xxi. first impressions
"Does he ever talk?"
The girl's name is Sif. The three boys are Hogun (the oldest), Fandral, and Volstagg (the youngest).
Thor glances back to see if his brother has something wrong, but Loki is still in his wagon, doing something with a bunch of flowers and grass blades that he has plucked from the ground. From where they sit in the sandbox, he can hear the boy humming. Loki hasn't said a word since they came out, which is strange. He is very talkative at home. "I don't know," Thor says slowly. "He talks a lot more at home."
Sif casts him a dubious look.
"Hey, Loki!" Thor calls, waving to him. When he has his brother's attention, he asks for the third time, "Do you want to play with us?"
Loki stares at him for a moment, then shakes his head and ducks back down to his flowers.
Thor turns back to his new friends with a helpless shrug. He sees Sif's eyes linger on Loki for a few more seconds, before she moves on, too. "Who wants to build a sandcastle?"
. . .
xxii. later
"Why didn't you play with us?" Thor tries not to sound too disappointed as he pulls Loki back to their own side of the fence.
"I don't like the sun," Loki answers, sticking his tongue out. He pushes himself up to his knees in the wagon. Wobbles, nearly falls - then hands Thor one of the flowers he plucked. It's a daisy and it has two missing petals, but Thor thinks it's wonderful. "It feels like it's burning off my skin and it hurts."
Thor rolls his eyes at the exaggeration. He stops the wagon by the balcony steps, and Loki stretches his arms out for Thor. Making sure not the crush the daisy, Thor picks him up under the armpits, ignoring the exclamation of "Tho-or, that tickles!" and carrying him back inside.
. . .
xxiii. winter
The first time Loki falls ill, Thor thinks he is dying. He is eleven and Loki is seven.
His brother is a small, frail figure in bed, nearly as pale as the white sheets and pillows that threaten to drown him. His eyes are half-lidded, his nose is slightly red, and his hair seems to have lost its usual shine.
Thor kneels at the side of Loki's bed - which replaced the crib about a year ago - and shuffles in as close as he can, until his nose hits the edge and he's almost touching Loki's hand. Loki makes a strange noise of complaint and tries to wave him off.
Determined not to waste his last precious moments with his brother, Thor takes his hand and whispers into it: "I'm really sorry for all the times I was mean to you, Loki."
"Everything feels really hot," Loki whines, twisting away. When Thor moves to take it again, the younger whines, "No, no, you feel too hot, go away." He kicks the sheets off the bed.
"But Loki," Thor protests. Does his brother not want to spend his last few moments with him? He clambers onto the bed despite Loki's insistent pushing, looking down with wide, earnest blue eyes at his brother. "Can't I say goodbye?"
"For what?" Loki nearly cries. "Out, out! This is my bed. You have your own, you dummy. Leave me alone."
At that moment, their mother walks in with a bowl of hot water and a wash cloth. Thor immediately scrambles off the bed. "Thor, let your brother be," she chides, setting the bowl on the bedside drawer. She sits on the edge of the bed where Thor was, picking up the dropped blanket. "Are you feeling any better, sweetheart?" she says to Loki.
"Please don't let him die, Mother!" Thor tugs at her skirts.
Loki's eyes fly wide open, to the point where they start to resemble plates. "I'm dying?" he wails, and tears start to prickle at the corner of his eyes.
"I'm sorry I was ever mean to you, Loki." Thor takes it as invitation to get back on the bed, wrapping his arms around his flailing brother. His apologies are drowned out by Loki's angry exclamations.
Frigga is unsure of what to do for a moment, torn between feeling amused or worried. Eventually, she pulls her boys apart. "Loki's not dying," she tells Thor gently, but sternly, "and Loki, please don't call your brother that name."
"Dummy," Loki repeats sourly, sticking his tongue out.
"Fine," Thor harrumphs. "See who'll pull you around on your wagon, then."
Frigga proceeds to dampen the wash cloth and putting it on Loki's head.
"I'll pull myself," Loki is saying, indignant.
"That's impossible!" Thor retorts. "You can't do it without me."
"Can too!"
"Can not!"
Frigga admonishes Thor, tells him not to strain his brother. Thor complies grudgingly and slinks back to his own bed as his mother carries the bowl and the wash cloth out of the room. "Go to sleep, boys," she tells them, "and no more fighting."
The night falls silent with the petulant bickering of two brothers.
. . .
xxiv. almost immediately afterwards
Thor wakes up with a sneeze.
A day later, he is confined to his bed just like Loki. "See," Loki pipes up smugly from the other side of the room. "Look who's dying now."
"You're still dying too, Loki," Thor reminds him. But he might have sounded meaner than he intended, because Loki falls silent.
That night, Thor slips out of bed and moves to Loki's. "Hey, Loki," he whispers, poking his little brother's arm. "Are you still awake?"
Fifteen seconds later: "I am now."
Thor tries not to grin as Loki automatically makes room for him. They settle into the bed with minimal trouble; they have to press very close together to make sure neither of them fall off, but Thor doesn't mind. Loki lies facing away from him, so Thor contents himself with wrapping an arm around his brother's waist and clinging to him that way.
Loki twists around in his arms, and in the darkness, Thor can see the bright greens of his eyes, wide and fearful. "Are we really going to die?" he hears his brother whisper. Loki sounds more than a little anxious.
"No!" Thor shakes his head almost violently and pulls Loki even closer. "I was just kidding, Loki. We won't die from a silly flu."
Loki burrows even further into his chest with a small whimper; Thor knows he should feel guilty, but he likes this too much, the way Loki holds onto him so tightly.
. . .
xxv. the wagon, arc three
Thor catches Loki in the front yard. It's rather warm for a winter day, and the snow has mostly all melted away. Loki is trying to somehow pull the wagon himself.
Finally, Thor hears him give up with a frustrated sigh, the handle falling on the ground with a crack. That's when Thor decides to come out, pulling his gloves on his hands and zippering up his jacket. He picks up the handle and starts pulling without so much as a word.
"I thought you weren't going to pull me around any more," Loki mumbles later, holding Thor's hand as they walk back inside.
"I lied," Thor says, and leaves it at that.
. . .
xxvi. a choice
By the end of the winter season, Loki has gotten sick for a total of three times. On the third time, he turns to his older brother and says, "You don't have to stay inside with me."
Thor looks up from his homework. The chair he's sitting on is small and he has already almost fallen off twice, but he'll persevere. "Why shouldn't I?"
"Well," Loki says, playing idly with the sheets, "your friends are outside and I know you want to play with them."
"But then you'll be lonely!"
"And you're bored."
"How can you tell?"
"You're doing your homework."
Thor sticks his tongue out. "I'm fine here."
Loki sighs, wrapping his arms around one of his many pillows and snuggling into it. (Thor would have liked to replace it with himself, but he did not want to get sick again.) "No, really," Thor hears him say, "you can go, brother."
Thor stares at him long and hard. "You mean it?"
"I mean it," Loki affirms, and Thor practically drops ihis books to the floor. He leans over the edge of the bed, meaning to kiss Loki's head - only for his younger brother to turn at the last second. Thor's lips land on Loki's instead.
He jerks back away in surprise. "Sorry," he says, sheepishly; his face feels hot.
"It's not my fault if you get sick again," Loki harrumphs. Seeming to find nothing wrong with what just transpired, he rolls over to his other side.
Thor leaves a few seconds later. The sensation is fresh on his lips, and he will not be forgetting it any time soon.
. . .
xxvii. an accident
(Loki cries easily. He flinches at every little bump and his eyes would brim with tears at the littlest blunder.)
Once, Thor took him out to the community playground, the one situated just a few blocks away. He ran with Loki's hand in his, eager to arrive before the other children took up all the swings.
He did not expect Loki's hand to suddenly slip from his. Skidding to a stop, Thor looked back to see his brother fallen on the sidewalk.
"Loki!" He immediately rushed over. "Are you okay? Did you bruise?"
There is a scrape on Loki's knee and a bruise on the side of his thigh, but if Loki stood, both could be covered by his capris. "We're going to go home," Thor told him slowly, "but you can't show Mother or Father. I promise I'll fix it, okay?"
Loki did not want to get to scolded, or maybe Thor was holding his wrist a little too tightly - either way, he nodded, wiped his tears away roughly, and let himself be pulled back to his feet.
(When Loki cries, his cheeks would flush pink and his eyes would seem even bigger. Thor is the one who offers comfort and Loki the one who accepts it, running into his big brother's arms and letting Thor wipe his tears away.)
. . .
xxviii. a confession
Thor likes it when Loki cries.
. . .
xxix. the other other kid
On the night of Loki's eighth birthday, they spy a moving van pulling into the driveway of the empty house next to their. "Neighbors!" Thor cheers.
"I hope they have nice kids," Loki whispers, eyes wide with wonder.
You don't need them, you have me, Thor wants to say.
The family has one son named Balder, whom they come to know the next day. Balder has dark hair and blue eyes; he's five years younger than Thor and just one younger than Loki.
He smiles at Loki, and Loki smiles back.
Thor decides quickly that he doesn't like him. His hair looks stupid, his laugh sounds weird, and what kind of a name is Balder, anyway?
So when Balder smiles at him too, Thor forces himself to smile back, his hand tightening ever so slightly on Loki's shoulder.