Title: With A Whimper
Fandom(s): Thor, Avengers, Supernatural
Pairing: Loki/Gabriel
Rating: Thus far…PG? Will eventually be NC17 :D
Summary: "I want to propose a mutually beneficial…arrangement." Gabriel and Loki make a deal, to save them both from uncertain future.
Warnings: minor violence, future sex? possible spoilers but I don't think there are yet
"I want to propose a mutually beneficial…arrangement."
The archangel, Gabriel, had appeared in glorious holy ecstasy, six golden wings unfurled and shining behind him, heavenly light spilling from his eyes, divinity nearly overwhelming his recently acquired human vessel.
He has found the one he seeks, in a small town in the midst of Sweden. The religion of the pagan gods still holds heavy influence here and the angel had been watching this area of Earth during the uproarious festival days for years, waiting for his chance. Now it had come, during one of the spring festivals when the people of the nearby villages were celebrating the blossoming of new life and giving thanks to the gods for continued health. There was feasting and coupling and the angel wasn't surprised that the one he searched for would end up here, in a handsome cabin, abed with a mortal woman, her husband no doubt drinking his fill in the village with the other revelers.
Loki, trickster and liesmith, the outsider of the northern pagan pantheon, merely blinks once, slowly, dark lashes fluttering, visage entirely unimpressed. He sees the true form of the archangel, overlying the vessel, and it inspires neither shock nor awe. He let the human woman continue her vigorous bouncing atop him for another few moments, her mewling and panting increasing in pace, dewy skin moist with sweat and marred in places by vicious looking scratches, no doubt won in the excitement of her lover.
Then the dark haired deity plucked her from him with as much concern as if he were brushing aside an overly friendly dog. When she raised a complaint, cheeks flushed and legs tangling, Loki backhanded her off the bed, where she struck the nearby wall, head hitting with a crack that made Gabriel frown, and slumped to the dirt floor, silenced. A cursory and swift exploration on the angel's part determined she was merely knocked unconscious and not perished as he'd feared.
"One of the winged sheep serving the would be supreme being? Ehyeh asher ehyeh, he called himself, wasn't it? To think they accuse ME of vanity. Your father, as it were, would find good company in Thor, I'd imagine. They could delight in their pompous superiority together, not to mention their anger management issues. Though, I fear Thor would find your God rather dull and lacking in mirth. How dreadful, to be an all powerful being and deny yourself all the finer pleasures." Loki managed to make the last sound like a purr and he was watching Gabriel with a mixture of derision and a kind of predatory hunger, rising languidly from the bed.
Ignoring his own misgivings about the turn of the situation, the archangel gathered himself to reply.
"I've not come to bandy insults with you, Loki of Asgard," he was trying his best to be serious and official, something his brothers had commonly chastised him for failing at. The next part wounded his pride, but he ruffled his wings and rallied his nerve, "I wish to…advance a…partnership of sorts."
Gabriel suspected it wasn't often Loki was taken by surprise, but judging by the other's incredulous expression, he certainly was now. The expression quickly melted into a scrutinizing gaze.
"You come to me, for help? To me?" his laughter was knife sharp, carving into the Gabriel's resolve and surety of this being the best idea, "One of heaven's holier-than-thou bootlickers would humble himself to beg my aid? Oh this IS rich! What makes you think I won't just cut you down where you stand, for even daring?"
WIth that, the trickster disappears from his sight, suddenly and obviously with the aid of magic. The holy messenger tenses, wings set aflutter with anticipation, waiting for the other's reappearance, wondering if the creature truly has the power to end an angel. The tiny cabin is silent and Gabriel watches dust cavort in the bright sunshine filtering through cracks in the wooden beams.
"I've heard you spare little love for your family, " He addresses the air. In Heaven, the Choir speaks scornfully of the pagans and their depraved ways. Gabriel had begun to take notice of the talk when Michael and Lucifer began to fight and long enduring prophecies were set into motion. Armies rose and the archangel made a decision. To avoid a terrible choice, he fled.
"And that you hold for your own kin is too great," the silky voice replies, a cold breath against his throat, and Gabriel shivers, hiding his surprise at Loki's sudden reappearance at his shoulder.
"I'm called Father of Lies and yet you believe me to be unable to see the truth in things? How would I wield my craft if I did not?" The angel could hear the smirk, though he couldn't see the other's lips curl up, not with the dark god hovering behind him. It was an effort not to reach for his blade and turn on the other, to humble what he considered a glorified demon with divine judgement. Loki chuckled as he came round and Gabriel wondered if the trickster knew his thoughts.
"Your kind, despite being the sanctimonious lot of winged curs you are, grow in power. I make it my business to know my enemies as well as my friends."
"Have many of those do you?" Gabriel tires of Loki's impudence, it galls him when he's already shamed to come here seeking aid, and he cuts in to give as good as he receives, "Friends, I mean? As I understand it, you're sorely lacking, unless one counts beasts."
Dark thin brows narrow and the messenger of God watches those bright green eyes go cold, frozen jewels in a strikingly beautiful pale face, full of malice and hatred. Has this creature ever known love, Gabriel wonders, the thought fleeting in the quickening promise of violence.
"What would a simpering servant of Heaven, a mere thrall to a being who created you for sole purpose of singing his praises and obeying his whims, know of friendship?" The scorn is pouring off Loki, smile sharp and voice jeering, and he circles Gabriel like a predator it's prey, "Your father loves the Midgardian sheep, the humans, more than you angels, his first born creations. It must torment you terribly. Certainly, it drove your brother mad. In Asgard, we delighted in his tantrum, we laughed when he fell."
"Oh and you have such good relations with your own brothers, Loki, milk brother of Thor and Baldr, but truly a child of Frost Giants, as I've heard it. A murderer of kin. A monster!"
"What would you have of me, little winged one?" the capricious god has Gabriel pinned stomach down in the dirt, a leather clad knee digging roughly into the small of his vessel's back. Long fingers tangle in the feathers of his upper wings, pulling, twisting, severe and the archangel lets out a whimper.
He begins to believe this has been folly. The gods of the Vikings are still too strong, the true faith of his Father not yet taken hold in the heathen lands. The archangel knew he played with a double edged blade. He was wagering on the strength of this idolatrous being's power, the faith of his worshippers, those who spilt the blood of innocents and wicked alike, who copulated in sacrifice to the all-father, Odin, and his ilk. The earth drank even of the blood of kings in the hope of the warrior god's favor. Gabriel could only pray angelic grace would not mingle there with it, knowing his benedictions fell on deaf ears, for his Father had gone from Heaven when Lucifer fell and the heavenly Host rent asunder. He was the might of God and no longer heard his Father's voice. Desperation had brought him to the pagans.
"I seek to mask my presence from my brethren," he grunts out, cheek crushed to the floor, forcing himself not to raise hands to the one whose help he desires, "I wish to hide from the eyes of Heaven and Hell alike. I ask you to lend me your power, for a time, and I will owe you a great debt."
The knee jabbing into his back lets up and Gabriel breaths a small sigh of relief, but it cuts off, a gasping shock, as Loki presses himself along the length of the smaller angel, lines of his lean body snug against Gabriel's.
The archangel scrabbles at the dirt, nails gouging rivets in the earth, as he arches and bucks, wings beating frantically, but Loki has him pinned well, and a moment later there is a cold blade against his throat and the trickster's voice is a growl in his ear.
"Little angel, what could you possibly offer me in return? You have nothing I desire, though your death would be a small amusement."