darklittlestories:

The boys delight in being twins. Much of their so-called unusual behavior is written off as being “twin stuff.” Sharing a room late into their teens–twin stuff. Touching more than most siblings–twin stuff. Frigga reminds Odin that they were entwined during their very creation so often that Thor and Loki mouth the words along with her.

It’s unspoken, how much they hide behind this excuse. As if to acknowledge it would crack the fragile, secret world they share between them. Their closeness is becoming… something. Something deeper, darker. They’ve always slept like this, Loki’s finer limbs wound like ivy around Thor’s thicker build.

But Loki has woken several nights lately from dreamed kisses to tingling lips that tell him perhaps real lips had touched his.

Tonight he carefully studies Thor’s breathing and movements, down to every little leg twitch and the quick darting of eyeballs beneath the tissue skin of his eyelids. He watches the petal flesh of his lips part with each exhalation until he’s sure he can approximate the unconscious motions of slumber, and then allows himself to relax into his own real sleep. Long after the moon has risen and set, Loki half wakes to a breeze soft kiss.

The next night, Loki artfully manages his “sleep.” It’s an eternity before Thor finally approaches, but at last Loki is awake to feel those warm lips move against his. The touch is so hesitant and soft it wouldn’t disturb the powdered surface of butterfly wings, Loki thinks. He breathes out and he can feel Thor inhale, tasting his breath. The idea of this is so profound Loki makes a quiet little “oh.”

Thor startles, but Loki holds him in place, and opens his eyes.

“Why do you only kiss me when I’m sleeping?” he asks.

“I didn’t know…”