Loki’s Locks
You were eating breakfast when Loki walked up to you, slamming her hairbrush down on the table beside you, throwing herself down into a seat. Blinking, you looked up at her, only to see her hair snarled in what looked like an attempt at a French braid.
“Can’t fucking do it,” she declared, snapping her fingers and her hair returned to its usual silky perfection, cascading down her shoulders as she slumped forwards, pouting at you.
“Loki, you have magic. You don’t need anyone to do your hair for you.” You picked up her hairbrush, fiddling with the hair ties she’d wrapped around the handle.
“I like it when you do it,” she said candidly. “I like it when you braid my hair or put it in buns or ponytails, and I want to be able to do the same for you.”
“Aww. That’s sweet.” You discarded the remainder of your breakfast, nodding for her to follow you back to your room. She followed you compliantly, and you sat her down in front of the mirror in your boudoir.
“What braid are you trying to learn?”
“I don’t know, any of them?” Loki tugged at her hair, considering her reflection. “Maybe just simple braids to start with.”
“Okay. So you want to take three strands,” you grabbed a chunk of her hair near the front of her face so she could easily see it in the mirror. “Then you want to put one part over top the other like so…”
You gently walked her through the steps of braiding, encouraging her to attempt it on her own hair before the two of you explored some more difficult braids. Every time she got the hang of it, you kissed her, leaving the both of you happy and smiling like idiots by the time you were done.
Once the session was over, you pretty much forgot about it, given that Loki had another one of his long masculine stretches where he didn’t feel like doing his hair any more than his usual loose style. A few weeks later, though, your girlfriend returned after a long day of establishing democracy on a distant planet, joining you in the cabin on your spaceship where you were watching The Princess Diaries.
“What are you watching?” She asked, joining you on the bed and shuffling behind you so that you could lay your head on her chest, her legs stretching out on either side of you.
“It’s about a girl who finds out she’s a princess when her father dies and her grandmother, queen of a country, shows up and tells her she’s next in line for the throne.”
“That sounds absurd,” Loki said, running her hands through your hair and beginning to massage your scalp.
“Shhh. It’s a good movie.”
“I’ll watch it with you, then.” She settled back, letting you become engrossed in the movie, and it was only once the movie drew to a close that you noticed she’d been braiding your hair the whole time.
Little tiny braids mixed in with your unbraided hair as she pulled it all into one big braid, tying it off at the end and swinging it forwards so it hit your back with a triumphant whump.
“Look at you!” You ran a hand over the hairstyle. “My little hairstylist.”
Loki tried and failed not to preen too hard. “Oh, you know, it’s just a little something I did while we were watching the movie.”
“It feels great. Thank you.” You leaned back against her shoulder, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “What did you think of the movie?”
“I liked the part where the princess got her foot-popping kiss,” Loki said, her expression of utmost sincerity.
Giggling, you sat up and shuffled away slightly so you could look at her. “Have you ever had a foot-popping kiss?”
“I’m a god. What do you think?”
“Stand up.” You drew her up to her feet, sliding your arms around her neck and leaning in to whisper in her ear. “You’re also a princess.”
You kissed her, gently, yet deeply, caressing her lips with yours, doing your best to coax her into doing what you wanted. Loki, stubborn as ever, sighed into your mouth, burying her hands in your braid yet still not lifting her stupid foot off the ground like you so wanted her to do.
The soul stone around your neck glowed slightly and you felt its magic flow through you and into Loki wherever your skin touched, filling her with the feeling of being seen, of being loved. Then, just as you’d hoped, her foot popped right off the ground, just like they did in old movies.
“Ha!” You said, punching the air in victory as you spun away from her.
“You’re a hellion,” Loki accused, putting her hands on her hip. “That business with the soul stone was cheating.”
“It was just amplifying everything I already felt for you. It gave you a little window into my soul and your foot popped!”
In one smooth move, Loki tackled you onto the bed, pinning you beneath her strong form.
“Why are you so determined to antagonize me?”
“Because you’re mine,” you responded, grinning up at her.
It wasn’t until later, as you lay in bed with a sleeping Loki beside you that you realized the significance of the hair braiding to her. The two of you had never been great at communicating emotions; you’d never properly learned, and Loki’s family was so dysfunctional she’d learned to communicate in the wrong way. And so, in braiding Loki’s hair, by taking the time to focus on pampering her in such a subtle way, she’d taken it as a sign of your love and had wanted to do the same to you.
And so, every time she braided your hair and you braided hers, you smiled to yourself at the knowledge that it was your way of saying ‘I love you’ to each other in a way that you both understood. Whether it was in the morning while getting ready or during the day while relaxing, or at night while you watched movies together, the two of you reminded each other of your love.