~Warning/Disclaimer~

This fic is shonen ai, very very angsty.  There will be sex—but you won't be able to read it.  You'll have to go to another place for that, or get the email provided in my profile if isn't another place to go to, and I'll make sure you get the uncut version.

Loki/Heimdall, which means at least one of them is in love, and not a good kinda love, either.  It's bad, and it's hard on both of them, and I don't know if it'll be happy or not.

Second – there would have been a lemon to this fic, but due to the nature of ffnet—it's been removed. However, you can find it in the links of my profile if you wish to read it.  This story contains dark thoughts, a mild touch of bondage, and some abuse. Lots and lots of angst, kiddies.  Play nice.

(and no, Loki is not in his child form at first.  Just to let you know)

Happy bday Lizzy!

~Mock-up Thief~

(one)

Thunder was a distant counterpoint to the sound of a low grating snarl.  It echoed amongst the moldy wooden beams of the basement, sliding through the shadows and creeping along the pitted concrete.  A handsome young man was tied to one moldy beam, hunched slightly against the chill and unable to move with the coarse ropes fastened around his chest and wrists.  The boy didn't care that his fingers were tingling with numbness, his jaw aching and his ears resounding from the constant curses.  His head hung heavily, sweaty chestnut-hair clinging to his face and obscuring his eyes.

Footsteps grated into the dirt.  "Why won't you tell me where it is?!" a strangled hiss asked the stricken boy.  Sharp-clawed fingers scratched his scalp as they wove into his hair and yanked his face upright.  The boy stared into a single crimson orb that shone too brightly for the darkness, into a face drawn in fury.  A rare sight, Heimdall in his true form, his adult form, normal intelligence vanished behind insane fury.

"I don't know," the teen croaked, wetting his mouth and struggling to distract his mind from the other deity in front of him. From the beauty, and memories it begged forth, memories he had to fight to suppress. He coughed against a trickle of blood, felt the tight pull of a bruise along his face.  His emerald eyes were dull and exhausted, barely conscious of the grimace on the face of his captor.

Heimdall shrieked between clenched teeth, tightening his hand and snapping the back of Loki's head into the beam.  "Liar!  Liar!  Where is it! Where have you hidden it!?"

Loki winced against the pain and felt his eyes close, glad for the adult form, the ability to handle the pain, although it meant something very grave if Heimdall had resorted to this measure.  "I don't remember!" he rasped finally.

The Watcher struck him across the face with an open palm.  Then he leaned close, baring sharp white teeth and spoke, "Tell me, Loki.  Tell me where you've hidden my eye!"

The green eyes didn't open.  The mouth remained parted in a soundless moan.  Blood oozed from between the lips, and a livid bruise marked the refined skin of his face.  Heimdall didn't care about the ease at which Loki accepted his abuse, his fury-snapped mind could only focus upon gaining the information he wanted.  The information he needed, and he didn't care if he had to break every bone in the damn Trickster's body—he would find it!

"Tell me!" he shrieked out again, shaking the gray-tinged face.  "I'll kill you!"

Dull green flickered behind the lids as Loki re-focused his attention onto the raging god, turning his face away after a strange spasm of grief went through the slitted emerald eyes.  Loki said nothing, and Heimdall, after a strangled groan, collapsed to his knees beside the bound Trickster. 

Now, Loki thought in relief.  He finally succumbs.

"Why?" the Watcher keened softly.  A fist struck helplessly into the shoulder with enough force to bruise.  "Why won't you tell me, Loki? Just give it back!"

Loki bit his lip beyond Heimdall's sight, and allowed the other god to slump until his head lodged painfully against his chest.  The hand still caught in his chestnut locks dragged downward, pulling painfully as it slid against his cheek.  If he tried hard enough, Loki found he could imagine it was a caress instead.

Forgive me, Heimdall. Loki drew in a ragged breath past the thickness in his throat, the tightness constraining his heart.   I cannot tell you.  I dare not tell you.  If I returned your eye to you, everything would return to normal…

I would rather bear your hate than have nothing of you…

Heimdall shuddered against him, a motion of more exhaustion than the god was willing to reveal, and sighed.  It had been hours since Loki had found himself in the dank basement, tied and captive to the unstable Heimdall.  It appeared, now, that the Watcher was finding his own limits in both mental and the physical sense—well, it certainly didn't help to have Loki's tiny spell helping him along.

His voice a soft pained plea, Heimdall spoke "…tell me, Loki…please tell me why…"

It nearly did the Trickster's resolve in to hear such a pleading tone. Instead, controlling his breathing as much as possible, he focused his mind behind the pain. The spell that he was crafting was only a final touch from completion, a spell to slip Heimdall into an untroubled sleep.  With a careful brush of his power, discreet and subtle enough to escape the other god's notice, Loki opened his mouth and keyed the power to the same three words he had been uttering for the last hour. 

"…I don't know…"

"Damn you," Heimdall whispered.  "Damn you, Loki!"  A ragged inhalation punctuated his words, and Loki didn't have to look to see the too-wide set of his eyes, the madness.  The gleam of hatred he could feel just before the angry words the Watcher held faded away with a murmur.

Loki closed his eyes.  I'm already damned.  He waited until Heimdall's mind was completely asleep, until Heimdall's weight drooped further, and loosened the ropes around him with a mental tweak.  A gentle touch of a numb hand ensured that Heimdall was mired deep in sleep, the breath of the other deity warm against his skin.  He let a bitter sigh pass his lips, checking himself against the tingle of magic thrumming through him.  His still-adult body.  Perhaps Heimdall had some agenda in this…I would have been more vulnerable as a child…

Instead he reminded me too well of what I can't have.

Loki pushed away the loose coils of rope and pushed Heimdall over onto his side, an arm under his unconscious head to cushion the minor fall.  The other's face—as adult as his—was just as he remembered.  A face that was oval, elegantly pale and a touch too thin,. Long fly-away hair, a deep silky violet, begged to be touched.  A mouth he had kissed but once, too long ago—

—a kiss and a theft from this one, only hours before his banishment.

"I never meant to keep your eye for so long," Loki whispered.  "Do you remember?  I first saw you in the meadows above the bridge—you didn't know it was me, not until it was too late.  Until Odin proclaimed my banishment and you hated me, then.  Forgive me, I had no chance to give it back…" he told the sleeping god.  He bent his head, anguish twisting his face and let his fingers follow the curve of the exposed cheek.  He didn't have much time left in this body, couldn't find the words he wanted to say.

"…and I cannot give it back, not yet.  I need it for a bit longer, Heimdall."

A twinge on the edge of his senses told him that Fenrir was drawing close.  He knew Yamino would not be far, following his brother's keen nose.  Best to leave Heimdall quickly, at least, and prepare for the awkward questions. 

"A fool," he whispered against his reason, staying against his judgment.  "I, who desired to watch He who watches, He who guards Asgard against all evil…I, a fool, for thinking I could…that I could…"

Loki struggled for breath as the magic faded without warning and his body resized almost painfully into Odin's enforced childhood. He endured a moment of this blinding white agony before he was once again in the body of a child.  It hurt to feel the constrictions, the limits of his power, but he could ignore it.  He could deal with this pain.

"Father? Father!  Where are you, Father?" came Fenrir's raging cry. 

The chestnut-haired deity smiled, taking one last look at the elder Heimdall, the beauty of his face so peaceful for once imprinting into his memory.  It was rare he could see this side of the Watcher, this face, outside of the Realm of Gods.  So rare…

"Father!"

A moment or two and Fenrir would be upon him.  "Goodbye, Heimdall," he murmured. He pushed himself to his feet, swaying and dizzy.  His head ached with each step, each stagger.  His heart, long since barricaded, seemed to pulse in agony as he moved away.

The world went gray around the edges two steps later.  His shoulder smacked into a splintery wooden beam, and Loki, still too dizzy, allowed himself a moment to catch his breath.  The grayed-out world seemed to shake, shattering with a horrendous sound.  Loki opened his eyes to see the dirty cement floor, bright flashing pain in front of his eyes.  Bending a stiff neck until he raised his head, he saw a fearsome wolf bound into the room.

No, he thought.  Heimdall—I'm not away yet—

Fenrir howled a shriek of rage at the sight of the sleeping god, the scent of Loki's blood and pain thick in the air.  He leapt forward, teeth bared to rend and tear no matter the sin of killing another god—

"Fenrir!" Loki cried out, somehow on his knees without knowing.  "Stop!"

"Loki-sama!" a more-human voice called out.  Arms caught his small body. 

The Trickster twisted to see where the wolf had gone, knowing it was Yamino-kun holding him back, his blurry vision showing that Fenrir had skidded to a stop and was staring back at him incredulously.  The growl shook the foundations of the building.  Loki gathered his thoughts, letting Yamino-kun support his body.  "Fenrir.  Don't.  You are not to harm him!"

"WHAT?" Fenrir snarled.  "Father—how can you say that!?"

"I said leave him be, Fenrir," Loki snapped, cold command in his voice.  "Yamino-kun, take me home, please, do it quickly."

"Yes, Loki-sama," the older-looking Yamino replied, his face betraying little of the uncertainty he must have felt.  The Trickster sighed, slumping as his mind faded from consciousness.  He missed the worried furious look that Fenrir shot his younger sibling.

"He can't be serious!" the wolf cried out.  "Look at him! He's hurt! Heimdall really hurt him!"

"Nii-san," Yamino stated softly.  "Come on.  Loki-sama wants to go home.  We will do as he wishes."

"But—!"

Yamino smiled wistfully as he gathered up the tiny body.  "It's okay, Nii-san.  We'll ask him about it later."

The wolf snapped at the air in Heimdall's direction before he turned to follow the other two gods from the basement.  "Time enough for revenge later," he muttered, slipping into his puppy form.  He cast a deeply suspicious look over his shoulder.  "You have hurt him too often, Heimdall."

~//~

"Loki-sama?  Loki-sama, are you awake?"

A muted whine near his side, and the flicker of light against his eyelids.  A warmth around that translated into blankets and the softness of a pillow.  He was home.  Home.  No longer in that dark space with the furious beauty—

Ah, Heimdall, his mind whispered.  How long must we play this game?

He must have made some noise while his mind was hovering between sleep and awareness; the next thing he knew the bed jounced a little, and there were the sound of voices. 

"Loki-sama?"

"Daddy?"

Both of his sons sounded to be upset, worry and stress making them urgent.  He wondered how long he had been here.  Cracking his eyes fractionally, Loki tilted his head gingerly.  Fenrir yipped and bounded up to press his cold nose into his cheek, as Yamino smiled in relief.  The Trickster let a faded smile pass his features, and wet his lips.  It took him three tries to get his voice to work.  "Yamino-kun, Fenrir."

"Daddy!" Fenrir exclaimed.  "You're okay!"

"Yes," Loki whispered.  "…what happened?"

Yamino bent to swipe a cool cloth against his forehead and murmured "You've been sleeping for three days, Loki-sama.  You were exhausted and…"

"Hurt?" Loki replied wearily, grateful for the coolness against his skin.  After a moment of struggling, with the belated help from Yamino, he pushed down the heavy coverlet.  "Yes," he mused.  "I suppose I was."  Exhausted from the exertion, he turned his heavy head to the side, heedless of the sigh escaping his child's body.  "It's okay.  I'm alright."

Fenrir made a small discontented sound and pushed his nose into Loki's ear.  "Daddy!  Why didn't you let me bite Heimdall? He was hurting you!"

Loki found the strength to pull a hand free and pressed it to the fur of Fenrir's puppy form.  "No, Fenrir.  He was angry, and I have something of his.  I did not mind…well anyway, I'm fine now."

"But Daddy—" Fenrir looked reproachfully at Yamino and huffed. "That's not an answer!"

Loki smiled again, faintly.  Weariness tugged at him with cruel barbed fingers.  When he turned his head to face his eldest son he hid the sadness in his eyes and replied, "Because I cannot deny Heimdall his anger.  I could not deny him anything, really.  It…it kills me to hurt him, to fight him and know he wishes me dead…"

"Loki-sama," Yamino chided.  "You need to rest.  You're in a quiet place now.  Sleep."

"Yes," Loki sighed, eyes shutting easily.  His hand pressed Fenrir's fur in a brief caress.  "I know.  Thank you, both of you…such sons I have," he mumbled, and shifted sleepily.  Fenrir curled up against his back, his expression puzzled.  As Loki relaxed into the softness of his bed, his ears caught the last whispered question.

"I don't get it," Fenrir said finally.  "Why won't he hurt Heimdall?"

"Because, Nii-san," Yamino replied quietly behind the splashing water as he wrung out the dripping fabric.  "Loki-sama likes him."

~//~

Heimdall woke into the dark silence of an empty basement.  He was still encased within his adult form, the scent of wax and water, mould and damp wood thick on the air.  He was confused, stiff and aching with the cold; he wasn't sure exactly how he had ended up…here…

Loki…where is that bastard? Heimdall pulled himself upright, muscles protesting, looking around.  The candles had long since gone out, indicating that he had been there for quite some time.  What the hell happened? I had…I was…

Heimdall racked his mind with a furrowed brow, hunching partially from the cold and soreness of his body and partially from habit.

I was…hitting him.  Then I was tired…A crimson eye widened in realization.  He spelled me!  Heimdall clenched his gloved hands until it hurt, snarling in a choked disbelieving way.  He spelled me! I can't—I can't believe he—he spelled me to sleep!

"Coward!" he accused the absent Trickster.  "Tricks and spells—you coward!"

Then, in the middle of his anger a tiny voice mused Spelled you to sleep and ran away…

Heimdall frowned, the thought ringing some odd chord inside him.  No, Loki hadn't just run away, he would have been too weak.  Loki would have needed help—Heimdall was sure of it.  The room, as he glanced around again, was nearly destroyed.  There were gouges into the concrete, broken beams and fallen siding.  Something had burst into the place, something huge…

Fenrir, he thought, knowing he was right.  Fenrir and Jorgumand, come to save their father…

Something was niggling at the back of his mind.  Then why…am I still unharmed? Why did he run away instead of trying for revenge?  The other two would have done something for sure—everyone in Asgard knows how protective his spawn can be…

…did Loki…No, that thought was impossible.  Loki wouldn't protect him, he wouldn't do such an honorable thing…

…would he?

"Oh, worry about it later, you fool!" he muttered, and shoved the uncomfortable train of thoughts away from him.  He'd worry about it later if necessary.  Better to just use the information gained from their little encounter against him next time.  Better to forget, and move on.

But as he struggled to his feet, body twisting into his unfamiliar child's shape to conserve his power, he couldn't help feeling like he was missing some part of the puzzle.

~//~

"…what are you doing out here, all alone?"

"Is it fun? Don't you ever get bored?"

"I think I'll come and visit you tomorrow.  You've proved to be interesting."

…

"…do you ever wish for something different?"

"I had a dream about you, you know.  You were smiling."

"No…I suppose it doesn't matter…"

…

"…can I kiss you?"

…

"Don't—you are not to harm him—"

"…a fool…"

…

"Can I kiss you—you know, touch your lips with mine—haven't you ever kissed before?"

…

"…forgive me…I had no chance to give it back…"

~//~

Freyr jumped from his seat as the occupant of the bed twisted suddenly, gasping.  "…wha?  Ricecakes?" he mumbled, wiping his face.  He had fallen asleep, and his neck was hurting him.  "Heimdall?  Are you okay?"

The Watcher didn't move, his face twisted with confusion and his one visible eye wide.  He looked confused, stricken with some unidentifiable emotion as it passed through his features.  He didn't seem to hear Freyr's question, or the light questioning touch on his shoulder.

"What's wrong? Heimdall—?"

The boy shuddered.  "What was that?" he whispered to himself.  "What was that…that dream…I don't understand…"

Why am I remembering this?  Why am I dreaming such foolish stupid things? the Watcher pulled his knees to his chest, barely aware of his surroundings, and Freyr's continued befuddled expression.  He swallowed past the thickness in his throat, realizing for the first time of his surroundings, and asked "Freyr…what day is it?"

"It's Thursday," the other god returned, thankful for Heimdall's more usual countenance. He didn't like to see such a lost and wary expression on someone he considered so strong. Freyr beamed, mind flipping to the next thought of value.  "The market has a wonderful special on rice…"

Heimdall tuned him out and stared sightlessly over his sheet-covered knees.  He traced the weave with a sharp fingernail, picking at the knot tied within his mind, the itching annoying feeling he was missing something.

Thursday, he thought.  Three days.

What am I going to do now? I need my eye…how am I going to get it back if I can't even beat it out of him?!

What am I forgetting?

~//~

The rain was an angry pounding blur outside the window, beating against the grass and pavement.  Trees shook under the force of the wind, and the air trembled with the sound of the thunder.  The rain left everything drenched with more than just water—it was pulling their spirits into a muddy sense of mood as well.  It was as if the world were trying to flush itself of the dirt, of the human dirt.

Loki frowned, his mind dull and blank.  He felt decidedly out of sorts, the glass cool against his forehead.  His breath misted the glass as he stared with unseeing eyes out into the murky pounding rain.

As much as he disliked the element, he simply could not understand the urge to walk outside, to stand and let the rain wash over him.  To let it strike his skin and soak into him, to clean him, perhaps, of this hurt…

He didn't know why.  It was simply there.

"Loki-tama?" Ecchan peeped from somewhere behind his shoulder.  The high voice sounded worried and a bit lonely.  "Daijoubu ka?"

"I'm fine," he whispered to the shikigami.

Am I? It's been nearly a week, and I still haven't recovered.  I'm  barely eating…barely sleeping…

The floating creature nuzzled itself against his head.  With Yamino-kun out to gather much needed shopping items, and the boisterous Mayura at home with visiting relatives, the silence in the house was deafening.  It was a perfect accent to the crashing thunder and the roar of falling water, to the deadness that was eating his insides.  Loki sighed and pushed his forehead sideways, enjoying the cold surface against his feverish skin. 

He was alone.

"Come on, Ecchan…" he said, pushing himself up and away.  Restlessness burned at him.  "Let's go downstairs and find some tea…"

~//~

He stood on the other side of the road, watching the house through the torrential rain, through his wet clinging hair, and shivered.

I can't do this…I can't do this…

He was cold, and his mind refused to bend itself around the fact that he stood mere moments away from proposing a bargain that could very well mean his life. His heart was thumping in the presence of a possible battle, of some other possibility.

It's worth it! To have my eye back, no matter the cost—then I'll show him!  Then I'll make him pay!

Heimdall stepped forward.

~//~

It was nearing ten in the evening, and the rain hadn't relented in its torment of the earth.  Loki dozed upon the wide-backed couch, an empty teacup grasped loosely in his hands.  His head was resting gently into the softness of Ecchan.  The rain was a constant noise to him.  It filled him, washed and rolled him over until he felt like he was dreaming of drowning.

A shrill buzz of the doorbell yanked him from his doze.  He exhaled, body tense with the shock of the noise, and looked around.

Someone's at the door, he thought.  A customer? In this rain?

Loki stood and set the teacup upon the low coffee table, moving sleepily and carefully towards the entrance.  His mind felt fuzzy and somewhat numb.

The doorbell rang again.

"Hai~!" he called irritably; he was only a foot or two away from the door.  He twisted the knob, and pulled it open with a yawn, unaware of just adorable his child-form made him.  "How can I help you—Heimdall?"

The Watcher blinked slowly, musingly, and before he cast his gaze aside from Loki.  He was in his adult form, shockingly familiar and yet…disturbing.  Soaked from the rain, hair and clothing plastered to his skin, he stood there like a lost wraith.  His lips were a tinted blue and with the glare of the streetlights his face seemed oddly gray and tight.

Loki stared into the face of the adult god and felt himself shiver with shock. He gathered his wayward thoughts and asked in a harsh whisper, "What are you doing here?"

"May I enter?" the god replied formally, in a reserved voice.

The Trickster narrowed his green eyes and fought to unclench his hands on the wooden door.  He dares—? and looked closer at Heimdall.  He didn't appear to have an obvious plan of attack, and he was soaked to the skin—but this was the god of schemes, afterall.  If this is a trick…

Why his adult form…what does he mean to gain…

No matter.  This is my domain.  "Yes," he said finally.  "But stay there until I find you something to dry off with."

Heimdall watched him with a neutral face, crimson eye flickering as the trickster stepped back.  Then he took a careful step inside, out of the rain.

Loki shut the door behind him.  "I'll be only a moment," and vanished off into the hall as if nothing unusual were happening.

The other god watched him go with a desperate hate in his eyes, and clenched his fists.

~//~

"Would you like some tea?" Loki remarked casually, carrying a fresh pot.  "It's warm, and you probably need it."

Heimdall didn't raise his eyes.  He sat upon the couch with a towel slung over his shoulders, swathed in a loose and rather fluffy robe.  His arms were folded across his chest to hold the garment together in an oddly protective way.  He didn't move when Loki placed the cup before him.

"So what is it that you came for, Hiemdall?" Loki asked as he took his seat across from him.

Heimdall raised a speculative crimson eye to the other god, and pulled on arm from the warmth of his rob.  Extending his arm, he unclenched his fingers over the table.  A slim curl of tarnished gold, a bracelet, clattered beside his untouched teacup.  It was simple-looking and lovely in its design, with a gentle hum of magic emanating from it.

"This bracelet is infused with enough energy to give you five hours or so of your adult from.  Will five hours be enough?" the god said almost inaudibly, running the tip of a claw over the curling metal.

Loki blinked, tilted his head in the confused and curious way.  His suspicions were buried under the sudden avalanche of his curiosity, a trait that had earned him numerous problems in the past.  "…Five hours of my adult form? For what purpose?  Why are you here, Heimdall?"

"I propose a bargain, Loki.  The Norns have confirmed that you have it.  I want my eye…in return, you have five hours to do as you wish to me…"

Tea spattered onto the floor as Loki dropped his cup. "What did you say?!"

"You will have the chance to do whatever you like," he repeated.  "If you agree to return my eye."  Heimdall felt sick, felt like laughing when he didn't keep his eyes upon the table and away from the Trickster god.  He was so tired, and his body felt odd in its adult form, from the rain lingering on his skin.

"H-How—why—"

"I went to the Norns," Heimdall admitted slowly.  "I haven't been sleeping well, and I desired to look upon my life to see if the dreams I've had contain a truth within them…and they have.  So now I am here…" He glanced up to see Loki staring at him with stricken eyes and a pale face.

"Heimdall," the god said weakly.  Belatedly, as if trying for a distraction, he began to pat at the spilled liquid with a handful of napkins.  His cheeks had gone a slight pink, and with his child's body it was somewhat charming.

It would have been thrilling if it were the adult Loki.  That form had the ability to turn anything to his favor.

"Why…why do you ask such a thing?" the boy asked.

He's avoiding it, a part of Heimdall snarled.  He glared, and leaned forward until the robe slipped open to expose one bare shoulder.  "Isn't this what you want!?" he spat.  "You were the one to kiss me, as I recall—have you forgotten that?  I've tried hard to forget it, Loki, banished one, outcast.  But I remember your desire.  I assumed it was something you might decide to feel again, provided with the right incentive."

Loki closed his eyes.  "No…I remember…"

"Then is it a bargain?" Heimdall asked harshly.  Say yes, damn you, and finish it!

"…a bargain…" Loki sighed, and dropped his gaze to the bracelet.  The Watcher saw hunger in his eyes, a hunger and a pain that transcended his childish features, made him appear mature to the eye despite his size.  A sense of knowing that no child could possess.  Loki spoke softly, "In exchange for your eye, you would allow this?"

Heimdall sat back, looking away and tugging the robe back over his shoulders.  "Yes," he said simply, voice low and rasping.

"Do you mock me?" came the unexpected angry reply, but Loki was glaring at the table, unable to make direct eye contact.

"No.  But I should," Heimdall replied bitterly.  "You deserve nothing less.  Stop beating around the bush, Loki—do you accept?"

"…if you hear what I have to say, then yes.  I accept." Loki dropped the damp napkins onto the table and righted his tipped cup.  "About the theft of your eye…I didn't mean—I was only trying to—"

"Dammit, I don't want to hear your excuses, Loki!"

"Then hear the truth!" the diminutive trickster snapped, eyes sparking. He reached out as he spoke and scooped up the bracelet. "The truth of why I was banished to this plane, to this body—or have you heard it from Odin, and refuse to listen to more than one side?" Loki slipped the bracelet on his wrist violently—and in that moment his body changed, the god gasping and bending as he shifted forms.

Heimdall knew how painful it was—he wore a similar bracelet against his own wrist.  When he looked again the adult form of Loki was glaring down at him.

"The reason I was banished was because I took part of your eye away from Odin! Because it was his idea, his advice to gain your attention because I wanted you! If you remember the meadows, and what we spoke of, I'll have you know that I did not lie!" In his fury, Loki pushed the coffee table aside with one hand, the carpet dragging up beneath the legs, and leaned over Heimdall. "He used me, and I hated him when I found out! I hated him! I cannot accept the terms of your bargain!"

Lies.  He speaks lies, all of it lies! Heimdall thought, staring.  A sickening sense of anticipation and doubt skittered into his body as the other god stood over him.  He couldn't speak, didn't dare speak in the face of such anger—

—wait—he said—

He had a brief moment to witness raw pain flash across those green eyes before Loki kissed him, mouth open and hands trapping his face with bruising force—

—a jolt of electric pain ripped through him, centering spikes through the right socket of his skull—

                     (Can I kiss you?)

—Heimdall screamed without sound into Loki's mouth, body arching away from the couch, fingers splaying over the pain in his face, in his eye.

Then it was gone, and Heimdall found himself sprawled upon the divan, head lolling. He gasped a jagged breath, the air making him shiver where it traced over his exposed chest.  He blinked back tears as he tried to comprehend what happened, pain making his mind shimmer just out of reach.  His head felt thick and slow, his mouth tingling from the memory of Loki's kiss.

Why…he didn't…

"Go," Loki said, slumping to the floor in front of him, his face hidden from view.  "It's all I can do…you've got what I've stolen and fates preserve me if Odin gets a hold of it…"

A funny sort of heat bloomed in his face, centered in the right.  Reflexively, Heimdall closed it…then gasped, hand flying up to touch the eye gingerly, and stared at Loki through his fingers in disbelief.  It felt…different; he wasn't able to see, but his perception of the flow of magic had increased, almost to the point of actual sight…"You…"

…my…eye? He returned my eye?

"Go!" Loki cried.  "You have what you want—leave me alone!"

Relief and an indignant sensation wrapped his heart and squeezed. And now he's rejecting me? "Go?" he questioned.

"Yes!" the other god replied. His fists were clenched.  "Leave, like Odin declared—leave me to suffer alone!  Go back to your All-Father and Asgard and just—just…"

A spark of anger bloomed within the relief, within the indignation of being turned away.  "We had a bargain," Heimdall replied hoarsely, angrily.  "Unlike you, I don't go back on my word, Loki!"

Fierce green eyes glared at him from beneath the fringe of chestnut hair. "Damn you!" the banished god hissed, swinging at him. "You mock my feelings!"

Raging and unable to pinpoint why, Heimdall ducked the fist, shot out his hands and wrapped them in the dark jacket.  He shook Loki violently, and slapped him across the face before he realized what he was doing.  "Shut up!" he growled.  "Shut up…just…shut up…"

 (Don't you get lonely out here by yourself?)

Loki exhaled, raised a hand to his bruised cheek and carefully didn't look in Heimdall's direction.

Fingers worked at his collar, shaking and rough as the folded white cravat was undone and pulled away.  It fell to the floor as a splash of white color, pristine in the darkness.  Heimdall opened the collar and exposed the throat, undoing the jacket with a finger and pushing it off the shoulders.  Loki didn't move to stop him, didn't look at him, as he untucked the white shirt.

What am I doing? a part of him cried.  You can leave—there's nothing stopping you now!

Heimdall muttered a curse and shoved the voice away.  "I'm not going to do this by myself," he hissed.

A spasm of pain flew over the features, and Loki finally faced him again.  The emerald gaze dropped to the half-naked form, the exposed chest and belly, the bared knee.  Then back to the crimson eyes gleaming in the darkness.  Heimdall couldn't meet his gaze for very long, unaware of a twisted lonely pain that Loki could see, and yanked apart the white shirt with brutal force, tearing it.

The Trickster cupped the face again, interrupting his movements and leaned to kiss him.  Heimdall could taste bitter metallic tears on the back of his tongue, felt a hand move to the tie of his robe.  The kiss was rough, an act of devouring that spun heat through his body, even as Loki gripped the back of his neck to pull him closer.

…why do I let him…?

The dark-haired god broke away, pushing the shirt over the shoulders and hid his face against the neck as Loki reached inside and touched his stomach, his sides.  He couldn't stop a shiver from spreading across his body as fingers trailed his ribs.

…why do I want to?

~//~

Dawn was still several hours away by the time the storm cleared the skies. Brilliant stars gleamed from the sky as the world was silent.  No one was more aware of the beauty within the silence than Heimdall.  The god never slept, really. His duties took him far from that, and he was a deity. 

A deity who's still the in bed of his enemy, a bitter voice remarked. 

Heimdall made a face, and thumped his head back into the headboard. I should kill him while I have the chance, he thought.

But he didn't move.  Instead, his hand dropped to press lightly against the arm thrown over his legs.  It was nearing three am, and Loki would be changing back to his child form soon. The Trickster had fallen asleep just minutes ago, and his body still shivered with the aftereffects of their shared lust.  He ached in places best left unmentioned, and he could still feel the ghosts of hands upon his skin.  He had been utterly consumed by the act, by the passion Loki had stubbornly wrung from his body, by everything.  Sensation, need, climax…the mere feel of another's arms, of lips and hands and skin against his…

I should kill him now, while he's sleeping.

Or leave. Leaving would be good, his thoughts offered.  Heimdall ignored it, watching the stars through the window with both the physical eye, and the other.  The eye that Loki had returned…

It's not even the whole thing…it's just a fraction…I've gained the sense of magic now…but little else…

Sighing, Heimdall wasn't aware of when his fingers moved slightly, almost a caress. "I hate you," he whispered to the sleeping god.  "…Loki-kun."

The face half-hidden by his hip scrunched in its sleep.  Heimdall had to smile, and pulled his hand away before he could wake him.  The arm thrown over his legs was the arm bearing the bracelet—it was useless now.  He slipped it off with gentle fingers, watching as the body down-sized into the child-form. 

Loki looked lost within the blankets, small and vulnerable, his nose wrinkling.  He snuggled closer to the warmth that Heimdall provided, as if he was some large pillow.

Tiredly, closing his eyes, Heimdall had to turn his face away, and waited for the dawn.

          (Can I meet you here tomorrow?)

~Epilogue~

It had been several weeks since Loki had woken up in the bed alone, child-sized and nude.  His body still wore the marks of the night he had spent with Heimdall, and several scratches had left fine scars for him to trace during a particularly bad day.

He hadn't seen Heimdall since the moments before he had slept, and a part of him wondered how the other god was doing, if he was feeling better and if the eye had helped with the pain.  If he had helped with the pain.

Loki curled up on the couch, oblivious to Yamino-kun's nattering over the newest mail-order item, and smiled bittersweet into his cup of tea.

He didn't think it was possible to be in so much pain, and still smile. 

One day, Heimdall, I hope to see you on different terms…

~//~

"You failed me."

Furious crimson eyes rose to the Norn that stood in front of him, her eyes and aura gleaming with the omniscient power of Odin All-Father, and forced his face into a neutral mask.  "I have gained—"

"I know what you have gained, Heimdall," the Norn Verdandi smirked at him, tapping a finger.  "That is not the source of your failure.  Not even your tryst with the outcast concerns me, my child…"

So he knows, Heimdall thought, despair and resentment boiling within him.  Never had he felt such feelings, such loathing for his father.  Never had he seen such a contemptuous look hidden within those eyes.

"But," Odin said gently.  "You have failed to remove the outcast from existence, and thus, endanger me.  You have betrayed me, Heimdall."

"I have not betrayed you!" the Watcher cried heatedly.  "How can you accuse me of this!?"

"How long did you watch him sleep, child?  How long did you stay after the spell wore off and he was vulnerable to your power—and yet, he lives?"

No…no, I couldn't bear it…

Heimdall hunched, dropping his gaze away and shivered.  "Until dawn," he admitted.  "I stayed to watch the dawn."

Odin's voice remained silent, his power manifested as oppressing force.

Then, light and amused as if he were attending some private comedy, the voice whispered soothingly.  Forgiving and lulling him into a warped sense of relief.  "It is alright, child…you've gained the lost piece of your eye that Loki used to contain the evil…the last piece…give it to me, Heimdall…"

He almost did it.  He almost let himself believe the comfort and the love in the voice, let himself believe that Odin knew best and would protect him, that he was favored…

 (You've got what I've stolen and fates preserve me if Odin gets a hold of it…)

Heimdall gasped, and pulled back.  "No," he whispered.  "…it's true, it's true—it was you—"

"It doesn't matter," Odin said harshly, the possessed Norn's pale arm speeding out and grasping his wrist, yanking him close.  "Give it to me!"

"No!" Heimdall pulled away.  Instinct had him scratching at the face, snapping magic that couldn't compare to Odin's strength, stinging out pain as it lashed the skin.  "Let me go—no, I refuse—"

"Damn you!" The world exploded with Odin's ire, the Norn backhanding him with the strength of the highest god, a fist in his hair and tossing him about like a scrap of cloth. Hurting him, hating him, furious and heedless as a spoiled child.  He was thrown to the ground, held down by the immeasurable strength coursing through the Norn.  Fingers gouged at his face, at his eye.

Heimdall heard himself scream as some last power coursed through him, fighting back with every scrap he had left of himself. "No," he groaned, twisting his head away from the reaching fingers.  "N-no!"

Loki—

Somehow, avoiding the angry words, the hurtful selfish power, he pulled away…

Odin shrieked. 

He felt himself fall.

~//~

It was bright and rather sunny, almost offensive in its entirety, when a doorbell shrilled a summons.

Loki stood, setting aside the paper he was reading, and walked to the door.  He felt a sense of déjà vu standing there, a hand on the knob.  His mind flashed to a cynical twist of a mouth, of crimson eyes and a mocking voice.

He opened the door.

"…Hello, Loki."

The Trickster let a tiny smile pass his lips.  "Heimdall…come to challenge me again?"

The adult-form god regarded him without rancor, his crimson eyes veiled from any emotion whatsoever.  "…I've been banished…" the Watcher said without pretense.  "Because I wouldn't kill you in the night…because I wouldn't give my eye to Odin…." He laughed bitterly, uncrossing his arms and tucking his hands in his pockets.  "What's left of it, anyway…"

"I see," Loki replied carefully, the smile gone as if it had never been.  He ducked his head.  "Because…because of me. How like Odin to blame another for his selfishness."

Heimdall scowled. "Everything's your fault anyway.  Shut up and let me in."

Loki raised a brow, and stepped aside.  "Are you sure you wish to stay here?" he asked.

Heimdall smiled evilly, smirking in his special unstable way, and stepped inside.  "Live within the home of my enemy, betraying and defying my father to the point of madness—and the chance to torment said enemy? Whoever said Fate wasn't kind?"

~tbc…I think…maybe…~