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‘Oh good, more excellent ideas from Thor,’ Loki sighs with a total and complete lack of enthusiasm. ‘Can’t I just push Heimdall down the stairs or something?’
‘How is that a good deed?’ Thor asks, bewildered.
‘It would give everyone a good laugh,’ Loki says, the corner of his mouth twitching. ‘I’m laughing on the inside just picturing it.’
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In which Loki is roped into cleaning up his act to reassure the people that he isn't planning on betraying them (again), while Thor spends far too much time explaining that no, they aren’t sleeping together.
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‘Can you,’ Thor starts, but quiets when Loki puts his hand on Thor’s arm gently, a finger flickering to his lips: yes. Loki starts to smile, his eyes sharp with concentration as he pulls the words towards himself, and after a second he laughs delightedly.
‘Excellent,’ he says, grinning at Thor as he squeezes his arm. Thor blinks at him, struck by the ridiculous thought that this is the first time he can remember Loki reaching for him rather than the other way round since they came onto the ship. Longer than that, even – Loki has not reached for Thor first in years, and now his long fingers curl as casually around Thor’s wrist as if they don’t go a day without embracing. As if Loki might touch Thor anytime he likes.
.
He pauses, recognising how painfully sincere it sounds when Loki raises an incredulous eyebrow. Thor grins at him, he can’t help it. Every so often some look or quirk of Loki’s expression will strike him like an arrow and he’ll remember all over again how much he’d missed it, when Loki was gone. No one ever mentions that in the epic ballads of love lost: how much it’s possible to miss the way someone rolls their eyes at you.
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