Not creepy or anything (Nanami)

[Anonymous]

Liv scanned his terminal output, blinking tiredly against the yellow ambient light soaking his room.  He'd been up all night cracking the PC inbox code; luckily, Pilots Cardinal didn't get classified emails.  It was way too easy to eavesdrop on Loki.  Liv thought he'd make a really totally excellent Seeker, all things considered.

The thought of Marshal's expression should he show interest in the job made him laugh inside, then cringe.

He rubbed sandy eyes and groaned his way through a stretch, rolling his shoulders back against his desk chair.  His body emanated sleeplessness; his skin smelled faintly chalky and stale with fatigue, his mouth tasted like sour water, and his hair had plastered itself to his head.  But he'd gotten some of Loki's itinerary for the day, and a few interesting bits of information, and he was going to keep his link, too.  

Probably creepy to do something like that.  Probably his interest, intense as it was, seemed a little stalkerish.  Well, whatever, Liv didn't care.  He tried to keep an eye on as many people as possible, even if he worried he'd get fucked over for it someday.  But the fact was, all the Pilots got a little wiggle room.  Reading another Cardinal's casual emails?  Could be worse.  

There was just one thing he thought might be sort of interesting.

Liv sat still for a moment, staring at the screen, finger poised to click.  Stared.  Blinked.  Stared.

Right.  Erase that.

Liv shook his head and blinked rapidly, clearing his vision, then clicked out of the data file he'd had open.

He carefully wiped his terminal memory--a precaution--and went to take a shower.  They had a day off today, and Loki was headed out to the city, apparently, rather brighter and earlier than usual.  Liv decided to do the same.  It had been too long since he'd been to The Biz and they had lots of reasons to catch up... and... he had to admit he was really curious about whoever it was who'd stolen his clothes and left him tied up.  Curious.  Not jealous.  That would be stupid.  He didn't want Loki like that, he just wanted to bother him until he became a better person.  Or something.  

Once he'd showered and gotten dressed, he stood for a moment in the Citadel hall, silently gauging his need to Connect.  He had definitely started to feel it, that little bit of mental deadness, collected in the back of his brain.  It stacked up on the days he hadn't hooked in: five this time.  Well done Liv-oh.  Thing was, when he did Connect, he'd started to like it.  It battered at the last of his already-tenuous identity, but...

His mom had called him up the other day.  'What I love about you, Livvy,' she'd said, 'is that you have this sense of right and wrong, always have, nothing anyone could say could change your mind.'  And Liv had felt quite awkward about that, all things considered, since it almost certainly wasn't true.  Maybe she'd been thinking of his dad.  

Meh.

Liv got in these moods sometimes, moods in which he felt he should not be around most human beings.  Moods in which he decided that stalking Loki, who didn't really count, was a good idea.  He headed out of the Citadel, running a hand through his hair, straightening his shirt.  He had not worn a vest today; probably he'd buy one.  He had put on a hat and jacket, like a spy in a bad movie, because why not.  He needed a haircut, too, and a touchup on the brilliant red dye, it was coming through brown again.  

Liv made it outside before his quarry and waited beside the Citadel's east wing exit, psychic shields up, hovering unobtrusively on one corner, beside a vending machine.  When Loki exited, looking rather harried, Liv backed into a corner, waited for him to start down one of the side streets, and fell in behind him, sending out a feather-light psychic probe.  Where exactly was he going?  

The probe wasn't totally unnoticeable--he only meant to pick up Loki's surface thoughts, which was easy enough, but he wasn't that good.  He ducked away once he'd figured out where Loki was headed.  Nowhere too exciting.  Good thing or bad thing?

Hm.

Liv wandered through the shopping district, awash in faint bleariness and grouchy cynicism for a bit, then found his way to The Biz, a large, upscale, EGIS-heavy clothing shop.  At times like this he was a little glad to be a Pilot; he got to cut the line and shove directly in.  He headed for Loki's favorite brand of menswear, where he spent about fifteen minutes trying on hats in front of a corner mirror.  

He stayed psychically active and aware, his mind spread like a net, tasting his surroundings.  He'd be able to feel Loki coming; the other Pilot, like Liv, hadn't mastered total mental occlusion, and instead preferred a deafening barrage of fragmentary thoughts about minutia.  For some reason, Liv really liked that about Loki, though most people probably found it a frustrating guard.  

He caught the mental scent of his quarry (awkward, Livos, very awkward) at twenty minutes to eleven.  Loki had probably sensed a hint of his probe, if not the earlier one; Liv didn't really do subtlety like that.  He shook his head, silently, and stepped onto one side of a revolving clothes rack.  Loki had begun to glance around.  Liv clung to a suit hanger and waited for the stand to complete its revolution.

"Ah-ha."  He hopped off beside the other Pilot and, stumbling a little due to an inner ear upset by sleeplessness, knocked against him.  He saved himself by flinging an arm around his shoulders.  "Fancy seeing you here.  Actually, I am... totally... stalking you.  Ha ha."  

Not a joke.  You are strange, Livos, he told himself, squeezing Loki around the shoulders.  Strange but well-intentioned, not that it counted for a lot.

[Anonymous]

He needed to go shopping. He had held out in the hope his clothes would reappear. Consequently, his wardrobe was starting to look like the contents of a charity shop. Mismatched pieces from the rooms surrounding him. He salvaged a pair of grey skinny jeans that did credit to his arse and a red v-neck t-shirt that fitted his frame adequately before dismissing the rest as hopeless. He agonised over shoes before picking a pair of slim whites. He was happy with what he managed given the circumstances, and left his apartment. Loki had the night shift today and had plenty of time for shopping. The Network was an adequate replacement for sleep anyway.

Loki hurriedly made his way down from the Citadel towards his favourite shop. He stared ahead, hands in his pockets. He felt something. Like a bug settling on his skin momentarily, but on his psychic ‘skin’. It tickled, scurried about a bit, but evaded him as he turned his attention towards it. It was gone before he could act. Strange. Maybe it was just random psychic noise. He dismissed it and continued on his way.

He detoured to a couple of shops in the district on the way, distracted by something bright or- Shoes! And watches. Actually he needed one of those, something smarter to go with his many jackets. Something flashy enough to stand along the sharp cuts. Then he recalled, after exiting the shop with his pricey purchase, that he no longer had his smart jackets. Annoyance gave way to a small, somewhat childish, excitement. Because that fact would just have to be rectified.

The Biz was crowded as usual, though he made it in with no trouble. He elicited a few stares as he walked straight in, which surprised him since he was sure he wasn’t as prominent in the media as something other Pilots were. He didn’t want to be too involved with the general masses. They were unimportant. Good should he wish to stoke up his vanity, good for a kick or two, but otherwise they were useless.

Third floor menswear. He hadn’t checked his balance before he left. Oh well. Nothing would come of it should he dip into the red. He was a Pilot- there wasn’t a lot of action that could be taken against him-

Hello bottle green jacket. With old school military embellishments. Double breasted, gold buttons. Thank you very much, he’d be having that. He folded it over one arm happily. He’d make for the dressing rooms later once his arms were laden with clothes. Was that the suit rack over there? He could do with another one. The store did alterations- he might as well pick one up while he was here.

His admiration for a navy blue piece with pinstripes dissolved at the sensation again- ticklish touches to his psychic senses. He glanced around, bemused. Strange. It wasn’t even a different ‘signature’ as noise often was. This was the same. This was one constant entity emitting-

Fuck!

A blur of red and then a soft thump as Liv’s arm wrapped around his shoulders, thumping his back. He staggered back one step to regain his balance, hissing in distaste. His arms were tangled with clothes and bags and a Liv. He couldn’t push him away. Head butting was out of the question. He wasn’t going to start a fight in a public place. Having said that, it would probably be better then being affectionate in a public place.

Yeah, trust Liv of all people to stalk. He believed him entirely.  It was a very Liv thing to do.

The pressure around his shoulders, the squeeze, riled him even more.    

“Oh piss off,” he groaned. He looked around uneasily, his eyes meeting those of other shoppers before they dropped their eyes to the floor. Loki cast his own up towards the ceiling in despair. “People are looking.”

[Anonymous]

"You're so cute when you act annoyed!" Liv said, shaking Loki gently, fingers still tight on his shoulder.  He glanced around at the store.  He himself was a relatively new Pilot, but he tried to stay visible online and so on, and he had cultivated all of the signature things, like the hair.  Sooner or later, he'd win widespread recognition.

Loki was making that exaggerated face of distaste, eyes rolling extravagantly.  Liv took him by the chin and turned his head, leaning in to whisper in his ear, brushing Loki's carefully ruffled bangs.  He hoped they looked cozily intimate.  Loke was going to be so mad.  Or pretend to be mad, anyway.  He'd been avoiding Liv since the day he'd become a Pilot--admittedly, an odd day.    

"Well.  You didn't listen when I told you to leave.  Hey, come on, darrrling."  Liv rolled his 'r'.  He bent his arm around Loki's neck and let the weight of his body tug the other Pilot down, throwing him off balance.  Loki'd already burdened himself with a few pieces of clothing, which Liv glanced at, shifting sideways so that his cheek touched Loki's for a moment.  Physical proximity alone made him feel better.

Sometimes Liv didn't realize when he got lonely.

Sometimes he did.

Even when he did, he didn't always know what to do about it.  

Thus ran the proof.

"I've missed you, Lokilove.  I'm getting you a beret."

He had missed Loki, and he wasn't going to let go until Loki admitted that he had missed him too.  Because he had.  Liv left an impression; it was what he tried to do, to leave a Liv-shaped space in people's time.  Moving right along, he didn't approve of bottle-green and would need to tell Loki so, but the shirt he had on at the moment wasn't bad at all.

[Anonymous]

This was overkill. Seriously, first the motherfucker steals his clothes and then has the audacity to bother him when he’s trying to sort it all out. It must have been him. Surely. Maybe. Quite likely. Loki was still annoyed. It wasn’t the proximity itself that aggravated him- he was very much used to Liv invading his personal bubble. He just didn’t want to deal with the consequences of it. He did not want have to deal with people thinking they were together. Loki wished Liv would succumb to any temptation to break the illusion of intimacy in favour of something like slapping him or punching him. Being hit was much more preferable. Wishful thinking. What did Liv want to achieve? Was there a reason behind his clinginess or was it just-

Oh  please. He still didn’t remember that, did he? That was months ago. And he’d rather forget that whole sorry awkward sleepover. He’d performed so poorly and let Liv get the upper hand. He was embarrassed about it, that Liv was witness to that weakness. Liv probably carried that memory around like a talisman, warding off all of Loki’s asshattery, rendering him powerless. If only he was allowed to be so shameless.

“A beret? Why would I let you of all people dress me-“ He tried to remain upright, but got a cramp in his neck in the process. There was no getting out of this. “Ouch. Fine, whatever. Just get the hell off me.”

He glanced around again, terribly conscious of all the stares. The only thing that could have made it more excruciating was the presence of someone with a camera. And there was, in the corner. And it was trained on the both of them.

“Alright, darling, I’ll play it your way,” he said sweetly enough to make his teeth creak.  With difficulty, he wrapped one encumbered arm around Liv’s waist and ploughed towards the dressing rooms. He wouldn’t be able to bear it if his big media debut was with Liv. He had to hide, and quickly. All without Liv knowing there was a photographer in their midst, because Liv would undoubtedly capitalise on it.

[Anonymous]

"I don't know, why would you let me undress you?"  Liv said, pleased with the comeback.  It made so much sense.  He had just caught a flash of Loki's mental ire, and his continuing suspicion that Liv had been the clothing thief.  Which meant he assumed he'd done something with Liv that'd led to nakedness and handcuffs.

Which meant he'd acknowledged the plausibility of such a scenario, and, thus, accepted the reality of his latent desire for Liv's body.  QED.  

When Liv got too tired he started to think in mathematical proofs.  His psychic guard came down a little, too.  He worried about it while he let Loki pull him dressingroomward, one arm tucked unaffectionately around his waist.  Whilst Liv always kept a lock on the thoughts marked secret, he couldn't fundamentally change himself; what he thought on the surface remained mostly authentic.

He worried because he'd found himself taking a little too much pleasure in the faked affection.  And a little too much regret that it was fake.  Oh, well, it wasn't like Loki didn't know he was needy.  Liv kept playing it up, leaning sideways against him and toying with a lock of Loki's hair.  He noticed the camera-carrier only belatedly, once they'd nearly reached the dressing rooms, and threw her a smile over Loki's shoulder.  Publicity.  Oh gosh.  Liv had been photographed in public all of twice.  Heck, he was still used to the ignominy of Candidacy.  His childish side felt enormously tickled at the whole thing.  Maybe his mother would see the shot in one of the tabloid blogs she browsed...

Anyway.  Liv batted away these musings and, on the way into the dressing-room corridor, pulled free of Loki, stepped sideways, and slapped him on the ass.  

Had to do it.  Even though he was struck with the immediate fear that Loki would shove him into a dressing room and strangle him.

[Anonymous]

Oh yes. The little prick was enjoying this. He could feel it in his surface thoughts. It wasn’t detrimental to Liv at all. It was to Loki. Harsh though it may be, he was still embarrassed to be associated with Liv. In private, all was fine. Nothing was perceived by outside eyes. They didn’t understand. He continued his way. Of course, Liv wasn’t even helping. His bags kept knocking against his knees irritatingly.

Relief flooded him when Liv relinquished his grip in the corridor. He straightened, easing his neck and removing his arm from Liv’s waist. Finally, a little respite-

… The little shit.

It wasn’t personal space that was the issue. It was Liv’s nerve to do it. And the message of the action. He was not Liv’s bitch. He resented that. He threw his bags and clothes into a dressing room violently, hoping to dispel some annoyance. But it left him unsatisfied. He wanted to hurt Liv. Even though he knew that was exactly Liv wanted- to see that he was of consequence to some people.

He should deny him, keep calm. Keep his composure. Then Liv would- well, knowing Liv he would just up his game and try to annoy him even more. Probably mention the time Loki crashed out on Liv’s bed a few more time. He was so sick of hearing it., especially nestled in emails.

Screw it. He had honestly had enough. He needed some sort of outlet. He pushed Liv roughly into  the dressing room, door banging shut after him. He stopped. Paused momentarily. No. He wouldn’t. This was a public place. A public civilian place what’s more. This commotion would cause too much intrigue. Pilots generally didn’t care as much. They were too used to fighting.

“You know what, I am above this,” he said to Liv, with disdain. He could just ignore Liv. He knew he hated that. Hated feeling insignificant. Even so …

It was tempting.

And he deserves it for taking my clothes anyway.

Never mind the high ground. Loki reeled back for a punch.

[Anonymous]

"Oh, right,  so far above--"  

Liv felt Loki's anger, but he really hadn't expected the sudden punch.  Loki's fist caught him in the jaw.  He felt his neck snap sideways and his teeth click together, through the slick meat of his tongue.  Owww.  Liv hadn't bitten his tongue in ages; he'd had enough practice taking hits that he avoided it, but this time Loki had caught him completely off guard.  He wrenched his head back to center unsteadily and braced himself against the back wall of the dressing room.  

"Hey, that--"  He spoke thickly, then made a face and sucked his lips in, then out, tasting blood.  He wiped his mouth on one hand.  "--ffucking hell, Razz."  The z's came out more like j's.  

Liv held up one hand, squinting against the bright bulb that hung from the dressing room ceiling, reflected to infinity in mirrors covering three of its walls.  And squinting against Loki's furious glare.  "You... care way too mush what people think of you."  Hypocrite, said the voice in his head.  Liv knew.  This was why he liked Loki.  Same weaknesses.  "I jus' wanted to go shopping with you.  I like you.  Shith."  He tried to stare down at his own tongue, sticking it out and prodding it with one finger.  Mm, spongy.  And raw.  It would get better.  He wiggled it and tucked it into his cheek for safekeeping.

He looked Loki over warily.  If he wanted to escalate this, they could, though frankly Liv had a lot less to lose from a dressing room fight... which, honestly, how ridiculous could you get?  He didn't need to fight to win.  And today he didn't even want to win.  He felt tired, and what he'd found in Loki's files had shaken him.

[Anonymous]

The punch felt really good. He couldn’t deny it. Then regret and shame started creeping in to dull his sense of triumph. It wasn’t a triumph for him in any way. He’d let himself succumb to his anger and lost himself. Liv had identified his weaknesses and exacerbated them.  Loki did care what people thought of them,  because it was usually something he could control through his own behaviour. He liked knowing what people thought of him. When Liv was around, he seemed to destroy everything concrete. It left Loki uneasy and a little lost. Especially since Liv was still very ambiguous about what he thought about Loki.

At least he had been until now. Well damn, now he just felt bad. He hadn’t been riling him up for the satisfaction of seeing him angry. It was just Liv’s juvenile way of showing affection. Loki wanted to blame him for being opaque. Mostly because he didn’t want to admit to Liv that he was sorry. That meant Liv had influence on him, enough to make him feel ashamed. He wasn’t prepared to give that satisfaction.

His body language lost all it’s aggressiveness. His shoulders dropped and he lowered his head. He watched Liv stick out his tongue and rolled his eyes. He could just ask-

No he couldn’t. Loki wasn’t exactly giving off much of a caring vibe. He could fix it though. It was better than saying sorry. “Here,” he sighed. He closed the gap between  them, approaching Liv slowly where he was against the mirror. You know, so he didn’t think he was going to get punched again. He agonised over where to touch Liv for his direct skin contact before settling on the forehead as the least significant place to touch someone.

He moved his sense of self into Liv. He felt the pain replicated in his own mouth, dully. His tongue seemed to have grown in size. He was in Liv’s system now. He focused in on his job, coaxing the tongue to repair itself. The bruised and torn tissue repaired itself in the space of a few minutes instead of a few days.

He slowly began to remove himself, picked up some of Liv’s thoughts as he went. Part of the noise. He didn’t focus in- it wasn’t polite. But there was a sense of … he wasn’t sure. He wanted to call it unease but it was edged with a strange, muted sort of excitement. It was confusing. Loki wasn’t in the mood to deal with confusing right now, so he let it be. Ignored it.

“Done,” he said abruptly. He took a quick step away. The danger now was awkward silence. It might be diffused by an apology but he’d already conveyed that (sort of) in his actions. It didn’t need a verbal complement. He contemplated just leaving the dressing room for a moment. He wouldn’t have to deal with more Liv, which was unusually hard today it would seem, but it would also be harsh. Considering he was in the wrong since he punched him in the face. With reason, but a disproportionate one.

Too complicated. Just go. “Fine,” Loki exhaled. “Come on then.” He held the door open. He asked a passing shop assistant to hold the dressing room for him and left his bags and the other items he’d picked up along the way. Pilot perk. “No more touching,” he added as an afterthought whilst gesturing Liv out with an arm.

[Anonymous]

Liv found himself unexpectedly kind of touched by Loki's awkward reconciliation, and the whiff of guilt he felt from him.  It was very Livlike.  Punch someone, then feel bad about it.  He had even probably deserved it.  But Loki felt bad, and Liv appreciated that.  

He wiggled his tongue experimentally.  It felt almost numb without the swelling--just for a moment--and then sensation rushed back into surprised nerve endings.  Oh, that tasted nice.  He prodded the ridged roof of his mouth with the tip of it.  Healing was so strange, so interesting.  Liv often wished he had some ability of that sort, instead of unreliable pyrokinesis.  Like having a broken lighter glued to your hand.  Yes, he was jealous.

"Thanks," he said, with more sincerity than Loki probably expected.  He smiled at him without sardonicism, a little awkwardly.  It was difficult to try to charm someone without being annoying.  'Annoying' came more naturally.

"... so cute when you're exasperated," he said under his breath.  It was perfectly true.  He followed Loki out with his hands up conspicuously, his posture all wounded innocence.  He allowed Loki a clear draught of psychic insight, shields lifted around the truth: of course he wouldn't touch him.

Then he feinted right and made as if to smack him on the ass again, but, at the last minute, pulled back his hand, sniffed, and fell in beside Loki.  For a moment.  Soon he had discovered Hats, and pulled five berets he'd been modeling off of the nearby rack.  He set a dark blue one carefully on his own head, smoothing his hair, then struck a pose, offering another to Loki.  "I am completely serious, my friend, you would look great in this.  Maybe even better than me."  Of course he wasn't serious.  It was untrue; that was why it was funny.  But it might've been a little true.  Also why it was funny.   "Try it."

[Anonymous]

It was odd how they would swing from extremes to normal in a small amount of time. Loki was sure it was quite disorientating to most onlookers. Back on the shop floor, Loki looked around for the camera, but couldn’t see it. Probably hiding round a corner, maybe. He sighed minutely in relief and then tried to settle into the shopping with zeal. He was quickly distracted by shirts. New release- wonderful two words!

He felt the air move past him, as if disrupted by a sudden movement. He turned, immediately suspicious, but only saw Liv at his side. Right. Maybe a little too twitchy then. He should calm down a bit. He could, now that Liv had sort of promised to behave himself. With his outward appearance thus guaranteed, he could relax. Also, Liv was now less concerned about him and more about the hat stand. The dangers were fading away.

Loki scoffed and took the offered hat in order to prove a point. “Of course it’ll look better on me. You don’t have the hair to pull it off,” he quipped.  His beret was a dark grey. A little sceptically, he patted it into shape before placing it on his head. He wasn’t sold immediately as he studied himself in the mirror, making faces as he tried to decide.

Then he got thinking … Actually, with a crisp shirt, top buttons artfully undone and nice fitted trousers it’d look quite good. Good shoes went without saying. Scarf or no scarf? It could work either way. Yeah, it would be hot. Impressive. He looked over at Liv’s reflection, then had the mischance of glancing at both of their images together.

He promptly took the beret off. They looked like brothers. Should they both wear it on the same day, they’d look ridiculous. Something he wouldn't chance. He also wouldn't go through the idiotic ritual of co-ordinating outfits with each other. Shame, he was growing quite attached to it. Well, he’d buy one if Liv didn’t. He hoped Liv didn’t.

He handed it back gingerly. It would probably just look like he had no faith in Liv's taste. Did it matter? They were shopping, it's not like he was going to be reading too deeply or checking his surface thoughts. "Mmm, I’ll think about it,” he lied

[Anonymous]

Liv knew that look.  That was clothing lust, that was.  He felt smugly pleased and slipped his own beret back on his head, to lie at a jaunty angle.  Whoops, too jaunty.  He caught it before it could slide off his hair, cleared his throat, and resettled it, all while watching Loki.  Vanity, thy name is Loki.

And also Liv.  Ooh, that red silk shirt would look fantastic on him.  It'd give the illusion of broader shoulders.  He fingered the placket, running a thumb over the buttons, which had a nacreous hint, just a little sheen.  He'd left his own jacket and hat in the dressing room, and, beneath it, had worn only a thin t-shirt--the obvious choice of apparel for a shopping trip.

He slid the shirt off its hanger and shrugged carefully into it, settling his neck and shoulders beneath the fabric with a quick twist and snuggle of vertebrae.  He struck a pose in front of the mirror.  Then another pose.  With dark-wash jeans, it could work with the blue beret.  Liv pouted at his own reflection, thumbs hooked into his belt, pretending to be a fashion model.

Oh.  Sexy.  He blew himself a mirrored kiss, in a mugging, half-parodic way.  He was buying this.  

Loki would... hey, where was Loki?  

Liv turned, searching him out, and found him walking away, shaking his head.  In theatrical disapproval.  Trying to make his escape.

"Oh no.  Come back.  Come back and appreciate the beauty."  The no-touching rule forgotten, he hurried after Loki and took him by the arm, spinning them toward the nearest mirror.  "Look.  Bask.  Pale in comparison.  This is a damnably sexy shirt, please admit."

[Anonymous]

“What do you mean pale in comparison?” Loki responded indignantly, trying to shrug Liv off. He was amused though. It wasn’t serious at all. Hell, he was nearly starting to enjoy himself. He made a show of looking dispassionately at Liv’s appearance. The shirt was very nice. Not that he was going to admit it. “Whatever. Buy it if you like it. What do you need my opinion for?” He slapped Liv’s hand off of his forearm.  “Besides, I don’t want to hurt your feelings.” He then clapped him on the shoulder roughly and started looking elsewhere.

Funnel neck cardigan?  Heh, why not? It was meant to be a big new shape trend. Black shawl neck jumper? Sure. He’d have that too. Try it on later. He handed them over to the shop assistant rather than carrying them around. He continued to wander around the racks, but didn’t find anything for a while. He picked at the clothes, rifling through the hangers.

Pewter grey, double breasted, cotton waistcoat. With a jacquard lining. And a back adjuster. And impeccable stitching. He had to try it on, and he preyed that it would be the right cut for him. He shrugged it on, back to the mirror, so he could perform the dramatic turn and pose. He efficiently did up the buttons, leaving the last undone. Counted to three and turned around.

Loved it. He needed this. And if there was a trilby lying around somewhere- ah!  Beautiful! He wasn’t so extravagant in his posing as Liv was, partly because he took it much more seriously. Hands in his pockets, chin slightly up, trying to look as cool and nonchalant as possible, he assessed himself. And he looked good.

Now to brag.

He looked around frantically. “Oi! Liv! Look what I found? Wonderful, isn’t it?” Wouldn’t he wish he found it first!

[Anonymous]

Liv wandered away from Loki but kept half an eye on him, lest he try to make an escape.  He did value Loki's opinion, and Loki knew it; they both had rare sophisticated taste.  Less ripped-and-flashy and more 'classic.'  Too few Pilots appreciated things like the break on trousers, or the niceties of suit silhouette.  Lately Liv had been into single-breasted loose jackets.  Notched lapel.  They made him look less unfortunately skinny and more fortunately so.  

He saved the vests for last, as a reward, and because Loki had taken that section and he didn't want to crowd him.

He also knew Loki was much more a man for suits, suit jackets, etc., and might become jealous if Liv found a nice one before he did.  Humming to himself, he plucked a well-cut coat off a hanger and held it up, examining the fabric.  It really was nice, a new synthetic addition would let it cling to the body a little more than usual.  Always good.  He caught a glimpse of Loki, past the jacket.

That vest.

Must have it.

Liv slung the coat he'd been examining carelessly back on its rack, and didn't bother to pick it up when it slithered to the floor behind him.  He made his way rapidly over to Loki, looking him up and down.  Those pants weren't his, but they fit rather well.  The vest.  It made everything look good.  

"It is well-chosen, thanks for finding it for me.  Not really your color..."  Complete, shameless, and transparent lie.  Loki rocked the gray much more often, and maybe more emphatically, than did Liv.  Liv liked bright colors.  But that vest!  The lining, the cut.  He ran his fingers lightly over the fabric that lay smoothly on Loki's chest... admittedly well-fitted.  It might not hang properly on him, his shoulders weren't as broad, and the next size down might not... pessimistic thoughts, fie.

Liv poked Loki in the side of the neck, just above the collarbone, where the vest ended.  A slightly tickling place for Liv personally.  At the very least annoying to Loki.  But not too annoying, he hoped.

 "I pose better than you do, too.  So seeerious."  Poke.

[Anonymous]

Loki rolled his eyes at Liv, continuing to admire his reflection. Grey was good. He loved grey. Less harsh than black and white. Went with everything. He couldn’t really bear the thought of leaving without the waistcoat. Screw Liv. He found it first. Besides, Liv was going about trying to convince him not to buy it in entirely the wrong manner. He was too confident in his own tastes to listen to Liv’s input. He would respond so much better to bribery.

Not that he would accept any offers anyway. Well … maybe-

No, he lied. No offers whatsoever.

He made a ‘hmph’ sound of indignation in response to the poking. He really didn’t like poking. Oh course, Liv knew that by now. Loki flinched away, one hand raised to bat Liv away if he needed to.  

“Posing should be serious. It’s an art form. You defile it,” Loki replied smoothly. He lowered his guard and tugged carefully at the material by his shoulders. It was beautiful. He didn’t want to take if off, he would be hard pressed to do so in order to pay for it. Maybe they could just scan it and remove the label without him taking it off.

“You’re going about this the wrong way,” he decided to inform Liv. “If you want it, try being nicer.” You know, instead of being annoying. His tolerance for annoyance was very high right now; the waistcoat had now augmented his natural patience. “Go on then.” He pointed at his feet. “Start grovelling.”

He supposed blackmail would work. But hopefully Liv would forget that.

[Anonymous]

Loki had attained the beatific serenity of the truly well-dressed.

Liv envied him more with every passing second.

It was not enough, when well-dressed, to look good on the outside.  You had to feel it, deep down, where ribs met spine, and that required truly quality clothing.  And the awareness that you had found the perfect piece.  Loki's vest was, quite obviously, the archetypal vest.  The ideal of a vest, the ur-vest, from which all other vests had been made--weak copies, the lot.  

Okay, so Liv was messing around a little, but he truly did wonder whether it'd look as good on him.  Or better.  Gosh.  Besides, fucking with Loki was so much fun.  And he was still, mildly and embarrassingly, suffused with relief that Loki seemed to be playing along, and that he had not yet decided to ignore or maim him.

Liv was working around into a position from which he could maybe, someday, speak to Loki about serious matters.  Not vests.  Not clothes.  But other things.  Their current battle overlaid other ideologies anyway.  Always did.  Liv sighed and shifted back, cocking his head at Loki.

His advice wasn't actually bad, however condescendingly he had phrased it.  The gesture downward was just too much.  He wanted Liv on his knees.  'Groveling.'  Was that what the kids called it these days?  Ha ha.  Oh, Loki.

Liv caught Loki's pointing finger in one loose fist and stepped very close to him, basking in the unattainable allure of the vest.  Gods, it was beautiful.  He let his free hand trip and stumble through the orderly path laid out by vest buttons, up Loki's chest, to his jaw.  He looked up at him with wide, serious eyes, eyebrows lowered in calculation.  An Offer You Can't Refuse.  Sort of thing.

"Loki," he said, "I have no gag reflex."

He tightened his grip on Loki's hand and sidled closer.

He succeeded in keeping a straight face mostly because he was worried Loki would punch him again.

[Anonymous]

What happened to no touching? Loki’s eyes darted around the room quickly as the space disappeared between them. Camera no where to be seen. Just relax- he should be used to this sort of shit by now.  He shook his hand languidly, trying to free his finger, so then he’d be free to shove Liv away from his person and, more importantly, the waistcoat. He was getting protective over it, and he wasn’t going to hand if over. Unless Liv actually thought of something good enough. Loki couldn’t think of anything himself-

Didn’t really want to hear that and it wasn’t tempting either. The waistcoat was infinitely better. He shouldn’t be surprised by that proposal, that move was a signature one in Liv’s arsenal.  Uncomfortably sexual. It played well next to his ability to completely ignore the boundaries of good taste.

Seriously, there was a line.  

He was a little concerned. No joking lilt came with the delivery.  Liv did like his waistcoats but really, come on. He wouldn’t. Would he? Hang on, it was irrelevant anyway. The offer was invalid, because Loki wasn’t going to relinquish the waistcoat. However, this was a bluff. It had to be. Calling it would be immensely satisfying, but he didn’t have a lot of faith in it. He didn’t want to be the one to end up backing down.

Pfft. No, it was just the look on Liv’s face that was throwing him. Liv really wouldn’t.

Loki pursed his lips in mock consideration. Counted to three, letting it melt away into a smirk. “Oh?” He pointedly gave Liv an appraising once over. “Then we’d best head back to the dressing room in that case.” He looked around quickly again, just checking for the camera. Just in case. Still gone. He moved his free hand to take hold of Liv’s. “How good are you at keeping quiet?”

[Anonymous]

Liv was having so much fun.  He found the whole scenario highly entertaining.  Ridiculous, of course, but he liked the attention.  He liked the stupid, silly power struggle.  He liked the fact that they had both decided to imbue the vest with a crazy kind of significance.

Now it was basically a comedy, grounded in friendliness or at least temporary accord.  He could think of the right lines.  As if he were in a play.  Basically meant for entertainment.

"I think the question, Loki, is how good you are at keeping quiet.  Actually.  Because, well..."  He let his mouth loll open for a moment, letting totally unsubtle suggestion collect in the space between teeth and tongue.  "... I'm really good."  He took a step back and crossed his arms, raising one eyebrow.  He looked the vest over again.  Gray really wasn't his color, and he could probably find something else.  Maybe something slightly on the ridiculous side.  With leather embellishments.  Or that hammered-satin piece he'd glimpsed earlier.  

Now the question was, who'd break first?

Liv was not going to let himself be intimidated.  Loki would absolutely never accept this sort of offer from him.  But--he paused, momentarily wrong-footed.  When to stop for maximum humiliation for Loki and minimum for him?  

No.  Wait, Liv.  This isn't about winning.  (What?  Something not about winning?)  He eyed Loki's calmish expression.  This was not about winning because, sadly, it really did look better on Loki.  Probably.  Oh, well, at least Liv could see how long he'd continue to take the offer seriously.

[Anonymous]

Well, at least playing along got him some breathing space. Surprisingly. He was preparing for the opposite to happen, for Liv to close space entirely and freak him out. Then he would pull out his get out clause- sorry, nothing is getting me out of this waistcoat. But there was a serious calculation in Liv’s face as he crossed his arms that made Loki wonder. Maybe he shouldn’t look into it too much. This sense of accord was far too fickle and seriousness would kill it stone dead.

Thus he reverted back to the familiar. Games. Remove any significance and make the context up himself. He just wanted to feint a little, to make Liv’s tactics fail. It would be refreshing, and maybe he would stop doing it as a result. Seemed unlucky, but Loki didn’t dismiss it outright.

“Don’t worry,” Loki said, waving a dismissive hand. “I’ve had practice.” Hopefully that was a big ‘do not want’ on Liv’s part. Funny that, he actually felt like he had a steady stance in this fight for once. As ridiculous as it was. Not to mention meaningless. Well, not meaningless. It was just very small, insignificant. Compared to the usual fighting in front of Pilots. At the gym, on Sundays.

Loki slipped his hands into his pockets and started taking languid steps back in the direction of the dressing rooms. “Come on then,” he prompted. He was feeling very confident. Mostly because of the waistcoat. It gave him an excuse, because it had now been promoted to a symbol.

Of course, he didn’t know that his escape plan was useless. It all relied on Liv’s want of the waistcoat. It was all about his motivation. The garment was a barrier- Liv was acting upon it rather than on Loki. Without it, their actions were reduced simply to playing chicken. And Loki was at a serious disadvantage then.

[Anonymous]

All right, then.  Liv straightened surprised shoulders, swiveled his neck first one way and then the other, checking for an audience, and grinned at a passerby.  He would certainly not break now, not now that Loki had started for the dressing rooms.  He did, however, pick up the black vest he'd had his eye on and sling it over his arm while he followed.  He caught up in the hall, threw the vest into their dressing room, and shut the door quickly behind them.

"Right," he said, approaching Loki in a slightly defensive stance.  He backed him into a corner, hemming him in with both turned-out feet, one hand on his shoulder, the other hooked into his beltloops.  Thumb on the cold top of his zipper.

He yanked it down and leaned very close, again, closer...

"I knew you wanted me.  Ha."  Liv tugged Loki's pants down and shoved him, off-balance and hobbled, down into a sitting position on the bench laid into the corner.  He stepped back quickly, before Loki could retaliate.  He crossed his arms over his chest and brought one finger up to the corner of his mouth, biting at the tip of it to avoid a half-anxious smile.  He hoped Loki would not be too hurt or angry.  

This was maybe not the best way to build a friendship, but if he took it well, he'd be so happy.

"I wouldn't do you even in that vest, though."  He tipped his head consideringly to one side.  "... but, okay.  It does look better on you."  Liv paused.  "That was very hard to admit, and I hope you appreciate it."

[Anonymous]

The door closed behind them and Loki was ready to pull the line. He smirked, feeling quite pleased with him. Except things moved too quickly. He didn’t have time to think of a snide remark when he was suddenly excruciatingly aware of the lack of space, stuffy air and Liv’s hand, oh gods, Liv’s hand down there. Well damn him for letting style get in the way. He’d decided ‘no thanks’ wasn’t enough and now Liv was.

Zip.

Oh shit.

This wasn’t funny anymore. Was this what Liv meant when he said he liked Loki? Hell. Not good. This was fucked up- stupid Liv! Hadn’t he seen this was a game? And now he had taken it completely out of context and-

His jeans gathered around his knees. And then he was toppled over quickly, flinging out an arm to bang loudly against the wall as he tried to balance. Shock quickly gave way to indignation. He’d been had. And badly. There always a very deep anger, the sort that comes with betrayal. Liv had stolen his thunder. It had meant to be his win, and Liv’s cost.

Damn.

“You cocky little shit,” he threw at him, in a repressed voice. He could hear footsteps in the corridor. And unguarded civilian thoughts. Wondering what all the thudding was about. Investigating, then retreating round the corner what they found no fuss. He pulled his jeans back up and fastened them again, wanting to glare at Liv yet not quite being able to. He’d been beaten pretty bad.

“I didn’t even want it anyway!” he insisted sulkily. “You’re worth nothing. I would have said so if you hadn’t pounced me. You’re fucking insane.”

Still wasn’t enough. “For the record,” he added, continuing his childish defence, “I’d never ever want to sleep with you. Ever. Just … no. You know what? Get the hell out so I can try this stuff on.”

Ease the hurt by putting on more clothes and looking better than Liv. Fucking Liv.