Loki's gaze was glassy, never portraying his inner thoughts or intents. His calm, expressionless face was pale like the oyster's pearl and smooth all around. One glance at him was like looking up at the full moon: a beautiful smoothness that gave the illusion of being within the breath of a hand's reach when really being so far away and unreachable.

One of the god's thin hands rises slowly towards Clint's face, and all at once the archer feels confusion. He may be a thrall to the man's every will, but he is still free to feel emotion and think—he is a bird in a cage if you will. Their eyes lock, inaudibly clicking into place with one another. Clint's blue eyes with a swirling of grey meet Loki's. The trickster god has deep orbs of unnatural, emerald eyes that glisten dangerous, clever, and nimble. But there is emotion, the twist of an invisible dagger, Clint realizes, as those eyes draw so near.

He forgets to breath, forgets what it means to breath, as the cool touch of soft skin torches his right cheek. Despite his prisoner's position and his hatred for this cocky, arrogant bastard, he feels a surge of something entirely new sweep over him.

Loki's face doesn't give anything away until the final moment as that last small second twirls away, and his face is nearly touching Clint's. Then it's almost like a door way opens, a secret portal to the god's soul slowly creeps open. Is this still Loki? Yes. But it is a hidden side of Loki, trapped within and held hostage in his own body much like Clint. But instead of the burning desire to escape and be free again, there is nothing but the emptiness of total defeat. What Barton can see is a blood bath of turmoil: a heart shackled by misunderstanding and a mind tormented by loneliness.

Clint involuntarily shutters as cool breath pours over his face-it smells like peppermint. Somehow that fits Loki well.

He blinks slowly and realizes Loki means to kiss him. And despite everything, he realizes, he wants Loki to.

He closes his eyes as Loki embraces him. His lips are smooth like velvet and faintly warm with a touch that feels exotic. The faint touch of Loki's lips across Barton's is like a whisper, just barely there but carrying a message too important, too soulful, to be spoken aloud.

Before he realizes it the touch is gone.

He is left stunned. As close as the embrace had been to not being there, it's the quiet grief that hits him hardest.

Was that... a plea? A silent whisper from Loki himself to be saved? To find release from that torment?

Perhaps not intentionally. But it is more than enough for Clint to realize what Loki is now is a cloak of his undoing. The hatred is not merely a mirror of his true self, but the torment inside of him being eclipsed and brutally morphed into the blaming of everyone except himself.

The god's hand withdraws and his eyes become detached, shrewd. Barton finds his breath and conscious again, but he doesn't have the heart to hate Loki anymore.

"You know what needs to be done," Loki tells him. And just like that the man has fully returned, aloof and distant: the moon.
"Yes, sir," the obedient thrall of him replies. 'I will save you,' the heart inside of him says.


Author's Note: Just a short little piece of Frosthawk* work. :3 My first actually. Wanted to focus on the developing relationship of Loki and Clint with an undertone of weight on Loki's shoulders. This was made for my near and dear friend, Cherryninja. ^_^

Frosthawk is what Loki/Clint is actually called. (Didn't know that originally, so I figured it might be helpful to have that pointed out.)