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A little something to tide people over. Continuing the prompt table.
Titles: Indurate, Capitulate
Ratings: PG-13 to light R
Fandoms: Supernatural, Norse Myth
Continuity: Set between Weregild and Running Games
Characters/Pairings: Loki, Gabriel, mentions of Odin and Lucifer. Gabriel/Loki
Summary: In the quiet, where no-one sees but them
Wordcount: 599 for the two
Spoilers/Warnings: Post 5x22. A bit hard-edged, these two
Disclaimer: Not mine
Titles: Indurate, Capitulate
Ratings: PG-13 to light R
Fandoms: Supernatural, Norse Myth
Continuity: Set between Weregild and Running Games
Characters/Pairings: Loki, Gabriel, mentions of Odin and Lucifer. Gabriel/Loki
Summary: In the quiet, where no-one sees but them
Wordcount: 599 for the two
Spoilers/Warnings: Post 5x22. A bit hard-edged, these two
Disclaimer: Not mine
Indurate (to harden) - (Gabriel/Loki - 237 words)
There is a scar, over Gabriel's heart. A hard, knotted fist of white, pale and accusing, the width of an archangel's blade. It gleams in the firelight, winks in the quiet, a starburst reminder of cold betrayal. A scar, across his angel's heart, that Loki cannot heal, that he cannot mouth away with burning Grace as Gabriel once wiped away the marks of venom from his cheeks. A mark across his archangel's soul that bars Loki access, that locks him out of that warm, brilliant space he lived in for so long. That keeps them separate, though Gabriel doesn't mean to. Though Gabriel clings with all he has, and savagely denies it.
There is a scar over Gabriel's heart, the reminder of a brother's sword. And the longer it stays there, the longer and colder that little fist of white grows ... the more a matching scar grows across Loki's own soul. The more his heart quietly hardens. Not against Gabriel. Never against Gabriel. But against the brothers who slew them. Against the hand that held the sword, and the hand that guided it. Against the remorseless pity in Lucifer's face, and the laughing cruelty in Odin's eye in those killing fields.
They are scarred, now, marked by betrayal, two little fists of white, and soon, Loki thinks, soon ... those fists will be hard enough to hold a sword.
Soon, those fists will find the ones that made them.
There is a scar, over Gabriel's heart. A hard, knotted fist of white, pale and accusing, the width of an archangel's blade. It gleams in the firelight, winks in the quiet, a starburst reminder of cold betrayal. A scar, across his angel's heart, that Loki cannot heal, that he cannot mouth away with burning Grace as Gabriel once wiped away the marks of venom from his cheeks. A mark across his archangel's soul that bars Loki access, that locks him out of that warm, brilliant space he lived in for so long. That keeps them separate, though Gabriel doesn't mean to. Though Gabriel clings with all he has, and savagely denies it.
There is a scar over Gabriel's heart, the reminder of a brother's sword. And the longer it stays there, the longer and colder that little fist of white grows ... the more a matching scar grows across Loki's own soul. The more his heart quietly hardens. Not against Gabriel. Never against Gabriel. But against the brothers who slew them. Against the hand that held the sword, and the hand that guided it. Against the remorseless pity in Lucifer's face, and the laughing cruelty in Odin's eye in those killing fields.
They are scarred, now, marked by betrayal, two little fists of white, and soon, Loki thinks, soon ... those fists will be hard enough to hold a sword.
Soon, those fists will find the ones that made them.
Capitulate - (Gabriel/Loki - 362 words)
They do not surrender. Neither of them. They do not capitulate. Bow and bleed, yes, sacrifice and serve, beg and plead and offer sweet-faced allegiance, but never surrender. Never forget. Never allow the thing inside themselves to be owned by another. Not now. Not ever again. They will love and serve, and stand beside, but never more will they be owned. Never more will they be betrayed. Never more will they surrender.
Except here. Except now. Except in the silence where no-one but they can see. Except for each other.
Loki moves beneath him, fights beneath him, sly and wicked and cruel. With teeth, with hands, with laughing eyes. He changes, fast, faster than human eyes could follow, faster than gods, vicious and delighted. Fish, falcon. Man, woman. His shape, his body, flowing, moving, curling around Gabriel and fighting. And laughing. Loki, who has nothing inside him that will not spit his hatred as you bind him, nothing inside him that will not vow his vengeance should you harm him. Loki, who curls around him, who sinks his teeth into the sensitive curve of a wing, who mouths along it as it flexes spasmodically against him, who opens his soul to an archangel's Grace. Loki, who surrenders beneath him
And Gabriel ... he is an angel, here. An archangel, a being of fire and glory and bitterness layered over sweet. He is a Trickster and a killer, and once upon a time a servant. Once upon a time a king. He is wings and Grace and power and strength, and the crooked curve of a rueful mouth, and the bubble of a bitter laugh, and sweet-mouthed kisses along an ever-changing neck. He is a being who once smashed creatures like Loki beneath his feet, and now he lays his wings beneath the teeth of a god, and his Grace before a Trickster's soul, and his heart into his hands. Gabriel, who bows to only one god, now.
And somewhere beyond swords and serpents, beyond treachery and tricks, beyond duty and brothers and betrayal ... beyond that, in the quiet where no-one sees ... they surrender. They capitulate. But only here. Only them.
Never more. Never again.
They do not surrender. Neither of them. They do not capitulate. Bow and bleed, yes, sacrifice and serve, beg and plead and offer sweet-faced allegiance, but never surrender. Never forget. Never allow the thing inside themselves to be owned by another. Not now. Not ever again. They will love and serve, and stand beside, but never more will they be owned. Never more will they be betrayed. Never more will they surrender.
Except here. Except now. Except in the silence where no-one but they can see. Except for each other.
Loki moves beneath him, fights beneath him, sly and wicked and cruel. With teeth, with hands, with laughing eyes. He changes, fast, faster than human eyes could follow, faster than gods, vicious and delighted. Fish, falcon. Man, woman. His shape, his body, flowing, moving, curling around Gabriel and fighting. And laughing. Loki, who has nothing inside him that will not spit his hatred as you bind him, nothing inside him that will not vow his vengeance should you harm him. Loki, who curls around him, who sinks his teeth into the sensitive curve of a wing, who mouths along it as it flexes spasmodically against him, who opens his soul to an archangel's Grace. Loki, who surrenders beneath him
And Gabriel ... he is an angel, here. An archangel, a being of fire and glory and bitterness layered over sweet. He is a Trickster and a killer, and once upon a time a servant. Once upon a time a king. He is wings and Grace and power and strength, and the crooked curve of a rueful mouth, and the bubble of a bitter laugh, and sweet-mouthed kisses along an ever-changing neck. He is a being who once smashed creatures like Loki beneath his feet, and now he lays his wings beneath the teeth of a god, and his Grace before a Trickster's soul, and his heart into his hands. Gabriel, who bows to only one god, now.
And somewhere beyond swords and serpents, beyond treachery and tricks, beyond duty and brothers and betrayal ... beyond that, in the quiet where no-one sees ... they surrender. They capitulate. But only here. Only them.
Never more. Never again.
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