#dashingcollector

Would love to hear if you have a backstory as to why Fandral wasn't present for the Aether handoff to Taneleer at the end of the Dark World?

angsty answer: 

fandral and taneleer have banged before, and fandral is too upset to go in and talk to him, because he knows taneleer will be a dick

funny, but probably true answer: 

hogun knew fandral would try to fuck taneleer if they were brought within 50 feet of each other, and a) that’s gross, fandral, b) you get enough already, fandral, c) we’re meant to be doing this quickly, fandral, and we don’t have time for you to go suck off an elder of the universe when we’re needed back home

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Taneleer is almost asleep on his feet, and he despises the weakness where it allays his form - the weight of his need for slumber is heavy upon his shoulders, even weighing down his eyelids, and he stifles a yawn against the inside of his elbow as he slips slowly into his quarters.

“You’ve exerted yourself,” Fandral murmurs, and he takes a step forward. “You need to sleep.”

“I need to catalogue the new items,” Taneleer mutters, but when Fandral takes up his hand, he allows Fandral to neatly undo the strap at his wrist, delicately sliding off the black leather of the glove before Fandral moves to the other side. “Fandral, the collection--”

“--will wait, my love,” Fandral murmurs, and he takes a step closer. His fingers move quick and dexterous on the buttons and metal clasps of Taneleer’s tunic, and Taneleer wrinkles his nose just slightly, his lips twisting - my love is too familiar, and he ought scold such language, but he is very tired, and he cannot deny he enjoys the warmth of his attendant’s body so close to his own. Fandral slides the tunic from his shoulders, beginning to unbutton his undershirt, and Taneleer allows it.

He is so tired he can only blearily permit the removal of his clothes from his body, and Fandral’s movements are smooth and easy; he has undressed thousands in his lifetime, of this Taneleer is sure, but this--

Hm.

Fandral leaves him in his vest and his smalls, and he takes Taneleer by the hand; Taneleer spares a glance to his clothes, which Fandral has folded up to perfect neatness, and he allows Fandral to draw him toward the cot in the corner of the room, gently pushing him to lie down beneath the sheet. The bed here is so rarely something he utilises, but the mattress and pillows are soft... Cold.

Fandral pulls away, and Taneleer scowls after him, inexplicably annoyed, but within moments Fandral is returning with a plush, quilted blanket, which he gently lays over Taneleer’s body. Taneleer thinks of Matani, so far lost behind him, and he thinks of how she had grown slowly disillusioned with life, had merely... let go.

She had tucked a blanket around him, once or twice.

“I will begin to catalogue the new items,” Fandral says dutifully. “I merely--”

“No,” Taneleer says. “Lie down with me... I am cold.” Fandral makes not even a token protest - he is plainly eager to join Taneleer despite the narrowness of the small bed, and he kicks away his shoes and slides off his outer tunic, sliding into the bed with him. Taneleer delights in the heat that radiates from his AEsir body, and when Fandral curls his hand in Taneleer’s hair and encourages him to lay his head upon the pleasant broadness of Fandral’s chest, Taneleer moves willingly. He positions Fandral more to his liking, and then he grabs at him, squeezing his body closer and curling closer to his hip: Fandral shivers, and Taneleer feels his lip twitch. “Rub my shoulders,” Taneleer instructs.

“Alright,” Fandral murmurs, his breath warm against Taneleer’s brow, and Taneleer hums lowly as he lets his eyes close, lets Fandral drag his fingernails oh-so-pleasantly against Taneleer’s neck and back... Yes, this is something of an indulgence on Taneleer’s part, and yet, it is not he would not soon relinquish. “Let it not be said I am not a devoted attendant.”

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Taneleer lets out a low grunt, and he takes his focals off. Fandral’s hands are warm where they slide under the fabric of Taneleer’s tunic, and his thumbs press hard into the knotted muscle there, beginning to soothe away the built up tension. Of recent, the Dashing has made much complaint of the way that Taneleer bends over to do his experiments, but as yet has proffered no viable alternative. 

“Isn’t it working?” Fandral asks, with a mild sympathy, gesturing to the Jossar circuit board Taneleer has unsuccessfully been attempting to repair for some two hours now.

“No,” Taneleer mumbles. Reaching up, he rubs at one strained eye, and Fandral leans slowly in, pressing a delicate kiss against Taneleer’s temple. “Come then: I’ll lay you on the examination table in Laboratory 2A, and I’ll massage your back.”

“What will that accomplish?” Taneleer demands.

“Pleasure,” Fandral answers cleanly. “Moreover, the break will permit your brain to repuzzle over the issue. That’s... Well, my love, that’s basic psychology." Taneleer frowns, and he leans back in his seat, looking up at Fandral’s face.

“I do not... appreciate it... when you become condescending.”

“Ah, but if you simply do what I say without question, merely knowing that I am always right-- Why, there shall be no reason for me to condescend.” Taneleer scowls.

Fandral kisses him on the nose.

“Massage?” he presses. Fandral’s tone grates, for he is getting far too overconfident in recent weeks, but--

it’s just that fandral... doesn’t care. 

like, i write fandral as the second son of a second son, and somebody who like... really made his own reputation as fandral the dashing with thor’s help: the signest ring he wears bears his own crest as fandral the dashing, not the crest of his family; he’s not looked up as an important noble; he’s grown up very aware of the class difference between himself and the two princes of asgard

so he’s comfortable not being the most important person in the room, and while he’s aware that people often think they’re superior to him, that doesn’t actually bother him at all, and it isn’t something he gets insecure about - he likes following somebody else’s lead, he likes playing second fiddle, and he enjoys admiring somebody who deserves to be admired

now, he’s not stupid. he doesn’t think that taneleer is a good person - he very much isn’t deluding himself on that front - and he doesn’t think even that he can necessarily change taneleer. in the back of his head, fandral will most certainly be vaguely planning to let all the living things out of the collection at knowhere, and he’ll take his punishment for that. but in the meantime? he can seduce taneleer and just have fun, until he has enough trust

fandral can really easily run this doublethink where he’s like “i’m gonna seduce this person and fall in love with them and adore them” and also “lol ur the worst person in the world and i’m gonna betray you as soon as i have the opportunity, but i still adore you”

and taneleer, for his part... fandral’s so devoted and so genuinely a ?? talented, smart guy that it’s completely worth having him around, and that’s without what EYECANDY he is

honestly, Anon, you know me. would I ship it as hard as I do if they had ever even so much as been in the same room as canon?

fandral the dashing is one of thor’s BFFs on asgard. out of his three friends, one of which is “the surly guy who fixes everything,” “the big fat guy who’s really funny,” fandral serves the third purpose of the triumvirate which is “is eyecandy, and will fuck anybody you point him at”

fandral the dashing is a poet, a pretty boy, a dandy. he’s literally robin hood - he fell through a portal and landed on midgard, then was like IDK GUYS STEAL FROM THE RICH AND GIVE TO THE POOR and did that for a while, until maid marian died of old age and he was so fucking sad about it he just went back to midgard

fandral’s very funny, very cute, and is in general just... my favourite character in marvel.

in the MCU, he has like, idk. maybe 25 minutes of screentime, between thor 2011, thor: the dark world, and his 20 seconds of “oh no, i have been stabbed” in thor: ragnarok

he’s fucking cute tho, and taneleer would love him