Loki needs to talk to Fandral, the conversation doesn't go as intended for either of them.
Things end on a sad note.
⚠
Uh, there's some drinking?
It wasn’t lost on Fandral that this was the first time Loki had been to his room and though he’d offered it up to the dark haired Asgardian as a way for him to get a bit of privacy after sharing living quarters with Sam, there was still a sense of nervousness to having him there. Or maybe it was more a feeling of inadequacy that he hadn’t quite put his finger on.
Before Loki’s arrival, he made sure the small room was tidied and what few clothing items he had were put away. Honestly, he hadn’t had a chance to accumulate much of anything yet, so the room was fairly bare except for the almost-too-small bed and dresser.
At least he had wine. Chuckling, he uncapped the bottle and climbed into the bed the short way to lean against the wall instead of the headboard. Fandral was dressed in relatively simple Midgardian attire -- dark slacks and a button down shirt, the sleeves rolled against his forearms. He offered the bottle to Loki and grinned.
“I figured we could just drink straight from the bottle between the two of us.” And between the two of them, finishing the bottle would be an easy feat and something that would probably barely get them feeling intoxicated.
“What was it that you wanted to talk about?”
Of course there was something. Loki wanted a drink, but he’d also said he needed to talk to him about something. Had he done something wrong in playing that little game?
Loki didn’t sit. Not yet. When he entered the room, looking very un-Loki-like in his zip-up hooded sweatshirt, the Derleth emblem emblazoned above the left breast, and a pair of tight-fitting black slacks he’d picked up in Florida, Loki went directly to the window. He stared out onto the Green, watching as a large squirrel dashed out from the forest and onto the pavement which led to the other campus buildings. Afterwards he gave Fandral’s room a curious onceover. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting. He supposed he hadn’t been expecting much of anything. But it was even more drab than Loki’s room and for some reason that didn’t seem to suit Fandral. Or, at least, not the Fandral he thought he knew.
He turned his attention to his old warrior companion when he offered the bottle. Loki stepped forward and took it by the neck. He took a swig, but not a big one, and set the bottle down on the nightstand. Then he took a stance directly in front of Fandral, hands placed akimbo on his hips.
“We need to clear something up,” he said, his mouth drawn firm and serious. “I’m not a prude, nor am I the modest type. I don’t care what the people here think I get up to behind closed doors. Let them have their rumors or their suspicions. Let them devise their own fantasies, if they will. Their imaginations can run wild. I’m not going to do anything to stop that. I am quite aware of the impression I give and of the lies I tell to uphold that impression. It’s part of my illusion. It’s how I cope.”
Loki licked his lower lip in thought. It was not his intent to sound angry or critical. He wasn’t. But it had occurred to him during Margo’s silly little game that he had feelings he wasn’t prepared to share with others. “You don’t have to defend me. It doesn’t bother me if someone chooses to believe I’m an inattentive lover. They can think what they want. They don’t matter. You don’t have to be my knight in shining armor. You don’t have to convince anyone that I’m a good person or misunderstood or whatever it is you think they should know. I am not sitting around in my room weeping that the estranged people of Derleth don’t like me.”
Loki drew one hand back through his hair before tugging on one of the drawstrings of his sweatshirt. He was feeling incredibly vulnerable as of late. Learning a painful truth of Natasha’s history had affected him in ways he was not prepared for. Being asked, albeit flippantly, who he would choose to die among the only friends he had unsettled his resolve. It made him insecure. It made him second guess how he felt about those people. And Loki didn’t like that. He wasn’t ready for that. Likewise, being hit with Wanda’s revelation about the two of them being closer to family than he realized — a closeness he could never know because he was dead in their world — hit a very poignant chord in him.
And then there was the lack of sleep and the near constant haunting of Julia’s shade whispering to him from the darkness.
“I know your intentions come from a place of duty and honor and … maybe something more. But I am capable of defending myself, if I need to.” The seriousness in Loki’s expression faltered and he picked up the wine bottle again for another swig. He looked down at the bottle opening before handing it back to Fandral. “And that’s all. That’s what I wanted to say.”
Well, none of that had been what he’d expected the other man to say when he’d inquired about what it was that he wished to discuss. Fandral sat there quietly as Loki explained, quietly shifting enough to press his feet into the mattress, his legs bent at the knees and parted enough so that his arms could rest lazily between them.
His eyebrows furrowed a little at certain points of his speech, the only response he allowed himself until Loki was finished. But what was there to say? He wasn’t being yelled at; Loki didn’t seem angry, but there was a definite edge of being reprimanded for how he’d responded to Margo on the post. He’d meant nothing by it -- merely stating what he knew to be a fact. There’d been no intention of causing anyone to wonder how he would know that, or a need to defend the other man.
The corners of his mouth tugged downward briefly as he looked at him before taking the bottle by the neck once it was offered. He didn’t respond right away, instead opting to take a long pull of wine, the semi-sweet liquid flowing almost too easily down his throat as he swallowed. It wasn’t the best wine he’d ever had, but it would do.
Then he offered it back to Loki.
“I am sorry if I… offended you? By saying what I did.” He wasn’t sure that ‘offended’ was the right word, but he also wasn’t entirely sure how else to take everything that had just been laid before him. However, he also didn’t know how to explain his reasoning for why he’d decided to chime in. So he didn’t try. Instead, his voice grew a little more hushed with his next words, as if he’d been scolded.
“Should I feel the need to do that again, I will be certain to hold my tongue the next time.”
“You didn’t offend me. I just—” But Loki didn’t have an answer. Oh, if Thor and Odin and the other Warriors could see him now. Loki without an answer! It was almost like a cruel joke. The God of Mischief. The man who didn’t like to talk, but who never could seem to stop talking, didn’t have the words to explain why he’d been so bothered by that exchange between Fandral and Margo. And it wasn’t even important. Maybe that’s why he didn’t know how to express his feelings about it. Because it didn’t matter. Because it didn’t mean anything. Because it was just a game.
But Loki’s entire life was a history of games. Mind games. Tricks. Illusions. Manipulations. Battles. Repositioning chess pieces. Little wars. Big wars. Deceptions. Cruel methods of achieving the upperhand. Tactics. Schemes. Everything in his life had been a game. Or part of a game. And so every detail mattered. Everything was nuanced in a secret layer of truth with Loki. Even the lies. No, especially the lies. It was all about reading between the lines, but remaining within the lines. And somewhere over the course of the last few weeks one of those lines had been crossed.
Except Loki wasn’t certain which one. And he didn’t know how to redraw the border.
He was emotionally confused and overwhelmed.
Fandral held the bottle out to him again and Loki took it more gently this time. He threw his head back and took a longer swig. Some of the wine spilled over his lips gracelessly and he carefully wiped it away before it fell down his chin.
Why did he feel like a fool? True, he was overreacting. That was one of his many negative attributes. He took everything to the extreme. Insults and offenses, in particular. But he wasn’t oblivious. He realized he was behaving like a child. And it was clear in his expression that he both knew this and regretted it, even if he didn’t say it aloud. But it didn’t help him understand what he really wanted to say to Fandral.
“It’s flattering. It is. It…” Loki set the bottle back on the nightstand out of fear that he might accidentally break it for wringing the neck so hard. “I do appreciate your sentiment. Very few people have stood at my side over the years. You know this. And even fewer have stood up for me. But with you … with recent developments between us … I find myself guarded. And I…”
Loki was very nearly stumbling over his own words. It was there. It was right there. What he wanted to say. What he wanted to express. But he just couldn’t isolate it. He couldn’t bring it forth into words.
“... I don’t want our concern, our trust with each other, to belong to other people.”
It was a strange thing for Fandral to witness what he was seeing. Loki, speechless. Well, mostly speechless, at least. Enough so that he was stumbling over his own words and clearly struggling to think of what exactly it was that he wanted to say. Though he still couldn’t help feel as though he’d been scolded, Loki’s demeanor seemed to soften a little more as he spoke, allowing himself to be more gentle and more cautious in how he came across.
The stammering was strangely adorable, though.
Fandral leaned forward a bit away from the walls, letting his legs lower a little so that he could reach forward to take Loki’s hands. “Aye, I understand. I truly am sorry, it was not my intent to…” What? Cause him pain or anguish? Neither of those seemed to fit the situation. “Cause anyone to become curious about us. I was merely responding to her statement in kind, simply because I knew the truth.”
Though there was still a hint of a frown pulling at his lips, he brought one of Loki’s hands to his mouth and pressed a gentle, affectionate, lingering kiss to his palm. “Our business will remain ours. I do not want you to feel as though you cannot trust me, especially regarding these matters.”
Loki was in a quandary. On one hand he didn’t care if people knew what was going on with him and Fandral. Those things weren’t important to him. But usually those things didn’t matter. This was the first time, however, that Loki was in a physical relationship with someone he actually considered a friend. And even though it was just that, physical, and seemingly nothing else, at least as far as Loki was concerned (granted yes that wasn’t entirely true but it was all Loki was willing to admit for the time being,) it felt more personal. Maybe because they were from the same world. Because they already had a history. And maybe, too, because there were others in Derleth who knew Loki to be a villain. These were all reasons why Loki might have felt like it was best to keep things to themselves. It was one thing to ruin his own reputation. He’d already done that on numerous occasions, both before Derleth and more recently. But Fandral didn’t deserve to carry the weight of Loki’s reputation. And Loki didn’t have the right to make Fandral ineligible for something more with someone else simply because he was known to be with Loki.
There might have been a Maid Marian in Derleth, after all. Fandral might one day find himself in the throes of love and passion for one of the other displaced expatriates. And Loki didn’t want to hinder that opportunity for him by, well, by being Loki.
“Just to be clear, it’s not an issue of embarrassment. I’m simply not comfortable with…” Fandral took his hands and Loki again found himself hesitant to continue. No, not hesitant. Cautious. He didn’t want to be misinterpreted. He wanted to be certain he was neither misleading Fandral nor hurting his feelings. But that was difficult when Loki wasn’t even truly aware of what his own feelings were. “I don’t know. Perhaps I’m being a tad melodramatic. It’s not important. Really, forget I said anything. Tell whoever you want. Scream it from the rooftops. I am a conscientious lover, after all. Not that it matters. It’s by no means my most admirable quality. I’m much more than that.”
Or at least he hoped he was.
Fandral kissed his palm and Loki felt a tingling anticipation run up his arm. It made him want to close the distance between them and forget about his earlier frustration. Oh, but Loki had such a difficult time forgetting. Or letting things go.
“Why did you agree to go to dinner with the other one?”
“It is important though. If you felt it mattered enough to bring up at all, then it’s something you care about, melodramatic or not.” Fandral’s eyebrows furrowed a little as he looked up at the dark haired man, his eyes searching his face, though he did take a moment to admire his features. Not that he hadn’t before -- but he did find Loki quite beautiful. “I will be more aware of what I say and to whom. I do not wish to upset you.” He forced the frown into something of a sad smile, squeezing his hand.
Except it seemed that perhaps he already had. The question regarding his agreement to dinner with the younger, alternate version of the man before him seemed to have been on his mind as well.
Fandral pushed out a quiet sigh and still held onto Loki, pressing the palm of the hand that he’d just kissed to his cheek, leaning into the touch. His eyes never left his face, though. “I am curious about him. I know he is of an Asgard, but he also seems to live half of his life on Midgard in New York. I have not been there myself, so I do not know the city at all and he seems to think the food there is better?” He shrugged gently, but the smile he’d been wearing briefly faltered. “It is merely a hypothetical; who knows if we would ever find ourselves in New York, anyways?” Fandral paused then and lowered their hands, though he continued to hold onto Loki’s. “I will tell him that I’ve changed my mind if you would prefer that?”
Loki felt a little bit guilty for bringing it up at all. It really wasn’t anything. Not really. And did it matter to him what Margo thought? No. It didn’t. The only people Loki cared about knew who they were. Or, at least, he thought they did. And none of them would have judged him differently based on one person’s ill-informed opinion. Loki had spent his entire life being judged by people. Some rightfully. Some wrongfully. And to be fair he was the God of Lies. It wasn’t as though he could be trusted. He recognized that. He was just feeling very on edge as of late.
He stepped closer when Fandral pressed his palm to his face. Loki allowed his fingers to gently brush along the skin and the hair of his beard. It was a natural gesture despite how unnatural his mind sometimes saw them. While he enjoyed these physical moments with Fandral, he was saddened by the fact that it never would have happened in their world. And he knew why. They’d discussed why. It was clear and logical that this never would have worked on Asgard. But it still made Loki wonder if some factor of it wasn’t because he wasn’t good enough.
“I’ve just been having difficulties sleeping,” Loki said. “I wake up every morning tired and aggravated. Every little thing bothers me. Not just you. And naturally this other Loki is frustrating. I mean he’s really annoying.”
And then Tony Stark disappeared. And, granted, Loki hadn’t been close to him. But he was thinking about Darcy (yes, he did know her name) and it worried him. If it could happen to her, if she could lose the person she was closest to, it could happen to him. Or any of them. And that weighed heavily on Loki’s mind.
“You don’t have to cancel your hypothetical future date with my alternate self. Honestly, you should go. New York is a nice city.” Loki flinched. “Well, it was a nice city. I mean … I’m sure it’s better now. Probably rebuilt? Anyway, you should get to know him. Maybe you’ll like him. And maybe he…”
Loki grit his teeth together. Oh, it was difficult being considerate. “Maybe he needs to see a familiar face. This place is hel when you’re alone.”
Feeling his fingers brush against his skin and through the short hairs of his beard, Fandral’s eyes shut momentarily as he let the feeling of it linger. They’d shared affectionate touches, but he always wanted to savor them just in case, and especially because they always seemed fleeting in his mind. Of course, he had no idea of how sweet and gentle Loki had been with him while he napped on their last day in Florida. If he did, perhaps he’d worry less about moments like this being few and far between.
The discussion of his dinner with the other Loki was almost instantly pushed to the back of his mind when he mentioned that he wasn’t sleeping well. That concerned him and that concern was very evident on his face as he looked up at him. “Do you wish to talk about why you aren’t sleeping well?” he asked softly.
If it was something he could help with, he wanted to.
Fandral let out a quiet snort at the word ‘date’ and even let his eyes roll a little. “It wouldn’t be a date, if that’s your concern. Besides, what’re the chances that we end up in a version of New York that either of you actually know? I do not need to have dinner with him in order to be a friendly face. I’m not even sure if I look like the Fandral of his world.” He shrugged then, casually, before letting his free hand come forward to hook lightly around the back of one of Loki’s legs. “But nevermind that. What has you sleeping so poorly, my prince?”
Loki shrugged. He didn’t answer Fandral at first. Did he want to talk about it? No. He couldn’t talk about his inability to sleep without admitting what he’d done and what he had. Because Loki knew exactly why he was up all night every night. It was her voice. It haunted him. Followed him. It called out to him throughout the day and late into the evening. It didn’t give him any rest. And just when he thought he might be on the verge of slumber, she’d call out to him again.
Hello? Can you hear me? Hello?
It was like a lost spirit wandering the vast emptiness of the afterlife. Except that afterlife was in his mind. In his thoughts. Maybe even deep within the sinews of his soul. Loki didn’t know. All he knew was that it would continue until he gave the shade to Julia. Or until he got rid of it. There was probably a way to return it to the Goddess of the Trees if he wanted to. She did say it would be possible for her to steal it back from Julia, after all. So there must have been a go-around for Loki to be rid of it, too.
If he wanted to be rid of it.
But he didn’t.
He just wanted to sleep.
“No reason,” Loki lied. But he lied with a small smile. The sweet and affectionate kind of smile that was meant to be convincing. Meant to be distracting. “It’s probably just nerves or stress. Maybe a little homesickness.”
Lies were always the most believable when they were shrouded in tiny truths. But just to be even more convincing he placed his other hand on Fandral’s cheek as well, framing his face with his long fingers on both sides. “It doesn’t matter to me if it’s a date. I’ve changed my mind about all of that. Maybe you should get to know him better. Be his friend.”
In other words, it could be useful.
Fandral didn’t believe him, but he also didn’t want to press the subject if Loki didn’t actually want to talk about it. All he knew was that this had to have been a recent development, as he seemed to have been sleeping well enough even just a few days ago. What had happened between then and now to cause him to be unable to sleep?
A hint of a chill raced down his spine as Loki’s other hand came up to cup his face, the coolness of his skin more prominent against Fandral’s warmth. Still, he leaned into his touch, unable to help himself. “It would not be a date,” he replied, his voice quiet and matter of fact. There was nothing about this other Loki that appealed to him in that way -- besides, was Fandral really the sort to date someone properly?
He leaned forward a bit further to close more distance between them and let his long arms snake easily around the lower half of the other man, letting his forehead rest against his chest as he sat there. It was a strangely intimate way to embrace someone, but he merely wanted to be close to him.
Truthfully, that want to be near him had grown tenfold since their time together the previous week, so he was quietly thankful for this bit of privacy with him despite the discussions they were having. “Perhaps you should stay with me tonight to see if that will help you sleep?”
Loki couldn’t give a precise moment when he realized Julia’s shade had been whispering to him. Perhaps it always had been. Perhaps it started quiet and subdued, lingering in his subconscious for weeks before slowly bursting into his brain. Or maybe it was because he’d decided not to leave it underneath his mattress anymore. He’d grown paranoid. Fearful that someone might discover it while he was out. So he started keeping it on his person at all times. Magically hidden beneath the folds of his garments. Or sometimes in deeper, darker places on his person. Like his daggers he protected the shade with an almost obsessive quality. And in return the shade grew louder and louder.
Then again, maybe he was simply imagining it all. Maybe he just wanted it to speak to him. He was its savior, after all. Its protector. And, if he ever did bestow it upon Julia, its deliverer.
Gods, he was selfish, wasn’t he?
Hello??
Loki let go of Fandral’s face when he leaned into him. It was a peculiar position for Loki because Fandral made it uncomfortably intimate. But Loki didn’t pull away. He didn’t complain. He knew this was something Fandral needed. Could Fandral have received this kind of comfort from someone else? Of course. And there were probably many in Derleth who’d be willing to offer it to him. Hel, most would no doubt do a better job than Loki of returning it. But for whatever reason, Fandral had chosen Loki as the person with whom he bared his heart to.
It was a pity Loki wasn’t ready to do that in return. But Loki could do the motions. Which was why he placed one hand on the back of Fandral’s head, nails gently scratching his scalp, while the other hung loosely in a half embrace of Fandral’s shoulder.
“If you want me to,” Loki said. He didn’t know if it would help, but perhaps he could pretend and give Fandral the comforting satisfaction of feeling like he’d done something to help him. Loki could do that much. He was an excellent pretender. He could wake up in the morning, sheath his face in a bright-eyed glamour, and hide the fact that he’d spent the entire night feigning rest in Fandral’s arms while Julia’s shade wandered lost in his head. “Your room does have the benefit of privacy.”
And that was something Loki desperately wanted. Sam was nice. He was friendly. But he was still aligned with people who saw Loki as their enemy. Even without Julia haunting him he’d been sleeping with one eye open.
A pause fell between them afterwards and Loki hummed a languid Asgardian tune. One of those lamenting melodies saved for the end of the evening, when everyone was full on food and wine, slumped beside a blazing fire. It was almost a lullaby. The kind of tune meant to help children fall asleep at night. But the tone of the song was somber. And the lyrics that went with it, lyrics that Loki didn’t sing, were tragic.
But it did stop the shade from speaking. At least for now. Then again, maybe Loki just imagined that.
Perhaps Fandral could have found this sort of comfort with any number of residents at Derleth, however it was Loki that he wanted the comfort from. Why? The answer was simple: any comfort given by another in this world would feel false. And perhaps it was false coming from Loki -- that was always a risk when it came to him -- but it felt more genuine than it would with anyone else.
Was that due to their history? The depth of knowing one another for centuries and finding themselves in a new balance? As strange as it may have seemed, there was an emotional connection for Fandral now that he hadn’t anticipated and wished to let grow, if it could.
If. That was a big ask and he knew it, so he settled for these quieter, more intimate moments.
“I would like for you to stay with me tonight, if you feel the same.”
Feeling the nails of Loki’s hand gently scraping at his scalp, Fandral’s eyes closed and he nestled his head against the other man’s chest gently. He couldn’t explain why he felt that his was necessary -- perhaps it was something he thought that they both needed? He wasn’t sure, but he also wasn’t going to pull away from it.
Though when he heard the tune that Loki was humming, he felt his heart sink a little. What a bittersweet feeling to hear that song; his arms tightened around the other man more and after a few beats, allowed his own quiet humming to join him. His voice was soft, a light tenor and something beautiful, though he didn’t share it often. Not outside of the larger gatherings at the tavern where it could be drowned out by others.
Odin’s beard, he missed their home.
Loki was glad that Fandral understood him well enough to know that he was a difficult project. In all of his years on Asgard, Loki had never been really close to any of his lovers. He’d watched as Thor went through one woman after another, completely oblivious to the one closest to him, of course. He’d seen Fandral basically pave the streets with his conquests. He’d witnessed the ups and downs in relationships with all of the warriors in the palace. And while Loki could always find companionship when he needed it, he’d never had a relationship that went beyond the bedroom door. It was never really that important to him. His focus had always been elsewhere. In the beginning, when they were younger, Thor and some of the others would mock him for it. Loki with the heart of ice. Oh, if they’d only known at the time how true that was. But he always shook it off. And eventually people stopped asking him when he was finally going to bring someone home to introduce to Frigga. Or when he was going to settle down like Volstagg.
The assumption was clear. Loki wasn’t like the rest of them. Loki didn’t love like the rest of them. And there was some measure of truth in that, although it wasn’t quite so easy to explain. Loki’s feelings were complicated. And his affection for others was very often overshadowed by his hatred of himself.
Fandral had asked him recently if he thought he was a terrible person. Loki had been vague with his response. But the honest truth was, yes. Loki did think he was a terrible person. And he had countless deaths on his hands to support that truth. Most of Midgard knew it, after all. One selfless sacrifice did not make up for a lifetime of wrongdoing.
So, he was glad that Fandral was able to accept that right now this was all Loki had the capacity to give. Even if Loki desperately wished it were possible for him to give more. He simply wasn’t there yet. He might never be. But he was trying. And in some sense, as much as he hated to admit it, being away from Asgard, from their people, and from Thor, helped.
“Then I’ll stay,” Loki said after he finished humming the rest of the tune. Fandral had gripped him tighter around the waist and he didn’t really know what to do. He stretched his arm to the night stand and grabbed the bottle of wine. He took a small sip and then nudged it against Fandral’s shoulder. “You’re going to hurt your back if you sit like that much longer. Here, take this. Lie back.”
Loki grinned. “And tell me about all the lovers you indulged in last week.”
Perhaps he was going to hurt his back if he stayed in that position, but he was also very reluctant to move. Don’t ask him why -- he didn’t really have an answer.
When he felt the nudge to his shoulder, he turned his head toward it, looking to see and when he noticed the wine he bit back a sigh and loosened his hold on the other man’s torso. Fandral sat back a bit and reached for the wine, taking a long pull from the bottle. Something about the song that they’d been humming had caused a sad feeling to settle in his chest. Or something akin to sadness, anyway.
Once he’d finished taking a drink, he wiped at the corners of his mouth and reached to set the bottle back on the nightstand before doing as Loki had said. He moved, shifting carefully to lie back on the small bed. “What do you wish to know?” he asked with a small chuckle, raising an eyebrow up at him. “How do they compare to you?” Fandral cocked his head to the side a bit in curiosity. “They were fine. We had a good time, though to be truthful, I do not remember much from my trysts at the pool party.”
Which was a shame, honestly.
“Or rather, I do not recall learning many names. One of them… she was darker skinned, really lovely. She and I went a few rounds, surprisingly. And then the blonde was rather feisty. The gentleman was fun, a bit shy at first, but…”
When Fandral asked him what he wanted to know, Loki merely waved a hand in the air to indicate that it didn’t matter. Fandral could tell him whatever it was he wanted. It was just a means of distracting the conversation away from Loki’s earlier awkwardness anyway. He wasn’t really interested in Fandral’s sexual exploits, after all. Not unless he could somehow use them to his own advantage in gaining information. But based on Fandral’s choices during the pool party — yes, Loki had been keeping track — he didn’t think there was much to learn.
At the idea of comparing them to him, however, Loki scoffed. “Please. There’s no one here you can compare me to. And you know that. Hel, you practically said so yourself during Margo’s little game.”
Once Fandral was sprawled out on the bed, Loki sat down on the edge of the mattress. It wasn’t a large bed, although Loki had the impression it was a few inches wider than his own. That was something he ought to resolve. He probably could have used magic to make his own bed more comfortable or less cramped, but for whatever reason he hadn’t. Maybe he thought he deserved to suffer. Maybe he knew it wouldn’t help him sleep any better.
“The woman in the hallway was quite attractive. I liked her hair.” Because Loki always noticed the important things. He glanced down at his left hand where two of his fingernails were still painted black from the nail polish he’d pickpocketed off Ikol. One of them was chipped. He did a quick flick of the wrist and the nail polish fixed itself. No more cracks. “I noticed you were shamelessly adamant about trying to convince Margo into joining us both for an evening affair. Very bold of you to assume that I would be interested in such a proposition.”
Fandral smirked a little and as Loki sat, reaching over to casually toy with the hem of the hooded shirt that he was wearing. It seemed he couldn’t take his hands off of the other man at any given time when they were within a certain vicinity of one another.
When he responded, there was a chuckle behind his words. “Aye, I do know that.” Midgardians were fine lovers, but they couldn’t compare to that of a fellow Asgardian, as far as Fandral was concerned.
But then he let out a short bellow of a laugh. “You saw me with that woman?” he inquired, unable to help the grin that pulled at his lips. “Did you like what you saw other than her hair?” Fandral was teasing and turned a bit onto his side, propping his head up in his hand as he rest against the pillow. His free shoulder gave a slight shrug in response to his remark about a threesome with Margo.
“Well, it seemed she was propositioning you, and now she and I have intentions once she is back to a normal size…” He chuckled and then moved his hand to the sleeve of Loki’s shirt, tugging on it gently. “I suppose it only seemed a natural progression to make it a rendezvous of the three of us, though if you’re not interested in falling into bed with her between us…” He chuckled quietly, but let it fade as he looked up at him.
“Of course, I’m also quite content not sharing you with anyone.”
“I saw you with everyone. I pay attention to what’s going on. That’s how I stay on top of things. Surely you must know this by now. I’ve always been watching, Fandral.” Loki winked, leaving the rest up to Fandral’s imagination.
Loki had also noticed how quick Fandral was to touch him. To pay attention to him. As Loki had already pointed out on a few occasions, it was flattering. But it did sometimes worry him. Fandral wore his heart on his sleeve. Loki barely managed to admit he had a heart at all. It was buried deep underneath layers and layers of Frost Giant and Asgardian trauma. It wasn’t that he didn’t feel something for Fandral. He did. But Loki was cautious with his heart. It was more fragile than he was willing to admit. And he was even more cautious with the hearts of others. Because some things weren’t meant to be broken.
“I don’t know that Margo and I would compliment each other well in that sort of scenario. There’s always a hierarchy in the bedroom. The more crowded, the higher the likelihood of someone looking to upset the balance. When more than one person is involved, I have to be the center of attention.” Loki tilted his head to the side, dark hair falling over part of his face. “I suspect Margo and I share that in common.”
He paused. Then he shrugged his shoulders. “But maybe I’ll change my mind. I’m fickle. And it would be nice to prove her wrong.”
Fandral tugged at his sleeve and Loki kicked off his shoes before lying down beside Fandral. Because he knew that’s what Fandral wanted.
“Not sharing me with anyone? Well, that’s an unexpected play for my affections. How’s that supposed to work exactly? I spend my days twiddling my thumbs waiting for you to finish going through your rounds on campus before you come home to me? Or am I supposed to just sit in the corner and play the voyeur while you fornicate your way through every pretty face in the dining hall?” Loki smirked. It was a joke, of course. Loki wasn’t beholden to the Midgardian concept of monogamy. Besides, he knew there was no one in the universe who’d be able to withstand only his company for the rest of eternity. “Is that why you put me down for marriage? To trap me into monogamy while you go off and continue spreading the legend of Fandral the Dashing?”
He let out a soft snort of amusement. “Well, if you’ve always been watching, then I’m certain you’ve seen some things over the years that you care to forget. I’m surprised you were even willing to fall into bed with me a second time after that.” Still, he grinned. It was no secret to anyone that he had his way of weaving in and out of sexual exploits with almost anyone he wished -- he just had a charm about him. And yet Loki had given himself over to him despite that; for what reason?
The bed seemed hardly fit for one Asgardian let alone two, but somehow they managed to make it work and when Loki laid down beside him, he moved to press his back against the wall to give them each as much space as was possible. His hand came up and he sweetly tucked a bit of hair behind Loki’s ear, moving it away from his face.
“I didn’t mean that. I meant sharing you with another person at the same time. You are welcome to bed whoever it is you like, obviously I have no reason to say otherwise and I have no intention of asking you to only share yourself with me. It would be hypocritical and unfair.” He was smiling, though it faltered just a little as he looked at him.
They were so close to one another and he was struggling against the urge to kiss him.
Loki’s gaze dropped to the side when Fandral mentioned being surprised that Loki had decided to sleep with him despite what he knew of his past. Those things didn’t matter to Loki though. He was in no place to judge someone’s past behavior. Certainly not their desires. He was the last person in the universe who had that right. And even if he did, it wouldn’t have been important to him. “I was lonely. And I trust you.”
And coming from Loki that was a heavy statement. That carried weight. Because Loki didn’t trust a lot of people. Sometimes Loki didn’t even trust himself. But he did trust Fandral to be honest with him. To be true to him. To not hurt him. That last one was especially important because Loki was broken. He was damaged. And he’d been through a lot of pain; physically, mentally, and emotionally. Especially during his time with the mad Titan. He’d never talked about it with anyone. Never spoken it aloud. But he’d been to darker places than anyone knew about.
As strong as he was, as confident as he pretended to be, Loki didn’t want to be hurt like that again. And he knew Fandral would never intentionally cause him harm.
Loki looked up and grinned. “I know what you meant. But for what it’s worth, and it may not be worth anything, there’s only a very small handful of people here who I’d enjoy being with.”
And at least one of them he would never cross that line with. Not on his own. Because Loki really liked the friendship they had. And he’d be afraid of ruining it.
“That’s one of the things I like about you,” Loki said as he rolled over onto his back. “You’re always fair. And you never ask anything of anyone. It’s very selfless. It’s admirable.”
“I think it is worth quite a lot that you choose to spend your time with me like that,” he remarked quietly, watching as Loki shifted to lay on his back. Fandral looked down at him, admiring him for a few moments before lowering his arm and his head to lay down, though he kept his face turned toward him as they talked. In fact, in a way Fandral was surprised Loki chose to spend time with him at all after everything that had happened on Asgard. Granted, he’d hardly been as cruel to him as the other Warriors, but he could only imagine how aligning with them had looked in Loki’s eyes at the time.
Fandral breathed out a slow, quiet sigh and slipped an arm loosely over Loki’s stomach, though he didn’t pull him closer or mess with the fabric of his hoodie. It was merely just an attempt to get more comfortable in the constraints of the bed and to, well, keep touching him.
He hadn’t yet realized just how problematic that was becoming for himself.
“I am glad that you trust me.” It had taken him a moment to respond to that part of the conversation, but he gave him a small, gentle smile. “And I hope that I can help with the loneliness. I cannot pretend to know what it is you feel, Loki, but I wish you no harm and any sense of duty aside, I do wish for you to find happiness.” And if he could help be the cause of that happiness, then even better. “I care for you. I hope you know that.”
“Why wouldn’t I want to spend my time with you?” But, of course, as soon as Loki asked the question he thought he might have known Fandral’s answer to it. And yes there was some hesitation at times as to whether he could trust Fandral’s motives. But Loki couldn’t argue with the fact that of all the Warriors, Fandral had always been the most kind to him. And Loki couldn’t fault him for taking Thor’s side. Who wouldn’t take Thor’s side? Thor was a bright light at the center of Asgard. He was everything anyone wanted in a prince and in a king. He was strong. He was charming. He had a way with everyone. He inspired camaraderie. And he was truly of Asgard. Unlike Loki.
The adopted son who was never meant for the throne. Even if, in many ways, he was far better suited for it.
Loki glanced down at the arm draped over his stomach. It was comfortable. It was easy. It was natural. But it was also terrifying. For all of those reasons and more.
“I know you do, Fandral. And your company does help. With more than just the loneliness.” Loki placed his hand on Fandral’s and gave it a gentle squeeze. “But please don’t forget what I told you in the library.”
It seemed like that moment had been years ago now, despite having just been a few weeks in the past. So much had happened since then. So much had changed. And the change was too quick for Loki to keep up with. And just when he thought he was making strides, just when he thought he was ready to take a step forward, Derleth pushed him back. Every week he made progress. And every week the campus reset and gave him a new reason to return to his starting point. One step forward, two giant steps back.
He was afraid that Fandral would get too far ahead of him. And that Loki would only disappoint him in the end.
“Guard your heart,” Loki repeated the words he’d said once before. He turned his gaze on Fandral, looking him directly in the eyes. “And don’t forget what I am.”
Traitor. Trickster. Turncoat.
Liar.
He was quiet for a few beats, digesting the words that Loki had just said to him. Repeating what he’d spoken in the library, though it felt worse this time. At first it had been reactionary to Fandral in how he reacted toward their time together under the influence of Derleth -- their memories gone and instinct overcoming them.
But now he was saying it because Fandral was becoming too intimate, wasn’t he? Too gentle. Too caring. He’d always been the sort to show exactly how he felt at any given time, whether with a friend or a lover, and Loki was no different in that aspect.
Except he found himself growing more and more fond of their time together. There was something there that Fandral simply couldn’t put his finger on, but he knew it went beyond the fact that they already had a history. Loki was familiar and tasted of home when he kissed him, but there was more to it. He just didn’t have the words to explain what it was.
Fandral held his gaze for what felt like an eternity before he finally spoke, his voice hushed -- barely above a whisper. “But I do not wish to guard my heart from you,” he replied. The words felt almost broken as they fell from his lips and his brows furrowed in confusion. What exactly was Loki saying? Perhaps it would have been smarter for Fandral to keep some sort of protection around his heart where the other man was concerned, that would have been the logical thing to do with someone like Loki -- after all he’d done, who was Fandral to think that maybe things would be different now, just because they weren’t on Asgard?
That realization hit and a sense of shame washed over him. Not shame for what he felt, but shame for -- what? Embarrassing himself because he felt something he shouldn’t have?
No.
It was a sense of shame for feeling something when Loki clearly didn’t.
How stupid could you possibly be, Fandral?
That thought lodged itself into his head and he immediately felt his throat tighten with emotion, which he tried to swallow down with difficulty. He wanted to say something, to apologize for letting his heart get away from him as it was wont to do, but he couldn’t bring himself to speak out of fear. So instead he waited for whatever response Loki would have to his admission.
Loki’s gaze didn’t waver from Fandral’s as he waited for his response. His breath had lowered to an almost unnatural level. His heart beat hard with anticipation. Loki wasn’t oblivious. On the contrary, Loki was acutely perceptive. And he’d seen Fandral fall in love before. He’d watched from a distance as time and time again, Fandral gave his heart to someone. In some cases it was returned, almost graciously, as it had been with the Midgardian maid that Fandral gave a significant portion of his life to. In others it was more fleeting. But Loki had seen the changes in him before. The affections granted to another person. The attention. The desperate need for touch, to be reminded that the other person was still there. Loki had never admitted it to anyone, but he’d often been envious of those sentiments. Of that tenderness. And not just with Fandral and his lovers. But between anyone who managed to elicit a spark in someone else, and to feel that soul spark in return. Loki had never experienced that. And he wasn’t hopeful that he ever would.
Regardless, he was very aware of the path Fandral was on. And Loki felt that it was imperative to remind Fandral of the truth of their situation. To remind him that he was Loki. Loki. The environment might have been different. The clothing might have been relaxed. His daggers might have been sheathed. But he was still Loki. He was still capable of causing great pain. And he didn’t want to cause Fandral any pain. He wanted to protect him. And the most important person Loki had to protect Fandral from was himself. Was Loki.
But Fandral wasn’t alone in what he felt. Loki felt it, too. It pushed against that wall he’d built. It wanted to break through. But Loki was a coward. And the risks of loss and failure and grief far outweighed his desire for whatever it was Fandral could give him. Or whatever Fandral wanted to give him.
Love, perhaps. If that’s the word they were dancing around.
When Fandral finally spoke, Loki’s brows knit together at the center of his forehead, his expression pulled into something almost pain-stricken. It wasn’t pity or anger or frustration. There was no embarrassment or shame. It was just wounded.
As though someone had just stuck a dagger through his heart. And, in a sense, someone had. But not Fandral. This was all Loki’s doing. Or undoing.
Loki slowly let go of Fandral’s hand and sat up. His mind was racing, his pulse pounding. But on the outside he looked calm and composed. Illusions were a powerful factor in hiding his emotions. But he couldn’t quite conceal all of them. Something always peeked through. A glimmer of regret. A flicker of fear. And maybe, buried within all of that, a longing.
He stood up from the bed and made his way to the center of the room, refusing to look at Fandral. Distance helped. It stifled his own urge to apologize or to run his fingers through his hair. He held him back from a kiss.
He glanced back over his shoulder and withheld a sigh. Why did this hurt? This shouldn’t have hurt. They’d both seen this coming, hadn’t they?
Loki opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. Instead he looked down at the floor. There was an inner battle waging inside of him. Compelling him to stay. To speak. To change his mind. But he didn’t.
And, without a word, he left.
Most of the time Fandral was capable of going from bed to bed without any long term attachments becoming a risk. But most of the time, Fandral was also capable of falling in and out of love with his partners with ease, never allowing himself to fall too far. Only most of the time, though. Every now and then someone managed to sneak into the very corners of his heart and nestle themselves there unbeknownst to him until it was too late.
This may or may not have been one of those times and a part of him couldn’t believe it was Loki of all people who managed it.
Or maybe he could.
Fandral laid there quietly as he watched Loki, watched the flicker of doubt in his eyes, the pained look, before he moved. He wanted to say something -- ask him to stay, grab his hand again, anything. But he was frozen and he felt his heart sink into the very bowels of his stomach.
No no no no no.
It wasn’t until after his door had closed and he was left alone in the room that his brain was able to catch up with what had just happened and he felt the air escape him. There was nothing he could do -- what was he meant to do, anyway? Beg for him to not go? Tell him that he’d try harder? It was a moot point given what Loki was trying to do.
So instead he shifted, rolling over onto his side with his back to the door, and let the quiet of the empty room envelope him.