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Thor has been pacing for well over an hour before Loki finally states the obvious.
“You’re nervous.”
“What?” Thor shakes his head, chuckling. His feet don’t falter in their round trip of the bedroom. “No, no, of course not! I’m never nervous!”
Loki lifts an eyebrow in a thoroughly unimpressed expression. “If that were the case, you would be sitting calmly and letting me read, rather than running laps.”
Thor whips around and knocks over a vase, only just managing to catch it before it rolls onto the floor.
“I apologize, brother,” he says with a sheepish grin. He sets the vase back in place and gives it a pat. “I didn’t realize I was disturbing you.”
Loki rolls his eyes. “You’ve been stomping loudly about the room for eons, Thor. How could that not disturb me?”
Thor shrugs, looking slightly guilty. “I don’t know. I thought you were good at ignoring.”
“Not when it’s you I'm trying to ignore.” Loki huffs an exasperated sigh and pushes himself up into a sitting position. “Alright, that’s it. Come over here, you big oaf.”
He pats the spot on the bed beside him and Thor only hesitates a moment before crossing the room and flopping down.
“Lie down,” Loki commands.
He grasps Thor’s broad shoulders as he complies, angling him so his head rests in Loki’s lap. A pair of crystal blue eyes stare up at him, slightly squinted in confusion. Loki pointedly avoids them, even as a smile quirks the edges of his mouth.
“Relax,” he says, running his fingers through Thor’s hair and beginning to separate it into sections, “I’m not going to stab you…at least not at this moment.”
Thor grins. “And here I thought you were cross with me.”
“I’m always cross with you. But the intensity of it varies from moment to moment.”
Three small groupings of golden hair lie in his grasp, and Loki begins to cross them, one over the other, deft fingers making quick work of the task. He can feel Thor’s gaze on his face, all the while, studying him with a strange intensity, almost as though he’s attempting to memorize every aspect of his features. It’s a bit disconcerting.
“You’re not going to forget me in the span of a few moments,” he says when the awkwardness of it has grown to an extreme he can no longer ignore. “There’s no need to scrutinize me like a choice painting.”
Thor’s gaze doesn't waver. “I will be made king tomorrow,” he says, softly.
Loki finishes off one braid and moves onto the next, fingernails scratching gently at Thor’s scalp as he sections off the new strands of hair.
“Is that so? I had no idea.”
“The whole kingdom will look to me to lead them, to bear all the burdens of life so they do not have to,” Thor continues, ignoring Loki’s sarcastic comment. “I should be honored to hold such a position.”
“Yes.” Loki agrees. He brings more of the silky soft, golden mane into the braid taking form beneath his hands, thickening it into a more complex pattern. “And yet you are not?”
Thor shakes his head, disturbing the flow of one of Loki’s intricate crossovers. Loki slaps his arm.
“Stay still, or I will stab you.”
“Sorry.” Thor inhales through his teeth as Loki yanks the hair back into place with more viciousness than necessary. “I am honored, though, truly; I’ve looked forward to this day all of my life.”
He squeezes his eyes shut. When he opens them again there’s something akin to heartbreak written in their depths.
“It’s not the promise of a throne that troubles me, Loki,” he says, “it’s the possibility that by gaining it, I will lose you.”
Loki’s hands slow just slightly. He stares down at the hair entwined in his fingers, and swallows hard.
“A king can do as he pleases,” he says carefully, after a long moment. “This thing we have between us need not be stolen away.”
“And I will do everything in my power to ensure that it is not,” Thor replies, firmly. “But, brother, I fear that what I can do will not be enough. I will have to be wed some day, produce heirs, rule by the side of someone I can never bring myself to love…”
“Then wed me.”
The words are out of his mouth before he can stop them, and Loki feels a flush cover his cheeks. A mad mixture of hope and fear rises within him, threatening to steal away his voice. He pushes on regardless.
“We love each other do we not? And, given my infinite knowledge and general willingness to put up with you, I can fulfill the role of your mate better than anyone. The entire problem would be easily solved.”
Thor gazes up at him, for a moment, eyes wide. Then, his face stretches into a gigantic grin.
“Brother, you are a genius! How did I not think of such a solution?”
And before Loki can even think of a snarky comeback, Thor reaches up, grasps the back of his neck, and pulls him down into a tender kiss.
“Well?” Loki queries when they break apart just slightly, lips still brushing, Thor’s hand still resting warm and solid on his skin. “Was that a yes?”
Thor grins again, brighter than the sun itself.
“Of course it is! Why in all the Nine would I say no?”
A smile breaks across Loki’s face as relief floods him in a dizzying wave.
“Well, you have been known to be an idiot.”
Thor’s expression softens. “On other matters, perhaps, but not on this. I know who I love, and I want to spend the rest of my life by his side.”
“Always so sentimental, brother,” Loki teases, shaking his head in mock exasperation, even as a wonderful warmth blossoms in his chest.
He hadn’t meant for tonight to go this way; such a possibility hadn’t even crossed his mind. But now, now he gets to marry the man who loves him so freely, so openly; the man who he loves passionately, wholeheartedly in return. It’s more than anything he could ever have hoped for.
“Well, you did start it,” Thor replies, chuckling.
Loki gives a little hum, a fond smile quirking the edges of his lips. “I did, didn’t I? How foolish of me.” He plants a quick kiss on Thor’s lips, before straightening to resume his work. “Now, sit still so I can finish your hair.”
“Always so bossy,” Thor gripes, teasingly, but he complies anyway.
They settle into companionable silence, after that, both relaxing into the rhythm of Loki’s skilled hands moving hair in and out, weaving it into an elaborate design. Ever so often Thor reaches up to cup the side of his face, his calloused hand so gentle upon Loki’s skin. And Loki can never quite keep from smiling.
It’s pure bliss sitting like this, enjoying one another’s presence, basking in what’s to come. The thought that there will be many more nights such as this one, many more moments of quiet bonding just the two of them, only improves Loki’s mood further.
And when he finishes the braid at last, he can’t resist bending forward and kissing Thor, tenderly, lovingly, trying to convey even some small bit of the emotion welling up within him.
“Thank you, brother,” he whispers, breathlessly. “Thank you for saying yes.”
“Oh, Loki,” Thor smiles, “never in a million years would I have even dreamed of saying no.”
He leans upward to capture Loki’s lips once more, and this time Loki loses himself in it.