A/N: Editing? What is this editing you speak of? I just closed my eyes and clicked post. I'm so sorry. Hope you enjoy it anyway. XD And I hope the length makes up for its prior absence.
Day Five
"I think you should talk to him," Sif says over the phone.
Thor adjusts the phone against his shoulder so that he can stir the pancake batter. "I already tried. You know how that ended."
"Well, try again. Maybe things will be better now that it's the next day."
"Sif, he has every right not to forgive me for what I did."
"What, for kissing him? From what you told me, he seemed enthusiastic himself—if he can't forgive you, then I have lost all respect for him." She laughs softly. "I can't believe you did that, by the way."
He blushes, and pours a little of the batter into the pan, taking care to remember his mother's advice that less is more in the end. "Well, I'll try to talk," Thor says. "If he ever comes out of his room."
"Fair enough. Some advice though?" She pauses. "Don't apologize to him."
He sets down the pan and rests against the counter to give his friend his full attention. "What do you mean?"
"I was there, Thor. I saw how happy he looked that night, and from what you're telling me, he was just as happy when you took him to the car," Sif explains. "Now I'm not trying to say he returns your feelings—I can't guess that much—but you're calling that time he was happy a 'mistake.'"
"You really think so?"
"I do. Tell him how you feel, tell him you won't expect him to feel the same. Talk about that. Don't apologize. For all you know, he might actually like you too."
Thor grips the phone tightly in his hand, and breathes in through his nose. He remembers yesterday how nicely Loki dressed and how Loki walked so closely to him—while he struggled to prove his unconditional platonic love and not offend or discomfort Loki in any way, could he really have proven just the opposite of what he intended?
The sizzling sound of pancake reminds Thor he's cooking. And judging from the smell, he's also burning it. "Oh, sorry, I'll call you later!" He shuts off his phone and turns to flip the pancake over, just as Loki walks through the door to the kitchen.
They both stop what they're doing and look at each other as if a glass wall stands between them.
"I thought you were Mom," Loki says, and then crinkles his nose at the half-burnt pancake. "Though I suppose I could have guessed."
"She's at work today," Thor says.
"Mmm. Sorry to bother you then," Loki says and turns to head back up the stairs.
"Wait." He hurries over to grab Loki's wrist, and then regretfully lets go when Loki turns to him. "I—I made breakfast. To return the favor." He smiles hopefully, remembering Sif's advice to be more open and inviting. "Will you talk to me?"
Loki's eyes narrow. "About what?"
"Anything." Thor pauses. "Though—I did want to apologize for apologizing yesterday—ah." He runs a hand through his hair, and laughs at himself, conscious of Loki's emerald eyes boring holes into his skull. "I mean . . . I'm trying to say that the night before last—you know, the one where we almost—I didn't mean it was a mistake. Well, I did, but not—"
Loki raises an eyebrow. "The pancake is burning."
"Fuck," Thor grumbles and races back to the stove and flips it onto the counter top, as he isn't ready with a plate. " Fuck . I'll take this one. I swear, I make these fine all the time. Just let me try again."
"Well, maybe you should stop doing other things while you cook," Loki says simply and takes a seat at the kitchen table. "We've known for some time that you're horrible at multitasking."
"Shush," Thor says easily, pleased to see his brother is staying. He focuses on the next three without speaking, and cooks them perfectly to his great satisfaction. Setting them in a stack on plates, Thor takes the previously mashed strawberries and spreads them across Loki's, as well as applying a heavy amount of butter and syrup. "Do you want more than two?" he asks.
"Two is fine."
Thor brings the plates over and sets the strawberry ones in front of Loki while sitting across the table, close enough that their feet brush under the table. He blushes. "So . . . are we okay?"
Loki takes a bite slowly. The fact that he even swallows it says loads of his satisfaction. "Are we?" he asks. An unreadable mask covers his face.
"I'm not sure how . . . but I know I hurt you yesterday."
Frowning, he cuts a section with his fork. "Are you asking my forgiveness?"
"No." Thor takes a couple of bites of his own pancakes to give himself enough time to think about what he really wants here. The second he realizes the truth of his feelings, the more confident he feels. "I want to know how I hurt you so that I can make sure to be better in the future," he says.
Loki visibly considers the answer as he finishes his first pancake. "Hm," he says after a moment. "What if I don't want to tell you?"
Every one of his muscles struggles not to flinch. "Then I guess that would be it. And I would just do the best I can with what I know."
A deliberate smile spreads through Loki's lips, sweet as sugar. He leans back in his chair and licks the syrup from his fork in a clearly suggestive way, though subtle enough that Thor can't comment. "That's it then?" Loki says. "No pleading, no harassing, no demanding? Truly, Brother, what is wrong with you? You never took no for an answer before."
Thor stares, unmoving, at the sight of Loki's tongue on the fork, imagining how it would feel directed elsewhere. "I'm trying to see things from your perspective now."
"Mmm." Loki doesn't say anything more, but the statement clearly reaches him. He chews his next bit of pancake much less sexually and watches Thor with a new level of respect that didn't exist until now. "How about another game?" he asks between mouthfuls.
"What sort of game?"
Loki smiles, a twinkle in his eye. "You said I was 'happy' two nights ago? Make me just as happy again today, and I will answer any of your questions truthfully tonight."
"And how am I supposed to do that?" Thor says.
"The same way you always would."
Sighing, Thor rests his elbows on the table and rubs his temples. "I'm always trying to make you happy, Loki. Well, almost always," he adds before Loki can cut in, "but I mess up constantly. Yesterday is proof enough of that."
"Yes," Loki agrees, "it is. Games aren't meant to be easy."
He finishes the rest of his second pancake, and then mindlessly shoves his plate towards Thor's. It's a test, Thor knows, to see how far he is willing to go to fix what happened. He would tease Loki for acting so spoiled if he wasn't hanging on Loki's every word to make this right.
"How about a hint then?" Loki says. "A place to start so that you're not completely clueless. Take me to the movie tonight, as you failed to do yesterday. I expect ice cream, and if you're good, I won't demand more when we get home. Does that sound acceptable?"
His brother is only joking, but Thor sighs with affection. "You're going to get fat." He doesn't mean it. Despite the fact that Loki constantly demands dessert, his waist is nearly thinner than Sif's, and Thor wonders whether it's because his brother doesn't eat enough or because he sneaks out and exercises under Thor's nose. The latter would explain how Loki always manages to outrun his temper.
Smirking, Loki rests his chin in his hands. "Regardless, you know it's a necessity to win this game. Are we agreed?"
"What if I mess up again?" Thor asks seriously. "I literally have no idea what to do. You clearly weren't enjoying yourself yesterday, but now you tell me you do want to see the movie. I'm horrible at guessing what you want."
"Obviously. So stop guessing and just do what you normally do."
"Which is?"
"How should I know? Whatever feels right, I guess." With an impish grin, Loki stands up and tucks his chair in. "By the way, you left the stove on."
While Thor hurries to turn it off, Loki disappears upstairs to his room, leaving Thor with two dirty dishes and the morning classes he must attend. Though nervous, Thor feels hopeful knots in his chest twist together in his stomach—this is a second chance, and Thor will take the generosity eagerly, with every intention to do it right this time.
He scrubs the dishes clean, and drives to class humming to himself the whole way. Classes give him time to reflect upon yesterday and see where he went wrong. He remembers Loki's mood first deflated the second he walked out of his room dressed and ready to go.
He plans to try something different.
When he gets home around five and knocks on Loki's door, Loki steps out, dressed less provocatively but just as tempting in his fitted shirt and slacks. Thor forces his eyes up to Loki's face, which settles cool and unreadable as ever.
He eases into a smile. "You look nice," he says without thinking.
Surprisingly Loki smiles back. "Thank you. Shall we?"
This time, Thor follows Loki's advice and acts the way he always would. Without the stress of coming across incorrectly, he drowns the car ride and the trip to the ice cream parlor in ripe conversations of his day and how his friends are recovering from Loki's drunken behavior.
Loki's spirits rise, encouraging Thor to keep to the pace, and when Loki's hand brushes his on the way out, he doesn't apologize, as Sif warned. Instead he elbows his brother playfully, and receives a sharp jab to the gut in return. For a second, he wants Loki to do it again, because deep down he does want to hold hands. He has wanted that for an age.
The moment passes, and Thor isn't sure if it would be appropriate anyway.
During the movie, Loki makes the move for him.
Loki sits his hand on the arm rest for a long time before casually entwining their hands, and Thor's heart pounds in his chest as he looks towards his brother. Loki's eyes shine under the bright light of the movie with no small twinkle. A smile shapes the line of his cheekbones, gorgeously swathed in shadow.
He relaxes and lets their fingers lock more comfortably. "Are you happy?" Thor whispers. He needs to know.
Loki stares at him. "Do you think I am?"
Viewers around them fidget in their seats as they glance Thor's way—but Loki seems to care little for them, and Thor needs to win this game. He does make an effort to lower his voice. "Yes?" he chances.
"Watch the movie, Thor," Loki says dismissively, but as Thor turns to do just that, he catches the small beginning of a smirk and knows it's working.
"So."
"So?" Thor asks, rubbing a hand across his forehead. It's impossible to tell what Loki feels any given moment, let alone for an entire night, and he most of all wants to know his brother enjoyed himself.
"Are you ever going to mention that night, or are we going to pretend it never happened?"
Thor winces. "I don't know what you want me to say."
"Something is better than nothing." Loki stalks over to the windows and pulls up the blinds. The night sky floods the room with starlight and moonlight, and he stalks over to turn off the lamp. Every movement reeks of frustration and distress, and Thor fears the worst.
He faces Loki in defeat. "You're not happy," he says.
"No. I was happy," Loki says. "You win. Now I'm telling you what's wrong. So I'll ask you again." He pauses, and folds his arms. Long slender fingers wrap around his elbow, except every aspect of the position looks brittle and tense. "When are you planning on talking about that night?"
The information throws Thor's head into a frenzy. Surprise and pleasure that he won the game and will finally understand what plagues Loki's mind, but also concern and nervousness—this conversation will hurt.
"I don't know," Thor says honestly.
"You don't know."
"No." Thor stares Loki down. "What happened happened. I don't know what else you want me to say about it."
"I want you to say whatever pops into your mind !" Loki fumes. His arms fly up into the air. "Like you always do! I want you to stop acting so nervous around me, like I'm a shard of glass, and just go for things! I want you to go at it nonstop, I want you to never give up, I want you to be my brother. What is with you?"
Thor stays perfectly still during the tirade of shouting. He waits to make sure Loki is done, before he answers softly, "I don't want to lose you." It's immediately clear he said the wrong thing.
"You don't want to lose me," Loki repeats. "You don't want to lose me, but you won't even give me the next word to convince me to stay! I think you secretly want me to leave. That's what you do to people, you use them, and then you—"
"I don't want you to leave!"
Loki's mouth snaps shut.
"I don't want you to leave," Thor says again and stalks around the edge of the bed so Loki can't see his face. He runs hands through his own hair in an effort to claw out the desperation welling inside of his head—it's Loki, who doesn't want to stay, not him who wants Loki to leave, not him. But then he realizes what Loki said, and spins around. "What do you mean I 'use' people?"
Tears well up at the corners of his brother's eyes. He won't speak.
"Loki," Thor says, realizing this is much more serious than he realized. His legs take him forward without any thought, and his arms circle around his brother—even though it's awkward and tense with the truth between them now. "Loki, what is it?"
Hands shove weakly at Thor's strength, but it's halfhearted. "Let me go, Thor."
Thor only holds on tighter. "We're never going to get anywhere if you don't let me in. I won the game, didn't I? I made you happy. So tell me what you mean."
Still nothing.
It's so hard to resist placing his lips upon his brother's jet-black hair, with the trembling, tearful mass in his arms screaming for affection. "Please, Loki," Thor says. "How do I use people?"
"You don't want me,"Loki whispers. "I—I tried, and you—didn't want me. B-Because you finally got a taste of what you thought you wanted, and then you realized you didn't want it at all."
"What do you mean . . ." The words fade with the same breath they started.
Thor instantly knows what Loki means—that night, in the car, when they were drunk. Loki isn't angry because Thor nearly took advantage. Loki is hurt that Thor didn't . Warmth floods his heart that Loki loves him that way and is willing to share the details of each other's passions, even though they are brothers.
But he pushes those thoughts aside, because Loki doesn't see that Thor withdrew only because he respected his brother's privacy and didn't want to offend.
"I do want you," Thor says, though he knows already Loki won't believe him.
Sure enough, Loki shoves at him and breaks away. "Right," he says, swiping at his own tears, "that's why you refused my advances. That's why you touch me like it's a chore. That's why you won't even try to win and get me to stay. Why don't you stop lying to yourself and leave me alone?"
His brother pulls the shutters of his mask over his face like a veil, and Thor frantically grabs at his shoulders. "I stopped giving you words because I didn't want to force you to stay!"
A heart-wrenching noise that might be a laugh fills Loki's lungs. His excuses are not working.
"Get out."
"Loki—"
"Now!"
And Thor realizes there's nothing he can do but prove himself with actions.
His grip on Loki's shoulders tightens as he pulls him closer, and before Loki can make any protest, he presses their lips together furiously. A small gasp allows Thor access to the inner palace of Loki's mouth, and their tongues clash and battle in a mad dance for control.
Loki's hands push at Thor's chest, weak enough that Thor doesn't bother stopping. His brother always refuses to believe what's right before his eyes, will stop this moment if he can—to protect his own vulnerability. Thor has absolutely no intention of letting him.
"Thor, please." His voice is muffled by the kiss, but weak and desperate.
Thor responds by pressing closer, and their jeans brush against each other at the hips. Heat stiffens the lower half of Thor's body, and he thinks he might feel a bulge through Loki's pants if he's not imagining it.
"Stop," Loki gasps, "stop."
Of course, Thor does not want to force his brother into anything he isn't ready for. He leans back to survey Loki's face, and sees streaks of tears glistening from the light of the moon outside as well as quivering lips and eyebrows slanted towards his brow. He's beautiful like this, but Thor wishes he would smile.
They stare into each other's eyes for the longest time—Loki, scrutinizing every last motivation behind the kiss, and Thor, willing with every fiber in his being for Loki to see the truth. Thor's arms still clasp around his brother's shoulders, but with a jolt of surprise, he notices that Loki's wrap around him as well, weak but solidly there around his waist.
Loki swallows once, and then parts shivering lips to speak. "You . . . want me to . . ."
"I want you to stay," Thor says. He lifts a hand to caress a misplaced strand of hair on Loki's cheek. "Nothing has changed."
For a moment, Loki appears ready to burst into a string of sobs, and Thor steadies his arms, ready to catch his brother and sink to the floor and hold him like he did when they were children. Then, a smile spreads from cheek to cheek, but not to Loki's eyes, and a smile has never stung of so much falseness before.
Loki leans forward and kisses Thor's neck.
It's like every single fantasy as well as every single fear coming to life in the same moment.
"Loki—mmm—"
Loki nips at his flesh, while the hands on his waist draw towards the hem of his shirt and slide up on Thor's tanner skin. The chill sends shivers down his spine, and still, this isn't what he wants.
"Loki, wait—" He bites back a cry when their erections touch beneath their clothes.
"What?" Loki says, breath hot at Thor's earlobe.
His cock throbs with interest, but he won't do this without consent."Is this truly—ah—what you want?"
Lips pressed to Thor's neck, Loki hums. "Mmhmm."
Thor's hands move on their own and scope out the shape of his brother's back, though the thick black clothing conceals milky skin from his view. He closes his eyes, as Loki presses closer, chest to chest, hands to shoulders, and finally he forces himself to open his eyes and pull back enough to see Loki's face.
"I mean it," Thor says. "Is this what you want?"
Loki nods. His smile thankfully turns a little more genuine. "I've kept secrets too. I want it, Thor."
But the image won't leave his mind. It's the type of face that indicates a dishonesty, but Thor can't pinpoint the exact lie that Loki told. Thor must have shown hesitation in his movements, because Loki's hot breath suddenly puffs into his ear.
"I want to suck your cock," Loki whispers.
Then he drops to his knees, hands traveling down Thor's sides as he goes, and Thor banishes the uneasiness from his mind. Loki wants this. It's always been Thor's most impossible dream, his wildest fantasy, and right now, right here, Loki's fingers are unzipping the folds of his pants, tugging denim and fabric down, unleashing his hardened cock for both of them to see—and Thor wants this, too.
"Loki," Thor gasps, as his brother's slender hands brush across skin, close, but not close enough. "Loki, please . . ."
A whisper of air hits his cock, and Thor only realizes after the wave of incredible pleasure that it was Loki laughing. "Patience," his brother says, "or do you even have such a thing?" Then Loki's tongue darts to lick the base of his cock, and Thor almost topples over.
He rests his hands on Loki's shoulders for balance, and struggles for breath as his brother's tongue travels up and down his cock, swirling patterns and trails that are unmistakably Loki's. His brother has him falling apart. What would his friends say? What would his parents say? He finds the thought sinfully arousing, rather than horrifying.
When Loki's lips curl around the tip of his cock, Thor lets out a groan that might have shaken the whole house for all he knows.
But he forces himself to back away because this is not how he wants to do this. "Wait," he breathes.
Loki's head tilts to look up at Thor, a crease between his eyebrows signaling his confusion—and a trace of uncertainty. "Change your mind?" he asks. Despite the stability of his tone, his hands, still on Thor's hips, tremble slightly. The smile—the false one—reappears, and Thor wants more than anything else to make it go away.
"No," Thor says simply. "Get on the bed."
Smirking, Loki climbs into bed and pushes the covers off. "Having trouble standing? Or are you wanting to fuck me instead?" He starts working on his own jeans in the process, as if in answer to his own question.
Without responding, Thor follows him and throws the unfastened pair of Levis off the bed next to his own clothing. Loki starts to turn on his stomach, but Thor grabs his shoulder and forces him onto his back instead. "Not like that," he says and kisses his brother. Loki's lips feel so soft and smooth, and Thor takes the time to feel them fully before going deeper.
He breaks the kiss only long enough to tug Loki's shirt over their heads. Then he dives back, intent on tasting every inch of Loki's mouth, the underside of his tongue, the width of his teeth. Loki hums, their lips vibrating under the wave of sound. Suddenly Loki pushes at his chest, and Thor backs away.
"What is it?" he asks, his lips still pressed against his brother's as he speaks..
His brother pants, his tongue robbed of words. Instead, he takes the opportunity to remove Thor's shirt, and tosses it to the side only to tug Thor's head closer towards his own.
It's not often his brother speaks with actions. "Cat got your tongue?" Thor teases.
"Shut up and fuck me already."
Thor arranges himself so their chests are pressed together, and he traps Loki's legs between his. Their cocks brush against each other, sending a wordless cry through Thor's mouth. He feels Loki's hips buck towards his, and a symmetrical spasm passes between their bodies. Loki's arms wrap around Thor's back, clawing marks of pleasure down his spine.
"Do you even know how?" Loki asks between heavy pants. "You're doing it wrong. You need to let my legs up."
Thor grins. "Shush."
He wants the first time to be perfect—for both of them—and what Loki is suggesting will be far too uncomfortable for his brother's first time. Instead, he reaches down and directs his cock between Loki's thighs. It ghosts over the base of Loki's cock, and when Thor looks up, he sees a silent 'o' curving Loki's mouth.
Loki looks beautiful—his eyes shine with pleasure, his eyebrows furrow into a line of utter need. Still, it's discerning for his brother to speak so little. "You okay?" Thor asks.
"I . . ." He trails off.
Thor chuckles, and the heavy laughter makes their chests bump together. It's soon after that Loki's laughter joins his, except it's tainted by embarrassment.
"Fine. I'm fine—just . . . I can't—think—" he murmurs.
"What? Say that again?"
"Shut up, just do it."
Thor slowly sinks his hips into Loki's, his cock throbbing with need as he feels the tight trap between Loki's thighs. Loki moans heavily as his cock is trapped between their bellies. He lies there for a time, staring at the raven tresses of his brother's hair, the sweat glistening on his forehead, and the feel of their bodies pressed warmly together.
He still remembers the false smile painted across Loki's lips. He even remembers the first night they started the game, a glint appeared in Loki's eyes, dangerous and crafty. Will this be enough to convince Loki not to leave him forever? Does it matter if it's not?
"What—are you—waiting for?"
Thor smiles and strokes a stray lock of hair behind his brother's ear. "I love you." He begins to thrust into the space between Loki's thighs.
Minutes later, Loki trembles incoherently, and Thor's hand and Loki's legs are coated in semen. Thor thrusts one final time before succumbing to the raging heat roaring within his body. He collapses onto his elbow, near Loki's side, and holds his brother as they ride out their release.
Loki's cheeks glow as he smiles. "I love you, too," he says, belatedly.
In this moment, hope builds, and Thor believes Loki will stay.