Following Our Own Script

Chapter Four

The rope that had tethered them hung with their clothes. Loki ran his hand across his stomach. The burn where the rope had been strangling his body faintly remained on his skin. He looked up at Heimdall and smiled.

"Thank you. Really. I owe you, big time."

Genuine thanks made Heimdall uncomfortable. He wouldn't meet Loki's eyes. He wished the giant showed more shame. "Don't look at me weird. Accept me as your superior and treat me as such moving forward."

"What? No. And I'm not looking at you weird."

"You are. You're doing weird, puppy dog eyes. I hate it."

Loki laid his journal by the drying rack. He sat across from Heimdall. "Why did you save me?"

Heimdall didn't look up from the cooking fish. "Instinct, probably. Knowing if you died now, I'd be left to do all the work before I found somewhere comfortable to spend my days."

Loki chuckled. "Is it because you despise me so much, only you're allowed to kill me?"

"Let's go with that." Heimdall tossed him one of the fish.

"You get two?"

"I could get all three if I wanted. What part of 'I saved your sorry ass' don't you understand?"

Loki sighed.

The two ate in silence. The rain was pouring again, but the worst was over. These rains were far too violent for anything in the Nine Realms. They had truly made it outside, whatever that meant. The air smelled different here. Heimdall pondered the best way to describe it. Thicker? Spicier? Made his nose twitch and eyes sting. Maybe that was still the sea water.

The fire was dying down. The sun was covered by the clouds, but early afternoon was approaching. It would be a full day of recovery. Even healed, Loki needed to rest. The two hadn't slept on unmoving ground in months. As Heimdall lay on his side, the phantom feel of waves were underneath him.

Loki tossed the last of the wood on the fire before also laying down. With no clothes and nothing to cover themselves, the two were still cold. Loki was toying with offering Heimdall to sit close when he transformed for warmth, but couldn't figure out a way to word it without immediate ridicule. Heimdall shook his head.

"Oh, what's that? You want my stunning body to hold you?"

"No." Loki blushed.

"Now why would you be embarrassed? Two men sharing body heat is perfectly natural." Heimdall eyed the way Loki's freckled cheeks glowed in the fire. These same freckles drifted down the length of the boy's sides, down his arms, across his legs. Or maybe it was dirt.

The two had similar body types. Both slender but muscular. Heimdall had beaten Loki in height by a few inches, but with Kratos as his father, he wouldn't be surprised if second puberty came along at some point. He had to have gotten his looks from his mother because Heimdall couldn't spot a single similarity between the giant and the war God. How sure were they that he was, indeed, his child?

"Forget it," Loki turned away from Heimdall.

"Hurt your feelings by not wanting to spoon you? How sweet."

"Ew."

"Ew?" Heimdall propped himself up on his forearm. "What do you mean, 'ew'? I'm beautiful."

"Ew," Loki repeated.

Heimdall threw his fish skewer at Loki. It nailed him between his shoulder blades.

"Ack- knock it off!"