all_inclusive | Gathering: Kisses at Midnight

“We are probably too drunk to attempt scaling the wall,” Loki admitted. “At least while also juggling bottles. And speaking of, we might need a couple more, so if you see any try to abduct them.”

The strangest thing about having Sif on his arm was that he could actually lead the way, and she would actually follow. Of course, that wasn't such a great thing when they were both indecisive drunks who had no idea where they ought to be going. “Make up your mind, Lady Sif,” he exclaimed. “Up or down? I suppose if we really want a balcony we could see if either of our rooms decided to produce one in our absence, but that's a bit of a gamble, and the clock is rather close.”

At the mention of wall scaling Sif started, narrowing her eyes at Loki. "Don't put ideas in my head." She warned, for that was the kind of thing she might end up doing on any other normal drunken night (if there was no one around to squabble with). "I don't, sadly. We could detour into the crowd gathering outside, grab a few then get back on our mission."

She did not wait for him to accept or follow, disentangled herself from him and managed to walk over to a waiter with a cart (a cart? outside?) more or less gracefully. With a lazy, open mouthed grin she proceeded to taking two bottles, one for each hand, bow in thanks then wandered back to Loki. Even though she struggled, holding a bottle as she was, she managed to get his arm around hers again.

"My room should have one. It has been fairly consistent so far." Sif paused, again, looking up at Loki as it dawned on her that she was essentially inviting him back to her quarters. Wonders never truly ceased, did they? She looked around again, however, and decided against it. They were already too far to make it back to her room in time, especially in their state. "You're right, it's too late. Oh! That garden with the pond isn't far." She pointed to her right. It was, in fact, extremely close. "There's a lovely pond you might fall into, as well."

He watched, amused, as she abruptly left on her mission for more alcohol, which at the very least was a much safer one than attempting wall-scaling. If Loki had been feeling a tad more mischievous he would have further pushed her in that direction, but really that would just distract them too much from their current goal. Maybe later in the evening he could get her to do it.

The accidental invitation back to her room made him want to laugh, but out of respect for her he simply tamped it down into a toothy grin. He would not have cared or thought much of it, so far removed he was now from Asgard and it's formalities. His idea of convention was now so utterly destroyed that he found himself passing through life with little thought of it, doing whatever he pleased. Sif, of course, had not such carelessness about her.

"Yes, a pond," he said, starting in that direction. "A lovely one you may push me into, more like, if my recollection of childhood memories are correct."

While Sif knew what Loki was grinning so broadly at, she only rolled her eyes. It was too much effort to be offended or angry at being caught in an unfortunate choice of words at the moment.

Snorting inelegantly at his sudden uncovering of childhood memories, Sif shook her head. "We've not been children for centuries upon centuries now, Loki, can't you let it go? I've let go of many a thing. These days I shall only hope you fall into it without my interference so that I may laugh at chance and the way of the world more openly." Looking up, she scrunched up her nose at him. "It's more fun that way."

They had arrived at the garden, and found it empty, as well as badly lit. No surprise, seeing as most if not all guests of the hotel were out front proper, better lit and possibly better supplied. It was no matter, however, as there were four bottles between the two of them. Not that the amount of alcohol was the crucial factor of this entire experience, of course. "Do you think we can see the fireworks properly from here?"

"Oh, I don't remember them without fondness," Loki responded. "So I've no intention in letting them go. Besides, I wasn't the only one you unceremoniously dunked in those days. I don't feel particularly hunted." Really, being terrible to one another was more or less what was done back then, wasn't it? All of Loki's injuries when he was younger were almost entirely Thor's fault from roughhousing, and the rest were Loki's own from getting into places he shouldn't have gone.

Still, the way she scrunched her nose was pretty cute, though he didn't let her know that. He slipped his arm from hers so that she had the freedom to go and choose the seat. "I don't see why not," he said.

"I do." Sif grumbled. "Well, some of them. Dunking you into the ponds and lakes, rivers and other courses of water are very fond memories indeed." And here they were again, joking at the expense of one another, but not really.

When he let go Sif made to stumble, but held herself, and moved to the closest bench. It was turned exactly to where the fireworks would be taking place, and so Sif plopped down unceremoniously, settling the bottles between her knees. Immediately she began working on opening one, with clumsy drunken fingers and not a lot of focus. "Well, then. We've arrived to our destination. I presume it's not long now?"

Loki didn't bother to offer to help her with her bottle, because then she might just glare at him. He took his seat beside her, casting his gaze upward. While part of the view was blocked by the looming hotel, there was still a large expanse of sky to behold. He thought again of this rather strange place between worlds, and how it even existed, or even why, but he was too drunk to put in the effort to really follow that thread of thought. Not when he would have to give up paying attention to Sif in order to do so.

"It should be soon," he said. "I suppose the fireworks themselves will let us know." There was another thing at midnight that he'd heard of, which was the kiss - also an odd custom, but not completely strange. If he felt like it he might kiss Sif, but just on the cheek, as gentlemanly as he could, and only if he figured she wouldn't punch him right after or storm off in a huff. With any of his other companions Loki would have been happy to be up to some mischief and would kiss more passionately just to surprise and startle, but his old feelings for Sif and their history together meant that would likely anger her more than anything else.

Edited 2015-01-02 23:54 (UTC)

There was, Sif realized now, a strong possibility that she might drop one bottle with the pressure of opening the other. She then stopped what she was doing to put the bottle down safely at her feet, then resumed her work. "Hmm." Sif nodded, and as she did the cork came off the bottle with a pop, followed closely by the sparkling wine itself. "Oh sure let us waste it." She grumbled, leaning the bottle away from herself as it did its thing. When there was no more danger of being soaked in the (eventually) foul smelling liquid Sif brought the bottle to her mouth and took a long gulp.

"Well." She said once she was done, exhaling sharply and knocking her bottle against one of Loki's. "I suppose now is the time to reminisce about the year that is coming to an end?" Sif deferred to Loki on Midgardian customs more and more these days. He was better versed in them than she ever cared to be.

He grinned when Sif's bottle overflowed rather abruptly, but he let that serve as a reminder to be a bit more gentle with his own. He ripped the foil and untwisted the wire from one of his, carefully working the cork out.

"Reminiscing does seem to be the way of things," he admitted. "But I prefer the drinking and making merry more than that. So we can just continue to speak of entirely inconsequential things, if you like. Unless you'd rather discuss Midgardian customs instead?" Which, even he would admit, were certainly very inconsequential at times indeed.

Nursing her bottle, Sif seemed to have adopted a posture of slight introspection - which did not happen often at all when she was drunk, but it happened. "I would be remiss not to take this particular Midgardian custom to appropriately confess that it has been a very odd year for me - which is an understatement. A year ago I never would have thought to be sitting here, with you, right now. That alone deserves a special mention." Her features had softened somewhat, and Sif tilted her head to smile at Loki with she same softness. There was a hint of fear there, that even after all that had happened since she had arrived here he would still ridicule her for 'having a feeling' and sharing it, especially when at the crux of their relationship was Sif's deep regret of not having tried harder. Once these thoughts came through her mind her smile fell and she straightened up, bracing for the backlash.

"And now that that's done, I would like to hear if you have any favorites customs, myself." It wasn't a perfect recovery by any means, but it was an attempt.

Elbow against knee, he propped his chin in the palm of his hand, the champagne bottle hanging loosely from the other. Sometimes, Sif's thoughts on their companionship annoyed him; other times they offended him. At the moment he wasn't sure what he felt, beyond the fact that they were needless, at least personally - for her, they were presumably quite important, so he let her have them. He had to remind himself that she didn't know everything about him now, because he had not told her, and he did not think Natasha had informed her of a few of the choicer things, either. Loki had violently, abruptly thrust himself towards his destiny, and so all the pieces of his past were now pretty things in the sidelines. Not that he didn't cherish them; simply that he accepted their importance, and wished to pretend otherwise.

Sif was important - so was his mother, and his brother. But he refused to dazzle himself by their presence, excepting his mother, who he had already decided to do so much for, irregardless of what it might do to himself.

"Beyond the drinking and the countdown and the fireworks?" he asked. "There's the midnight kiss. Then the guilt trips, the eschewing of all the pleasures and habits that bring them joy. They make resolutions, actually, which apparently fail within the first few days of the year. I think those are my favourite, if only because it's more wish list than resolving to do anything."

Well, that had gone better than expected. Sif didn't know whether to thank Loki's personal development or his drunkenness, but she was thankful. No rebuttal, no mockery, not even a snicker. She allowed herself to smile in release as she brought her bottle back up to he lips and took a swig before laying her arm on the backrest of the bench and her chin on top of it. She then adjusted herself sideways, facing Loki, and prepared to listen.

The midnight kiss piqued her interest but with her concentration as fleeting as it was right now, her thoughts moved along with Loki's speech. The more he spoke the more she furrowed her brow and scoffed. What weird creatures were Midgardians. "That is a load of desperate horseshit, pardon my manners. You change when you wish to change, when you are ready to, doesn't matter how large or small the change. And guilt...trips? I hope they don't actually go somewhere specific to feel guilty in. Go back to the midnight kissing part. I'd heard of kissing under some plant with ancient significance, but not that."

Loki took a drink from his bottle, which fizzed quite a bit. He wasn't sure he liked it but, then again, he was at that point in the evening where it didn't much matter to him either way.

"The 'trip' is a figure of speech," he said, amused, but didn't tease her about it, because the mention of the mistletoe made him want to laugh instead. "Yes, a plant with ancient significance," he said, idly. "There's quite a story involving me and that plant. But yes, apparently that's the thing to do all through the last week of December. But New Year's needs to be heralded with a kiss. I gather it's rather upsetting not to take part in that custom."

"Oh. Well good it would be ridiculous otherwise. Not that it isn't now; wallowing in your mistakes is a waste of time and resources." The story wasn't known to Sif, but that did not mean it was just a story. "Oh? Do tell me that story, one of these days."

A whole week of kissing whenever one encountered a particular plant seemed...excessive. It began to seem to Sif like the Midgardians simply needed excuses to do things they wouldn't have the courage to do under the pretense of their own desires. As Loki went on, Sif's eyes narrowed, her mind processing what she had heard.

If not for the copious amounts of alcohol and the festive spirit, the next time she spoke what came out of her mouth would absolutely not have come out. As it was, Sif smiled slyly and leaned in, amusement in her eyes. "Are you trying to tell me something, Loki Odinson?"

Loki couldn't really say that wallowing was only a fool's errand - he had certainly done it himself. After all, that was what he'd spent the first six months at the hotel doing. So he shrugged, and when she mentioned the mistletoe, he smiled slightly. "I might," he said. It was not a very nice story. Many stories involving him often weren't. He had to wonder if some of them were true, or would soon be true.

When she leaned in towards him - acting very un-Sif-like, if truth be told - he raised his eyebrows. But he could easily play that game, and he grinned at her, wondering what it was that she was about. "Perhaps I am," he said. "That is to say, I'm answering questions about Midgardian customs, as if I am some sort of expert. What are you implying?"

Somehow, Sif didn't think she would be hearing that story any time soon. Of course now she might search for it, provided it was, as she thought, one of the ancient stories attributed to her people by a certain sect of population of Midgard a long time ago.

Truth be told Sif had leaned more than she'd wanted, and you could blame her heavy-yet-light head for that. Still, even now she wasn't distressingly close, just closer/i>. Her head had stopped wobbling now, and pending, and if she'd gotten closer it was only a consequence of adjusting herself on the bench after that first time leaning in. Her smile widened at Loki's eyebrow raise, and she matched his grin with hers. She could not tell if his response was disappointing or not. It was probably for the best she never realize that, one way or the other. "I'm not implying anything. You're the one who's been going on about kissing and regret and how upsetting it is not to have one of those at mid-"

"Five! Four! Three! Two! One!"

The sky exploded in a rainbow of color and Sif's eyes darted up, hurting with the brightness but, she had to admit, with no less wonder for what they were seeing. The noise pounded in her chest like her own heartbeat, almost drowning out the incessant hysterical screaming of people who were either overly excited, or overcompensating for too much misery. Well, there it was. Midnight.

Somehow, Sif didn't think she would be hearing that story any time soon. Of course now she might search for it, provided it was, as she thought, one of the ancient stories attributed to her people by a certain sect of population of Midgard a long time ago.

Truth be told Sif had leaned more than she'd wanted, and you could blame her heavy-yet-light head for that. Still, even now she wasn't distressingly close, just closer. Her head had stopped wobbling now, and pending, and if she'd gotten closer it was only a consequence of adjusting herself on the bench after that first time leaning in. Her smile widened at Loki's eyebrow raise, and she matched his grin with hers. She could not tell if his response was disappointing or not. It was probably for the best she never realize that, one way or the other. "I'm not implying anything. You're the one who's been going on about kissing and regret and how upsetting it is not to have one of those at mid-"

"Five! Four! Three! Two! One!"

The sky exploded in a rainbow of color and Sif's eyes darted up, hurting with the brightness but, she had to admit, with no less wonder for what they were seeing. The noise pounded in her chest like her own heartbeat, almost drowning out the incessant hysterical screaming of people who were either overly excited, or overcompensating for too much misery. Well, there it was. Midnight.

"Oh, Sif," Loki said, warmly, pleasantly. She was acting different, strangely sylph-like and flirtatious. Womanly, even. Not that Loki ever thought of Sif as anything but a woman, but certainly not her in the role of a woman in regards to a man. Or something like that. He wasn't even sure. "You are so drunk," he laughed.

The fireworks were a nice touch. Just because Loki did not fully understand the point of the whole thing didn't mean that he couldn't admit it was a good evening. They had yet to snarl at or offend one another, and Loki couldn't recall the last time he had enjoyed himself with the past looming so close over his head.

She looked good underneath the brightly coloured explosions, and again he wondered what on earth had gone through his brother's head that he hadn't gone after her when it had been clear to literally the whole of Asgard that she would not have been averse to it.

"Well, Happy New Year," he said. And while she was feeling so merry and less-violent than usual, he placed his hand against her cheek and moved to press a courtly kiss against the other.

Not an accusation as much as a statement of hard fact, Sif had no response but a shrug. "Not quite as drunk as you think, I feel. I am, after all, still sitting, my hair is in place, I haven't violently foregone the lower part of my dress for the leggings underneath and I haven't punched anyone. Not even you!" She said, eyes wide as if it was the wonder of wonders. She waved the bottle in her hand. Halfway gone already. This drink was weak. "But yes, quite a bit."

There was a warmth to Loki that she had struggled to find before, outside of fleeting moments that had almost seemed completely imagined. His eyes were bright with the colors of the fireworks above, and even if they weren't Sif could swear they were more alight than usual. Less heavy with whatever tended to trouble him so.

It was a split-second reaction, not the kind Sif tended to have; it was uncharacteristically thoughtless, one might even say instinctive. When he moved closer and placed one hand upon her cheek Sif covered his with her own, and moved exactly in the direction that Loki did. Instead of finding Loki's cheek she found his lips and, against all odds, did not pull back immediately as if an electrical shock had occurred. While in the very distant recesses of her mind something was screaming, Sif paid it no mind, focusing instead on making that soft kiss count. It lasted only a moment, after which Sif turned only slightly away. "Happy New Year."

Well now she was definitely going to need the rest of that bottle, and the second one. Perhaps more. All of them.

To say that Loki was surprised was an understatement. He would have expected any other response from her, even something so simple as pulling away, but never meeting his kiss, actively. Never acting as if a kiss from him was something more than an act that she tolerated. For a moment he looked at her as if seriously wondering if she was far more drunk than he had realized, but even so he knew that would not be enough to sway her into acting so out of character.

"You did just kiss me back?" he asked. He knew that she had, but suddenly he wanted very much to make certain before he dove into trying to figure out what was rushing through her head to make her do that. She was playful, but not a trickster like him, so if she was trying to mess with him, he really hadn't seen it coming. "I did not dream it?"

Edited 2015-01-03 06:08 (UTC)

This felt a bit like getting knocked in the head. There was a modicum of haziness as if what was happening wasn't happening to her exactly but to someone she was watching with mild interest. It was beyond the drunkenness - firstly because she no longer felt very drunk at all, and most of all because being drunk did not make your heart thump in your ears like a battalion of galloping horses. But then, neither did getting knocked in the head. Sif could not stand his gaze, knowing it had to hover somewhere between bewilderment and utter confusion. Only her pride kept her from apologizing, and her mildly numb legs from leaving.

Loki did finally speak, and it was not to say anything Sif had expected. Despite herself she rolled her eyes, a typical reaction in the midst of an atypical situation. Suddenly Sif realized she was still much too close to Loki, her face turned sideways not unlike a dog who had misbehaved and couldn't face its owner. What a horrible notion. However, if she moved she would have to face him. But this was terribly annoying. Might as well get it done with.

"Odin's ravens, Loki, do you wish me to do it again for confirmation?"

Her body language, as per usual, said far more than she actually did. For a moment Loki couldn't even believe it, but she was a bad liar, especially with her posture. He didn't think he loved her, but he knew that he used to. Whether she felt the same for him or was simply flirting dangerously with some feelings that had drifted into her life, well, he didn't know. The small part of him suspected a trick, but he ignored it. Again, it wasn't her style.

The fireworks were still going off above their heads and Loki wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of it, and be angry that they were intruding so violently in this moment. "Don't mention the Allfather," he said, simply. "He has no place, here."

She was looking away from him so when he leaned in again he was kissing the corner of her lips, that part that tweaked up in a crooked grin when she was darkly entertained by something. She'd either slap him or turn her head towards him; in either case it would remedy the situation somewhat.

It was, indeed ridiculous. Most if not all of it, in fact. The noise was jarring and the way all these different colors ghosted over Loki's face wasn't much better either. Sif had half a mind to cover her ears just to keep her thoughts in place. Very soon Sif would start laughing at it all, she could feel it bubbling up inside of her at this very moment. However, Loki's admonishment brought her back. And, miraculously, she finally looked up at him - for a second. "It was more about the ravens, really but..." She sighed. "You're right." She still couldn't bring herself to apologize properly, pride hanging by a thread and all.

Sif had not been expecting Loki to do it again. Upon feeling his lips touch hers she closed her eyes, a hint of a shiver traveling down her spine. She knew not what to do, but slapping him was out of the question. That would have been hypocritical, as in her mind she had given fuel to all this in the first place. She'd wanted it. And however much the screaming continued in the back of her mind (endless variations of 'you shouldn't be doing this') it did not feel particularly wrong. As she turned toward him, returning the kiss as slowly and patiently as she dared, it rather began to feel right. For now, at least.

Most of the time, a kiss was just a kiss. Loki saw it as a momentary collision, sometimes no different than a punch - the work of a moment, sometimes lingering but soon more or less forgotten. He could share it with someone who he cared little for, or not at all. Yet this was Sif; he had loved her once, and he still did care for her, in his way. Kissing her was something he had dreamed about and, disregarding his feelings for her just then, didn't he owe it to himself to kiss her now?

And it was easier to think like that than consider the alternative, which was that the pounding of his heart was not simply another boom of the fireworks. He slid one hand around to the small of her back, her body warm and firm and unyielding underneath the flimsy fabric of her dress. He tasted the sparkling wine on her lips, bitter, but strangely more pleasant on her than it had been on the mouth of the bottle.

Normally Sif's kisses tended to be as brutal as the lady herself; a hint of dominance, of defiance, hot and heavy and breathless. Always breathless. This was not a normal occasion, however. As forbidden and unthinkable as this might have been to her, some part of her had wanted this for a long time. Sif barely remembered details of a time when thoughts of kissing Loki kept her awake at night, but she remembered those thoughts vividly. It was an old unfulfilled desire; not nagging, but very much there.

Despite some part of her feeling this was a long time coming, there was nothing brutal about the way she brought up a hand to Loki's cheek, thumb brushing over his cheekbone. The warmth of his hand at her back was a pleasant addition that caused her to lean in closer, and still when she deepened the kiss it remained soft, so unlike her and yet exactly how she wanted it to be.

Gathering: Kisses at Midnight

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