Son of Mischief (Loki/Asgard Fanfiction - Selig's Story)

Chapter Three

Selig smiled at the sound of water running and rose from his chair to pour the rest of the soda down the sink. It was too sweet, very syrupy, and she was right, it probably would kill him. For a brief moment, he toyed with the idea of going upstairs, but she probably really would castrate him with a curling iron and he far preferred avoiding that, so he stayed on the first floor.

He wandered into the living room. She was far neater as an adult than she was as a kid. He clearly remembered what a disaster area her room had been, with laundry piled everywhere and books and notebooks scattered all around. Everywhere she went, she had a spiral notebook and a pen and every free moment was spent scribbling in said spiral notebook.

Once, when they were both about fifteen, she left one of her notebooks on the kitchen table of his parents' house in Hunterdon. He picked it up with the intention of going after her, but curiosity got the best of him and he flipped it open.

She wrote typical teenage angsty poetry, but a few pages in, he came across a short story that was one of the scariest ghost stories he'd ever read. It literally gave him chills, which wasn't exactly easy to do.

She must have realized she left it and doubled back, for the next thing he knew, she was ripping the notebook out of his hands. "What are you doing? That's personal, Selig!" she said, her eyes fiery blue.

"Ce, that was amazing. Did you write that or did you read somewhere and just rewrite it?"'

She glared at him, hugging the notebook to her chest. "I wrote it myself. I'm not a damn thief, you know."

"No, I didn't... it's really good, Celia. What else have you written?"

Some of the heat went out of her eyes and her shoulders relaxed. "You think so?"

"Yeah, I think so." He reached for the notebook, even as her grip tightened. "I want to see what else you've got. I'm already going to have to sleep with the lights on, so give over, Celia."

"No, Sel. You'll think they're stupid."

"I didn't think the first one was."

Reluctantly, she handed him the notebook and he flipped through it. She'd almost filled it with chilling horror stories about ghosts and haunted houses and things that go bump in the night. He peered up to find her nervously chewing her bottom lip and it did the strangest thing to him. As she pulled it between her teeth, he had the craziest urge to lean over and kiss her, to tug that bottom lip between his teeth.

What the-?

He closed the notebook. "These are really good, Ce. You should submit them."

"To who? No one takes short stories and I don't know if I can turn any of them into novel length stories."

"Well, give it a shot. You never know."

Then she smiled, her cheeks slightly pink and her eyes practically sparkled. "Do you really like them, or are you just being nice?"

"I really like them, Ce." He handed her back the notebook and as his fingers brushed hers, he'd swear he felt a shock snap at their tips, like when he scuffed his shoes across the carpet in the winter and then touched Aislinn to zap her. Only this time, it didn't hurt.

He wondered if she felt it, because her eyes went suddenly wide. The color in her cheeks deepened. But she turned around suddenly, clutching the notebook tighter. "I'd better go, Sel. My mom'll kill me if I'm late for dinner."

And with that, she hurried out of the kitchen and it was the last time he'd seen any of her writing. As he perused the books on the floor-to-ceiling shelves in what was the dining area of the living room, he wondered if she was still writing.