Written for Sifki Week 2019 over on tumblr. Day 1 prompt: Confession

"Tell me, Loki." Sif leans towards him. The night air is warm against her skin, the summer heat has made Loki's hair curl. But she watches his lips.

"Not with everyone listening," Loki whispers. His eyes dart around the dimly lit tavern.

"Nobody is listening," Sif dismissively waves her hand towards the far side of the thick wooden table where Thor and the Warriors Three are laughing loudly over their ales. "Everyone is too busy trying to tell the taller tale, multiplying their foes and victories."

Loki cranes his neck, cocking an ear towards their boisterous companions, suddenly, uncharacteristically, interested. "Wait, is Thor telling the one about the mountain trolls? I haven't heard that in ages."

"Stop stalling." Sif flicks his ear in disapproval, and then drags a finger from his lobe across his sharp cheekbones, turning his face back to her. "I want to hear you say it."

Loki can't seem to make eye contact, and even in the shadowy light of the dingy room, Sif can see a bit of a blush coloring his pale skin. This only makes her anticipation grow. She lets her fingers drop from his face and reaches out to take hold of his hand, the one anxiously picking at the other's palm, hoping it will make things easier for him.

"I..." Loki hesitates. "You know how difficult this is for me, yes?"

"I do," Sif squeezes his hand in reassurance and bats her lashes. "But you promised, darling."

Loki takes a deep breath as if to steady his nerves.

"I..." he begins again.

Sif leans forward in anticipation. She lets her eyes drink this moment in, the way Loki's dark lashes contrast against his skin as he averts his gaze, the tremor in his voice. She even holds her breath; she doesn't want anything to interrupt Loki's confession.

"I..." Loki squeezes his eyes shut as he blurts out the rest of the words in a rush. "...am no match for the Lady Sif, she is smarter, fiercer, and more attractive than I could ever hope to be and I owe her 800 gold pieces."

As soon as he finishes speaking, he grimaces like someone has kicked him in the stomach.

Sif, of course, just cackles, utterly pleased to reap the full reward of her prize for besting him in the training yard.

"The spoils of war are sweet!" Sif crows with her most devious of all smiles.

Loki sighs wearily, but does not pull away when the shieldmaiden throws her arms around his neck.

"See?" Sif grins, and then leans in to happily kiss his downturned, pouting lips. "That wasn't so difficult after all."

"I will never again be foolish enough to wager against the blood thirsty Lady Sif," Loki grumbles. Sif tugs at the hair she buried her hand in, and leans forward until her lips whisper against his.

"Never?"

"Perhaps I could muster the courage," Loki shrugs, his voice is contemplative. "Once my ego and my wealth have recovered from such a cruel blow."

"Then I look forward to winning another confession," she grins and claims his lips in sweet victory.