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batsutousaiTitle: Clouds In My Coffee
Fandom: Marvel (movie 'verse) & Real Person Fiction
Author: Batsutousai
Rating: M
Pairings: Loki/Tom Hiddleston
Challenge: 30 Day OTP Challenge
Summary: For a challenge, 30 days of Tomki/FrostPudding.
Chapter Warnings: Physical abuse, Loki has trust issues, head trauma, chest and stomach trauma, victim self-blaming, your author being half asleep while writing this (and not really reading it over)
A/N: Following from yesterday's ficlet, this shows what happened after Loki's attack. I know you want to get to the fic, so I'll just shut up and let you have at while I go to bed.
- Day Twenty- Four: Making Up Afterwards -
He hadn't even realised he'd been asleep until he was awake enough to recognise the heavy sensation of some pretty powerful drugs. He didn't feel quite drowsy, as though he was waking the morning after knocking back a couple of sleep pills, but more like he had just taken sleep pills, sitting on the edge of sleepy, but mind too active to really pull him under. But he'd just been asleep, so did that mean he was still under the effects? Why would he still be–?
The beeping registered, even and only just at the fringe of his conscious, like a noise he'd become so familiar with that he had simply ceased to notice it.
Heart monitor, he recognised. I'm in hospital. But why?
He thought back over his most recent memories, but everything was foggy from the drugs. He thought he remembered making dinner for someone, but he wasn't sure who. He'd been single, last he remembered, and it didn't feel like a meal with his family or a friend.
Well, that's worrying, he thought, calm through the haze of drug.
He opened his eyes and it took them a moment to focus on the white ceiling, a single fluorescent light bright in the centre of the private room.
"Tom?" a voice whispered, heavy with tears and familiar as his own hand. Tom turned his head to look and found his mother sitting at the side of his bed, eyes red and wet. Next to her sat his sister, Emma, and his father stood in the corner just behind Emma, tense with anger.
Tom blinked at them. "Hello, Mum," he said, and his voice came out scratched all to hell. That was distressing. He wondered how long he'd been asleep for.
His mum let out a sob and turned to hide her face against Emma's shoulder. The relief of all three of them was nearly palpable, and he wondered about that. What happened? he wanted to ask, but his eyes were getting heavy after so much time closed, so he let them shut and was drawn back down to the soothing arms of whatever drugs he was on.
~
When Tom woke the second time, he had a vague memory of the first time to hold on to. His family had been there – all except Sarah, but she lived in India, with Yakov, and airfare was not inexpensive – all worried and his mother crying. Something had clearly happened to him, something terrible, but he couldn't remember what.
He opened his eyes and looked to where his family had been before. Emma was the only one there, now, shoulders nearly as stiff as their father's had been. She was looking out the window behind her chair, the sun reflecting between the blinds and leaving lines along the far wall.
"Emma?" he whispered.
Emma jerked around, surprised. Her eyes were red, but dry, and supported by bags marking little sleep. "Tom," she breathed and smiled, but it was crooked and hurt to look at. "It's good to see you awake again."
Tom nodded. "What happened?" he asked. Because he needed to know.
Emma's smile vanished entirely, something in her eyes darkening. "We're not sure. One of your neighbours called the police, said she heard a lot of shouting and the sounds of something being thrown upstairs. By the time they got there, you were unconscious and in a bad way, and whoever had attacked you was, well, gone."
Tom frowned and tried to remember, but it was still coming up as blank. Except that making dinner bit, but he still didn't know who for. It itched at him – the person was important – but he couldn't figure out who it had been. "Am I dating someone?" he asked, because that was the only explanation he could come up with.
Emma shook her head. "Not that you've told me or Sarah."
That means no, Tom knew, because he had never been one to keep something so big from his sisters. He couldn't, really; they knew him too well, and he couldn't lie to save his life. "I don't know."
Emma forced that painful smile again and reached out to take his hand. "It's fine. It'll come back, or it won't. You're okay now."
"Yeah..." But Tom wasn't so certain. There'd been someone there, someone important. He shook his head and turned to other important matters: "What all happened? I mean–"
"How bad?" Emma translated for him, voice breaking at the end. She dropped her gaze to their joined hands, pressing her thumbs across the skin of his hand in sharp movements that showed all too clearly how much this bothered her. "You had a concussion and three cracked ribs, and you were out cold when they got there. And, well..." She glanced up at him quickly, then returned her eyes to his hand. "You looked terrible. Covered in bruises and pale as a ghost. They said you'd lost a lot of blood, but they couldn't find anything to explain it. Nothing external, nothing internal."
Unbidden, Tom thought, Magic. But that was impossible. Magic only existed in stories and films, in people's imaginations. Not– Not here.
To Emma, he said, "Thanks. For telling me."
Emma met his eyes, her own damp with unshed tears. "Do you remember any–"
"You'll be the first to know if I do," Tom promised. And then he yawned.
Emma reached one hand out and touched a button on a small remote at the head of his bed. "Sorry. I was supposed to call the nurse as soon as you woke and I didn't. Can you stay awake a bit more, do you think?"
Tom nodded. "I'll try," he agreed, and managed to do so long enough to get a quick check-over by the young woman who came bustling in with a wide smile, but then he was back into the arms of Morpheus.
~
"You're healing well," his doctor said the first time he was awake when the man visited. Tom's father was there then, stiff and unsmiling in the corner, having refusing a chair twice before Tom had given up. Usually, his father wasn't so difficult, but worry always made him a little odd, and Tom had learned long ago to pick his battles.
But what the doctor said reminded him of his certainty a couple days ago about magic explaining away his blood loss, and he couldn't help but ask, "Is that...good?"
"Oh, it's extraordinary!" the doctor replied, eyes bright with an honest smile. "We could probably release you now, but given your condition when you came in and the fact that you live alone–"
No I don't, came a thought, completely unbidden.
"–it was decided that we'd keep you here for a few more days, just to make sure you'd be fine on your own. I would like to see how much movement you have, of course, if you could sit up..."
Tom moved through the requested exercises, puzzling over that thought about his living situation. Since when have I moved in with someone? And why didn't I tell anyone?
The certainty of magical healing, the dinner made for someone, this knee-jerk reaction about him living with someone... I'm missing something, or someone. It's important, I know in my bones it's important, but I can't–
Nothing. The events that had led to him laying in a hospital bed were still a blank.
I may never know, he told himself, and that hurt. It hurt so much more than it should have, like a knife straight into his heart.
There was nothing he could do.
~
Everyone was home for the night, leaving Tom alone in his hospital bed. He had the last dredges of his dinner pushed off to one side and was flipping through the channels of the telly held near the ceiling of his room. He finally settled on a comedy of some form and lay back to watch.
He must have dozed at one point, because he couldn't remember when the comedy changed to a far more familiar film, one he'd worked on himself.
"TELL ME!" Tom shouted on screen, dressed as Loki.
And, like an echo, Tom remembered a similar voice shouting, "SAY IT!"
Everything came rushing back: Meeting Loki for the first time when the god approached him after months of stalking; trying to learn to put up with this insane man who didn't seem to understand boundaries; falling in love with Loki before he'd even realised it; their first night together, fast and passionate, but Loki's broken gaze so caring, so panicked when Tom had winced at being breeched the first time; magic healing even the most pathetic of paper cuts before Tom could notice it, because Loki wasn't sure how else to show he loved him; Loki's anger – his rage – when Tom had said, 'Trust me'.
I told a man who'd been lied to his entire life by the people he trusted most to just blindly trust me, Tom realised, swallowing hard against a block in his throat. Tom, you idiot. No wonder he was so mad–
No. Loki hadn't been mad, he'd been completely beyond reason. He'd lashed out because he couldn't stop himself, because he was so ruined with broken trust that the mere word made him a mindless body of seething anger and hate. And Tom had been an easy target.
And when Loki had come back to himself, when he'd realised what he'd done...
"Oh my God," Tom breathed and hid his face in his hands. "Please be okay..."
He needed to get home.
~
He was discharged the next day. Emma had come to pick him up, gently pushed him out of the way when she caught him wincing as he bent over the bag of his things he'd been packing.
"You can stay with me for a bit, you know," she said as she slipped the last of his things away and closed the bag.
Tom shook his head. "I just want to get home," he said. "Keep on, you know?"
Emma sighed and managed a worried smile. "I know. But, well, you got attacked there, and–"
"I don't remember a second of it," Tom said, a blatant lie. But he'd become much better at lying since had Loki joined his life; he knew no one would approve of their relationship, had kept Loki's existence from his family for a reason. And if Loki had left – had fled to protect Tom from himself – it would hardly matter if he told them or not.
Emma spent the entire ride looking uncertain, and had insisted on coming up with Tom when they arrived. Given the way his ribs still twinged whenever he moved, he didn't dare turn her away and let her carry his bag while he took the stairs at a depressingly slow rate.
In his flat, Emma watched his expression closely, but Tom showed no signs of remembering his attack – had already recalled all he needed to know the night before – and when she asked about it, he shrugged and said, "Nothing. I don't think I'm going to remember anything, Emma."
Emma sighed and set his bag down on the couch, where he could get to it without having to lean down too much. "Do you want me to stay, or–?"
Tom waved a hand at her. "Go home. You look like you could use sleep more than me, at this point." Which was true.
Emma smiled a bit helplessly. "Yeah, probably. But you'll be okay?"
"If I have any trouble, I'll ring someone to come round and help me out. Get some sleep." He pointed her towards the door and she let out a laugh and finally left.
Tom gave her a couple minutes before quietly calling, "Loki?"
Silence.
"Loki, please come out."
Still nothing.
Tom sighed and ran a hand over his face before picking up his bag and taking it to his bedroom to unpack.
He was halfway through unpacking when he moved too fast and his ribs reminded him they hurt. He let out a grunt and clutched a hand to them.
Without warning, Loki was at his side, eyes bright with concern and dark green magic around the hand he reached out to touch Tom.
Tom couldn't help it, he jerked back from Loki's touch. It was half a reaction to someone suddenly appearing at his side, half because his last memories of his lover were ones of violence. And for all that he was sure Loki wouldn't hurt him again – not now, not if Tom didn't say something else stupid and triggering – his body still moved like it was expecting to be hit.
And Loki looked like he'd taken a blow to the gut before vanishing again.
"Fuck," Tom hissed, hunching his shoulders forward and pressing a hand against his sore ribs. "I'm sorry. Please come back?"
Nothing. Again.
"Love, please."
Loki shimmered back into view on the far side of the room, expression like someone who'd just watched their puppy murdered. "How can you call me that?" he asked, voice broken. "After what I did?"
"A few bruises doesn't change my feelings, Loki," Tom said, tone gently chastising. He inched across the space separating them, knowing touch was always more of a comfort for Loki than words; words could be twisted, physical touch was more honest. It made him flinching away all the more terrible as a first reaction.
Loki sputtered for a moment before managing to choke out, "A few– I almost killed you!"
"But you didn't," Tom said simply. Just a few more steps and he could touch the god. "You stopped. And you healed me, a little bit, didn't you?"
"You would have died if I hadn't–" Loki insisted.
And then Tom reached up and cupped the god's cheek, silencing Loki without a word. Loki watched him with wide eyes for a moment as Tom carefully unfolded one of the god's hands from where they'd been shoved under his armpits and brought it up to cup his own cheek. "I'm sorry," he said.
And Loki broke. He pulled Tom, unresisting, into a careful hug, whispering, "No, no, no, no..." as dark green magic soothed the faint ache of Tom's chest.
Tom relaxed against Loki, comfortable with the god supporting him and his magic trailing over his skin. Loki's scent was reassuring in a way that Emma and his parents' presences hadn't been, as though being with Loki was the only surety that Tom would be okay. Which seemed odd, when you considered what had led to Tom being in hospital – Loki would call him all kinds of stupid if he knew Tom felt safe with him – but that was the simple fact of his life. And, so long as he watched what he said, he knew Loki wouldn't hurt him again.
He would just had to show Loki he could be trusted through his actions, rather than his words. He could do that.
"Fool," Loki breathed against Tom's ear, and he realised he was falling asleep.
"Love you," Tom murmured in response. "Missed you."
Loki let out something that sounded almost like a sob and his magic danced against Tom's skin again. "Go to sleep, idiot," he ordered gently, and Tom let himself drop into an easy sleep.
Their love would never be easy, but Tom was sure they would manage. Somehow.
Days:
1 - Holding Hands ||| 2 - Cuddling Somewhere ||| 3 - Gaming ||| 4 - On a Date ||| 5 - Kissing
6 - Wearing Each Other's Clothing ||| 7 - Cosplaying ||| 8 - Shopping ||| 9 - Hanging Out With Friends ||| 10 - With Animal Ears
11 - Wearing Kigurumi ||| 12 - Making Out ||| 13 - Eating Ice Cream ||| 14 - Genderswapped ||| 15 - Different Clothing Style
16 - Morning Rituals ||| 17 - Spooning ||| 18 - Doing Something Together ||| 19 - In Formal Wear ||| 20 - Dancing
21 - Cooking/Baking ||| 22 - In Battle, Side-By-Side ||| 23 - Arguing |||24 - Making Up After ||| 25 - Gazing Into Each Other's Eyes
26 - Getting Married ||| 27 - Birthday ||| 28 - Something Ridiculous ||| 29 - Something Sweet ||| 30 - Something Hot
Masterlist
..
Fandom: Marvel (movie 'verse) & Real Person Fiction
Author: Batsutousai
Rating: M
Pairings: Loki/Tom Hiddleston
Challenge: 30 Day OTP Challenge
Summary: For a challenge, 30 days of Tomki/FrostPudding.
Chapter Warnings: Physical abuse, Loki has trust issues, head trauma, chest and stomach trauma, victim self-blaming, your author being half asleep while writing this (and not really reading it over)
A/N: Following from yesterday's ficlet, this shows what happened after Loki's attack. I know you want to get to the fic, so I'll just shut up and let you have at while I go to bed.
He hadn't even realised he'd been asleep until he was awake enough to recognise the heavy sensation of some pretty powerful drugs. He didn't feel quite drowsy, as though he was waking the morning after knocking back a couple of sleep pills, but more like he had just taken sleep pills, sitting on the edge of sleepy, but mind too active to really pull him under. But he'd just been asleep, so did that mean he was still under the effects? Why would he still be–?
The beeping registered, even and only just at the fringe of his conscious, like a noise he'd become so familiar with that he had simply ceased to notice it.
Heart monitor, he recognised. I'm in hospital. But why?
He thought back over his most recent memories, but everything was foggy from the drugs. He thought he remembered making dinner for someone, but he wasn't sure who. He'd been single, last he remembered, and it didn't feel like a meal with his family or a friend.
Well, that's worrying, he thought, calm through the haze of drug.
He opened his eyes and it took them a moment to focus on the white ceiling, a single fluorescent light bright in the centre of the private room.
"Tom?" a voice whispered, heavy with tears and familiar as his own hand. Tom turned his head to look and found his mother sitting at the side of his bed, eyes red and wet. Next to her sat his sister, Emma, and his father stood in the corner just behind Emma, tense with anger.
Tom blinked at them. "Hello, Mum," he said, and his voice came out scratched all to hell. That was distressing. He wondered how long he'd been asleep for.
His mum let out a sob and turned to hide her face against Emma's shoulder. The relief of all three of them was nearly palpable, and he wondered about that. What happened? he wanted to ask, but his eyes were getting heavy after so much time closed, so he let them shut and was drawn back down to the soothing arms of whatever drugs he was on.
~
When Tom woke the second time, he had a vague memory of the first time to hold on to. His family had been there – all except Sarah, but she lived in India, with Yakov, and airfare was not inexpensive – all worried and his mother crying. Something had clearly happened to him, something terrible, but he couldn't remember what.
He opened his eyes and looked to where his family had been before. Emma was the only one there, now, shoulders nearly as stiff as their father's had been. She was looking out the window behind her chair, the sun reflecting between the blinds and leaving lines along the far wall.
"Emma?" he whispered.
Emma jerked around, surprised. Her eyes were red, but dry, and supported by bags marking little sleep. "Tom," she breathed and smiled, but it was crooked and hurt to look at. "It's good to see you awake again."
Tom nodded. "What happened?" he asked. Because he needed to know.
Emma's smile vanished entirely, something in her eyes darkening. "We're not sure. One of your neighbours called the police, said she heard a lot of shouting and the sounds of something being thrown upstairs. By the time they got there, you were unconscious and in a bad way, and whoever had attacked you was, well, gone."
Tom frowned and tried to remember, but it was still coming up as blank. Except that making dinner bit, but he still didn't know who for. It itched at him – the person was important – but he couldn't figure out who it had been. "Am I dating someone?" he asked, because that was the only explanation he could come up with.
Emma shook her head. "Not that you've told me or Sarah."
That means no, Tom knew, because he had never been one to keep something so big from his sisters. He couldn't, really; they knew him too well, and he couldn't lie to save his life. "I don't know."
Emma forced that painful smile again and reached out to take his hand. "It's fine. It'll come back, or it won't. You're okay now."
"Yeah..." But Tom wasn't so certain. There'd been someone there, someone important. He shook his head and turned to other important matters: "What all happened? I mean–"
"How bad?" Emma translated for him, voice breaking at the end. She dropped her gaze to their joined hands, pressing her thumbs across the skin of his hand in sharp movements that showed all too clearly how much this bothered her. "You had a concussion and three cracked ribs, and you were out cold when they got there. And, well..." She glanced up at him quickly, then returned her eyes to his hand. "You looked terrible. Covered in bruises and pale as a ghost. They said you'd lost a lot of blood, but they couldn't find anything to explain it. Nothing external, nothing internal."
Unbidden, Tom thought, Magic. But that was impossible. Magic only existed in stories and films, in people's imaginations. Not– Not here.
To Emma, he said, "Thanks. For telling me."
Emma met his eyes, her own damp with unshed tears. "Do you remember any–"
"You'll be the first to know if I do," Tom promised. And then he yawned.
Emma reached one hand out and touched a button on a small remote at the head of his bed. "Sorry. I was supposed to call the nurse as soon as you woke and I didn't. Can you stay awake a bit more, do you think?"
Tom nodded. "I'll try," he agreed, and managed to do so long enough to get a quick check-over by the young woman who came bustling in with a wide smile, but then he was back into the arms of Morpheus.
~
"You're healing well," his doctor said the first time he was awake when the man visited. Tom's father was there then, stiff and unsmiling in the corner, having refusing a chair twice before Tom had given up. Usually, his father wasn't so difficult, but worry always made him a little odd, and Tom had learned long ago to pick his battles.
But what the doctor said reminded him of his certainty a couple days ago about magic explaining away his blood loss, and he couldn't help but ask, "Is that...good?"
"Oh, it's extraordinary!" the doctor replied, eyes bright with an honest smile. "We could probably release you now, but given your condition when you came in and the fact that you live alone–"
No I don't, came a thought, completely unbidden.
"–it was decided that we'd keep you here for a few more days, just to make sure you'd be fine on your own. I would like to see how much movement you have, of course, if you could sit up..."
Tom moved through the requested exercises, puzzling over that thought about his living situation. Since when have I moved in with someone? And why didn't I tell anyone?
The certainty of magical healing, the dinner made for someone, this knee-jerk reaction about him living with someone... I'm missing something, or someone. It's important, I know in my bones it's important, but I can't–
Nothing. The events that had led to him laying in a hospital bed were still a blank.
I may never know, he told himself, and that hurt. It hurt so much more than it should have, like a knife straight into his heart.
There was nothing he could do.
~
Everyone was home for the night, leaving Tom alone in his hospital bed. He had the last dredges of his dinner pushed off to one side and was flipping through the channels of the telly held near the ceiling of his room. He finally settled on a comedy of some form and lay back to watch.
He must have dozed at one point, because he couldn't remember when the comedy changed to a far more familiar film, one he'd worked on himself.
"TELL ME!" Tom shouted on screen, dressed as Loki.
And, like an echo, Tom remembered a similar voice shouting, "SAY IT!"
Everything came rushing back: Meeting Loki for the first time when the god approached him after months of stalking; trying to learn to put up with this insane man who didn't seem to understand boundaries; falling in love with Loki before he'd even realised it; their first night together, fast and passionate, but Loki's broken gaze so caring, so panicked when Tom had winced at being breeched the first time; magic healing even the most pathetic of paper cuts before Tom could notice it, because Loki wasn't sure how else to show he loved him; Loki's anger – his rage – when Tom had said, 'Trust me'.
I told a man who'd been lied to his entire life by the people he trusted most to just blindly trust me, Tom realised, swallowing hard against a block in his throat. Tom, you idiot. No wonder he was so mad–
No. Loki hadn't been mad, he'd been completely beyond reason. He'd lashed out because he couldn't stop himself, because he was so ruined with broken trust that the mere word made him a mindless body of seething anger and hate. And Tom had been an easy target.
And when Loki had come back to himself, when he'd realised what he'd done...
"Oh my God," Tom breathed and hid his face in his hands. "Please be okay..."
He needed to get home.
~
He was discharged the next day. Emma had come to pick him up, gently pushed him out of the way when she caught him wincing as he bent over the bag of his things he'd been packing.
"You can stay with me for a bit, you know," she said as she slipped the last of his things away and closed the bag.
Tom shook his head. "I just want to get home," he said. "Keep on, you know?"
Emma sighed and managed a worried smile. "I know. But, well, you got attacked there, and–"
"I don't remember a second of it," Tom said, a blatant lie. But he'd become much better at lying since had Loki joined his life; he knew no one would approve of their relationship, had kept Loki's existence from his family for a reason. And if Loki had left – had fled to protect Tom from himself – it would hardly matter if he told them or not.
Emma spent the entire ride looking uncertain, and had insisted on coming up with Tom when they arrived. Given the way his ribs still twinged whenever he moved, he didn't dare turn her away and let her carry his bag while he took the stairs at a depressingly slow rate.
In his flat, Emma watched his expression closely, but Tom showed no signs of remembering his attack – had already recalled all he needed to know the night before – and when she asked about it, he shrugged and said, "Nothing. I don't think I'm going to remember anything, Emma."
Emma sighed and set his bag down on the couch, where he could get to it without having to lean down too much. "Do you want me to stay, or–?"
Tom waved a hand at her. "Go home. You look like you could use sleep more than me, at this point." Which was true.
Emma smiled a bit helplessly. "Yeah, probably. But you'll be okay?"
"If I have any trouble, I'll ring someone to come round and help me out. Get some sleep." He pointed her towards the door and she let out a laugh and finally left.
Tom gave her a couple minutes before quietly calling, "Loki?"
Silence.
"Loki, please come out."
Still nothing.
Tom sighed and ran a hand over his face before picking up his bag and taking it to his bedroom to unpack.
He was halfway through unpacking when he moved too fast and his ribs reminded him they hurt. He let out a grunt and clutched a hand to them.
Without warning, Loki was at his side, eyes bright with concern and dark green magic around the hand he reached out to touch Tom.
Tom couldn't help it, he jerked back from Loki's touch. It was half a reaction to someone suddenly appearing at his side, half because his last memories of his lover were ones of violence. And for all that he was sure Loki wouldn't hurt him again – not now, not if Tom didn't say something else stupid and triggering – his body still moved like it was expecting to be hit.
And Loki looked like he'd taken a blow to the gut before vanishing again.
"Fuck," Tom hissed, hunching his shoulders forward and pressing a hand against his sore ribs. "I'm sorry. Please come back?"
Nothing. Again.
"Love, please."
Loki shimmered back into view on the far side of the room, expression like someone who'd just watched their puppy murdered. "How can you call me that?" he asked, voice broken. "After what I did?"
"A few bruises doesn't change my feelings, Loki," Tom said, tone gently chastising. He inched across the space separating them, knowing touch was always more of a comfort for Loki than words; words could be twisted, physical touch was more honest. It made him flinching away all the more terrible as a first reaction.
Loki sputtered for a moment before managing to choke out, "A few– I almost killed you!"
"But you didn't," Tom said simply. Just a few more steps and he could touch the god. "You stopped. And you healed me, a little bit, didn't you?"
"You would have died if I hadn't–" Loki insisted.
And then Tom reached up and cupped the god's cheek, silencing Loki without a word. Loki watched him with wide eyes for a moment as Tom carefully unfolded one of the god's hands from where they'd been shoved under his armpits and brought it up to cup his own cheek. "I'm sorry," he said.
And Loki broke. He pulled Tom, unresisting, into a careful hug, whispering, "No, no, no, no..." as dark green magic soothed the faint ache of Tom's chest.
Tom relaxed against Loki, comfortable with the god supporting him and his magic trailing over his skin. Loki's scent was reassuring in a way that Emma and his parents' presences hadn't been, as though being with Loki was the only surety that Tom would be okay. Which seemed odd, when you considered what had led to Tom being in hospital – Loki would call him all kinds of stupid if he knew Tom felt safe with him – but that was the simple fact of his life. And, so long as he watched what he said, he knew Loki wouldn't hurt him again.
He would just had to show Loki he could be trusted through his actions, rather than his words. He could do that.
"Fool," Loki breathed against Tom's ear, and he realised he was falling asleep.
"Love you," Tom murmured in response. "Missed you."
Loki let out something that sounded almost like a sob and his magic danced against Tom's skin again. "Go to sleep, idiot," he ordered gently, and Tom let himself drop into an easy sleep.
Their love would never be easy, but Tom was sure they would manage. Somehow.
1 - Holding Hands ||| 2 - Cuddling Somewhere ||| 3 - Gaming ||| 4 - On a Date ||| 5 - Kissing
6 - Wearing Each Other's Clothing ||| 7 - Cosplaying ||| 8 - Shopping ||| 9 - Hanging Out With Friends ||| 10 - With Animal Ears
11 - Wearing Kigurumi ||| 12 - Making Out ||| 13 - Eating Ice Cream ||| 14 - Genderswapped ||| 15 - Different Clothing Style
16 - Morning Rituals ||| 17 - Spooning ||| 18 - Doing Something Together ||| 19 - In Formal Wear ||| 20 - Dancing
21 - Cooking/Baking ||| 22 - In Battle, Side-By-Side ||| 23 - Arguing |||
26 - Getting Married ||| 27 - Birthday ||| 28 - Something Ridiculous ||| 29 - Something Sweet ||| 30 - Something Hot
Masterlist
..
no subject
Date: 8/12/12 15:43 (UTC)Love it though! Such an awesome day *wiggles happily*
Love loves the Bats writing <3
no subject
Date: 8/12/12 20:34 (UTC)no subject
Date: 8/12/12 20:37 (UTC)no subject
Date: 8/12/12 20:40 (UTC)no subject
Date: 8/12/12 20:42 (UTC)no subject
Date: 8/12/12 20:45 (UTC)Also, the cake was funfetti and chocolate frosting. SO DELICIOUS. XD
no subject
Date: 8/12/12 20:50 (UTC)OMG Funfetti cake or ice cream or anything is so delicious!
I'm assuming it's leftover from your mom's bday? XD
no subject
Date: 10/12/12 14:40 (UTC)I found this even more painful than yesterday's. Love makes fools of us all. *pets both of them*
no subject
Date: 10/12/12 15:06 (UTC)