A Sapphire Amongst Diamonds

Lightning sparked and lit up the night sky. A rumble of thunder chased it away as the rain continued to pour down. A breath across the glass made it fog up and a nimble finger drew an elegant pattern on the misted window. Another breath, and the symbols were fogged over. It would only be seen again in the sunlight at just the right angle; a smear against the crystal. A temporary imperfection. A perfect companion to a flaw never fixed. In his mind's eye, it was beautiful next to him.

Loki sat on the ledge just under the attic window. In his arms a pillow, which provided a resting place for his chin. Draped over his shoulders was a blanket. Lightning struck again, turning his blue skin white and making his blood red eyes ignite. It seemed only the storms could call forth his true side – his ugly yet sentimental side.

Without so much as a change of pulse he recalled the only memories of his father. The night in which Thor dragged him, Sif, and the warriors three to Jötunheim. The night in which he had so graciously accepted the mercy of the Frost Giant king and almost saved them all – but Thor had thrown it away. The same night that started it all. He knew things were to change the moment he had seen those blood red eyes, those eyes that he now knew mirrored his own perfectly. He felt a chill run through him at the sight. And also a spark familiarity. Yet in the end he knew he it couldn't be.

Another crash of thunder and the young Jötunheim prince hugged the pillow tighter to him. He drew in a breath and let his head tilt forward. The coolness of the glass against his forehead alleviated the slight headache that was coming on. Loki felt fingers prod at the back of his neck suddenly before they fanned out to his shoulders, the palms attached to those fingers kneading at the knots in his muscles. He closed his eyes and let out a breath he hadn't known he had been holding. He knew those hands. No cause for alarm.

"You're beautiful," a low voice said in his ear.

"A monster." he responded. A cheek laid itself on his right shoulder. A finger tracing a marking on his shoulder. He could feel the person's hair tickle his neck, their breath smoothing across the marking.

"Clint." he said, not tearing his eyes from the storm.

"Loki." the man responded. His other arm had found an opening in the blanket and was winding itself around Loki's waist. The blue skin was cool to the touch and decorated with fascinating designs that he couldn't help but run the pads of his fingers along.

"You should be asleep. I know hawks aren't nocturnal."

"And you should quit calling yourself a monster." Clint replied softly. Sleep was apparent in his voice and he turned his head to place his lips at the junction of Loki's neck and shoulders. He felt Loki take hold of the hand around his waist and squeeze it softly.

"After everything? Not a chance."

"I forgave you, didn't I?"

"The last... but yes..."

"So then stop."

"I can't." And with that the sound of rain filled the space of silence once again. Clint's steel eyes watched the thunder illuminate the god, admiring the intricate birth symbols that danced across the icy skin. He liked to think of Loki as a kind of sapphire amongst the rest of the world. They could have their diamonds. He wanted this precious gem all to himself.

They sat and watched the rain until it slowed to a calming drizzle. Loki reached forward and unlatched the window. It gave a small squeak as the panes swung open. The air was the perfect temperature and the rain stayed outside despite the slight breeze. Lightning only flashed on the horizon now, and the crashes of thunder had dwindled to faint rumbles as they followed the light away. The perfect time to be alive. On his shoulder, Loki heard soft snores and smiled to himself. A perfect time indeed.

Notes