At first Lukas had disregarded him. There was nothing unusual about Matthias standing in the cold, summer rain. It was better to just ignore it. Eventually the Dane would become bored and wander back in to hassle him, wrap arms around him and attempt to kiss him until he either relented or forced him away. The more the Norwegian ignored him the faster he'd press to him, trying to pull out a response. Sometimes Lukas did it just to see how far he could push the other man.
An hour had passed; still Matthias was stood there silently staring at the dark storm clouds. Lukas made coffee, scowling slightly. From the kitchen window he watched the tall frame stood rigidly as though waiting. Idiot. Well he at least didn't have time to idle. Instead he busied himself in paperwork, no longer knowing or caring which was his and which was Denmark's.
Two hours later and the Dane still hadn't returned. The coffee mug was slammed down, cold fluid sloshing up the sides. What exactly was he playing at? Pushing himself up, sorely tempted to heft a mighty hammer the Norwegian decided enough was enough. Throwing open the door he stepped out to seize the Dane and compel him to return to the warmth of their home.
Matthias wasn't there.
Irritation melted into concern, swiftly coloured with fear. Where had the man gone? Sometimes Matthias could be childish, sometimes he could be unpredictable but he'd never known him completely disappear before.
A primal roar sent a chill down his spine, without a second thought running towards the source.
Between the trees he found him, sunk to his knees, soaked, shivering. The last notes of the cry faded in the Dane's mouth as their eyes locked.
"Thor won't strike me down."
Words sounded almost foreign, their implication almost lost as Lukas surged forwards. Strong arms wrapped around his lover's shoulders, pulling him tight into his frame.
"Nei, I wouldn't let him."
Broad shoulders shuddered with either mirth or sorrow as Matthias pressed his face into the firm abdomen. If anyone could terrify Gods into submission it was his fierce little Norwegian. Sometimes it was something to be thankful for. The man had guarded and guided him for long years, a steady hand in his often troubled waters.
"Come in Matthias, its cold."
Silently he obeyed. It wasn't often that Lukas spoke so gently or used his full name. The hand that encased his was firm, warm as it lead him back away from the darkness.