9.

Thor blinked, put the record in his hand down, looked again. He wondered for longer than he should have over what it was about Loki that made him look so different. Of course he was standing less still than he had ever seen a man stand; he was tapping his foot against the floor, his arms folded across his chest painfully defensively and the fingertips of one hand tapping a jittery rhythm out of beat with the music against his arm. His nail looked chewed, the varnish black and cracked. He looked about as shifty as Thor had ever seen, chewing his lip, eyes narrowed. But none of that was it.

Then Thor realised. He had never seen Loki without make up before. Even the night they had spent together – Loki had come out of it with eyeliner streaking his cheeks and bright silver smearing wings out from his eyes. He could not look hard enough; had never seen him look more beautiful. Loki's face without make up was almost painfully sweet, pale and awkwardly innocent, like the face of someone who did not know what to do with his own goodness. As though he was afraid it might show and maybe, after all, that was why he always covered it over.

More than even this, it made Thor do a double – triple take to see him dressed like a person; not an alien or a character or even a rock star. As though he had actually left the house without thinking about it; indeed he was not even wearing a coat, just a rough dull green shirt and black leather jeans. He was still undeniably Loki, but it was a Loki he had never seen. He wondered if anyone ever had. Loki was the kind of creature who would get out of bed in the middle of the night just to re-do his make up before morning.

Loki was looking at him suspiciously, jitters flashing in those naked green eyes and Thor became aware that he was still sat on the floor like a fucking monkey in the presence of his god.

"Loki –" he began, getting to his feet, in one blow all too aware of all that he had said and not said in his songs, aware too that Loki would have missed the confession of the final song in coming over here. It was, of course, in that moment of silence, whilst he struggled to find the right words that the treacherous vinyl sang out –

"I didn't want to say it, but I know that this is true, sometime between the first and last, I fell in love with you."

With Loki standing right there, raising his eyebrow in a way that told Thor quite plainly he had heard – it was too much. Thor kicked the record player for betraying him. Thankfully, after a cursory grumble it did go silent, if too late to take it back or make anything better.

"I –" he began. Loki took a step back as though afraid.

"No –"

"But you said – and we – to talk –" Thor mumbled stupidly.

"No" Loki said again – "Lied. I lied. Thor please don't –"

If Thor had still harboured any doubts as to his feelings, any denials or reservations, they went out with the uncertainty and the smallness in Loki's voice and Loki shivered, imploring him with that face nobody else had ever seen, not to make him say it, say anything. Thor saw that lip tremble, saw Loki looking as though he was about to take flight and could not let him go, could not let him tremble, had to risk being pushed away.

He was not pushed away. He barely felt himself move, barely felt anything until those soft lips were beneath his again and it was electric, like a storm throwing rain upon desperate ground. Loki's lips stopped trembling in the instant second of the kiss, almost, Thor thought, as though he had been waiting too, holding on in a five year limbo just as he had been.

He had forgotten this; at the same time as living in the memory; how kissing Loki was like a fight, skin straining against skin, muscles twisting in confusion. Loki grabbed and reached at the same time as he arched away, Thor held him tight, not sure if Loki meant to consume him or fight him off. Loki was unsure himself. He was always unsure. He hated it, refuted it, came out more certain of everything than ever.

It was like wrestling a snake, Thor thought, with that part of his brain that was still half way coherent (silver tongue you trap me, lick up my every word, silver tongue you lie to me, speak things I never heard). Loki was the song, he always had been, a twisting, writhing road of song; every note that had ever brought him fame, to touch him was to sing the song at maximum volume, a volume that had gone muted for far too long.

Music ran through their fingers that night, bound together in a rhythm that played only in the blood. With every awkward step towards the bed Loki sang an undercurrent of lies, starting with This doesn't mean – Don't start thinking – Thor I won't – ending only when Thor shook his head with a smile and sigh and a –

"Loki – shut up".

There was time and room for a gentleness he had not been able to show before; indeed, so wrapped up was he in this feeling of rightness, of completeness that his erection was almost a secondary concern. He wondered almost, if he could not have just held onto Loki tight while they whispered song lyrics at each other, fashioning them into truths they had gone too long not admitting. But Loki would have fought it tooth and nail, indeed every time he met his eyes of touched him too gently Loki would look away and promptly do something - a flick of the tongue or wrist – anything to force Thor out of affection and back into lust.

Not that Thor could ever complain; sinking back inside that lithe, perfect body was like coming home. Loki was all muscle and sinew and stronger than he remembered and he made it delightfully difficult for Thor to pin him down, rolling and twisting and often pinning Thor in return, smirking to see the blue eyes shining up at him in an adoration he could accept because worship was easier to take than love.

Nevertheless, on the second orgasm, the fiercest and most intense, Loki sank down onto his chest trembling and wide-eyed, lips parted in beautiful fear. Thor stroked his hair, like wet silk and feathers and told him it was alright and he was safe and I've got you until Loki, too fluid and warm to protest, accepted it and tucked his head beneath Thor's chin, dozing on him like a cat. In the breaking dawn, before Thor fell asleep, he whispered something that Loki pretended not to hear.

-x-

"Well," Loki announced sleepily, when he woke up yawning at the crack of noon – "Here we are". He woke in the curve of Thor's arm and had practised this just before Thor showed signs of being awake. Loki stretched, dramatically. Thor watched him roll his head, entranced by every movement beneath the skin, entranced by every harsh line and angle of Loki's face, wondering how such edges could feel so soft. Loki only had to make the faintest move out of bed for Thor to take his arm, hard.

"No," he said "Not this time".

Loki rolled his eyes, opened his mouth to say something, anything; probably something important, something to allay all the questions he had buzzing in his head like bees. Instead he yawned, falsely, kissed Thor on the nose and shook his head –

"I'm not going anywhere –" he drawled.

"Good," Thor agreed.

"But I can go to the bathroom I assume, unless you want me to introduce you to some brand new kinks?"

This time it was Thor's turn to roll his eyes, but he let Loki go, waiting until he was just inside the bathroom to call –

"What makes you think that's new?"

He was rewarded by the faint sound of a chuckle from the bathroom and Loki waited until he was back in the bedroom to arch an eyebrow and announce deadpan –

"I'm impressed"; before slipping back into bed and draping Thor's arm around his shoulder as though it were a sheet.

_x_

Shock, horror, are these boys going to have an actual relationship? Hold out til next chapter where they try to work it out and Fandral comes up with the best ways to cash in on the young love of Rock stars! :-)