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Okay. Some explaining, maybe. This ... started as a self-indulgent h/c follow-up to Blood Brother, and then it became ... something else entirely. I blame Gabriel. The guy goes from Protective Daddy to Lost Little Boy so damn fast ...
Title: Blood Oath
Rating: PG-13
Fandoms: Supernatural, Norse Myth
Continuity: Immediately after Blood Brother
Characters/Pairings: Gabriel, Fenrir, Castiel, Loki, Hel, Jor. Gabriel/Loki, Gabriel&Castiel, Gabriel&Fenrir
Summary: He knew the look in Fenrir's eyes. The need to trust. And he had to be sure Castiel was worth it
Wordcount: 2532
Disclaimer: Not mine
Title: Blood Oath
Rating: PG-13
Fandoms: Supernatural, Norse Myth
Continuity: Immediately after Blood Brother
Characters/Pairings: Gabriel, Fenrir, Castiel, Loki, Hel, Jor. Gabriel/Loki, Gabriel&Castiel, Gabriel&Fenrir
Summary: He knew the look in Fenrir's eyes. The need to trust. And he had to be sure Castiel was worth it
Wordcount: 2532
Disclaimer: Not mine
Blood Oath
They'd gotten the kids home. Him and Loki. And Cas, though the kid hadn't been doing so good, because air-lifting a godwolf took a bit of effort, and Loki needed carrying, and the stupid bastard was as stubborn as they came ...
They'd gotten Gleipnir off Fenrir, first. Or whatever it was called now, this thing forged from the ribbon's remains and angelic skill. Him and Cas, again. Him doing the heavy lifting, Castiel scrabbling Enochian along its length with bloody hands, in a way that made Gabriel think that if they hadn't been hunted at the time, hadn't been run ragged and savaged and closer and closer to ... If they hadn't been hunted, Gabriel was nearly sure that Cas could've had the thing off on his own. If the bastards had given him half a damn chance ...
He felt his fists clench, pulling a bit on Fenrir's fur, on the kid's wounds, and he made himself relax. Made himself focus back on healing his stepson, stop thinking about the woods and the blood and the surge of fury that had made him rip angels apart, stop thinking about how every slash in Fenrir's side made him want them alive again just so he could kill them all over.
Hanging out with gods was doing wonders for his happy-go-lucky style, obviously. But these were his kids, and Cas too, the stupid, suicidal little sod, they were his kids, and that meant nobody, nobody got to touch them. Nobody got to hurt them.
"It was him they wanted, you know."
Gabriel looked up, caught the soft, knowing look in Fenrir's exhausted eyes. The faint curl of one heavy lip, that looked so much like a snarl, if you didn't know the kid ... "What?" he growled, fussing with the godwolf's fur, frowning at nothing. It was just the two of them, because Fenrir had asked, and there was no-one to see his little flinch of consternation, but he hid it anyway. Fenrir grinned at him.
"It was Castiel they were hunting," he repeated, patient and savage. "It was him they were trying to bind, so they could kill him when they wanted." The godwolf sneered distantly, eyes cold and thoughtful. "They went to great lengths. To bind me, even as a tool ... They must fear him very much, to go to such lengths to kill him."
And it was admiration in the Fenrir's eyes, that his friend should be so feared, and a degree of ... sympathy, maybe, from a godwolf bound and chained because they feared his monstrous form, and Gabriel had to shove his hands behind his back, had to shove his fists where his stepson couldn't see. Because he didn't understand how he could hate this much, how he could rage this much. How he had tried with everything he had to forgive Lucifer, and Michael, and every other brother who had hurt him, who had hurt each other, and even at the end it had been desolation, not rage, when he realised what Lucy would do, but here, now, just because they had dared ... had dared to touch ... to almost kill ...
"Yeah, well," he managed. "Cas has this habit of spitting in the eye of things bigger than him and getting away with it." Sometimes. When archangels weren't around to splatter him over half a county, anyway ... "Ask your father. Kid gave us a run for our money, even with no grace left to speak of ..."
"He swore blood oath to me," Fenrir interrupted. Entirely to himself, amber eyes still fogged and distant, locked somewhere internal, and the godwolf didn't even notice when Gabriel fell backwards in shock. "He would have lived if he ran, and he swore in blood to stay with me. To die by my side ..."
"What?" Gabriel snarled, voice crackling in sudden panic. "He did what?"
Fenrir turned to look at him, raised his head from the rug, and Gabriel realised suddenly that this was why Fenrir had wanted to talk to him alone, to be healed by him alone. Because Gabriel knew the expression in his eyes. He knew it so well. Knew that for a long time, seeing it in Gabriel's own face was what made Hel glance at him in sorrow when she thought he couldn't see, made them walk so softly around him, not in fear but in sympathy. Knew that it had only been in hopes of seeing it removed that she'd agreed to meet Dad. Knew it. So very well.
Longing. A desperate, desperate desire to trust, to be able to trust, to reach out to the brother or the friend who did this, who offered this, and be able to trust when the last time you had, the last time you had let yourself ...
"He stayed," Fenrir said softly, hoarsely. A question, desperately asked, can I trust him, and Gabriel didn't quite understand why it was so important, why his stupid suicidal kid brother was the one to cause this, to open his hand to Fenrir and make the godwolf want ... "The trap was for him, and he swore in blood, and he stayed ..."
Gabriel shook his head, backing up, climbing to his feet. Fenrir looked after him, saw the echo of his own question in Gabriel's eyes, saw the yearning there, again. Because Gabriel's family ... the last time he had let himself trust his family ... But for his stepson, for his son ...
"Stay here," Gabriel whispered harshly, hiding his shaking hands again. "Give me a little while. Just ... stay here. I'll ... I'll ..." Find him. Ask. Shake the answers from him, shake him until I know I can trust him with your faith ... "I'll find out. I'll find out, Fenrir. Just ... stay here."
Fenrir watched him go, lying half-healed in his sister's house, and it was hope Gabriel saw in the godwolf's eyes. Hope, and yearning.
---
He found Cas more or less where he'd left him, staring in bewilderment at the rest of the family as they fussed over him, huge blue eyes staring up at Hel like he didn't quite know what to do with her, blinking in confusion as Jor helped put him back together.
It almost stopped him, that confusion, the knowledge that in the past two years exactly two people had lifted a hand to help Cas before now, and the Winchesters weren't exactly who Gabriel would prefer to trust with his brother's well-being. It hit him, hard in the chest, made him remember exactly how many times Castiel, too, had held out a hand in trust to a brother, and been savaged for it ... But that expression in his son's eyes was too heavy, and the rage still bubbling from seeing them, pinned and bleeding, was too high ...
Loki, watching his children in amusement, saw him first, caught the expression on his face, caught the fury riding underneath it, and was moving towards Gabriel in a second. Reaching out, the question in his eyes, and Gabriel took a moment to stagger under the loss of that connection, under the knowledge that once Loki would have known what was wrong simply because Gabriel knew, because they were one. Then desperation, fury, carried him past it, past the need to explain, and he was at Castiel's side, had Castiel in his hands.
"Did you know what it meant," he hissed, soft and deadly, fighting the fear that bubbled underneath it. Staring into Castiel's bewildered, wary eyes, feeling his brother's hands catch around his wrists, sensing the others rush towards them in concern. "Did you know what an oath in blood would mean?"
Castiel shook his head, confusion, not denial, and managed: "Gabriel, I don't understand ..."
"You swore an oath to my son, in your blood and his," Gabriel said again, still so soft, and heard Jor inhale behind him, felt more than saw Loki suddenly stagger. "You swore to stay with him, even if it killed you. Did you know what that meant?" He snarled, fought down the urge to shake him, fought down the flinch at the confusion, pain, in Castiel's eyes. "I swear, if you think you get to mess my kids around ..."
"I do not," Castiel interrupted, flat and hard and wounded. So wounded. Gabriel could feel the blood from half-healed wounds seep beneath his hands, could feel himself shake with it, with the fear of it, but he had to know ... "I keep my promises, Gabriel. I do not make them lightly." And that could have been accusing, could have been, but was only affronted instead. Only hurt. Only.
"You left Heaven," he said, and yes, he knew, he knew, and the fact that somehow they trusted him anyway only meant that he couldn't risk them on another, couldn't risk them on someone as ... as untrustworthy as he was ...
"My oath was never to Heaven," Castiel said softly, looking at him now, those narrow blue eyes that looked into your soul and tallied its worth, that named you for what you were. Gabriel hated that look. He wished he had it. "My oath was to God and to protect His people. I never broke that, Gabriel. I fell, but I never broke that." Soft, head tilting, and the quiet voice of faith. "Neither did you."
The shudder ripped through him, dropped Castiel back to the floor, shook against his brother's hold on his arms.
"I'll kill for them," Gabriel whispered, hoarse and amazed, only now recognising the sickness that had roiled in his gut since the woods, since he'd struck angels down in defense ... "Even family. I'll kill for them. For ... for you ..." He shook his head, felt the twisting in his stomach, the echo of agony as he watched brother kill brother, tasted terror all over again. "If you hurt them ... if you hurt them ... Castiel, don't you know what that oath means? If you hurt Fenrir, betray him ..."
"I won't," his brother said softly. And how many brothers had said ... but not this one. This one kept his oaths. Quiet, almost gentle. "I won't make you kill me, Gabriel."
Gabriel gasped out a sound, something close to a laugh, close to a cry, and even as he felt Loki's touch on his back, he'd opened his hands, let Castiel go, but only long enough to tug the stupid kid forward into a hug, only long enough to wrap his stupid, stupid brother in his arms. Castiel made his own little noise, this little inquisitive huff, and Gabriel shook his head, held him through the trembles.
"That's the problem, kiddo," he whispered, shaking into Loki's hands. "I can't. I couldn't. I never could. I have to. Ask Lucy. Ask Loki. Please don't ... please don't ..."
Stupid. His own trust, his own need in Fenrir's eyes, he should have known, he shouldn't have done this, shown this. He should have said yes, let it slide, let the kid trust if he wanted to ... but he couldn't. As many times as Gabriel had been kicked in the teeth, he couldn't let Fenrir be the same. He'd had to know, and now ...
"I will not hurt him," Castiel said quietly, into his shoulder, his hands coming up to hold Gabriel in his turn, brushing against Loki's where they traced Gabriel's spine. "I will stay beside him if it means my death. I will die before I let them use him to hurt me. I promised this. I meant this." He pulled back, looked up, those eyes narrowed and careful and sure, hopeful. "I have died before, for choosing ... for choosing family above Heaven. I will do so again, if I must." A small, very careful smile. "Though ... I hope not to ..."
Gabriel huffed, ignoring the shaking in his limbs, ignoring the sickness still clawing in his gut, the fear. He huffed, and tried his own smile, leaning into his god's arms, clutching tight to his brother.
"Yeah, you gotta stop with the dying, kiddo," he muttered, managed. "And for the record? The Winchesters?" A crack, an attempt at a grin as he looked around, at Hel, at Jor, at the god at his back, holding him tight ... "At least I had taste, little bro. My adopted family are cool."
Castiel stared at him for a minute, frowning like he wasn't sure he was keeping up with the game, like he wasn't completely sure of the rules, but then he tried ... "Hel lives in Niflheim. It is only to be expected." And as Gabriel's grin steadied, as it grew wider, Castiel tried another careful smile. "And Dean assures me that he, at least, is very cool ...?"
Gabriel collapsed. In relief, in reaction. He fell back into his god's arms, let Loki curl around him, let his god take his weight, and let Castiel go. Let his little brother go. "Yeah, well. You shouldn't trust everything ole Deano says, kiddo." He smiled faintly, reached up to touch Castiel's hand. "Do me a favour, Cas?"
His brother frowned, staring down at him in bewildered concern, obviously not having the first clue what to do with him in this state. Gabriel suppressed a giggle. He wasn't sure what to do with him in this state. Though finding somewhere to curl up with Loki sounded like a decent start ...
"Yes?" Castiel asked, with wary suspicion, and Gabriel grinned at him.
"Go tell my kid that he can trust you, alright?" he asked softly. "Go tell him that I do. Okay?"
And oh, the expressions that flickered across that face then, the echoes of everything roiling in Gabriel's own chest, in Fenrir's. The fear, the awe. The longing, the hope. Castiel looked at him, this brother that had been kicked as many times as any of them, this brother who'd been savaged and betrayed with the best of them. Castiel looked at him, and then, softly, he smiled.
"I will," he said, looking up at Loki, at Hel and Jor, and at Gabriel. "... Thank you, brother."
"Go," said a soft, ragged voice, cutting across him, and Gabriel looked up in surprise into Loki's eyes, into the hot, bright darkness in his god's gaze, the shaking savagery. "Go," Loki said, to Castiel, but his eyes were fixed on Gabriel. "Go to my son. I need ... go!"
Gabriel would have watched him leave, would have watched Hel curl her arm around his stunned brother and hug him tight as she led him away, would have watched Jor tug at his hand, but Loki filled his gaze, his god hard and bright and desperate, and Gabriel remembered, suddenly, what it was like to be one, what it was like to know the question simply because Loki did, what it was like to know the answer.
"I will kill for you," he whispered, soft and broken. "It will kill me, but I will. For all of you."
Loki moaned, a soft, savage exhalation of breath, and leaned down to crush his mouth to Gabriel's, to hold him desperately close. "Yes," his god whispered, his god answered. "And we for you. Yes."
Yes. God and Father help him. Yes.
They'd gotten the kids home. Him and Loki. And Cas, though the kid hadn't been doing so good, because air-lifting a godwolf took a bit of effort, and Loki needed carrying, and the stupid bastard was as stubborn as they came ...
They'd gotten Gleipnir off Fenrir, first. Or whatever it was called now, this thing forged from the ribbon's remains and angelic skill. Him and Cas, again. Him doing the heavy lifting, Castiel scrabbling Enochian along its length with bloody hands, in a way that made Gabriel think that if they hadn't been hunted at the time, hadn't been run ragged and savaged and closer and closer to ... If they hadn't been hunted, Gabriel was nearly sure that Cas could've had the thing off on his own. If the bastards had given him half a damn chance ...
He felt his fists clench, pulling a bit on Fenrir's fur, on the kid's wounds, and he made himself relax. Made himself focus back on healing his stepson, stop thinking about the woods and the blood and the surge of fury that had made him rip angels apart, stop thinking about how every slash in Fenrir's side made him want them alive again just so he could kill them all over.
Hanging out with gods was doing wonders for his happy-go-lucky style, obviously. But these were his kids, and Cas too, the stupid, suicidal little sod, they were his kids, and that meant nobody, nobody got to touch them. Nobody got to hurt them.
"It was him they wanted, you know."
Gabriel looked up, caught the soft, knowing look in Fenrir's exhausted eyes. The faint curl of one heavy lip, that looked so much like a snarl, if you didn't know the kid ... "What?" he growled, fussing with the godwolf's fur, frowning at nothing. It was just the two of them, because Fenrir had asked, and there was no-one to see his little flinch of consternation, but he hid it anyway. Fenrir grinned at him.
"It was Castiel they were hunting," he repeated, patient and savage. "It was him they were trying to bind, so they could kill him when they wanted." The godwolf sneered distantly, eyes cold and thoughtful. "They went to great lengths. To bind me, even as a tool ... They must fear him very much, to go to such lengths to kill him."
And it was admiration in the Fenrir's eyes, that his friend should be so feared, and a degree of ... sympathy, maybe, from a godwolf bound and chained because they feared his monstrous form, and Gabriel had to shove his hands behind his back, had to shove his fists where his stepson couldn't see. Because he didn't understand how he could hate this much, how he could rage this much. How he had tried with everything he had to forgive Lucifer, and Michael, and every other brother who had hurt him, who had hurt each other, and even at the end it had been desolation, not rage, when he realised what Lucy would do, but here, now, just because they had dared ... had dared to touch ... to almost kill ...
"Yeah, well," he managed. "Cas has this habit of spitting in the eye of things bigger than him and getting away with it." Sometimes. When archangels weren't around to splatter him over half a county, anyway ... "Ask your father. Kid gave us a run for our money, even with no grace left to speak of ..."
"He swore blood oath to me," Fenrir interrupted. Entirely to himself, amber eyes still fogged and distant, locked somewhere internal, and the godwolf didn't even notice when Gabriel fell backwards in shock. "He would have lived if he ran, and he swore in blood to stay with me. To die by my side ..."
"What?" Gabriel snarled, voice crackling in sudden panic. "He did what?"
Fenrir turned to look at him, raised his head from the rug, and Gabriel realised suddenly that this was why Fenrir had wanted to talk to him alone, to be healed by him alone. Because Gabriel knew the expression in his eyes. He knew it so well. Knew that for a long time, seeing it in Gabriel's own face was what made Hel glance at him in sorrow when she thought he couldn't see, made them walk so softly around him, not in fear but in sympathy. Knew that it had only been in hopes of seeing it removed that she'd agreed to meet Dad. Knew it. So very well.
Longing. A desperate, desperate desire to trust, to be able to trust, to reach out to the brother or the friend who did this, who offered this, and be able to trust when the last time you had, the last time you had let yourself ...
"He stayed," Fenrir said softly, hoarsely. A question, desperately asked, can I trust him, and Gabriel didn't quite understand why it was so important, why his stupid suicidal kid brother was the one to cause this, to open his hand to Fenrir and make the godwolf want ... "The trap was for him, and he swore in blood, and he stayed ..."
Gabriel shook his head, backing up, climbing to his feet. Fenrir looked after him, saw the echo of his own question in Gabriel's eyes, saw the yearning there, again. Because Gabriel's family ... the last time he had let himself trust his family ... But for his stepson, for his son ...
"Stay here," Gabriel whispered harshly, hiding his shaking hands again. "Give me a little while. Just ... stay here. I'll ... I'll ..." Find him. Ask. Shake the answers from him, shake him until I know I can trust him with your faith ... "I'll find out. I'll find out, Fenrir. Just ... stay here."
Fenrir watched him go, lying half-healed in his sister's house, and it was hope Gabriel saw in the godwolf's eyes. Hope, and yearning.
---
He found Cas more or less where he'd left him, staring in bewilderment at the rest of the family as they fussed over him, huge blue eyes staring up at Hel like he didn't quite know what to do with her, blinking in confusion as Jor helped put him back together.
It almost stopped him, that confusion, the knowledge that in the past two years exactly two people had lifted a hand to help Cas before now, and the Winchesters weren't exactly who Gabriel would prefer to trust with his brother's well-being. It hit him, hard in the chest, made him remember exactly how many times Castiel, too, had held out a hand in trust to a brother, and been savaged for it ... But that expression in his son's eyes was too heavy, and the rage still bubbling from seeing them, pinned and bleeding, was too high ...
Loki, watching his children in amusement, saw him first, caught the expression on his face, caught the fury riding underneath it, and was moving towards Gabriel in a second. Reaching out, the question in his eyes, and Gabriel took a moment to stagger under the loss of that connection, under the knowledge that once Loki would have known what was wrong simply because Gabriel knew, because they were one. Then desperation, fury, carried him past it, past the need to explain, and he was at Castiel's side, had Castiel in his hands.
"Did you know what it meant," he hissed, soft and deadly, fighting the fear that bubbled underneath it. Staring into Castiel's bewildered, wary eyes, feeling his brother's hands catch around his wrists, sensing the others rush towards them in concern. "Did you know what an oath in blood would mean?"
Castiel shook his head, confusion, not denial, and managed: "Gabriel, I don't understand ..."
"You swore an oath to my son, in your blood and his," Gabriel said again, still so soft, and heard Jor inhale behind him, felt more than saw Loki suddenly stagger. "You swore to stay with him, even if it killed you. Did you know what that meant?" He snarled, fought down the urge to shake him, fought down the flinch at the confusion, pain, in Castiel's eyes. "I swear, if you think you get to mess my kids around ..."
"I do not," Castiel interrupted, flat and hard and wounded. So wounded. Gabriel could feel the blood from half-healed wounds seep beneath his hands, could feel himself shake with it, with the fear of it, but he had to know ... "I keep my promises, Gabriel. I do not make them lightly." And that could have been accusing, could have been, but was only affronted instead. Only hurt. Only.
"You left Heaven," he said, and yes, he knew, he knew, and the fact that somehow they trusted him anyway only meant that he couldn't risk them on another, couldn't risk them on someone as ... as untrustworthy as he was ...
"My oath was never to Heaven," Castiel said softly, looking at him now, those narrow blue eyes that looked into your soul and tallied its worth, that named you for what you were. Gabriel hated that look. He wished he had it. "My oath was to God and to protect His people. I never broke that, Gabriel. I fell, but I never broke that." Soft, head tilting, and the quiet voice of faith. "Neither did you."
The shudder ripped through him, dropped Castiel back to the floor, shook against his brother's hold on his arms.
"I'll kill for them," Gabriel whispered, hoarse and amazed, only now recognising the sickness that had roiled in his gut since the woods, since he'd struck angels down in defense ... "Even family. I'll kill for them. For ... for you ..." He shook his head, felt the twisting in his stomach, the echo of agony as he watched brother kill brother, tasted terror all over again. "If you hurt them ... if you hurt them ... Castiel, don't you know what that oath means? If you hurt Fenrir, betray him ..."
"I won't," his brother said softly. And how many brothers had said ... but not this one. This one kept his oaths. Quiet, almost gentle. "I won't make you kill me, Gabriel."
Gabriel gasped out a sound, something close to a laugh, close to a cry, and even as he felt Loki's touch on his back, he'd opened his hands, let Castiel go, but only long enough to tug the stupid kid forward into a hug, only long enough to wrap his stupid, stupid brother in his arms. Castiel made his own little noise, this little inquisitive huff, and Gabriel shook his head, held him through the trembles.
"That's the problem, kiddo," he whispered, shaking into Loki's hands. "I can't. I couldn't. I never could. I have to. Ask Lucy. Ask Loki. Please don't ... please don't ..."
Stupid. His own trust, his own need in Fenrir's eyes, he should have known, he shouldn't have done this, shown this. He should have said yes, let it slide, let the kid trust if he wanted to ... but he couldn't. As many times as Gabriel had been kicked in the teeth, he couldn't let Fenrir be the same. He'd had to know, and now ...
"I will not hurt him," Castiel said quietly, into his shoulder, his hands coming up to hold Gabriel in his turn, brushing against Loki's where they traced Gabriel's spine. "I will stay beside him if it means my death. I will die before I let them use him to hurt me. I promised this. I meant this." He pulled back, looked up, those eyes narrowed and careful and sure, hopeful. "I have died before, for choosing ... for choosing family above Heaven. I will do so again, if I must." A small, very careful smile. "Though ... I hope not to ..."
Gabriel huffed, ignoring the shaking in his limbs, ignoring the sickness still clawing in his gut, the fear. He huffed, and tried his own smile, leaning into his god's arms, clutching tight to his brother.
"Yeah, you gotta stop with the dying, kiddo," he muttered, managed. "And for the record? The Winchesters?" A crack, an attempt at a grin as he looked around, at Hel, at Jor, at the god at his back, holding him tight ... "At least I had taste, little bro. My adopted family are cool."
Castiel stared at him for a minute, frowning like he wasn't sure he was keeping up with the game, like he wasn't completely sure of the rules, but then he tried ... "Hel lives in Niflheim. It is only to be expected." And as Gabriel's grin steadied, as it grew wider, Castiel tried another careful smile. "And Dean assures me that he, at least, is very cool ...?"
Gabriel collapsed. In relief, in reaction. He fell back into his god's arms, let Loki curl around him, let his god take his weight, and let Castiel go. Let his little brother go. "Yeah, well. You shouldn't trust everything ole Deano says, kiddo." He smiled faintly, reached up to touch Castiel's hand. "Do me a favour, Cas?"
His brother frowned, staring down at him in bewildered concern, obviously not having the first clue what to do with him in this state. Gabriel suppressed a giggle. He wasn't sure what to do with him in this state. Though finding somewhere to curl up with Loki sounded like a decent start ...
"Yes?" Castiel asked, with wary suspicion, and Gabriel grinned at him.
"Go tell my kid that he can trust you, alright?" he asked softly. "Go tell him that I do. Okay?"
And oh, the expressions that flickered across that face then, the echoes of everything roiling in Gabriel's own chest, in Fenrir's. The fear, the awe. The longing, the hope. Castiel looked at him, this brother that had been kicked as many times as any of them, this brother who'd been savaged and betrayed with the best of them. Castiel looked at him, and then, softly, he smiled.
"I will," he said, looking up at Loki, at Hel and Jor, and at Gabriel. "... Thank you, brother."
"Go," said a soft, ragged voice, cutting across him, and Gabriel looked up in surprise into Loki's eyes, into the hot, bright darkness in his god's gaze, the shaking savagery. "Go," Loki said, to Castiel, but his eyes were fixed on Gabriel. "Go to my son. I need ... go!"
Gabriel would have watched him leave, would have watched Hel curl her arm around his stunned brother and hug him tight as she led him away, would have watched Jor tug at his hand, but Loki filled his gaze, his god hard and bright and desperate, and Gabriel remembered, suddenly, what it was like to be one, what it was like to know the question simply because Loki did, what it was like to know the answer.
"I will kill for you," he whispered, soft and broken. "It will kill me, but I will. For all of you."
Loki moaned, a soft, savage exhalation of breath, and leaned down to crush his mouth to Gabriel's, to hold him desperately close. "Yes," his god whispered, his god answered. "And we for you. Yes."
Yes. God and Father help him. Yes.
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