AN: This fic is posted unedited on AO3.
Loki hated the whole tedious, boring affair. He was only there as a formality. And because Odin had demanded it, which amounted to the same thing in the end.
Their escorts had at least been spared having to endure the tedium of sitting through the discussions. Listening to Odin and Queen Featherwine bicker endlessly, Loki thought he might just die of boredom.
The benefit of Odin and Featherwine bickering endlessly meant no eyes were on Loki. He dared to get up, testing whether his position toward the far end of the table would grant him any cover. When none turned their gaze in his direction, Loki quietly stepped away and slipped out of the large room, ready to make excuses of needing some fresh air in the face of the stuffy, crowded hall.
But no such excuses were necessary. He wasn't followed out, and the guards standing outside paid him no attention at all.
Loki wasn't sure where he was going to go, beyond away from that farce, but he hadn't got far before hearing familiar voices rising from down the hall, carrying some secret pleasure as the sounds echoed down the corridor. Eager for a distraction, Loki followed the source to find Sif and the Warriors Three in a small chamber, huddled around a table with a shared bottle of wine between them. Without announcing himself, Loki muscled his way between Fandral and Hogun, giving both a lazy smile as he settled.
"Done already?" Fandral asked.
"Norns, no," said Loki, reaching for the bottle of wine. "But if I didn't leave soon, I might have died on principle."
There were no cups into which to pour the wine, so he drank straight from the bottle itself. He grimaced at the wine, immediately regretting his choices. Elvish drink was the worst. Thick and sugary, and no more likely to get him drunk than water fresh from the stream.
"That's terrible," he said, putting the bottle back down.
Volstagg laughed. "Why do you think it's still there?" he asked.
With it said out loud, Loki realised he should have suspected something was wrong with it.
"Well. The Elves aren't exactly known for their fine taste," Sif said, rolling her eyes dramatically.
Loki looked around, checking to see if there were any guards lurking nearby who might overhear. "There must be a wine cellar somewhere," he said.
"Are you saying you want more?" Fandral asked.
There were no guards anywhere that Loki could see—either with his eyes, or by casting out—so he stood again. "It's just proper etiquette to offer your guests something they might prefer. Even I stock a few bottles of this fairy piss for any wayward guests."
Volstagg laughed again. "You mean visiting princesses you've defiled."
Loki shrugged. "Same thing."
He glanced back at the rest of them, saying nothing else as he headed back toward the door. One by one, they all got up to follow him, their own boredom and distaste of what they'd been given clearly getting the better of them.
Stopping at the door, Loki held out his hand to signal to the others to stop as well. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, casting out as far as he could through the unfamiliar palace. He tried to trace corridors and secret paths in his mind, getting lost once or twice along his journey. Behind him, the others all stood in silence, though he could still feel the discomfort rolling off of Sif and Volstagg as they watched him.
"Ah!" Loki said, finally finding the correct path. "Right this way."
He threw a sharp grin to Sif as he slipped back out to the corridor, taking an immediate left.
Together, the five of them made a conspicuous sight, but they walked as though they knew where they were going, which was often enough to dissuade unwanted attention.
"We might find something we like, but do you truly think this lot would have even half the selection you have, Loki?" Fandral asked, walking a little too close to him.
"Asgardian mead isn't completely useless," Loki said. "It just takes two or three bottles to stop being useless."
Occasionally, Loki did wish he didn't so easily outpace his friends when it came to drink and revelry. Just once, he thought, it would be nice to lose himself at the same rate as everyone else, without having to twice as much as anyone in the room to get there. But even the strongest Asgardian spirits were just short of useless, and inevitably he'd have to excuse himself to deal with the headache and sour stomach that came before any feeling of drunkenness.
He led them straight to the wine cellar, and found the door unlocked and unguarded. Behind the door, they found a store that rivalled even Odin's back on Asgard, with rows and rows of shelves, holding bottles of every colour. Immediately, the five of them fanned out, each finding their own section to explore. As Loki had expected, he found much from Álfheimr and Asgard, as well as wines and spirits from Vahaneimr and even Svartálfheimr. Curious, he grabbed one of the Svartálfar bottles and kept searching, while behind him the others crowed and cheered precious finds of their own.
Along a far wall, dusty and forgotten, Loki did find a few treasures of his own. A few bottles of Jötunn mistletoe wine lay forgotten on the shelf, along with mead and brandy. He snatched up a bottle of the wine, hoping it hadn't turned to vinegar, and began to make his way back to the group.
"What have you got there?" Volstagg asked as Loki approached. He reached out for the bottle of Jötunn wine and squinted at it.
"It would destroy you," Loki said, letting him look all the same.
"How you haven't woken up dead yet is beyond me," Volstagg said, relinquishing the bottle back to him.
"Oh, believe me. I wonder the same every day," Loki said. "Though perhaps not quite for the same reason."
Volstagg laughed uncomfortably at his terrible joke, while Fandral laughed openly. "Surely you haven't made an enemy of everyone on Asgard yet," he said.
"Oh, no," said Loki, making a show of counting heads within the room. "I have at least two allies left."
Neither Volstagg or Sif seemed to know what to do with that, but even Hogun let a quiet chuckle slip through. Loki threw a sly smirk in his direction before turning back to the door, ready to lead the way back out before they got caught. He pulled the cork from his Jötunn wine as they walked, slowing only to take a quick swig. It was tart and sharp, the flavours strong enough to almost completely mask the bitter sting of alcohol beneath.
"Yes. Much better," he said, re-corking it so it might better survive the journey.
They made it as far as the first corner before voices that weren't theirs began to echo down the corridor. A few moments later, a pair of guards rounded another corner ahead of them, both stopping in their tracks.
"You! Hold it!" one of them shouted.
Loki looked back at the others, finding them all immediately on the same page. Without a word between them, they broke off separately and ran. After a few paces, Loki noticed Fandral following close behind him, easily matching his pace as he ran. While part of him knew he'd stand better odds if they split up, Loki grabbed him by the wrist as he turned a sharp corner, making sure Fandral came with him. Rather than continuing, Loki threw open the first door they came upon, pulling Fandral in with him and shutting the door behind them. It had been a misjudgement, as there was nowhere else to go. Loki had not led them to a chamber with plenty of places to hide, but a small cupboard, filled with drying vegetables and jars of jams and preserves.
The space was barely large enough for a single elf. Alone, Loki might have almost fit comfortably. With Fandral pressed against him, just as tall and nearly twice as broad, Loki could barely breathe.
"You reek," Loki complained, trying to find an angle at which to breathe where he wouldn't be suffocated by either Asgardian hygiene standards, or onions that may not have been stored soon enough.
"Better than that bear grease you put in your hair," Fandral said.
"It's John Paul Mitchell, you heathen. Shut up," Loki said.
He managed to bring his hand up to his hair, running his fingers through it subconsciously. He'd regretted the undercut almost immediately, but had spent too much time and money having it done to want to get rid of it so soon.
Outside, he could hear the clattering of armoured elvish footsteps rush by, not even pausing as they rushed past. Crisis averted, Loki still lingered to make sure nobody else would be following. He leaned closer to the door—and to Fandral—to better listen, but still heard nothing.
"We might have got away with it," Loki said, juggling both his bottles of wine to find the one he'd already opened.
Storing the other away for later, he pulled the cork again and took and took a large swig of the tart wine, shifting himself awkwardly to move against Fandral. Were there a bench or table behind him, Loki would have sat, holding his knees to Fandral's side, but all that stood behind him was a tall, crowded shelf. In the tight space, he could barely find a way to arrange himself that didn't put their faces right against one another. With nothing left to do, he drank more wine.
"Maybe if I do that a few more times, it'll kill my sense of smell," he said.
"Has no one ever taught you manners?" Fandral asked, crowding into Loki's space even more.
"Not for lack of trying," Loki said, shifting to try to make a bit more room between them.
He took another swig of his wine, taking up as much space within the cupboard as he could manage. As he recorked the bottle, Loki leaned back toward the door again, listening for any other sounds.
"Do you think they've gone?" Fandral asked.
"Oh, I know they're gone," said Loki. "It's not the guards I'm concerned about."
He squirrelled this bottle away as well, freeing up both his hands.
"Then who?" asked Fandral.
"Anyone who might be utterly scandalised to find a Prince of Asgard in a compromising position with a member of his own security detail," Loki said, pressing his hip against the front of Fandral's breeches.
He looked at him, barely able to make out Fandral's features in the dark, despite the close contact. But he didn't need to see. Fandral moved against him in a way that was utterly without pretext, pressing himself against Loki's hip in turn. Hoping to surprise him in the dark, Loki tried to lean in to kiss him. But his ridiculous new haircut must have given him away, because Fandral leaned back sharply, denying contact before it was even made.
"You are the worst," Loki complained, shifting to make room to reach his hand between the two of them.
For a long moment, the two stood against one another, breathing heavily against damp skin. When Fandral finally backed away as much as the tiny space would allow, Loki glanced around in the dark, hoping something might present itself so he could clean up. When nothing did, he sighed and pulled his tunic back down, tucking it back into his breeches. The next item on his agenda was a bath, and a clean change of clothes.
"One of these days, I am going to get my way, and you won't be horrible about it," Loki said, still looking around the small space.
"It was your idea to come in here," Fandral said, putting himself back together as well.
"I didn't know it was a cupboard full of..." he turned around to see what he'd been knocking around. "Is this salmon roe?"
Frowning to himself, he snatched up a jar from the shelf.
"You have the gall to tell me I reek, and then you pick that stuff up," Fandral said.
"It doesn't impose arbitrary rules," Loki said, hiding it away along with his wine.
He leaned over and opened the door just a crack to see outside. Finding the coast clear, he stepped back out into the corridor, taking the time to right himself just a bit more in the light. As Fandral stepped out, Loki looked over at him, finding him just as ruffled.
"Tie yourself up," Loki said, pointing.
Fandral looked down at his breeches, the laces tightened but not tied. He quickly put them as they belonged, tucking them into the leather once he was done.
"Where the Norns are we?" Fandral asked, looking around.
Loki looked around as well. "Dunno. But I should probably get back," he said. "Care to join me in my chambers instead?"
While he waited for Fandral to decide, Loki cast about to find his way back to where they belonged. It was a quick path, and one he could easily take a short cut to.
"And do what?" asked Fandral.
Loki shrugged. "I was going to take a bath, but I could probably stand to get a little more dirty before I do."
Fandral looked around, throwing cautious glances all around them. "If it would please his Royal Highness and shut him up for a change," he said, not sounding quite as put off about the idea as he pretended.
"I think it would," Loki said.