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Summary
Summer 1986. Thor has been stupidly in love with his little brother for as long as he can remember, but despite every indication that Loki is into him, too, he’s too afraid of, you know, ruining their entire lives to say or do anything about it. But then a beach vacation the summer before he leaves for college forces the two of them into close quarters (and onto one way-too-small sofa bed), and Thor starts to realize that his usual coping methods of Ignoring and/or Avoiding those unspoken feelings aren’t going to work much longer.
Loki is walking by himself in the surf, carrying his sandals and the bag he’s been keeping his sunscreen and wallet and towel and like three bags of candy in all week, and Thor almost physically aches to see him. His dark hair is gold-tinged from the sunset, all curly and wild like he got it wet swimming and let it dry in the breeze… Thor wants to dig his fingers into it, fluff it up like he’s done a million times in the halls at school when he wants to bug him, but he also wants to leave his hands in it and tilt Loki’s chin up so he can kiss him, taste the saltwater on his skin. He knows how soft those curls are already, but he still wants to find out about his lips.