Sillage: The scent that lingers in air, the trail left in water, the impression made in space after something or someone has been and gone; the trace of someone's perfume.
Thor wakes up one sunny Caribbean morning to find Loki gone, the mattress beside him curled into a long, soft hollow where Loki's body has rested in his sleep, his back pressed up right against Thor's chest.
He reaches over, sleepily brings Loki's pillow to his face and smells sandalwood and lemon, like the shampoo that comes in those little bottles that Loki says are not nearly enough to keep his hair up to standards. Smells a soft musk that only comes to Loki when he sleeps next to Thor and perfumes his skin.
He rolls over sleepily, stretching and rubbing his eyes as the birds chirp outside the window and the surf laps up against the sand just a few feet away. Yawning, Thor stands up, walks over to the window, pushes aside filmy white curtains to look outside.
Much to his vast surprise, Thor finds Loki waist deep in the aquamarine water, the waves pooling and rippling around him on their way to the beach. He has his hair done up in a messy bun, the ends of which are already dripping from errant sprays of surf, and he picks his way carefully through the water, letting the foam and the bubbles spill and trace eager paths around his waist.
Loki stops for a moment, bending down a bit to look into the water, and Thor opens his mouth to warn him of the incoming wave. Unfortunately, his warning comes far too late, and right as Loki reaches into the water to pick up something in the wet sand at his feet, a wave comes crashing straight down on his head. Thor stifles a laugh as Loki comes up a few seconds later, spluttering brine and rubbing at his eyes with the heels of his hands, looking more than a bit disgruntled.
He hides quickly behind the curtains the instant Loki's head begins to turn back in his direction, hurriedly gets back into the bed and rolls the blankets haphazardly over him the instant he sees Loki trudging back towards the hotel, his feet leaving small hollows in the white sand.
Thor has his eyes tightly closed and his breathing in some semblance of deep sleep when Loki reenters the room. He can feel Loki's gaze on him, bites the inside of his cheek to keep a smile from reaching his face, smells the sharp tang of salt and sandalwood and Loki as Loki leans over him, dripping seawater onto the blankets as he reaches over Thor to place something on the nightstand.
The instant Thor hears Loki's footsteps recede into the bathroom, the instant he hears the taps for the shower turn on, he opens his eyes, looks at the perfectly formed conch shell on the nightstand, and allows himself to smile.