Fic: Boring Can Be Sexy (Sifki)

[bookishwench]

Few things in existence are more boring than a state visit. Those few things that surpass it are so dull that anyone who has experienced them is dead from boredom and cannot be called upon to give testimony as to what they are. At this moment, Sif was starting to envy them.

She, Loki, Thor, and Volstagg had been sent to forge bonds of friendship with a culture that they had only recently realized existed. The inhabitants of the newly discovered world called themselves a word that was at least twenty-five syllables long and nearly impossible to remember. Loki could spew off the name Nalindandindonbrondonagbarthondolabinthamilangadonubrindondinalibandathonid without a stumble, but Sif and Thor couldn’t get through half of it, and Volstagg had given up completely after Nalinda. An ambassador from the planet had been sent to Asgard ten years ago, and Odin had insisted a return visit was long overdo. Thanks to the Allspeak, language was not a problem (aside from that terrifying name), but there was a much worse issue.

The Nalindand, as Sif had taken to calling them mentally, were the most boring sentient creatures to ever draw breath. They believed in peace, which was wonderful, but this meant they didn’t do anything vaguely interesting.

“A complete lack of chaos,” Loki mumbled under his breath as the four of them walked towards the dome of the Bifrost. “Why am I even going?”

“At least you aren’t useless on this trip,” Volstagg said. “Thor has no need of an official bodyguard.”

“Nor do I,” Loki said, glancing at Sif, “but it’s the look of the thing.”

“Perhaps you are there to save us from being bored to death,” Thor said gloomily. He had just found out that nothing stronger than water existed on the planet.

Loki tilted his head for a moment, his lips starting to curl in what Sif recognized as the first sign of trouble.

“That might indeed be useful,” he said pulling Sif aside and letting the others go on ahead. “Lady Sif, what would you say to our playing a little game?”

“What sort of game?” she asked suspiciously.

“Just a simple exercise in self-control,” he said, but there was a glint in his eyes she had seen before. It usually preceded pandemonium.

“What do you propose?” she said, a long-suffering sigh coloring her words.

“Just this. I will attempt to distract you from your duties.”

“So, a typical day?”

“No. Well, yes, I suppose,” he admitted. “We both know the chances of our being assaulted on this planet are ridiculously low, but the real challenge will be feigning interest in their culture. If you manage to remain fully focused on your job as my bodyguard, you will claim the victory. If I manage to draw your attention elsewhere, I win.”

“And what spoils does the winner claim?” Sif asked.

Loki’s gaze turned more heated before he said, “Whatever they want.”

The flirtation between the two of them had been going on for decades without yielding any fruit other than an occasional bout of passionate kisses. Sif considered the contest, sure that no matter what Loki did, she would win. But even if she did lose, she thought, the loss might be its own kind of victory.

“I accept,” Sif said, “but under conditions.”

“And those are?”

“No one else is to be used in this. You can’t light someone on fire as a distraction, for instance,” she said.

“Sif, I was only ninety-four years old when I did that.”

“Yes, but it did work to draw the cook’s attention elsewhere so you could steal all the sweets for the new year’s festival,” she said.

“I recall you eating your fair share of those. Fine, no spontaneous combustion.”

“And no jeopardizing our mission, either,” she said. “I won’t risk my oath to the Allfather over a bet.”

“Agreed,” Loki said. “No one but you will even know of our battle. Shall we catch up to the others before Volstagg and Thor decide to go without us?”

“Oh, how I wish,” Sif groaned, but broke into a light jog to reach the golden dome ahead where Heimdall was preparing to send them off.

The four of them arrived to find a welcoming committee, all of them dressed in identical, nondescript white tunics, leggings, and white boots. The room was also white, floor to ceiling, and the windows, framed by white drapes, looked out onto a city composed of a series of the exact same house repeated a thousand times, all of them squares of white with a central door and a square window on either side. The roads, the trees, the vehicles, everything as far as the eye could see was the same shade of white. It was like looking into a snowstorm, only far less interesting.

“We welcome you to our home,” the committee said as one in a monotone that was as colorless as everything else here.

“We thank you very much for your hospitality,” Thor said, bowing politely.

“Indeed,” Loki said, “we are honored to be invited to Nalindandindonbrondonagbarthondolabinthamilangadonubrindondinalibandathonid.”

The inhabitants momentarily looked both surprised and pleased, but their faces returned to their usual neutral expressions immediately.

The Asgardians were led to a chamber where the governing body of ten was seated around a table. Two empty chairs showed where the princes were to sit. Volstagg and Sif took up their positions immediately behind them, remaining motionless but vigilant. The usual boring preliminaries when everyone stated why they were there despite all the participants already knowing were begun, then a long discussion of trade opened. For the life of her, Sif couldn’t figure out what this planet could have that Asgard would want, but she remained silent and watchful.

At long last, the meeting ended. Sif had remained vigilant, and as Loki rose, he gave her the smallest congratulatory nod.

“We would provide you with entertainment,” the one who appeared to be the leader said to Thor. “The greatest masterworks of our culture shall be put on display for you, and you will be given ample time to enjoy and appreciate them.”

“How thoughtful,” Loki said, looking delighted. “I look forward to it.”

“As do I,” Thor said, and Sif couldn’t help thinking he wasn’t anywhere near as good of a liar as his brother.

The leader motioned to one of the other board members, and the Asgardians were ushered out of the room, down three identical, plain white corridors, and eventually came to a large door.

“Our greatest painting by our most famous artist lies behind this door,” they said.

Sif admitted to mild curiosity, but when the door was open, her eyes met a completely blank white canvas. It was fairly big and brightly lit, but aside from that, it was just that: empty. Sif shot Volstagg a questioning look, and he barely moved his shoulders in what was obviously a confused shrug.

“I… don’t think I understand?” Thor said, staring at the “painting” in complete bafflement.

“You have not yet had time to look into it deeply enough,” their guide said. “Merely stand before it, and you will understand.

Sif wondered if perhaps the image would change color or move or anything at all, but as she kept careful guard over Loki, minutes passed. Then an hour. No discernible change occurred.

“Fascinating,” Loki said, his face drawn into a politely interested expression.

Thor looked utterly confused.

Volstagg had fallen asleep standing up until his growling stomach awakened him with a jolt.

Sif tried her best to find something, anything that could possibly be of interest in it. That was when her eyes flew open in shock.

“Dull, isn’t it?” Loki’s voice said inside her head. “Don’t be alarmed. I assure you, I cannot read your thoughts. Do you mind my speaking to you this way?”

She was surprised since she hadn’t known he was capable of this bit of magic, but taking it as part of their dare, she shook her head minutely, allowing him permission.

“Good,” he said, sounding pleased. “The monotony was about to drive me around the twist. I mean, look at this thing! What is it, ten feet square of plain white canvas? There’s no paint on it, so you can’t even call it a painting. Although…”

He tipped his head as though looking at it from a different perspective. She found herself automatically mirroring the movement and staring hard at the surface.

“I suppose it does look like something,” he said. “It resembles a bedsheet, does it not?”

The more she looked at it, the more obvious it became that it did indeed look like a giant bed sheet hung on the wall. The problem was her numb brain began working desperately with that image, mentally moving the canvas off the wall, then onto an equally enormous bed, then to her being in that bed, then adding in Loki, which went down a path of progressively more graphic images until she was desperately trying not to think at all but just stare at the damn sheet. Painting. Art. Whatever it was.

Another whole hour passed before their guide said with blissful tranquility, “I believe by now the simplicity and pure peace of this work has bonded to your souls. We may move on.”

Loki looked over to Sif and raised an eyebrow at her curiously. She knew he really couldn’t read minds, but it was as though he’d somehow managed to guess what she’d been thinking about. She felt herself turn red, and he smirked at her as though his suspicions had been confirmed.

The group was now escorted to the next cultural milestone: a symphony. They were seated in an otherwise empty orchestra hall where every seat, wall, and music stand was painted white. Sif rather liked music, even if it was odd or unusual, so she held a scrap of hope this might be better. She and Volstagg stood once again behind their respective charges, and Loki flicked a quick grin towards her as he sat down.

What followed was a single performer walking onto the stage while carrying an instrument that looked like some kind of horn. The musician lifted the horn and began to blow into it, producing a single note. The note continued, not changing pitch, without a pause. Sif supposed she should be impressed with the performer’s breath control at the very least, but somewhere around fifty-three minutes of a single sustained note, her overwhelming desire to stab the player through the lungs to stop the noise won out over her appreciation of it.

She glanced at the others. Thor had a smile plastered on his face that looked more like he was in deep pain. Volstagg’s eyes were crossed and she caught him drumming his fingers into his thigh in an effort to remain awake. Loki had the fingers of one hand resting lightly against his lips, his eyebrows drawn together as though he were puzzling over the depth of meaning before him, apparently riveted to the performance.

Sif’s gaze went back to the musician, trying to figure out whether Loki was entirely making up his reaction or whether there was something she was missing.

“I’m lying, Sif dear,” his voice said clearly in her head. “If I have to live through much more of this recital, you will be honor bound to save your prince from being tortured to death by beheading this so-called artist. It’s been nearly an hour!”

Sif silently agreed.

“And sadly, there’s not a sign of it abating,” he said, sighing softly in her mind. “An entire hour of breath control. Remarkable, I suppose. Not having to breathe for that long could be quite a useful skill to have under the right circumstances.”

Sif’s eyes widened very slightly at this as she began to think of several different highly pleasurable situations when that would indeed be most beneficial.

“I do have that particular ability, of course, as you should remember from our trip to the water planet of Plamer,” he said. “I’m sure you recall how I stayed beneath the waves there for two hours, waiting for my brother to step in that exact spot so I could grab him from behind and terrify him so badly that he tripped and fell flat on his face in front of that pink-haired princess with the gills.”

Sif nearly laughed at the memory, but remained focused on her task.

“The note does remind me of something, though, but I can’t seem to decide what,” he said, his expression becoming more pensive. “Now, let me think.”

It was a note, the same infernal note that was bouncing around the orchestra hall and making her ears vibrate until they were tired.

“Ah yes!” he finally said. “I’ve got it! The pitch is similar to a sigh, isn’t it? A long, drawn-out cry. But not of distress, I think.”

Sif’s eyes really did fly open wide now, and the only thing she could think of was that it sounded more like a moan of pleasure than anything else, although nothing could possibly sustain that level of ecstasy for that long, could it?

As suddenly as it had begun, the concert ended, and without so much as a clap or a bow, the musician left the stage.

“Exquisite,” Loki said. “The soloist must have trained for decades to be so proficient. What a treat!”

Volstagg looked like he was about to weep in relief and Thor appeared ready to join him. Sif merely coughed lightly and turned to follow, still on watch, almost hoping for the return of bone-deep boredom.

“We have prepared a meal for you,” their guide said. “Surely, after so much foreign art, you must be hungry.”

“Very thoughtful of you,” Thor said, and something like hope came back to his smile.

Sif heard Volstagg stifle a moan so that it came out as little more than a squeak. They were on duty and would not eat until after the official meal was over, and she sincerely hoped Volstagg would be able to remain on his feet that long without passing out.

The guide brought them to a room that was identical to most of the rooms in the building, but this one had a table set for four. Volstagg’s eyes lit up, but the guide sat down and the leader from earlier walked into the room and took the second seat. Thor and Loki sat across from one another. There was a noticeable lack of napkins, cutlery, plates, or food. A glass of what looked like plain water was set at each space. A few moments later, though, another of the inhabitants brought in a white bowl filled with small, round loaves of bread, each about the size of half a grapefruit. It was placed on the table along with four white plates, and then the servant left.

“Please, eat your fill,” the leader said, taking a plate and putting a single loaf on it.

Thor did the same, as did the guide, but Loki did something that made Sif blink. He took not one, but two of the rolls, putting them next to each other on his plate. This seemed like it might be a breach of etiquette, but aside from Thor raising his eyebrows then shrugging and taking another loaf as well, no one reacted.

Loki began speaking to the leader, casually mentioning his positive impressions of the works they had been shown, the refreshingly clean atmosphere, and the kind attentions of the population. Granted, if anyone had really been paying attention, they might have noticed that his compliments were phrased so that his listeners could come to their own interpretations, which happened to be positive. Sif, however, more experienced with his brand of rhetoric, realized he was restraining himself from rolling his eyes and telling them the planet’s lack of any imagination was physically painful to him.

It was at this point that Sif noticed something else.

As he was speaking, Loki was playing absently with the two round rolls of bread on his plate. Without looking or even glancing at his meal, he carried on his diplomatic duties, listening attentively to the droning speech of the leader and each of their staff. However, his fingers seemed to be moving on their own. They were caressing the rolls, lightly following the curve of their shape, drawing circles lazily around the tops, stroking delicately with his long, flexible fingers.

Sif narrowly avoided a whimper, and she glanced furtively up and down the table to see if anyone else was watching the display he was putting on, but no one seemed to have spotted it. Never once did Loki speak inside her mind, the silence almost too much as there was no damn distraction from what he was doing. With an immense effort of will, Sif straightened her spine so that she was fully at attention and forced herself to ignore what was happening and pay attention to her duties.

And that was why she was able to stab the attacker through the back of his hand, sending his raised knife flying off course away from the princes, before either Thor or Loki realized he had entered the room. The man, who from his clothing and features was from Alfheim, shrieked in agony as Sif immediately restrained him. Volstagg hadn’t reacted quite so quickly, and he was rather bleary-eyed as he reached for his sword. The leader looked horrified.

“I am so sorry!” he sputtered, showing actual emotion for the first time. “I have no idea how this intruder slipped past our security. Thank the stars your bodyguard was so observant!”

“Indeed,” Loki said, looking distinctly put out. “Utterly flawless attention to detail regardless of distractions.”

Sif grinned and bowed at the compliment.

“Where may I deposit this scum?” she asked politely, referring to the man whom she had in a headlock.

“My chief of security, dishonored as he is by this gross negligence, will take him in hand,” the leader said.

“What just happened?” Thor said, staring as though his dulled senses had only just caught up. “Why were we attacked?”

“I assure you, we will find out,” the leader said, frowning.

The attacker was marched from the room under heavy guard, leaving the mostly stunned group silent. After a few moments passed uncomfortably, the leader stood.

“I do not believe there is reason to remain here unless anyone wishes to eat after that,” he said.
“You have earned your rest this night. I hope all of you will find your beds comfortable.”

With those parting words, the group left the room, all of them showing traces of embarrassment. The reddening of their cheeks was obvious against the endless, unbroken white around them, and Sif found herself glad just for the speck of color.

“I am desperately sleepy,” Thor said. “As there doesn’t appear much else to do here, let’s turn in.”

“After this cowardly attempted violence, I think it would be better if each of you had a guard in your rooms,” Sif said, keeping her voice controlled.

“Fine,” Thor said. “Volstagg? Do you think you can keep awake after this day?”

“I shall do my best,” Volstagg said, but his tone wasn’t very confident.

“And you, Lady Sif?” Loki said, gracefully getting to his feet. “Do you intend to indulge in sleep this night?”

“No,” she replied, “sleep is far from my thoughts.”

He gave her a grin as Thor and Volstagg preceded them from the room, and they followed quickly behind.

The bedrooms were identical: windowless with one bed, one chair, one table, everything in white from floor to ceiling. Thor chose the first one they came to, and judging by the sound, he had fallen on the mattress, which at least seemed comfortable, and was snoring before Volstagg even closed the door. That left Loki and Sif standing alone.

“You have proven victorious,” he said quietly as they entered the other room. “Not even the utter boredom of this planet or my attempts to draw your attention to other matters could sway you from your appointed duty. Most admirable. I believe our wager was for me to give you whatever you wanted, was it not? And what might that be?”

“You are utterly incorrigible,” she said, smiling at him.

“Which you already knew.”

“Of course,” she agreed. “And what I want is you.”

“With the very greatest of pleasure,” he said before lowering his mouth to hers and replacing the monotony of that world with something far more entertaining.

The next morning, the beings of Nalindandindonbrondonagbarthondolabinthamilangadonubrindondinalibandathonid awoke them with one loud knock on their door. Sif sighed and started to get up, but Loki pulled her closer, grumbling something about it being too early.

“We need to get ready for whatever passes for breakfast on this world,” she said.

“Not worth it.”

“What, you don’t intend to fondle the bread again?”

“I’d far rather stay here and fondle you, sweet,” he said.

“If we get up, we can go home,” she reminded him.

“Perhaps the only temptation greater than staying abed with you is getting off this oppressively blank planet,” Loki admitted stretching. “Fine. Up, dress, eat, farewell, Bifrost, palace, my rooms, my bed, my lover.”

“That might be the best plan you have ever concocted,” Sif said, rolling away and pulling on her armor, which was currently decorating the only chair along with Loki’s clothing.

Breakfast consisted of a single roll of bread this time, which Loki chewed as quickly as possible without insulting anyone. Thor looked a bit better, but Volstagg was literally staggering with fatigue.

“I am pleased our meeting yielded good results and that you are unharmed,” the leader said, then his mouth dropped open in shock. “Prince Loki! I did not realize your bodyguard sustained an injury her victory!”

“Injury?” he said, looking at her with concern.

“Yes, the mark upon her neck there!”

Loki’s jaw clamped tightly shut in what Sif realized was a struggle to keep from laughing.

“I am well,” Sif said. “It is nothing of concern.”

Thor had developed an explosive cough suddenly, which he muffled with half a glass of water.

“Yes…” the leader said, looking confused. “Well, I am glad you are unharmed. The farewell ceremony will occur immediately after you have finished.”

Less than a minute later, the four Asgardians followed the leader and the other diplomats out of the white dining room, down two white corridors, and outside to a large, white courtyard. Some five hundred citizens were standing in perfectly parallel rows, waiting for their arrival. Sif saw Thor flinch. If this was anything like the artistic displays, they would be here for days.

“And now, we shall have the traditional sending forth ritual of our homeland,” the leader said.

Loki’s smile was suddenly rather forced, poor Volstagg had thrown decorum out the window and was physically bracing himself for more torture while Sif tapped her finger against her sword to distract herself from whatever was coming.

“Farewell,” all five hundred people said in unison, then left.

“That’s it?” Thor whispered as the leader and the rest of the committee followed the others out the door, leaving them standing in the courtyard alone.

“Apparently. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth,” Loki said. “Heimdall? If you please?”

Sif had never been so happy to be engulfed in the blinding light of the Bifrost, and the rich colors of the Golden Realm looked all the more beautiful after seeing monotony for so long. She didn’t have long to marvel at them, though, as Loki and she immediately disappeared in a swirl of green vapor.

“Where did they go?” Volstagg asked, looking around in surprise.

“Elsewhere,” Thor said, chuckling. “Come on. Let’s go to the nearest pub and order everything in the kitchen. If I get any hungrier, I may swoon like a maiden.”

Oddly, the attempted assassin was never heard from again. Even stranger, the coffers of the leader of Nalindandindonbrondonagbarthondolabinthamilangadonubrindondinalibandathonid increased with a substantial influx of gold. However, the most unusual thing of all was that not five minutes after the Asgardians had left, the blinding white of the planet had been replaced with richly colored clothing and rooms as the enchantment Loki had put on them melted away.

Perhaps Loki hadn’t won his bet, but he’d had his eyes on a different victory. In that, he conquered.