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22 Kisses for Sylki
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Published:
2022-03-23
Words:
1,064
Chapters:
1/1
Comments:
29
Kudos:
102
Bookmarks:
10
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873

Barely a Scratch

Summary:

Sylvie is injured, and Loki shows her what it's like to have someone else look after you.

For the 22 Kisses prompt: Arm, tender love.

Notes:

A small gift for the Sylki writers group for consistently getting in my head even though this is technically only half of my ship. XD

Work Text:

"Stop being ridiculous," Sylvie barks, staring at the bandage Loki's just conjured up. "It's barely a scratch."

"There's blood dripping over your knuckles," he counters.

"Only when my arm's pointing downwards! It's fine. A bit of pressure, a bit of time, and it'll be all better."

"At least let me clean it. Those claws weren't exactly manicured."

"You're just looking for an excuse to get me to take my clothes off."

He smiles and makes a wide gesture. "Well done, you've seen through my cunning plot. I lured the monster here just so that you'd get injured and I could nurse you better."

"I don't need a nurse. I've dealt with far worse than this on my own."

His smile fades as he takes that in. "But you're not on your own anymore, Sylvie. Look, that thing's dead. Let's just pause and sit down so that I can make sure that you're okay."

"Fine. But only to stop you fussing about it."

"I know. It's completely unnecessary."

She eyes the horizon carefully, and once she's satisfied that there's nothing else about to attack them, she stomps over to the half ruined wall and leans her back against it, sliding down to the ground. She winces slightly as she unbuckles her breastplate and wriggles her arm out of her sleeve. Loki squats beside her to examine it, keeping his lips together tightly together.

There's three parallel gashes across her upper arm, the middle one deeper than the other two but all of them bleeding freely. He holds her elbow gently. The skin around it is already inflamed. "This doesn't look fine."

"Come on. You've seen my scars. I heal fast."

It's unnerving the way he looks at her. Like it matters that she's hurt. She's not used to it.

Still supporting her elbow with one hand, his other moves closer to the wound, fingers light just like a caress. She hisses in pain when they touch the red, swollen skin. It's humiliating. She grits her teeth.

"This might hurt a little," he warns her.

"Don't worry. I won't cry," she replies sarcastically.

A green light shimmers out from his fingertips, tingling over her skin but then burning as it goes deeper into the claw marks. Still she refuses to let out another sound. She forces herself to keep breathing slowly, taking the pain as she always does. It's over soon enough. She's still sore, but no longer throbbing, and the swelling is already reduced. "Neat trick," she manages.

The bandage reappears in his hand. "I'm putting this on. No arguments. It may well be better by supper time, but it will keep all your insides in the right place until your body can stitch itself back together."

When he starts rolling it around her arm, it's her eyes that are burning, and she blinks to try to hold back the tears. It doesn't work. They spill over and Loki pauses and looks at her, his eyebrows pinched together in the middle, concern for her written so plainly on his expressive face. It just makes it worse.

"Sylvie," his voice is so soft, so comforting that she chokes on a sob. "Darling, it's okay. You've had worse, remember?"

"Yes," she whispers. She might as well tell him; he's already seen the tears. "It's not the wound. I just… I never had this, before."

"What, bandages?"

She rolls her eyes and sniffs. "This. Someone. I always had to deal with this stuff on my own."

He cups her face, his thumb brushing away another tear. "You're not alone anymore. I'm here. I'll look after you."

"I don't know how."

"It's simple. You just have to sit there while I tie off this bandage and then all that remains is to kiss it better," he smiles.

"That's not even a real thing. It's just something parents tell their kids when there's nothing else they can do. It doesn't make any kind of medical sense."

He carries on wrapping the bandage. "Maybe not medically, but it does help."

"It's absurd!" She doesn't know why the thought makes her so angry. She can't remember ever being kissed better, and she's survived perfectly well without such nonsense until now. Except the anger is easier to deal with the grief, and the very fact that he's taking care of her reminds her of how much she's lost, how much she never got the chance to have.

He ties off the ends and cradles her arm in both hands. He looks at her, but it's not pity that's making his eyes shine like that. Her heart's beating faster, the anger melting away. He lowers his head, keeping his eyes turned up to her face, and purses his lips to let them rest on the bandage for a few moments.

She's not sure what to feel. Something in her feels so happy, but it still hurts. It's like a whirlwind and a snowstorm and a meteor shower all at once. But it's also like finding a secret cache of real food after living on scraps for weeks, when she'd learned to live with the hunger, as if it was a natural state of being.

He's kissed her many times before- desperate and passionate, longing and lingering- but this is different. It's raw in its intensity, with a tenderness and care that no one has offered her in centuries.

It does make it better. Not physically, but somewhere else inside, with a gentle comfort that releases long buried pain. He's going to make sure she's okay.

"Is it magic?" she asks with a soft smile, even as more tears run down her cheeks.

"Yes. A very special kind of magic." His voice is trembling. Why is his voice trembling?

His hand comes back to her face, and she can feel a strange tightening in her chest.

"It's the kind of magic that only happens when someone… cares for you. Very deeply."

She swallows. She thinks she knows what he means- it's there in his actions, but she can't remember ever hearing those words out loud. "Please. I need you to say it."

He strokes a stray lock of hair from her face that's fallen out of her bun. He holds her hand. "I love you, Sylvie."

She takes a deep breath and throws her arms around him, clinging to him. She'll look after him, too.