In the early days of the Jaeger project, centuries ago, when statistics were calculated as data was being produced, the science of neural compatibility had been poorly understood. Trials had been held, mental and physical capacity quantified, innumerable data points that millions of databases across the globe had sought to catalog. In the end, they had been unable to turn pilot-matching into a science.

Now, the richness of Thor's blood upon his tongue, Loki knows why. When they had brought him to the Shatterdome, feral as a wild beast, he had beheld Thor standing at the helm of his celebrated array of soldiers, as unattainable as he had ever been. He had fought the drift, fought the sweet pull of Thor's mind, fought every moment of joy that had lifted him from the shadows. They should have failed.

Yet they perch in the rafters of their citadel, kings of a moment singular in Loki's life. Victorious, where even the greatest of all marshals had failed. Let all of the Shatterdome know what they have wrought, in body and in mind; Loki shamelessly strips his flight suit from his arms, dislodging Thor's hands. He has no patience for seduction.

"Truly?" Loki says, feigning astonishment. He presses close, heedless of the cold touch of Thor's own flight suit against his naked back. "I had not known that your brain resided in your cock."