Liar's Lips

It is wrong, everything unworthy of an Odinson, and yet he does it anyway.

It is a part of him, maybe, like an arm or a limb or a tendon. Loki is a part of him, just as he is a part of Loki. And without one, the other is gone. A man without a limb, or a piece of his heart.

Thor thinks, wonders if it all began when they were both little more than children. The difference between them was evident, obvious even back then. Where Loki enjoyed silence and books, Thor enjoyed friendships and loudness and the thrill of fighting. Loki liked the complete darkness of his room, the dank, dark shadows within. Thor liked the light, the sun, the feel of it on his skin like a spreading warmth.

They were children, but even then were they men of different kinds.

And yet, Thor loved him. At first, as children, it was something different than what it later became. It was a healthy curiosity between brothers, a negative that could coincide with a positive to create a whole. A complete picture.

They are together, and for a while they are happy. The kind of happiness only children of Asgard can have, when their lives are filled with legends and nightmares whispered at night, to warn them.

"I think frost giants are rather frightening," Loki tells him once, when they are young. Frigga has left their shared quarters, and they are alone with the remnants of the Jotun running about their minds. "Don't you, brother?" And a frown pulls at the corners of his lips.

"Of course not," Is what he tells Loki, with a grin and a flick of the nose. "They're just monsters, nothing like us Asgardians!"

Even then, Loki had frowned. Even then, Thor thinks, he had felt different.

"Don't worry about it, brother," Thor had continued. "I'll protect you."

And Loki had leveled a look at him, so intense and frightening and stinging, as if he knew that Thor couldn't protect him at all.

"You shouldn't lie," He'd said, toying irritably, twitchingly with the cuffs of his garments. "Brother."

Later on, when Liesmith becomes a part of Loki's name, they joke about it. The words you shouldn't lie tumble often from Loki's lips, followed by a jagged smile.

Thor loved that smile, crooked and playful.

When he's on the brink of adulthood, that smile, those lips, become a fantasy more than anything else. He imagines them in all manners of ways, more often than not when he is alone, when he has nothing but his thoughts and the mead in his veins to satisfy him.

It is wrong, and he is unworthy of it, but he does it anyway.

He loves Loki, far more than a brother should.

The others call him trickster behind his back, mock the differences that Thor so very much finds attractive, the very thing that pulls him closer.

They are a tidal wave, a riptide, a force that pulls on one another.

There is a day that comes, when the two of them are drunk, both from battle and mead and the thrill. Thor pushes his brother into a corner, watches those lips and those jagged teeth pull into a sliver of a smile, a white snip. Thor leans, kisses.

It is more than a moment of affection between brothers. It is wrong, but Thor cannot be bothered. Not now, maybe not ever.

Something, deep down in the pit of his stomach, tugging and pulling, makes him think twice about this, attempts to make him realize what he's doing.

Instead of relying on his mind, and truly his mind has never been his strong suit, he grips at the buckles and belts of Loki's clothes.

His brother tastes like rain, and overwhelmingly of mead. There's something a bit more hidden beneath it, something that doesn't have a taste at all. Like shadows, or darkness.

Lies, maybe.

They do not speak of it the next day, or the day after that. Nor the months that follow, or even the years.

Loki will show up in his quarters periodically, and Thor will wait for him. When they are finished, marinating in their own sweat, Loki will leave again. As if it were nothing, as if it means nothing to him.

Only once does Thor ever broach the subject.

"Well," Loki laughs, and his voice is rough and lilting. "It matters little to me, brother. You really shouldn't let it eat away at you. After all, what if Father notices…"

And Loki looks at him, then. Blue-green eyes shining. Hard, cold, like the metal of Mjolnir after it was culled from the fires. He smiled, his smile sharp. Hungry.

Thor wonders if maybe he should have noticed, then.

A lifetime later, when he finds Loki in the rain, with Thor's hand around his throat, the words finally tumble from Thor's lips. Words and mentions of why.

"Really?" Loki laughs at him, half-smiles and half-frowns pulling at a wild, drawn-in face. Those lips are no longer as beautiful as they once were, and he is no longer the Loki that Thor had known. "Really? You thought I what, cared for you? A mortal sentiment, brother. Did she teach you that?"

And Thor drops him, where he crumples to the ground, laughing and laughing.

Small, generic piece of Thorki. More a character study between two characters than anything else, as well as an exercise in this fandom. (Need to get a handle on these fucking characters. Loki! Y U So hard to write!)

Feedback is appreciated~!