lt_safe_house | (no subject)

Date: April 2nd, 2003
Status: Private (Gabriel, Loki) - Complete
Setting: Gabriel's room (at first)
Summary: Gabriel has a nightmare. Loki has a nightmare. Gabriel and Loki have a shared nightmare.

Despite the fact that it was surrounded by complete darkness, an amethyst gleamed.

And some distance away, an archangel tossed fitfully in bed.

Warm sunlight streams through the window, and Gabriel can feel it on his face; it must be near noon by now, and yet he is so comfortable that moving doesn’t seem remotely attractive.

Until a tantalising scent reaches his nose, and there is a light touch on his cheek, stroking slightly before disappearing. Warm breath ghosts over his face, and a smooth, seductive voice whispers in his ear, “Sloth.”

Gabriel’s eyes fly open to see Belial’s disconcertingly dark eyes staring back. The Prince of Temptation withdraws slightly, smirking, as Gabriel shakily sits up.

Belial sits on the edge of the bed and proffers a breakfast tray, and Gabriel inhales the aroma of crisp waffles topped with sliced strawberries. Oddly, there is also a glass bowl of chocolate mousse and a chalice of ruby-red wine. Gabriel’s mouth waters, even as his stomach, strangely, protests, and Belial laughs, and holds a strawberry to Gabriel’s lips, and whispers, “Gluttony.”

There is another laugh from the doorway, and Gabriel turns to find the pale, heartbreakingly familiar, yet eerily alien, gaze of Lucifer Morningstar holding his own.

Lucifer smiles, gently, patronisingly, at him, and coos, “Poor Gabriel. Poor, confused little Messenger.” He crosses the room, laying an achingly gentle hand on Gabriel’s head, playing with his hair. “If He created everything, He also created temptation, and it is part of His Plan. He created the things that you long to do yet fear so much. Isn’t it a Sin not to appreciate His creations?”

Gabriel can do nothing but take ragged breaths, gasping when the hand is removed. He watches, swallowing, as Lucifer pulls Belial to him with the tenderness of a young lover, and kisses him so sweetly and yet so passionately that something deep inside Gabriel stirs, aching.

The Lightbringer pulls away, and either Belial or Gabriel, or perhaps both, gasp as his hands move over Belial’s chest, and how had Gabriel not noticed before how gloriously naked the two Fallen were? Lucifer bestows another kiss upon his Crown, before turning and facing Gabriel, a predatory look twisting his fair features, and Gabriel shivers at the expression on his erstwhile friend’s face. Lucifer holds out a pale, perfect hand, invitingly, and whispers, “Lust.”

Gabriel’s wings are out, and as Lucifer moves to touch them, he realises that the feathers are a glossy black, like the Morningstar’s own, and then Lucifer touches him, and he cries out, though whether in horror or in pleasure, he does not know.

Thanks to

apocryphal_muse, player of Belial (

lordofthesouth) for allowing me to borrow her character!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Loki steps between his ... well, guest he supposes ... and the ones he thinks of as his family sometimes. Most of the time. At least they want him when his other family does not. Wanted - whatever.

They aren't at all friendly now and they seem to be everywhere. He thinks he's experienced this once before, though it's hard to remember. It didn't end well back then, he thinks, and it won't end well now.

"Listen," he tries to negotiate. "Can we maybe discuss this in peace first? I'm not sure what you're on about and I've got a god from another pantheon here that I need to take home."

They don't seem to be open to reason. Thor's fist connects with Loki's jaw and for a moment he sees only stars. When vision returns to him he is on abed in a white room waiting for someone. The other gods are still there glaring at him accusingly, but in silence.

Gabriel is fully prepared to hit the large god who punched Loki, but his migraine spikes briefly but painfully as Loki loses consciousness and their surroundings swirl, like smoke, solidifying into white walls. A hospital.

Loki looks so weak, lying on the bed, and he grits his teeth and stands straight by the bedside, glaring back at the other Norse gods.

"I am Gabriel, Strength of God, the Divine Messenger, and I demand to know what is going on."

Loki stares at the foreign god for a moment. He vaguely remembers having seen him before. Something about a library and a kitten and ...

"Are you here to meet Hel?" he asks. "Because you're in the wrong place. This is my hospital room."

Since when do any gods know how to find him here anyway?

"Stupid medicines messing with my memory again," he decides. "And where's that doctor anyway?"

Not that he really wants the doctor to come right now, but he might be able to explain the presence of all these visitors.

For a moment, Gabriel is utterly stunned. Loki seems completely unaware of who he is; he might as well be alone with the angry Norse gods.

Still, better Thor than Lucifer.

"Hospital room? What medicines?"

"Yes, hospital room, or does this look like an Underworld to you?" This foreign god probably has no idea what Hel looks like, but even he should be able to recognise that this place is much too modern to have sprung from the believes of the old Norse.

"And medicines ... er ... that chemo stuff ... um ..."

"And what's up with that anyway?" Odin interrupts. "A war god does not get sick."

"Eh ... I'm not a war god, remember?" Loki tries to turn it into a word game. "I'm the trickster."

Forseti snorts, but the others are not amused. Thor lunges and Loki is in no shape to duck away. A strong hand grabs his throat and he can't breathe, can't talk. The world starts fading away ...

Behind the gods the door opens, but it isn't Loki's doctor. A small pink animal walks in and asks: "But what about the prairie-dog?"

It's too much. Loki gives in to the darkness expecting to at least be reunited with his daughter, but instead he wakes up in a sweat drenched bed in a hotel room in Lower Tadfield.

"Chemo?" Chemotherapy? Cancer?

Thor lunges for Loki, and Gabriel would have tried to save the trickster god, but another Norse god - he has no idea who it is - grabs him from behind. He twists, kicking out, and the god lets go; he ducks, preparing to lash out, but is distracted by a pink, fuzzy, unidentifiable thing, saying something about a dog.

The god hits him, and he turns, blinking through the pain, and manages to duck another grab and knock the god off his feet before his migraine spikes, red-hot blades stabbing his head, and he shuts his eyes tight, trying to heal himself.

Slowly, the pain ebbs away, and Gabriel blinks, half-expecting to find himself on Mount Olympus or somewhere of the sort. Instead, he looks around at the familiar, soothing colours of his room in the Manor.

With a small groan, his head hits the pillow again. I must find Loki, he thinks muzzily. No ordinary dream... but his head is demanding attention, and he groans.