First Kisses

If anyone in the nine had asked Loki to his face what his first kiss had been like, he would have first stabbed them. Then, if they insisted, he would lie. It’s bad enough he himself remembers the incident, he didn’t want it to spread.

He’d been young, no longer a child but not yet grown into his figure, all long, weedy limbs and thin skin. He’d only just lost the pinchable baby fat of his cheeks, something his mother mourned for months. He moved like a foal just getting his standing, found a new mark or blemish on his cheeks every morning and kept being surprised by hair where it had never grown before. If there was anyone inside the palace or out who found him even he slightest bit appealing, they had been silent the moment puberty came knocking at his door. Even Loki himself, though he was loath to admit it, found himself dreading passing his mirror in the mornings.

This unspoken rule to ignore the ugly duckling second prince made it easy enough to sit and read under the fruit trees in the queen’s gardens, sure than no one would bother him for hours. It also meant when someone did disturb him, it caught him by surprise.

“FUCKING NORNS-” He yelped when a body came out of nowhere to flop down beside him. He was lucky he hadn’t accidentally lashed out with his seiðr, an embarrassing little tic that had become more common the past few years whenever he was startled or overwhelmed. The heat of his cheeks and beating of his heart were mortifying, all the more when he looked at his guest to see Fandral Holgersson, one of his brother’s stupid friends.

“Quite the mouth on you, kid,” he laughed, trying to sound friendly, but mostly seeming mocking.

Loki quite bitterly thought that Fandral was only a few centuries his senior, but kept that to himself. He’d already let the older boy know more than once just what he thought about that seniority- worse that he tried to prove it with his wispy little trail of a mustache, hair only just dark enough to be seen. Volstagg, being more than a few centuries older than the rest of them, had long since grown out a respectable beard and it seems Fandral and Thor both were getting jealous. It was pathetic, honestly.

“What do you want, Fandral?” He asked plainly, closing his book with just the barest hint of politeness.

“What? Can’t I swing by and check on my good friend’s little brother?” Fandral swung an arm over Loki’s shoulder, ignoring his hiss and batting hands to remove it. He held in one hand a ripe fruit from the tree they were under, too soft to be worth eating. “We haven’t seen you at the training fields lately, even Sif’s starting to wonder.”

“My cohort trains in the evenings, idiot, you all train in the mornings.” He rolled his eyes.

Thor and his companions had been officially declared a military unit not a half century earlier (though not approved for true battle), so they trained separately with the other small units, nowhere close to Loki’s own training. For some reason while his brother had become more and more willing to pass him by in favour of going on hunts with his friends and trying to impress their commander, Fandral had decided to take it upon himself to seek Loki out every so often.

He didn’t under stand why, what exactly the older boy was looking for with his banal questioning and stale jokes, but it unnerved Loki every time he tried.

“What are you reading this time, highness?” He asked, shifting closer to Loki and letting go of his fruit to grab lightly at his book, “More magic theory? I don’t see how you can read those old tomes without falling asleep a page in. I’m more of a fiction man myself.”

“Hardly a man at all,” Loki murmured, pulling his book away from Fandral’s grasp. “If you must know, it’s a mystery novel. A dökkálfr trapped on Vanaheimr, trying to prove his innocence after a murder.”

“Oh, colour me interested!” He perked up, as if he wasn’t already unnaturally interested in every word from Loki’s lips. “could you read me some?”

The request itself would have knocked Loki off his feet if he had been standing. Instead, he just looked at Fandral incredulously, really wondering if the boy had gotten himself concussed or something.

“Why would you want me to do that?” He asked, then bit out, “You can’t actually be illiterate. Can you?”

He’d expect some noise of offense or a push to the ground, the way Thor or Sif would done if he’d said the same to them. But he only laughed, the way he always did when it was just the two of them, like his barbs just didn’t strike the same without his friends around. Loki himself would never take that kind of disrespect.

“I want to see if it’s worth checking out,” Fandral shrugged. “And maybe I just like hearing you talk.”

Loki snorted. “Oh, now I know you’re planning something. Did Sif put you up to something?”

“No! I just-” He frowned, shifting about in the dirt like he wasn’t wearing trousers more expensive then some servant’s children. “I like being here, listening to you, is all. It’s just easier to listen when it’s not seiðr babble that no one else understands.”

“I don’t see why you-”

and something had changed, quick enough that it took him a moment to realize what had happened. The warmth wrapped around his shoulders was now holding onto the back of his neck, the light of the gardens shadowed over with another body, his lips pressed against the other’s, both soft but chapped and moving awkwardly against one another. It took him a moment, yes, but when he realized what had happened, three things happened.

1) Fandral’s mouth opened, something Loki had no idea what to do with.

2) He let out a frankly mortifying squeak.

3) the tree behind them cracked down the middle, sending wood chips flying out in all directions.

The sound was loud enough to startle Fandral, sending him wheeling back away from Loki. They both looked at each other, red faced and wide eyes, and at the tree, slowly collapsing along it’s new fractures. They were both very quiet for a very long time, watching the tree fall, the last remnants of it’s fruit hitting the ground and filling the air between them with their noxious sweet scent.

“That-”

“I DIDN’T-”

“that was-”

“I JUST THOUGHT-”

“My first kiss.”

“YOU WERE CUTE.”

Loki felt his already warm cheeks flare and the tree beside them let out an anguished creak. Fandral didn’t look much better off, seeming absolutely terrified of his own actions

“You think I’m-” He murmured, allowing the functioning part of his mind to put together Fandral’s incessant questioning and interest in him with this new information. “But no one…”

“I do.” Fandral swallowed, seeming to shrink under his stare. “I think you’re cute. And really smart and funny.”

Loki had no idea how to respond to any of this, especially not when Fandral was acting shy about it. What happened to the flirty little creep that all the girls in court seemed to adore? The boy all the proper ladies would laugh about, already knowing he would grow up to be a charmer, the same as his father. Hell, Loki wasn’t even a lady! People already call him argr when they think he’s not listening, this would make it even worse!

“I think you’re pretty great, honestly,” Fandral continued, quieter, “But I didn’t mean to- I mean, that wasn’t proper of me. Your highness.”

Loki, for once in his life, had nothing to say. He opened his mouth to try to say something, but nothing worthwhile came out. He was still too young to have polished his confident, smooth, silvertongue persona, able to respond to any given proposition with grace. As it was, he was too busy grieving over his pockmarked face to have had the chance to learn.

“You… I-” He looked between Fandral and the nearest path out of the garden. “I don’t know what to say. I think I should go.”

“Alright,” Fandral breathed, not looking at him as he stood, even going as far as to hand him his book when he was about to forget it. Loki just almost thought he was in the clear when Fandral reached out to catch his arm before he could fully turn away. “Wait, Loki!”

They looked at each other for a long, slow moment before Fandral spoke again.

“If you could, I mean, if anyone were to ask what happened here today-”

“Trust me, the events of this afternoon couldn’t be tortured out of me.”

“Oh. Alright. Goodbye, then.”

And Loki turned, slipping his arm from Fandral’s grasp and running away as quickly as he could without looking like he was running away. If, norns forbid, He thought for a moment that Fandral actually looked cute for a moment there, looking at him all red cheeked and shy, Loki refused to acknowledge it any further. He needed to lie down.