Read this chapter at: AO3 | firechildren.net | <— Previous chapter

“Brother!” roars Thor exuberantly across the dining chamber. Loki winces slightly, brushing a hand over his temple. Despite numerous — distractions, he had in fact spent a great deal of the night studying evolutions of shapeshifting spells, and consequently not gotten much sleep. He’d hoped to slip in, collect some food, and slip out again, none the wiser, to return to his abandoned bedmate.

Luck is not at all on his side, however, as close on Thor’s heels come the Warriors Three and the Lady Sif. Volstagg immediately swaggers over to clap Loki upon the shoulder. “I hear you have joined the ranks of men, young Silver-tongue!” he booms, helping himself to everything upon the boards. “Who is the lucky maiden?”

Loki casts about in vain for escape; even Hogun’s usually grim visage shows signs of humour. Fandral is openly grinning, the bastard.

“I’d … rather not say,” he manages, fighting down a blush.

“Oh, come now!” Volstagg cajoles. “What, are you shamed?”

“I confess, I had thought, brother, that you were a lover of men!” Thor laughs.

Loki thinks privately it is just as well he were not, for he is well aware that in his own mind no man can measure up to Thor.

“May not a man keep some things to himself?” he protests.

All four men grin at him, clearly expecting him to boast. He busies himself piling a platter with small foods, trying not to meet any eyes. Even Sif is arching an inquiring eyebrow in his direction.

He turns, and Fandral is at his side suddenly, peering into his face, a slight frown etching his brows. “Was it not good, lad?” he asks, quietly. “Is that why you won’t say?”

He gives up trying not to blush, and concentrates instead on not fleeing the room. Several unfamiliar expressions flicker over Fandral’s face, and out of the corner of his eye Loki sees him motion behind his back. Incredibly, Thor instantly turns and engages Hogun and Sif in conversation. Fandral lounges against the serving board, arms folded, and eyes Loki.

“You have lain with a woman, and yet you blush like a boy still, Loki. Did you think we would think less of you?”

“You could hardly think less of me, for how little you think of me now,” Loki mutters.

Fandral acknowledges this with a wry snort, but presses on. “You do not bear the look of a man unsatisfied. In fact, you look … well-satisfied, indeed. What harm in telling us the girl’s name? Do you wish to keep her for yourself? Surely you will tire of her eventually.”

Loki bites his lip, hard. What he wants is to smash Fandral across the face for what he is suggesting, and only the thought that Fandral does not know the truth holds him back. What he says, carefully, is, “I will not have you speak so.”

Stark astonishment paints Fandral’s face while he whispers, “You’ve fallen in love with the girl.”

“No,” Loki denies immediately. He’s not even sure if he’s lying or not; he just doesn’t want Fandral to be the one who helps him to that sort of revelation.

“For fuck’s sake, Loki,” Fandral mutters, covering his eyes with one hand. “A bit of honesty wouldn’t go amiss right now.”

Loki eyes him sidelong. “I’m not trusting you, Fandral,” he hisses. “Leave off, or I’ll fill your bed with snakes.”

Fandral raises one eyebrow, making a cynical face. “Fine. Keep your secrets. Keep your girl.”

Balancing his full platter on one hand, Loki bares his teeth at Fandral in what cannot possibly be called a smile. “I always have.” Pausing on his way out the door, he glances back. “As for my lady, I shall keep her.”

He revels in the stunned silence he leaves behind.