Title: Beautiful Smile
Fandom: Marvel (movie 'verse) & Real Person Fiction
Pairings: Tom Hiddleston/Loki
Warnings: Alternate universe, character death, violence
Summary: Some secrets are better left undiscovered.
Disclaim Her: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Marvel. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. The characters of Thomas "Tom" Hiddleston is based on a real person, and no offence is intended; this is only for the amusement of myself and other like-minded (read: mentally ill) fans.
A/N: So, this prompt showed up on imagineyourotp, and when I reposted it, master-hiddleston told me to go write it. (Because she enjoys having her heart broken as much as I enjoy ruining you people with feels. XD)
Some homage to a recent episode of Criminal Minds, because that's where my mind went when I sat down to write.
It's been so ridiculously hot and miserable, I'm amazed my computer stayed on for me to write this. XP-0-
Tom had met Loki in college. They'd shared a couple classes together, and everyone had been on the alert because people kept turning up dead. Organs removed and tied around them, mouth sewn shut, eyelids with the symbol for chaos cut into them.
So people moved around in groups. And if you didn't really have a group of friends that you shared classes with – like Tom, or Loki, as it had turned out – then you made friends.
Tom hadn't known, back then, just how lucky he'd been to catch Loki's interest like he had. If Tom hadn't been just the right amount of attractive, just the right amount of studied to go with his love of rugby, just the right amount of sympathetic without over-doing it; if he hadn't instinctively known when to push and when to walk away...
Oh, but Tom understood, now. He understood why the murders had stopped shortly after he and Loki had started dating. He understood exactly how lucky he'd been, how close he'd come to a violent death.
How close he now was, coffee can slipping from his hands as he stared at where his husband was kneeling over a man wrapped in organs, lips sewn shut and one eye already marked with that symbol. Loki was covered in blood not his own up to his elbows, and one of his – now useless, since he'd lost his job earlier that week – work shirts splattered with the stuff.
Tom felt cold, torn between the need to report this and his love for Loki.
Loki stood, slow and controlled. "What are you doing out so late?" he asked, voice too casual, starting forward with a careful walk.
A cold shock of fear arced through Tom, and he realised that he wouldn't be leaving here alive. Still, he swallowed against the terror and said, "W-we were out of coffee. I know you don't like buying it for me, so I was going to–" He flinched as Loki touched him, familiar hand sticky and smelling of death as it cupped Tom's cheek. He looked up into those beautiful green eyes, his own filling with tears. "Loki, my love, please."
Loki smiled, beautiful and heart-breaking, and pressed his lips to Tom's. "Goodbye, my heart," he whispered.
Pain, violent and cold, raced through Tom's abdomen, followed by a blissful feeling of being numb.
And the last thing he saw, before the world went dark, was his husband's beautiful smile.