Clint entered the warehouse with his hands raised beside his head, eyes up and counting the men lining the catwalks. They looked down on him with condescension- he was in their territory, they had no reason to be afraid. The sun beat down behind him, sending his shadow out long in front of him until the shadow of the roof blotted it out. There was no dust flying through the sunbeams at the opening of the warehouse doors- the place was used regularly and kept clean almost to a sanitized level in case law enforcement wandered through. Not that they'd make it out alive if they were so nonchalant and ignorant. Four men came out of the shadows beside the wide open gate, aiming semi-automatic rifles at him and fanning out around him. Clint knew these guys, some of them personally, some of them not, and some of them knew him, though whether they liked him or not- that Clint didn't know. This gang tolerated his presence, when all they really wanted to do was drop him in the bay with a pair of cement shoes. But that was Italian mafia style- these were Mexicans. Dropped in the desert littered with bullet holes would be more their speed. Clint was always glad there wasn't a desert anywhere near New York.
One of the guys surrounding Clint took a step closer and jerked his rifle at him. "Are you armed?" he asked in a heavy Spanish accent.
Clint kept his hands up. Safety first. "Of course."
"Well, drop 'em, gringo."
"I can't do that."
Another one of the armed men snorted and made the same motion with his gun. He spoke in Spanish to his friends in a teasing voice. "Mira a este pinche wey!"
The first one stepped even closer, nudging Clint with the muzzle of the gun. "Maybe he don't hear so well," he hissed. "You know where you are, son?"
"Son?" Clint scoffed.
"I think this little white boy's lost," a third man laughed.
The archer scowled and tossed his hands down, making the riflemen jump a little. He eyed the men seriously and had them all staring at each other dumbfounded when he began to speak to them in perfect Spanish. "I hear you just fine, son. I'm old enough to be your father, but maybe, since you're Mexican, I should say I'm old enough to be your grandfather. I know you like 'em young."
The guy with the weapon jabbing Clint in the ribs sputtered and shook his nervously. "The fuck did you just-"
"So you better stop poking with that thing, junior, or I'll snatch it out of your hand and spank you with it."
The gunman's jaw dropped and when his gang mates all chuckled from the rafters at him, he turned red and moved to make another jab, but a silky voice of a woman stopped him short.
"Is that the sound of Agent Barton I hear?"
She appeared from behind a stack of crates nearly reaching the ceiling, wearing a long bead encrusted skirt, a shirt hanging off her shoulders with bead-weighted fringe. She had a few feathers dangling from the end of her long, braided black hair. She sauntered up to the men surrounding Clint and posed saucily, a welcoming smile on her lips. The guys looked at each other with confusion but they lowered their weapons when she waved them down. She came up to the archer and held out her hand, showing her sharpened nails painted blood red, gold at the pointy tips, and Clint took it and kissed her knuckles with a small smile of his own.
"Mi Diosa," he said warmly and let her hand drop.
She wanted to grin but held it back tightly in a smile that didn't show her teeth, and she tilted her head to Clint in greeting. "Agent Barton. You took a great risk coming here: some of my men are... not pleased with you."
"To say the least," Clint muttered and gazed up into the rafters at the men watching them.
"I haven't seen you in some time, I might have thought you dead. I heard you were chased down the streets at gunpoint recently."
The archer snorted and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Yeah, kinda been having some trouble at home."
"Mm," she hummed and straightened out her hanging shirt. "You taken up with Torinto's daughter again?"
"No, no." He took a big breath and laughed as he exhaled it, "I picked up a- Well, heh. I shacked up with a god."
The woman's face opened wide in astonishment, painted lips in a small circle and her eyes widening.
"He's kinda why I'm here," Clint tilted his head to her. "I need a favor."
She was still reeling from Clint's choice of words and she brought her hands up to her face and started to laugh, cupping her mouth and nose and bending over like it was the funniest thing she'd ever heard. Clint let her laugh it out and smiled down at her until she quieted and came up for air. She took Clint's hand and started to lead him away from the open door of the warehouse, taking him further in while she giggled to herself.
Back around the corner of crates there was a door on the side of the warehouse with two of her men standing guard, they opened the doors for her and Clint as she neared and treated the men in the rafters to the sight of the woman's 'office' that many of them had never been in before. It was a greenhouse, all glass and steel pipelines, with plants and trees and flowers lining the walls, lining the floor; hanging from the ceiling like a jungle. The men closed the doors behind the two, leaving them alone in the paradise.
She strutted over the golden yellow stones set into grassy earth to a lounge and end table, pouring herself a glass of water from a crystal carafe. She sipped from the glass and turned to face the archer, who had wandered to the edges of the encroaching greenery, thumbing a leaf curiously. A scent wafted by on the steamy air and he raised his nose to it and sniffed. He looked at her with a smirk.
"You put that honeysuckle in here for me?"
She smiled and turned away to lie on the lounge.
"Rosario, didn't think you'd miss me so much."
She clicked her tongue sipped her water again. "Silence, you tease."
Clint chuckled and moved to sit comfortably on the flat stones of the ground, resting his elbow on his knee, chin in hand as he looked at her appreciatively. Rosario looked back at him longingly.
"So," she said softly. "A god."
"Yeah."
"I didn't think you liked men."
"I like everyone."
She nodded once. "So I see."
Clint took his head out of his hand and looked at her sadly. "Don't get upset, Rosa."
"I'm not," she sighed and set her glass down on the stones with a soft clinking sound. "We parted mutually, though I must say I'm a bit jealous. You are the only man I can say I've ever loved."
"I know," Clint whispered, feeling sorry about their long-past relationship.
"Your new god, since you've moved on from your goddess- he brings you trouble? That why you were hunted down?"
"Well, kinda, yeah. He used to be a terrorist-"
Rosario's eyebrows shot up in shock.
"Now he's like... on parole or... He's under my care and then we got into a relationship and yeah. Now we need help."
"And hence, this favor you ask of me." She shifted on the lounge, stretching one long leg out over the other, making her dress fall over the chair by the slit to reveal her browned skin. Clint's eyes roamed down her body, remembering how he used to slide his hands down those smooth legs, hold them hard by the thigh as he thrust into her on that very sofa. Rosario would scratch her nails down the velvet cushions and grab the wooden armrest above her head to steady herself as she moaned. His lips twitched in a half smile at the thought.
"I need a passport, citizenship papers, everything someone needs to get out of the country and into another. I know you're good at those."
"You could get these things from your very own workplace. I remember looking at your papers and thinking 'this gringo doesn't look like a 'Stanley Brooks'."
Clint snorted at that and bobbed his head. "That was a pretty bad name. Blame it on my boss: I sure as hell wouldn't have picked it. I can't get this shit from SHIELD, though." He looked at her seriously and spoke low. "We're getting away from them. There's no way they'd give Loki citizenship, even if it was just an alias for a mission; they won't go for it."
The 'goddess' stared at Clint in awe, looking into his eyes and seeing happiness, and fear. She tried to smile, but found she couldn't do it without tearing up.
"You love this man," she said quietly, not asking but knowing.
"Yeah."
She pursed her lips. "I wish you had loved me the same way."
"I know," he muttered. "I'm sorry. I liked what we had; I just couldn't give you any more than that."
"I know, mi amor," she sighed and sat up, smiling gently at him. "Do you have a deadline? I need the specifications too."
"I got 'em here. I don't really have a deadline, but I'd like them as fast as you can get 'em. As long as you have time for it." Clint grunted as he got up from the stone floor and fished around in his pocket, bringing out a folded paper and handing it to her. She opened it and caught the photo that fell out of it, looking at Loki's face and smiling. She neglected to comment on him, and instead read through the information on the paper intently. She hummed and rose from her seat, straightening out her dress with a tinkling of the beads.
"It looks like it's all here. Will you come back for them or should I send them to you?"
"Just send them to my house, I'm sure you can find the address."
She stood in front of him and looked up into his eyes, reaching up to lay her hands on his chest. Clint put his hands over hers as she sighed and leaned in to rest her head on his collar.
"I wish we could have one more day together like we used to: I've changed. We could work completely this time."
Clint breathed heavily through his nose as he hugged her tight. "I know, but I've changed too. I'm not that guy you used to know. I'm- I'm Loki's now."
"He's your god."
"Right."
When Clint exited the warehouse, getting out of the compound through it's high walls with barbed wire lining the tops, he turned the corner to find Loki right where he left him with the bike. Loki was leaning against the tall cement walls in tight jeans and a leather jacket, sunglasses covering his eyes from the light bearing down on him. He glanced at the archer and reached up to turn off his earpiece the same time Clint did, and he shoved himself off the wall. After mounting the bike and stuffing his head into the helmet, Clint noticed Loki hadn't moved, and he flipped his visor up and nodded his head in question. Loki loosened his tightening fists and shook his head, getting on the bike behind the archer and fitting on his helmet, patting Clint on the hip when he was ready. The motorcycle was turned on and they zoomed away, LUCIA making small talk with Clint all the way home.
Loki was just as slow to get off the bike when they arrived at the apartment as he was to get on it, and he walked distractedly behind the blond up the stairs. He moved straight into the bedroom when they went inside, leaving Clint to watch him go as he shrugged off his jacket and tossed it over the back of the couch. Clint watered the plant in the window of the kitchen first, greeting it with a curt 'Charlie', before going into the bedroom, finding Loki sitting on the bed, unlacing his boots with difficulty. Clint moved to kneel at Loki's feet, slowly unlacing them for the god as he glanced up at the sunglasses still over his eyes.
"What's wrong, baby?"
Loki sighed and pulled the glasses off, setting them in his lap while Clint pulled the boots off his feet. "You love that woman? You called her an affectionate name."
"Rosa? Yeah, I guess; just like how I call Nat."
"You've had her before?"
"Had her?" Clint grunted as he sat got up to sit next to the god and toe his own boots off.
"You fucked her."
The harsh word caught Clint by surprise, whipping his head to furrow his brow at the god. He straightened up and tilted his head away to peer at him suspiciously.
"I have before. I used to, when we were together. Remember I told you I used to work for her? That I was undercover for SHIELD?"
"And Agent Romanov? Have you had her as well? Do you have sex with all those who work at your side?"
"No," Clint assured gruffly. "Quite honestly, the thought of banging Nat scares the shit out of me: she'd eat me alive. And not the way I'd want her to."
Loki grunted and stared down at his sunglasses. Clint leaned back on his arms on the bed, looking at Loki's back.
"I love Rosario like I love Nat- just in a different way." He touched his fingers to the god's back, tracing them under his shirt to touch his cool skin. "Like you. It's just different."
Loki turned and climbed over the archer, knees on either side of his hips, hands planted on the covers above his shoulders, and he stared down at Clint's concerned face.
"She wanted to have you again," Loki said, waiting and searching for a sign that Clint was dishonest.
"Yeah, and you heard me tell her no, didn't you. What did I say?"
"That you are mine now."
"That's right." He slid his hands up Loki's arms and down his shoulders, turning in towards his chest. "It's always gonna be you. Okay? I don't like this jealous thing you've got going on right now because there's nobody to be jealous of."
Loki huffed through his nose and sat himself on the archer's hips, his anger slowly draining from him. Clint let his hands fall off the god's chest to rest on his thighs, rubbing along them soothingly as Loki flicked the button of Clint's jeans absently.
"Tell me what you're thinking," the archer whispered and Loki sucked in a deep breath and looked down at him.
"I'm thinking: I want you."
Clint smirked and held the god's hips to grind up against him gently. "You want me?"
"I want you to show me." He dragged his fingers up under Clint's shirt, barely tracing his fingertips over the tan skin up to his chest. Leaning over him again, noses just touching, black hair curtaining around the archer's face. "Show me 'different'."
When Clint looked into Loki's eyes, he expected to see a challenge in them- squinting and sharp like they would steal his soul if he couldn't deliver, but it wasn't that. It was something Loki couldn't voice, and he would never show it outside of their home, but there, only inches from each other could he express it- pleading. The soft breaths blowing over Clint's lips made him part them, a subconscious anticipation that also had him lifting his head just those few inches to connect him to the god, reaching up to weave his fingers into the wavy locks and hold him in place while he moved his lips against the other's. He pushed with his hips to roll them both over, taking Loki's hands and pinning them to the bed above his head, letting his tongue snake into the awaiting mouth.
Down the god's arms Clint ran his hands, feeling the skin over his neck, the pulse thrumming there, and Loki's jaw and it's small movements with their kisses. He tugged their shirts off and nipped at the jutting collarbones as he laid himself flush on the god, smoothing their stomachs together. He sucked a mark or two on Loki's pale skin, holding the god's arms still on the bed while gently kneading himself down against Loki's aching length. As he shifted down to taste all the pale expanse of skin, Clint slid his hand into the front of the god's jeans, just rubbing the pads of his fingers over the hot flesh he found there, forcing Loki's hips to buck gently into him, always seeking more. Loki was panting, trying to keep his lips sealed against it, but the breaths came out harsher through his nose. His twisted his fingers in the covers tightly, knowing Clint didn't want him to move, and it was destroying him. He had to move, had to be part of the act, but he'd asked for this. He'd asked to be shown. But that didn't mean he couldn't demand more.
"Take it off," he whispered breathlessly, almost not able to get the words out. Clint's tongue had faltered for a moment but got right back on track down the center of his ribs, sometimes making the god jump at a nip of teeth. "Take it off- take these off-" he was grinding their clothed hips together, beginning to squeeze the archer's exploring hand between them.
Clint shuffled lower, kissing the white skin of his belly as he unwrapped the god from his jeans, taking a deft moment to slide his own off as well. Loki's breath fluttered when his length fell against his hip thickly, quickly grasped by the archer at the base and gently squeezed, the slick tongue licking down and down the god's belly. When Clint's warm breath huffed against the shaft, Loki stilled and squeezed his eyes shut, nearly tearing the sheets between his fingers.
"Clint-"
"Let me do this, baby," he whispered, ghosting his lips over the god's groin. He heard the god whimper, trying to hold it in behind his tightly sealed lips, and Clint squeezed the sharp jut of his hip with his other hand before turning his head to slide his mouth up Loki's length to the tip. Loki shuddered and gasped, whole body tensed as Clint bumped his lips against the head, getting the god used to the sensation of another taking hold of him, until he rolled his tongue out and let the god slide into his mouth completely. He ran his hands down the quaking thighs on either side of him to soothe the god, gliding the length back and forth along his tongue as Loki's hips stuttered against the bed and he panted.
Clint pulled off the god for one second, wetting two fingers in his mouth before devouring him again and leading them down to softly rub at Loki's entrance, making the god aware of what his plan was, and then he slid one finger into him. Loki sighed harshly and his toes curled at the probing inside him, legs beginning to move of their own accord and sliding his feet onto the archer's back, pushing and pulling on his skin as Clint sucked him. Another finger slipped into him alongside the first, pushing deep but slow, and Clint skimmed his unoccupied hand up Loki's hips and over his ribs, fingers splayed out and warm against him to ground the god. Loki released the covers in one hand, slapping down on Clint's over his ribs and grabbing his fingers, making the archer glance up and slip the flesh out of his mouth. He turned his hand over to hold the god's in just as firm a grip as Loki gave him. He continued to glide his fingers in and out of the god gently as he kissed his hip.
"Wanna come like this?"
"No, please," Loki rasped, hips trying to grind back into the archer's hand. "I want you in me."
Clint chuckled breathlessly and shimmied up the god's lean frame, keeping his fingers slowly moving in him as he looked down on Loki, taking in his flushed cheeks and panting lips.
"You want me inside you?" he asked in a teasing whisper, bowing his head to lick at the god's neck. "Make you come?" He thrust hard into Loki then, making him moan aloud and reach up to hold Clint by the back of his neck. Clint continued to push his fingers deep into him, pushing the god's pulse higher and higher, green eyes squeezing shut and his eyebrows knitting together in need.
He leaned down to Loki's ear and murmured, "Want me to fuck you."
"Yes!" Loki gasped, body twitching with every swipe of the archer's fingers inside him.
Clint gave Loki's neck one last long lick before sitting up, leaning over to rummage between the mattresses and coming out with a small bottle. Loki exhaled hard and lie there panting gently when Clint removed his fingers, setting about coating himself with clear liquid. He threw the bottle over his shoulder when he was ready, and he told the god to lift his hips, shuffling his legs under him and then settling Loki's lower weight on him. He held the god's leg around his hip as he lined himself up, dipping the head into Loki's entrance for a few moments before sliding smoothly inside. Loki sighed at the sensation of being filled and let his arms rest above him on the bed again, fingering the edge of the mattress as he waited for Clint to get settled. When Clint bottomed out against the god, he leaned over him again, one hand on his hip and the other over his collar, wanting to feel the shakes of Loki's breath and the drum of his heart together under his fingertips.
As the god's breathing started to even out, Clint pushed forward further, deeper, before pulling back and thrusting in again, drawing huffs from the pale body. He sat on his heels and carried Loki's hips on his thighs as he started to slip in and out, head hanging down and mouth open, gasping as he lost himself in the feeling of Loki's hot insides pulling around his length. Loki gripped the edge of the bed, tightening his legs around the archer and pulling himself onto the intruding shaft, beginning to moan while his skin flushed warm and electricity spidered up his groin and through his stomach with every thrust. Clint let his hands fall away from the god, letting Loki impale himself while he pulled back. He braced himself on the bed, leaning over the smooth skin of Loki's chest, watching it rise and fall rapidly, and then he squirmed his hands under the god's back and lowered himself on that expanse of Loki's abdomen as they panted.
The heavy weight of Clint's body on his, the hot and sweat-dampened skin sticking to his made Loki open his eyes and look down his chest at the archer. He moved one hand to the blond hair, tugging it gently to make Clint look at him, showing the tan skin of his face turning pink. He motioned for the archer to sit up and he raised himself up on his arms to pull Clint into a kiss, hips still elevated by the archer's thighs and being thrust into slowly. Clint pushed into him deep and didn't pull away, just pushing deeper and filling the god to make his eyes flutter closed and gasp.
"This what you wanted?" Clint panted, making minute movements inside the god, and then he chuckled shortly. "No one can fill you up like I can, right?"
Loki squeezed Clint's shoulder in wordless reply as he moaned quietly, feeling a tightening in his length, tapping against his belly with the movement.
"No one knows what I want but you," he continued, starting to thrust a little harder as he felt his end nearing. "No one knows me like you. Get it now?"
He wrapped his fingers in Loki's hair and pulled it back to make the god look at him with searching eyes, both panting from the exertion. "It's only you, babe. Just you and me forever."
And then he pulled the god up, locking their lips together and biting as he started to pound into the pale body, wrapping his arms around him hard to hold him steady. He could feel his completion building faster in his groin, and he knew Loki's was also by the sudden heightening of the god's voice in his ear. His hips jerked when he came then, the sound of Loki's moans driving him over the edge; pulling the god faster over his length as he rode it out. Loki's legs tightened around the tanned body thrusting into him and he dug his nails into the flesh of Clint's shoulders, all his muscles going taut as his orgasm rushed over him, groaning behind bared teeth and panting heavily. Clint held him up through it all, his own orgasm dying down to leave him huffing his breath onto Loki's collar. The god wheezed as he came down from his high, dropping his head on the archer's shoulder and rubbing his hands up and down the muscled arms that supported him as he caught his breath.
When they were steady enough, Clint lowered Loki onto the bed again and let himself fall onto the god's chest after pulling his softening flesh out, panting still with the effort. He absently kissed at Loki's chest, letting the afterglow take hold of them. He sighed, tired.
"I sure showed you, huh?"
Loki chuckled and traced his fingers along the definition of Clint's back muscles. "Yes."
"Are you jealous anymore?"
"No."
"Thank God," Clint puffed and settled heavier on the hard body under him.
Loki hummed pleasantly, "You're welcome."
And Clint chuckled breathily and smacked the god on his sides. He sighed, "I don't wanna shower. I know you got-" he swiped his fingers down Loki's belly through the wash of sperm- "Got- spunk all over you, I'm just too fucking tired. The heat, the sex: I'm beat."
"Sleep then," Loki said softly as he rolled Clint off him and lie on his side.
"Gonna sleep with me?"
"Of course."
Clint smiled goofily and hummed, cuddling close to the naked god and shoving his hands under his pillow to help cushion his head. He was asleep in minutes.
Clint tossed over in the bed, facing the bedside table where his phone sat, already aglow to tell the time. His eyes were foggy and he could barely see the numbers, but he knew it was late in the night. There was a murmuring voice nearby, very low and rumbly, and as he became more awake Clint was able to distinguish syllables, and then words, soon whole sentences, but it was all so foggy still.
"-ready half over. Most of the time left to you may still be used in a youthful way, but then... What will become of me?"
Clint blinked hard to clear out the sleep from his eyes and he inhaled sharply, turning over to face the god, who was sitting up on the bed against the wall, dressed in his pajamas.
"Loki?"
The god looked down at Clint with a clear face.
"Are you talking? Are you talking to me?" Clint was confused, he had obviously been asleep, and he was unsure why the god would have been talking to him when he could see that plainly.
"No, I was talking at you," Loki corrected calmly, sounding as though in a daze.
Clint shook his head and sat up on his elbow. "What? You're talking- at me? You're just talking to me while I sleep?"
"You've never woken up before."
"Wh- what? You do that a lot?"
"You're asking a lot of questions for someone who is supposed to be asleep," Loki said in a teasing scold.
"Yeah, I happen to be awake now, sometimes that happens. Why aren't you sleeping?"
"I've already slept, and then I dressed and came to bed again."
"To talk to me while I sleep," the archer said bluntly, still confused by the turn of events, somewhat suspicious.
Loki was calm and collected, almost serene. "Yes."
Clint stared up at Loki with a furrow in his brow. "How often do you do that? What were you saying?"
"I speak to you a few nights a week, sometimes less- things that require no reciprocation on your part. Mostly it helps me think, to speak aloud."
"Why don't you just wake me up? You can talk to me, you know."
"I know."
"If you know, then why don't you?"
Loki clicked his tongue in exasperation. "I just told you I don't require any return conversation: I merely ask questions that may need solving, and I answer my own questions as I speak them aloud."
Clint squinted at the god and moved to sit up against the wall beside him, looking down at his naked legs under the covers in surprise. "When did I get in the bed?"
"I put you under when I dressed."
"Ah. Well, tell me what you were talking about."
Loki sighed and scratched the top of his thigh distractedly, shaking his head. "You would not wish to hear about it."
"Come on," Clint drawled. "I'm already up and there's nothing you can say that'll bother me. I kill people for a living."
Loki looked away to the floor to deter the archer, to no avail.
"I skin animals for meat, jump off buildings and planes. I kill people," he reiterated and poked Loki in the side, making him sigh in annoyance and look him in the eye.
"It was about your mortality!" He huffed and looked down the length of the bed without seeing.
Clint's brows perked up with interest. "Yeah? Tell me about my mortality, O God." He wanted to laugh, but he held it in, still smiling sarcastically all the same.
Loki heaved a sigh again and shook his head at the archer's 'request', lacing his fingers together in his lap and staying silent.
"No?" Clint said and wiggled to a more comfortable position. "Alright, let me tell you about it instead. I'm forty-something, pretty healthy, fit, all that jazz, but I'll still only live another fifty years at best. Sixty if I'm a good boy- I'd like to make it to a hundred, it's a nice even number. But this is all dependent on if we can survive the next couple months so we can get out of here. And then it's an adrenaline-filled life in Europe or Asia; living out our days as notorious, devilish bad guys until..."
Clint stopped suddenly, brows beginning to furrow, and he looked down at his lap. Loki exhaled hard and looked at the archer out of the corner of his eye, knowing he'd just realized something.
"Are you immortal like this?" Clint asked gently.
"We've never been immortal, we simply live much longer. It's no magic, Clint," Loki murmured. "I'll live beyond you."
Clint grunted, feeling like the rug had been pulled out from under him and he suddenly wished that he was the kind of person to plan for the future. He hadn't thought about what would become of him and Loki when Clint was 80 years old. Or just 50.
"Hm. Well, so you'll still be young and fine when I'm dead," Clint played it off easily. "I did say there could be other people: I didn't just mean for me."
"No, you're not thinking still," Loki admonished gently. "We're still under Odin's contract. You remember the original purpose for my living with you, yes?"
Clint's face fell. "Fuck. If I die, you die."
"So you see my predicament."
"No. No-" Clint drew his knees up to his chest and rested his arms on them. "See all you have to do is get on Odin's good side- do all the shit he wants you to do and then the contract will be done with. You'll live on, shakin' it in Asgard while I'm rotting in my grave. Easy."
Loki sighed and shook his head, looking up at the ceiling like a plea to God. "No, it's not so easy."
"Why not?"
"When did I say I wanted to live without you?"
Clint scoffed and realized he shouldn't have when Loki turned to him with miffed look. "No, I'm sorry, I don't mean that. Babe-" he snorted- "I'm gonna be an old man; wrinkled and grey and totally not looking like I do now. I won't be able to walk eventually, maybe not even remember who you are. You're not gonna want to wait around for that."
"I might be able to fix that. When I get my magic back, I'll have to work on something..."
Clint sighed and shimmied down under the covers again, lying on his side and looking up at the god. "What made you think about this? This is years away, more than I care about."
"Because you said it would be 'you and me forever'... Forever is something no human is capable of achieving- not even my people live eternally." Loki looked down at the archer, sadness in his eyes but relenting to cold, hard fact. "Don't say 'forever'. There is no such thing."
Clint let a moment of silence pass between them as he thought about the time he had left with the god, how long or short it could be whether separated by death or new love- anything- and he wondered when he'd gotten so attached to Loki that he couldn't imagine the next day without him. If he had only a very limited time to be with the god-
"Then you better make it worth my while."