Day Two

"What are you reading? Is that a dictionary?"

His friend settles next to him on the bench, and Thor glances briefly at her. "Yeah."

His classes ended an hour ago, but he remains, in the library, afraid to return home and infringe on his brother's company yet again. Besides, studying here will help to brush up on his vocabulary and to warm up before the real battle begins again.

"He accepted your challenge then?" Sif drops her bag onto the floor and pulls out her laptop. "That's good, I guess, but remember a few months of studying isn't going to compete well with his whole life."

His heart surges with the urge to argue, but what she says is true. "I know," Thor says, eyes trained on the text, "but he won't agree unless it's in his advantage. And I've already surprised him."

"Mmm. Thor?"

Thor finally marks his place with a finger and looks seriously at his friend. Her eyes burn with compassion for him, but at the same time, he already knows her opinion on this. He should let Loki go, he understands—but Sif will never understand the way Loki behaves and how important it is that he stays. Loki's a chameleon. If you look away for too long, he will disappear.

Sif sighs. "Why don't you just tell him?"

And that is why he values her friendship. Sif is the only one with whom he felt comfortable to confess his true feelings, the only one who would never tease him for such devotion to his younger brother. And she is the only one now who can guess the real reason Thor wants Loki to stay.

"I don't know how to tell him," he admits.

Sif reaches out and touches him on the shoulder, and Thor leans into the comfort of her friendship. "How would you tell anyone else?" she asks.

"You know I'm horrible at explaining things."

"Then show him."

Easier said than done, but he is through acting the coward.

That night, he spends hours of his mother's patience, mixing flour and butter and sugar until his hands and hair are sticky and white. At the end, he comes upstairs before Loki's alarming sense of smell can catch whiff of the plan, and he presents Loki with his favorite, strawberry-flavored scones.

Loki eyes the the mess of ingredients that is Thor's hair. "You helped Mother make them?"

A sense of pride fills him. "I made them," Thor says.

Gingerly, Loki takes one of the scones and scrutinizes it for a while. Several moments pass before he takes a bite, and several more pass before he takes another one. Thor's shoulders relax.

"Tolerable," Loki says, his eyebrows furrowing.

Thor grins. "Adequate."

"Ah, very assuming, dear Brother," Loki says. "How did you know that was the next word?"

"You get a weird look. Your eyebrows tilt." In a better mood than yesterday, Thor sits down on his usual spot on the bed and dives into his own scone, which doesn't taste half as bad as he thought it would. "Whenever you're thinking about something. It's pretty—"adorable "—funny, actually." He covers his near slip by swallowing an excessive amount of dessert. Show him, he reminds himself, don't use words.

Loki sets down his plate and regards Thor with his full attention. "I see."

"Can I sleep here tonight?" Thor blurts.

Immediately Thor regrets his words as the hum of nighttime wind outside overwhelms their conversation. Loki's face remains unreadable as ever, even more so than usual, and there's no way to tell how he will eventually react or what he will say.

Thor's instincts scream to apologize before Loki endlessly torments him for it, but a part of him refuses to relinquish his hope that Loki will let him stay.

"Hm," Loki finally says, a single eyebrow arched in an elegant line, "I suppose that would depend on your vocabulary. Let's try a few rounds."

"'Emerald,'" Thor says while glancing at the dazzling light in Loki's eyes.

"'Green.'" Loki smirks. "'Star.'"

He pictures the night sky outside immediately and can't think of anything else that could possibly name one of the dim lights in the darkness. The realization startles him, but before any panic can seize him, he focuses. Loki is trying to outsmart him. Then he remembers another definition for star. "'Celebrity,'" he says, and looks to Loki's strands of hair, smoothed back and gorgeous. "'Ebony.'"

"'Black.' My, are you describing my appearance, Brother? 'Temper.'"

Another trick, and he is not fooled. "'Soothe.'" He swallows. "'Alluring.'"

Then, Loki frowns, and Thor believes he has made a grave mistake. His shoulders tense.

"First you make scones for me," Loki says slowly, "then you ask to sleep here for the first time in our lives, and now this. What are you trying to tell me?"

He swallows again. "It's just a game."

"Mmm. 'Attractive.'"

Feeling defeated when Loki doesn't offer another word, Thor pushes himself to his feet and prepares to head to his room for another tiring night.

Before he takes one step, Loki grabs the hem of his sleeve. "Where are you going? I said you could stay."

No, you didn't. Thor shoves the words out of his mind and tries to calm the frustration welling up inside. Loki seems to make constant efforts to confuse and trick—as if he enjoys watching Thor scramble to do one thing wrong just so he can enjoy telling Thor to do something else. Sometimes, it's hard to let Loki play with him like a toy, just to get what he wants.

Huffing, he makes his way back to Loki's bed, only to hear Loki chuckling. "Well, now that I think about it, I would prefer to avoid flour on my pillows, if possible."

Thor growls. "Loki—"

"Calm yourself, Thor. I didn't say you had to shower alone."

The anger drains out of Thor as if through a sift. He stares at Loki, unsure if either his ears or his mind have misunderstood.

But Loki sits up straighter in his chair and unbuttons the collar of his shirt slowly. Their eyes lock for the entire time.

Heat rises in Thor's chest, and he imagines sucking marks into the pale expanse of neck his brother reveals. The images fill his mind, of his brother naked and trembling beneath him, their limbs tangled in a sweaty mess—it might be a joke. It still might be a joke.

"Thinking too hard again, I see," Loki whispers. "Your head looks like it's about to break." He smiles. "Come now, you're always horrible at hiding your secrets from me, and tonight you weren't even trying. Tell me—how long have you felt this way?"

He isn't joking. Thor forces himself to breathe evenly through his nose and out through his mouth. "A long time," he admits.

"I see. So now that I'm leaving, you have found the perfect opportunity. You must figure you'll lose me either way," Loki says. "Very clever of you."

Thor frowns. "No, now that you're leaving, I realize I should have told you the truth eons ago. I don't want you to go, Loki. I want you to stay, whether you reciprocate or not. Why don't you understand that?"

"Understand what? That you're selfish and stubborn and you won't let me pursue something that I love ? Everything is always about you. Where you go to college, what you plan to do with your future, your goals, your life, your friends, your dreams—why not, for one second, will someone just think about what I want?"

"You can pursue whatever you want right here !"

"It's one of the best schools in the world," Loki says. " The world. What do you expect me to do?"

"I expect you to care!" Thor bellows. The silence that follows reminds him that their parents are sleeping, but while Thor lowers his voice, his feelings remain strong and vicious. "The year I spent on the soccer team—traveling all the time—you never picked up your phone. Not once. When I came home, I barely recognized you."

Loki runs a hand through his hair, though tears spring to his eyes. "Oh, don't be ridiculous—"

"I mean it. I barely even know you right now. Sometimes . . ." Thor pauses here as his heart pounds sickeningly. "Sometimes I wonder if you'll ever come back after you leave."

Loki stares at him with an expression of utter misery. "There's not much this place offers me," he says quietly.

It's as good as a confirmation. Thor storms out of Loki's room.

"Thor, wait!"

He slams the door and doesn't look back.