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Days like today were always lovely, where the sun shining made everything gleam and sparkle and the breeze were gentle, not too cold but just the perfect temperature. Of course, days like today were always lovely when they’re spent with someone equally as such, but perhaps that’s why he was given the name “dashing.” You weren’t always that interested in him, nor the warriors three, but he slipped through the cracks and you didn’t put up much of a fight once you realized how far you had fallen for him—and who could say no to a picnic out in the Asgardian fields with Fandral, anyhow?
When he had asked you earlier today, you weren’t expecting much but as soon as you had seen the spread—fruit baskets and crystal glasses, a fine linen blanket with golden patterns etched into the fabric—you knew that, once again, he managed to slip further past the cracks you’ve never bothered patching up, and probably never will with him being so close to your heart already.
“These are delicious,” the strawberry in your hand drips down your finger as you wipe your lips.
Fandral chuckles, leaning his head further back to close his eyes up at the sun, resting on one hand where he lays. “I made sure to get only the best for you, darling.”
You don’t react to the nickname, having heard that from his lips countless times before directed at many a fair maiden. “I can tell, with all the food you packed. Must have taken some convincing to sneak this out of the palace.”
“Oh no,” he smiles, tilting his head to look at you. “Not at all, my dear. Only so much convincing for you to join me.”
You smile, wiping the strawberry juice off of your hands with one of the serviettes packed. “I’ve never taken you for the picnic type.”
“Well, what is it they say? A moment is only as good as the people you spend it with.”
“And this moment?” You tease, leaning on your elbow closer to him. “How good is it?”
He doesn’t hesitate to say, “Far greater than any I’ve spent before.”
It makes you smile, looking down at your lap as you fiddle with the serviette in your hands. The confidence in his words could make anyone swoon, but you’ve always been more hopeless than hopeful as a romantic for him. Yet you still cling to it, smiling wider and letting out a chuckle, looking up again.
“Always such a charmer.”
He nods in agreement, pursing his lips slightly as he grabs his glass for another sip. There’s a moment of silence between you two, where you simply sit basking in the sun and listening to the rustling of the flowers amongst the grass as the wind blows gentle and cool. Fandral was right about moments, since this one wouldn’t be as pleasant if he weren’t beside you, but you are still wondering why you’re with him here to begin with—not that you’re complaining but time spent with Fandral was always giddy at most, throwing quips each other’s way and believing his flirts to be mere fun. Hopeless not hopeful, you remind yourself.
“When are you leaving?” you ask finally, seeing as the question was danced around before the food was even brought out.
He sighs, something tired. “Tonight.”
“And you’ll be gone for…?”
“I don’t know—” he sits up—“I’m hoping no more than a month, should everything go to plan. These things don’t usually turn out that way, however.”
You hum in agreement, knowing how long his last campaign with the warriors had been—and how you waited to see him ride back home almost everyday. “I thought you enjoyed fighting battles? I hear so many stories.”
“All in truth, I assure you.” he wags a finger for emphasis. “But when I go, I’ll miss moments like these. I’ll miss you.”
Your cheeks burn by his words. “You won’t have any time to miss me.”
He shakes his head. “I’ll think of you always.”
Hopeless. Remember it. He’s a natural born flirt, and a good one at that, but this doesn’t mean anything to him. You keep telling yourself that but the more you do, the more you think differently. Or maybe you’re just trying to deny what he might feel because of the way you feel. Cutting your thoughts short before you lose yourself, you lean over to pluck a flower from the field, twirling it in your hands to have something other than the serviette to fiddle with in the hopes that Fandral won’t notice how nervous you are. He doesn’t leave the topic unfinished, though.
“That is why I asked you to join me here. If I’m to leave tonight, I want you to be the last person I spend my day with.”
“Fandral,”
“I know,” he chuckles lightly. “Everything will be alright. I know that more than anything.”
“Because of your bravery or your silver tongue?” you joke, expecting a laugh from him but only getting a smile.
“Because I have something worth fighting for.”
“What is that?”
You think you know the answer already, most likely for Asgard or his companions—something noble—yet you don’t expect his answer when he leans over to take the flower from your fingers, twirling it once before he fastens it behind your ear, looking at you softly to say, “You.”
It’s said so sincerely that you do nothing but stare at him, watching for a furrow in his brow or the crease in his smile to tell you that he was only fooling, but he just continues to look at you, something so genuine and intimate that it could tip you over if his hand weren’t still by your ear and gently brushing along your cheek.
You don’t know what to say, so you change the topic. “Does it look alright?”
It almost takes him a moment, but he doesn’t even look at the flower, instead staring so wistfully at you that you can feel his gaze, noticing the way his eyes flicker between your own and he swallows the clearing of his throat. “Yes, well… you are always beautiful.”
You can feel your heart racing against your chest, you’re scared it might rip right through the skin. What could you reply with that won’t end in a stutter? He’s captured your heart, though you try to deny it, and maybe now you’re about ready to tear down the wall after all these years. But even when his fingers brush along your jaw so tenderly, working their way to your chin, you need more before you can let him in completely.
“I need to know,” you say so quiet like the breeze, placing your hand on top of his to still his movements. He looks at you with those swimmable eyes of his, brows furrowed in a way that makes him look like he’s been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “All of this… how you are with me… is it anything more than just Fandral the Dashing?”
He leans back slightly, like your words had shoved him backward. The look on his face changes to disbelief but so fractionally, so soft-hearted, that you could almost think he was saddened.
“Do you truly believe I have no feelings for you?” he waits for you to tell him he’s wrong, that all this time you’ve known, and when you remain silent he says, “All that I do for you, it’s all of me. Every word I speak, every touch I give, it’s a reflection of how much I care for you. My dear, I have loved you ever since we were young.”
For as long as you can remember, you have wanted to hear those words from him. Every moment you spent wondering ‘what if?’ has come to a standstill, telling you so clearly that all your doubts were for nothing. Fandral loves you, but more than that he has loved you for the beginning. It’s so much to take in that you sit there, frozen, balancing on the edge of happiness and surprise, your thoughts being too loud for you to even choose how to outwardly react.
He’s known you for so long and chuckles breathlessly when you make no move, knowing how many words must be swirling inside your head. “Must I prove myself once more for you?” His thumb rubs gently at your chin as he leans closer, smiling when he notices the way you hold your breath. “Very well.”
You can’t think to close your eyes when he leans just that much closer and presses his lips to yours—the feeling alone being too good to be true, you have to make sure you’re not dreaming. Then just as softly, all at once, you fall into him. The wall comes crumbling down as you close your eyes and kiss him back, your hand reaching out to hold onto his shirt so that this moment doesn’t drift away from you. He smiles against your lips, tilting his head to kiss you deeper and feel you press against him. As he wraps his arms around you, he begins to peck kisses along your jaw, beneath your earlobe, and scattering featherlight kisses along your neck just to hear you laugh as you squirm in his arms.
“You laugh so sweetly, I might have to kiss you more just to hear it.” he has the biggest smile on his face as he speaks, leaning in close to bump his nose against yours. You giggle as you push him back lightly, hearing him chuckle along with you. “I’ll take the sound with me until I come back home to you.”