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Thor had not seen Loki in two days. He missed his brother, even though he knew full well that Loki had to study his magic in the mountains behind the city, and as such would be away for days.
It was just, just. That it was Loki’s nameday, and his tutor was a strict old codger that drove Loki hard, and would not make an exception for his birthday. And Thor just wanted to see him. He had hunted a deer earlier that week, and the antlers were elegant in a way Loki would love. Loki should have been there for the feast. He should’ve been there for the hunt. Instead he was stuck on a mountaintop, practicing magic he was already the best at.
“Can’t you tell his tutor to bring him back?” Thor whined to his mother, who was nalbinding yet another pair of gloves. This one was made of bast fibre dyed dark green, the precise shade of Loki’s eyes. “I want to see him.”
“His tutor will send him back when he sees fit to do so,” Frigga said, not looking up. “You know well that your father wants Loki to be proficient in his magics, and practice is the only way to do that.”
“Loki is very good already,” Thor protested. “ And it’s his nameday! He should have the day off. I always get the day off.” Technically, Thor got the entire week off, and so did most of Asgard. The nameday of the crown prince was an occasion to be celebrated with everything the kingdom had.
“Thor,” Frigga said, finally looking up. “The rules for namedays are different for you and for Loki. You know this already. If it bothers you so much, you can take it up with your father.”
Thor quailed. His father would not be happy to be distracted by something so petty, and he would almost certainly yell at Thor. “Fine,” he said mutinously. “I’m going.”
Frigga sighed, but did not respond as Thor inched out of the room.
He broke into a run as soon as he closed the door, only stopping by his rooms to pick up the books he’d stolen from the library and the antlers and pelt of the deer. He tied them together haphazardly, swung them over his back, and ran to the stables. The stablehand was an old fool, and would not notice a horse gone. Or four. Or the entire fucking stable, for that matter.
Skinfaxi was sleeping, but awoke when Thor placed a hand on her mane. “Can you take me to where Loki is?” he whispered. She neighed softly. “Good girl.” He swung himself up onto her back, carefully balancing the pack with Loki’s gifts.
Skinfaxi was one of the fastest horses in the stables, and it only took her a few minutes to find a glade in the forest. It was eerily quiet here, save for the muted tinkle of a small stream. Loki had to here somewhere. Didn’t he?
“Loki?” Thor called hesitantly, sliding off Skinfaxi. There was no reply. “Loki, please come out. I have your gifts.”
There was a rustle, and the air next to the stream shimmered into Loki. “Brother!” he cried, voice joyous, running full tilt to throw himself at Thor. Thor caught him, laughing.
“Careful,” he said, but he couldn’t keep the transparent happiness out of his voice.
“Did you really get me things?” Loki asked eagerly. “I didn’t know if you would come.” He frowned suddenly, biting his lip. “Did mother tell you to come? Do they even know you’re here? The forest isn’t very safe, you know. You could get hurt.” He looked so anxious and nervous throughout his little speech, Thor didn’t have to heart to tell him that their mother had forbade him from coming.
“You have nothing to fear,” Thor said instead. “I am the greatest warrior in all of Asgard, and you are its best weaver of magic. What could harm us?”
Loki shook his head, but he was smiling. “So arrogant,” he murmured, tugging the pack away from Thor’s hands.
He gasped with unconcealed happiness when he came upon the books. “You remembered the titles,” he said, running reverent fingers over the cover. “Oh, Thor.” And then he came upon the antlers and the pelt, and his expression turned wondering. “Did you—hunt these yourself?” he asked.
“Yes,” Thor said proudly. “My first kill.”
“And you’re giving it to me,” Loki said disapprovingly. “Why not keep it for yourself?”
“You can always give it back,” Thor said carelessly. Loki overthought everything—he didn’t understand that Thor was giving him the pelt because he loved him. That if Loki had been there at the feast after the kill, he would have gotten the best cut of meat. Because it was Thor’s, and Loki was also Thor’s, and he deserved the very best of everything.
“No!”
“I thought as much,” Thor said smugly. Loki was caressing the deerskin, rocking slightly the way he did when he was feeling too much and trying to control his emotions, his long fingers pale against the dark reddish-brown. When he looked back up at Thor, his eyes were overly bright.
“Thank you,” he said softly. Leaned in—
Thor met him halfway, their lips brushing gently. Loki’s were cool and chapped, and Thor automatically raised a hand to cup his face, guiding them closer. Loki made a soft, involuntary sound.
They kissed for what felt like hours. Loki pulled away once to cast a glamour that would hide them from sight, after which Thor pushed him into the crisp-sweet grass and made him reach up for Thor. They kissed until their lips were sore, until the sun was high in the sky.
When they finally managed to come apart for more than a few seconds, they discovered that Skinfaxi had wandered off. They stumbled through the woods, holding hands and giggling as they shouted for the steed.
Thor found her at last, standing by a small pool and arguing fiercely with a flock of geese. “What are they saying?” he asked Loki.
“It’s all nonsense.” Loki shook his head, his lips still pink and swollen and turned up in a smile. “You should take her home, brother.” He sounded reluctant.
“Don’t you want to come with?” Thor asked. Loki hesitated.
“Mother and father—”
“It’s your nameday,” Thor said. “I will talk to them.”
Loki shook his head again. “Can’t we just stay here? It’s nice in the woods, and we can kiss.”
“We can do more than kiss,” Thor suggested, squeezing Loki’s hand.
Loki blushed. “Anything you like.”