Written for Day One of Sifki Week 2021 prompt: Thunder
Sif picks up her pace, turning abruptly from her path towards the training rings and heading towards the west edge of the palace as the sudden onset of rain transitions from a drizzle to an absolute downpour.
She shakes her head, eyes sweeping upwards to glare at what was just moments ago a warm, clear summer afternoon but now is an angry storm with dark clouds roiling above her. The rain turns cold and she feels the uncomfortable sensation of her drenched clothing molding against her skin, her hair sticking to her face.
She swears under her breath and veers off the golden trail to march past a beautifully manicured rose bush and into Frigga's garden. A flash of white hot lightning splits the sky and she spots him just as a subsequent boom of thunder reverberates around her, angry and deafening.
"What did you do?" she shouts over the rumble and ducks into the arched recess tucked into the wall that stretches the length of the garden.
Loki, leaning against the far wall of the alcove, dispassionately inspects the sleeve of his tunic and brushes a spec of nonexistent dust off without meeting her gaze. He is conspicuously dry.
"I don't know why you always assume I am involved in his tantrums."
She raises an eyebrow and waits for him to look up at her. "Because you always are involved."
He pushes away from the wall and steps towards her in the small space. The younger prince's face is perfectly innocent as he surveys another fork of bright lightning tear across the sky. "Perhaps, my lady, I like to see you lit up like a star," he leans closer, his lips finding her ear as another peal of thunder vibrates in her chest. "One that I would follow anywhere."
"Perhaps you like to provoke your brother," she looks down at herself, her soaked clothing dripping steadily onto the stone floor, "and to see me look like a drowned rat." Loki follows her gaze and looks with distaste as a splatter of water lands on his boots. "You're hiding."
"Not very well if you found me so easily."
"I'll ask again. What did you do?"
He shrugs nonchalantly but the smirk that pulls the corner of his mouth upwards is hard to miss.
"Thor may have found that each hair on his body was mysteriously turned a lovely shade of green after drinking a rather palatable bottle of mead that was left at his door from an anonymous admirer this morning."
"Loki," she chastises.
"Oh, fear not. I'll return all back to order," he pauses, considering the drenched plants of the square. "In an hour or two. Mother's garden was looking a little parched with the summer heat."
"Ah," she rolls her eyes. "So your trick was out of selflessness."
"Naturally," he turns his gaze back to her, one of his hands coming up to rest on her hip. "Don't you usually find me generous?"
Sif lifts her hands to his chest and raises herself up onto her toes at his salacious implications. When he leans forward, she shoves him backwards, pushing him out from the safety of the alcove and under the silver forked sky. She laughs at the shock on his face, another roll of thunder joining her. Loki appears less amused, glaring down at his rain darkened clothing, rivets of water running down his face.
He steps back under the cover of the arched space and flips his wet hair out of his face. "I'm not sure such cruelty was warranted." With a lift of his shoulder and roll of his neck, green magic flashes from his crown to his toes, evaporating the water from himself and leaving him perfectly dry once more. The casual show of power flips her stomach pleasantly.
"Won't you share your talent with me?" She steps closer and places her hands on his chest once more, this time bunching his shirt in her grip and pulling him closer. Her lips brush his, her voice barely audible above the sound of the heavy rain. "Would you leave me cold?"
"Hmmm. I could dry your clothing," he looks down at her with a desiring gaze and his hands find her hips once more, long fingers sliding beneath her still-wet tunic. The goosebumps that rise to her skin are not solely from the cold rain. "But I'd much rather peel each garment from your body."
She kisses him then, his lips hungrily meeting hers. There's a part of her that knows she is rewarding him for his poor behavior, but when he kisses her like this - deep and unyielding with his hands sliding against her skin and crowding into her until her back is against the golden wall - she cares not. She slides one hand into his hair and slips her tongue against his, drinking in his soft moan.
A white-hot bolt of lightning strikes a nearby apple tree, the concurrent thunder so forceful Loki stumbles back and Sif covers her ears with both hands against the boom. They both stare out at the damage for a moment, mouths open in surprised silence, until Sif starts to laugh.
"Come on, trickster," she takes him by the hand. "Hurry and rid me of these sodden clothes, warm me." She steps back out into the rain and moves towards the royal wing of the palace, towards Loki's bed. "And then Set things right with your brother."
He grins and follows after her, his laugh lost in the next roll of thunder.