a little drabble because i got sucked back into gotham & randomly had an idea for these two and just solidified it after reading some old threads. granted, this is slightly different in that in prior threads os was fully aware of loki’s magic & status and here he’s still a bit in the dark ( which is probably less in character tbh. os is a guy who needs to know, ok. )
. loki suffused his fingers with a gentle warming magic as they carefully kneaded the damaged tissue of oswald’s knee. there was a faint pang of guilt; he had yet to inform the kingpin of his true self. oh he knew loki was not of this world and blessed with certain abilities, but the full strength of loki’s power was kept from him, lest the man perceive him as a threat. and while he did not doubt his ability to extricate himself from a chase, that man, zsasz, was too fine a hunter to dismiss.
green eyes flicked up to watch oswald’s face, glimpsing the flickers of discomfort the touch brought at first, then the slackening of muscles long held taut. if he wasn’t mistaken, there was even a soft hum and an exhalation that resembled relief. gotham’s weather had been so bitterly cold of late, it was no surprise that this old injury would pain him so.
❝ does that feel better? ❞ loki murmured softly, his fingers continuing to knead tight flesh in hopes of loosening it. he had no hopes of restoring full use of his limb, his magic did not bend to healing magic as it did to destruction.
oswald’s response came in a jerky nod, eyes shut hard as if to ward off the anticipated pain and the actual comfort he found in loki. it was such a conundrum, finding gentleness where only torment was expected. it still left him feeling as though a guillotine hung over him, poised to fell him whenever his guard was allowed to fall. yet fall it did, time and time again around his otherworldly friend.
the god’s gaze slowly slid away from his companion’s countenance, eyes clouding with the thoughts that overtook him. the confession was on the tip of his tongue, but it was self-gratifying. it would do nothing to soothe oswald’s pain, only incite it further, along with the betrayal he’d already experienced too often at too many hands. he could not bear to think of another thing he had handled too roughly and destroyed.
❝ i know a woman who lives by the dock. they say she is a witch, and perhaps she is, but she deals in potions and healing salves. ❞ his fingers catch on a knot of scar tissue and oswald’s teeth grit with a sharp hiss, prompting loki’s eyes to snap back to his face. there is a sharpness there that had begun to ease, but there is little he can do for it. ❝ i’m afraid my magician’s tricks cannot take this away. ❞ it’s a self-deprecating tease, grinding at his nerves far more than he lets on because it echoes the words he’s heard from thor throughout a millenia.
❝ there is no need, my friend, ❞ oswald’s voice is tight, but still clings to its customary courtesy. they are both two men who recognize the importance of diplomacy, so much so that even in private company they cannot let it fall. what secrets might his friend keep from him to avoid loki’s offense? ❝ i have learned to LIVE with this. i do appreciate your efforts. ❞
and as surely as loki aches for it, oswald too yearns for this gentle touch, even as he distrusts it deeply. it’s weakness, and he knows better than anyone -- save perhaps for present company -- that weakness is a weapon. it is how he’s risen so high, after all.
❝ all the same, i would rather you not hurt unnecessarily. i’ll bring gabe with me so he knows where to procure the salve in the future. ❞
again oswald nods, but it’s gentler this time. the pain must be subsiding enough, his eyelids appear heavy and his breathing is evening. loki can feel the muscles beginning to give way, whether to the heat or the steady motion of his fingertips. he waits until oswald is completely asleep before ceasing, pointed chin coming to rest on his chest. the god’s eyes linger, watching him in his much-needed slumber and grateful he is finally finding some semblance of peace after all that has occurred. even the wicked need rest.
