Chapter Text
“Why do you always retreat to this dusty library?” a smooth voice mused.
Loki looked up, and saw Fandral, still a bit dirty, arms folded, leaning jauntily against a book case.
“Not all of us want to drink ourselves into a stupor after a scuffle. There are other ways to relax, you know.” Loki said with disinterest, already looking back down into his book. He had long since bathed and redressed.
“It’s not just about the drinking, you dull old woman!” the blond exclaimed, swaying over to sit on the edge of the table Loki sat by in his high-backed chair. “It’s the comradery! The boasting! Letting some buxom barmaid or patron congratulate you on your resounding victory?” he said with a wiggle of his eyebrows.
Loki sighed, looking up at Fandral, who clearly wasn’t going to let him be. “Embellishing your stories again, Fandral? Shame on you. Me and Thor saved your neck out there today. If you weren’t as quick as you were pretty, they’d be toasting to your memory tonight.” He said with a smug smile.
“Oh, I think you’re misremembering.”
“I most certainly am not. I’d say ‘you’re welcome’, if I thought you were at all grateful. But no doubt, you think yourself invincible, and un-needing of my assistance.” He scoffed.
Fandral was quiet for a moment, watching Loki. “So… why not boast about it? Drag me down a notch or two in front of a captive and raucous audience?” he asked curiously. “Surely the ‘Silver Tongue’ could spin a tale to put mine to shame.”
“Public humiliation didn’t strike me as one of your preferences for foreplay.” He said, raising a brow speculatively.
The other man opened his mouth and closed it again, before laughing. “No, I suppose not. But it still doesn’t sit well with me, knowing you aren’t out celebrating with everyone else.” He pointed out.
“I’m fascinated to know your care so deeply for my emotional well-being, when your battlefield bravado is likely to get me, you, or someone else killed one day.” He said dryly.
“Ouch.” He grunted, putting a hand to his chest. “You wound me, Odinson.”
“Not yet. But perhaps later. We haven’t sparred in some time.” He said, looking back down to his book. “If you’re going back out for another round of drinks, you may give my regards to your entourage of enraptured citizens. Tell them I’m a boring old scholar, with better things to do with my wits than dull them with mead and meaningless drivel.” He hummed.
Fandral sighed dramatically. “You really have gotten too stoic, Loki. It’s not a good look on you, Trickster.”
“Thank the Norns then, that I do not sustain myself on your approval, Fandral the Dashing. Now, kindly dash out of my presence.” He said with a dismissive little wave of his hand.
“Of course, Your Highness.” Fandral replied with an almost mocking little bow. “Perhaps next time.”
Loki did look up as Fandral left. He had a nice sway to his step. Always had, Loki thought to himself idly, before going back to his reading.