A scene between Loki and Thor, from Roots Before Wings. It’s not a smexy scene, but it’s one of my favorites, for the banter between Them and for Drunk!Loki.
In those realms found only between drops of rain or riding on the trails of laughter, Loki attempted a hard swig from his tankard. Contents gone, nothing left. Drained dry. Damn. He set it on the floor and hung his head over his knees. Any reasonable upright posture was contrary to his state of drunkenness. If he balanced himself correctly, he wouldn’t list too far and end up on the floor, though he knew that was probably next. I am drunk. I am very, very drunk. I will drink until I reach oblivion for it is there that I am unburdened by love. He sighed and wished his cup full. It remained empty.
Of course, if I’m already on the floor I could crawl to the bar to refill my cup. Damned early morning self-service. Blasted early hour. Damned serving wenches are off duty. He corrected himself. Firstly, it was no longer considered apropos to refer to them as wenches, and secondly, men also served the gods, a twenty-first century development. Women had always fought in rank and phalanx, but men had never before carried tankards of ale for the gods. Times change. People change. Even the gods change. I am the god of change and I cannot yet face the ones vexing my world. He chuckled, to himself he hoped. Of course, there was no expectation of privacy in the common halls of Asgard.
His thoughts were interrupted by a pair of large motorcycle boots which stepped into his pity pot. He angled his aching head upward to see stout legs in denim and leather chaps. The waistline bore a familiar symbol, a lightning bolt belt buckle and holstered like a six shooter, the Mjolnir. Thor’s hammer. “What’s so funny over here in the corner, Loki?”
“Be a doll and get me another beer, will you, Thor?”
He picked up Loki’s empty cup. “Join me at a table. I feel you are troubled and my nephew says I am to render aid. Forseti says there is justice to be had and that I am to play a part in its dispensing.”
“Will your aid involve alcohol? And Forseti is a somber man always seeing the worst in things. His portents of the future bore me, which is one reason I chose to drink in this corner than at the bar with my brethren.”
“I’ll fill your tankard, and listen to you complain about those who mean you well if you wish. Besides, Forseti has left for home. Can you walk?”
“I had decided that perhaps any form of forward motion might cause me to vomit or fall embarrassingly to my knees. So, I think not.”
Thor slapped Loki on the shoulder. “I’m certain that you have been on your knees in this hall before. Crawl if need be, but get yourself to a table.” The thunder god turned and laughed.
Loki looked up. He winced as his bloodshot eyes reacted to the first light of day streaming into the hall. “Dawn. As unwelcome a sight as any I have seen of late.” He stood, and took a moment to steady himself. “I can do this.”
No. He could not. Loki fell to the floor with a great thud. He lay still for a moment. No-one rushed to his aid. He did hear Thor laugh in the background. Fortunately, he had landed near a bench, said bench being beside a table. He pulled himself up. He grasped the table with both hands and envisioned his butt taking root. He sat upright, head swaying from the beer and the fall. “Where’s my drink, Thor?”
“Yes, Loki. I bring it now. But it is half-ale, for if you drink any more full-strength, I’m afraid you might make a pass at me.”
Loki took the offered pint. “Wouldn’t be the first time.” He took a swig. “We’ve had sex, haven’t we Thor?I remember you were wearing a dress and I–”
“That is not a topic for open discussion, Loki. Now, is it a wife or a plot that vexes thee?”
The fire god lifted his glass and made a mock salute. “It is a woman. A wife. Or rather a woman I had assumed by now would be my wife by blood oath and not just promise.”
“And the name of your resistant bride, sir?” Thor held his tankard aloft, waiting for Loki’s reply.
“I salute Jada, wife of Loki, for causing him such strong consternation that he kisses the floor of this hall rather than her lips this fine morning.”