his hand rested over her knuckles. As he stared at the white against blue, his eyes widened. Loki pulled away from her as quick as he could without waking her and stared from her to his hand in uncontained horror. Then his eyes fell on the pale, white hand his brushed against and one thought kept racing through his mind.

How am I not hurting you in this form?

/


/

Jane's back ached horribly. How did she end up falling asleep on the ground? She stared up at sky. Right. Stargazing. With Loki. She glanced from the corner of her eye to find him sitting farther away than he was last night by several inches, his gaze focused on a rock near his feet. "Loki?" she said, sitting up.

Tossing his head in her direction, he nodded. "Jane."

She frowned. This seemed different somehow. The atmosphere shifted considerably and she didn't know why.

/


/

Loki strode next to Jane in silence as he escorted her back to the palace. He hadn't spoken much since she awoke. He was quieter, not trying at conversation as often as he used to. He seemed to want to be anywhere, but near her at the moment and though the thought should have alighted her, she couldn't help feeling jaded. After all this time, trying to get her attention, suddenly he doesn't want it anymore? Had he realized how foolish this all was? As the two crossed into the palace, Jane wondered if he wasn't playing hard to get. If all this wasn't a part of his plan.

Something knocked into her side, throwing her against the ground and before she knew it, she was staring up into wide, red eyes. Too stunned to speak, it took her several, long moments to realize Loki slipped and fell on top of her and now here they were, lying awkwardly on the ground. He muttered apologizes as he hastened to lift himself up.

"I see the date went well," Fandral's voice boomed across the room, half-halting Loki's movements. The candlestick raised an eyebrow as he drew closer. "A little too well?"

Loki all, but leapt to his feet as he bit out, "That was not what it looked like."

Fandral only wolfishly grinned. "I know what I saw and eyes do not lie."

Loki gave him a stern glare, taking his eyes from Jane for a second and she took the moment to slip away in the direction of her room.

Jane paused in the hallway, hesitantly. She turned back. Loki was watching her.

She stood there awkwardly for a beat or two, clutching her fists and looking around, deciding whether or not to speak. Finally, she looked up and caught his eyes as she said, "Thank you." She pivoted and hurried down the hall without looking back.

/


/

Loki stared into the hall long after she turned the corner to her chamber.

Fandral hopped next to him. "Well, well, well! Look at you! You must have really wowed her to have her speaking to you and to thank you." His grin widened. "And she couldn't keep her hands off you."

"I slipped," he corrected, curtly. Before the candlestick could reply, he swiftly stepped from the room and went straight to his. "Fandral, come here," he called over his shoulder.

Fandral followed Loki, curious to the prince's sudden haste. Perhaps there was something worth telling him about the date. With new hope, he hopped faster after him until they reached the prince's room, where inside Loki immediately shut the door behind him and all, but fell down into a nearby chair, pushed against his shelf of books. Fandral looked at him in concern, but didn't dare speak a word. He waited to hear what the prince had to say. He prayed to the Norns the date went well and he had only good tidings.

Loki mumbled something.

"What was that?" Fandral asked, leaning towards him.

"I touched her hand…" Loki muttered, barely audible.

He wasn't looking at Fandral. His stare was distant, not there, and he leaned into his hand, draping his finger across his lip. Even in his frost giant visage, red eyes, blue skin, deep markings, he had all the mannerisms of the Loki Fandral knew and though disconcerting to see him this way, it didn't feel unnatural or wrong to the candlestick. To him, he was standing in the second prince's room, conversing with an old friend. Who was apparently a prude. "Well, you certainly had an eventful evening."

Loki snapped his gaze on the candlestick, his eyes hardening. He dropped his hand, gripping the armrest, claws digging into the upholstery. "You don't understand," he bit out, through gritted, black fangs. Fandral would admit those were unnatural. "I shouldn't be able to touch her."

It took all of two seconds for Fandral to understand and when he did, his eyes widened in shock. "By Odin's beard," he gasped. "What does this mean?"

"How am I to know?" Loki barked. His neutral expression fell, becoming ever more distraught, his eyes glazing and his mouth parted in wordless expression. "I- I've never been in… in this form before." His voice got quiet and he swallowed, his gaze dropping to his feet.

Loki stood from his chair, beginning to pace, his hands clasped firmly behind his back. Fandral recognized this as a form of his restlessness, a habit from youth. At least a few things never changed, he mused, watching the prince. "You have picked me up before," he reminded him. "Could it be the curse, affecting you and those around?"

Without pausing in his pace, Loki shook his head. "No, that doesn't count. You are an object – my frost touch rightly shouldn't affect you." He halted; his back to Fandral. "Unless… it does," he said slowly.

Fandral couldn't see his expression, but by how his voice became quiet, he wondered if Loki wasn't paling at the moment. Another habit remembered from youth. It seemed Fandral was doing a lot of remembering lately.

"Norns," Loki cursed under his breath, though Fandral still heard. "I know nothing about..." He suddenly turned on his heel, facing the candlestick, looking at him determinedly. "That doesn't explain why when I touched Jane, nothing happened. What is the meaning of this?"

Fandral smirked, eyeing the prince. "Perhaps the maiden is special."

Loki didn't respond. He only stared, his red eyes becoming duller, more distant. He looked lost. Like a child.

Fandral frowned. There was something really wrong with him.

Loki startled as if realizing Fandral was there for the first time. Then his eyes focused, becoming sharper, more intense as he glared at the candlestick. He took a step towards him, growling, "What sympathy of yours, a washed-up, overused man of the night, is good to me? I need not your pity, you sniveling, rusted piece of lighting. Leave my chambers at once." The last was a demand.

Fandral hurried to the door, but, finding it shut, had to wait in a moment's awkward silence for Loki to open it and then he hurried out, hearing Loki slam it shut. He stood alone in the hallway, thinking over the conversation he had with the second prince. He held up his holders, examining the candles where hands used to be. Distinctly, almost defiantly, an image of a young boy with black hair, holding his hand out to him as he leaned against a lower edge of a cliff came to mind. He couldn't remember who pulled who up, or if they both ended up tumbling down, but what he did remember was that they were friends no matter the outcome, no matter the hardship. He racked his brain, trying to pull forth more recent memories of the black haired boy to no avail. Somewhere along the way, they drifted, stepping onto separate paths. When did that happen?

Glancing at the door, tracing the etchings along the side, the candlestick was determined to amend a lost friendship.


/

For all those people who thought the song at the beginning was foreshadowing a kiss - you were dead wrong. I just like that song.