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Hearth has been waiting for that tent for the whole night.
Perhaps it would be in line to ask Sam if instead she desired it, seeing as she is a young woman and it is considered polite and gentlemanly to offer a woman a two-man tent in the middle of a bitingly cold night in Jotunheim (although, granted, bitingly cold nights are typical in this world). However, in all honestly, Hearthstone really doesn't care all that much. It makes him feel a little guilty, but even with his emphasized empathy and sensitivity to people's feelings resulting from the clear lack of it that he received when he was young, exhaustion always won over reasoning and manners.
Judging from everyone's mildly disgusted looks directed at the presumably heavily snoring thunder god sprawled out on the ground (especially Magnus's), Thor was making a very large ruckus in his sleep. Never let it be said that the only thunderstorms were in the sky.
Hearth counts himself lucky, actually seeing his deafness as more than a handicap. Blitz, who is sitting right beside him, keeps shooting looks at him, those ones that Hearth has long learned meant something along the lines of 'can you believe this god?'
A small, amused smile replies Blitz's unsaid complaint quickly afterwards, but soon enough Hearth finds himself beginning to nod off. Eventually he begins to have trouble keeping his eyes open, and his mouth opens wide on its own accord with a frost-giantess-sized yawn.
No one notices but Blitz. Quickly the dwarf nudges him and signs, Get some sleep, H-E-A-R-T-H-S-T-O-N-E.
Hearth furrows his brows and tries to protest, but the only things his hands can do right now are rub his eyes.
Blitsen rolls his own and turns his face towards the fire where his other friends are sitting, saying something to them. Hearth assumes that he's probably telling them that Hearth had to get some sleep, but his drowsiness was getting in the way of reading lips from profile correctly. Really, his slowly shutting down mind only registers the very mystical, strangely and abnormally beautiful way the firelight illuminates Blitz's features: his deep, mocha brown eyes, with flecks of gold cast from the flames dancing in his irises. His broad, rough but handsome jawline, the curve of it catching some gold and tangerine. His thin lips, the fire bringing out the little shadows hidden in its curves.
Alright, Hearth supposes some sleep would help.
He's shaken from his excessive staring (which prevents him from seeing Magnus throwing a weird look at Sam, who catches it, glances at the elf, and then returns it with stifled laughter) when Blitz abruptly looks back at him. Hearth flinches back, but fortunately the dwarf didn't catch his obvious admiring.
Go sleep, Blitz orders, his hands firm and precise in their movements.
Hearth finds no further reason to argue. He simply nods, hesitates for a second, wondering if a quick hug was in order, decides against it, and stands. He stumbles into the two-man tent and then crumbles, a soundless sigh coming from his lips.
When the flap is pulled down, casting Hearth in darkness that is only broken by the faint glow of the fire against the fabric of the tent, Hearth expects to fall asleep immediately. However, he cannot. Really, he's not extremely surprised. Was it not the same among everyone else? Magnus has told him so, after all. Frey's son has experienced the same thing -- exhausted on his journey to find a suitable resting place, only to be wide-awake when he curls up in a comfortable position. It's one of the most annoying things.
Hearth grumbles incoherently and snuggles into the sleeping bag below him. He stares at the navy material of the tent, picturing Blitz just a few feet away from him, only hidden by a thick strip of colored fabric. It's very easy to, Hearth admits to himself. The broad shoulders. The long umber hair, plaited down his curved, scarred back in thick dreadlocks. The way his set jaw just barely juts out when he listens attentively, his tawny eyes slightly narrowed. His interesting habit of turning the red gold ring (courtesy of Blitz's mother) on his left pointer finger absentmindedly when he concentrates intently on something.
Now understand, this level of observation is concerning unless there is a reason for such careful attention. As luck would have it, Hearth did have a reason. Despite the lack of love that he received when he was young and the trauma he gathered from it, he needed just one look and one quick realization that Blitz had saved his life to fall in love with the handsome dwarf. At first Hearth was terrified, because those that he held close to his heart -- namely, his family, at least in the beginning -- only used and abused and rejected him. And for the longest time, although he loved Blitz, Hearth shied away from him at every opportunity. Sparse glances lasted barely more than a split second. Casual brushes of the shoulder sent Hearth flying a foot away from the dwarf. And forget about hugs. The first time that Blitz had hugged Hearth, Hearth was so still and stiff that Blitz had pulled away immediately and asked Hearth what was wrong. The elf said (read: signed) nothing, only giving Blitz a weak smile and a small shrug of his thin shoulders. Blitz had been able to pull Hearth back into another hug, substantially tighter than the first one as if he was trying to tell Hearth not to go. That time the elf had allowed Blitz to hug him, but even then, it took many more embraces before Hearth found the courage to return them.
At present, Hearthstone and Blitzen hugged at every opportunity. Which makes Hearth a little puzzled as to what held him back from hugging Blitz earlier. It might've just been the fact that he was being watched by an ex-Valkyrie and a talking sword, but he and Blitz had hugged multiple times in public. Whatever it was, the feeling is returning, and right now, it feels like Hearth's stomach is currently being roasted in the campfire outside.
Hearth has always done a decent job with hiding his crush on the dwarf. But lately it's been beginning to show. The interesting wish to argue with Blitz more often than not, even when Hearth knew the dwarf was correct where Hearth was not. The fiddling with his scarf and little tinge of green he could feel forming on his cheeks whenever Blitz complimented him in front of others. The unstoppable urge to lunge at Blitz and tackle him in a hug in Nidavellir. Hell, there was even that lingering look at Blitz's backside when they were climbing Yggdrasil to find Magnus that left Hearth an ashamed, blushing mess of mint and chartreuse when Blitz nearly caught him when he turned back. Hearth has no chance of hiding it forever. His only hope is that the day is delayed for as long as possible.
At least now that Hearth is alone in the tent, there's no one around to analyze his questionable actions and the motives behind them. The only thing that worries Hearth is that because there is room for one more person, company was going to arrive soon enough, whether it be Magnus, Blitz, or even Sam (of course, Hearth is well aware of who's going to undoubtedly join him in the tent. Denial is sweet, though.) Perhaps if he falls asleep soon enough...
It should have been easy easy enough for Hearth to fall asleep, considering the multiple minutes of solitude that tick by and his original fatigue. However, his heart is crushed when he feels rustling by his feet, and he shifts just enough to see a familiar, blue-and-cream-clothed dwarf crawl into the small enclosure. Hearth nearly groans, though this is not the first time that Blitz decides to sleep with him. What's terrible is that where a secure, loved feeling is supposed to boil in his gut, there's nothing but anxiety, nervousness that stems from Hearth's fear that it would be the last time Blitz's arms kept him close at night.
Inhaling silently but sharply, Hearth stirs and looks up through half-lidded eyes to see Blitzen looming over him, his eyebrow raised as he makes movements with his mouth that makes Hearth assume he's mumbling under his breath. The elf can't quite make out what the other is saying, but then Hearth sees him straightening up on his knees and shrugging off his overcoat. Suddenly Hearth feels intense heat steaming in his throat and ears, his heart pounding a little more than normal (honestly, who's wouldn't, when your crush is in a tent alone with you at night and is taking off an article of clothing). Thankfully Blitz only shakes the strip of soft, silky cloth out and gives Hearth a little smile that instantly melts his heart. Hearth waits, a little confused, until Blitz drapes the overcoat over Hearth's body. The elf tilts his head, welcoming the immediate warmth, but gives Blitz a startled look. The gesture is appreciated and Hearth is blushing with the affection, but he had assumed that Blitz wanted the warmth for himself.
Blitz seems to read his mind, and his chest puffs a little, and Hearth guesses he had chuckled through his nose. You looked cold, the dwarf signs, reaching over to close the entrance flap of the tent (which Hearth is grateful for).
Hearth smiles, a little embarrassed. He supposes he was, confessing sheepishly, Maybe a little.
Blitz rolls his eyes again and leans down, and for a second Hearth freezes because he thinks the dwarf is about to kiss him. Except he doesn't (and Hearth can't deny that he's just a little disappointed), instead leaning his forehead against Hearth's for a moment, which is honestly close enough for the elf. It's a rare gesture of love that Hearth has only received a few choice times during their life together, and considering it's been months since Blitz last did it, his heart leaps into a frenzy.
Blitz raises his head far too soon and rolls onto his side, reaching out and tugging at Hearth's right shoulder as a way of telling the elf to face him. When Hearth does, Blitz stares right into his eyes and signs, I thought you'd be asleep.
Me too, Hearth agrees.
Blitz laughs a little, eliciting a tiny grin from Hearthstone. "Well, thanks for waiting up for me," Blitz murmurs, looking a little guilty when Hearth squints to make out Blitzen's lips in the dark. "It's appreciated."
It wasn't intentional. Don't flatter yourself.
The dwarf snorts and shivers, changing the subject, saying, "C'mere. You're warm. I'm cold. Please help."
Gladly, Hearth thinks, but he doesn't say it. He just nods and leans into the other when Blitz raises his left arm, motioning for Hearth to come closer. Their bodies fit together like pieces of a puzzle, Hearth taking only a second to match the curve of Blitz's body with his own. A sigh escapes his lips when Blitz slings his arm over Hearth's bicep, and the elf raises his body a little off the ground when he feels Blitz's other hand poking at the side of him on the ground. Soon he's completely encircled by Blitz's arms in a horizontal hug, and Hearth can feel the craftsman's thick, calloused hands locking together against his back. Nervously he wiggles his arms out from under Blitz's and wraps them around the dwarf's figure, filling his lungs with a shaky breath.
Hearth instantly stills when he feels Blitz's lips brushing against his cheek. He's saying something, and Hearth does his best to read Blitz's lips from touch instead of sight. His best judgement makes him think that Blitz said something similar to 'that's much better.' And Hearth agrees, nodding and lowering his head to push his face into Blitz's chest. The body in his arms shakes a little, possibly with laughter, and he feels Blitz's Adam's apple quiver against his forehead when the dwarf swallows and moves his head upwards to brace it on top of Hearth's.
When both men are finally situated, Hearth allows himself to relax, feeling his body loosen up in Blitz's grip. Signs and words aren't required to transmit the mutual comfort. Warmth begins to form both on Hearth's skin and inside of him, like Blitzen's body heat is warming more than their bodies. Hearth begins to distractedly run his fingers up and down the spine his palms are cupping, feeling the bumps of the column of vertebra form a pattern underneath his sensitive touch. Against his forehead, Blitz's throat vibrates as the dwarf hums, his body tensing for a few seconds before getting accustomed to Hearth's fingers. On his own back, Blitz unclasps his hands, which Hearth draws disappointment from at first. But then his mouth turns upwards into an automatic, contented grin, having to hold himself back from purring like a giant cat, when his back begins to get rubbed in a steady rhythm that brings the brink of sleep a lot closer than it was just a few seconds ago.
He instinctively trembles a bit, years of abuse forcing him to still have to get used to the soothing gestures. Blitz senses it and locks his forearms tighter around Hearth, who's accidentally finding it very hard not to cry. His elbows dig a little big tighter into Blitz's sides, but thankfully, the dwarf doesn't seem to care.
Blitz strokes Hearth's back without a stop for minutes that begin to mount up, and in return, Hearth continues to trail his nails down his spine. It's just like any other night they spent together, except Hearth has a lump in his throat that refuses to diminish in size. It only worsens when Blitz, startlingly, bucks his hips forward, pressing their thighs together. It's enough to freeze Hearth's fingers in place, inducing a snicker from the other. The elf becomes aware of Blitz's knee prodding against his thigh. Unsure of what Blitz wants, as this is a request for more physical contact than they had ever had before, Hearth experimentally raises his legs up and slowly, timidly, wraps them around Blitz's hips. Hearth's muscles lock in place as he squeezes his eyes shut, waiting for Blitz to recoil in shock and push him away, but it doesn't come. Actually, it appears to be what Blitz expected, because a satisfied hum that Hearth wishes he could hear meets his action. As Blitz tucks his thighs underneath Hearth's own, the elf abruptly becomes very self-conscious, wondering what would happen if Magnus or Sam or even Jack wandered in here and got welcomed by the sight of a dwarf and an elf very intimately cuddling with both pairs of major appendages.
That thought alone overwhelms Hearth so much so that his throat begins to constrict, and suddenly he finds it very hard to breath. Great. He's having a panic attack. It isn't the first time by far, but the moment was so perfect. It just had to be ruined by Hearth's innate, powerful phobia of being found even remotely undesirable or different by other people. His family had permanently planted that fear into his chest, and no amount of hugs or forehead touches could quench it. Here was proof. Even in Blitzen's arms, Hearthstone wasn't safe. From hatred, from panic, from his own mind.
Blitz pauses in his caresses and tilts his head, and Hearth rears away in agitation, breaking the embrace. Regret floods his veins with the immediate disconnection and lack of physical touch, but Hearth makes no movements to restore the close proximity. He refuses to meet Blitz's eyes, terrified of seeing the disappointment that he's sure is present. Hearth scoots away, his chin trembling, eyes tightly shut to prevent the tears from leaking out, and flips onto his other side, facing away from the dwarf.
Blitz is unmoving and still behind him, and Hearth bites down hard on his lips to keep from crying. It's just as he feared. He had ruined the moment between them, and now he was paying for it. Sometimes silence is worse than any amount of hurtful insults (and of course Hearth means that metaphorically, seeing as silence has always been his entire world).
His chest begins to heave with the effort it takes to control his sobs. Some of his tears manage to break through the barrier, and he can feel wetness beginning to slip down his cheeks and disappear into the candy-cane themed scarf. Hearth tries to keep still as to not give Blitz any hint of his grief, but, just like pretty much everything else in his life as far as he is aware, Hearth fails.
He knows this because there's a tender hand shaking his shoulder, and he knows that Blitz is mumbling his name repetitively without having to hear anything. Hearth doesn't respond, his teeth beginning to apply enough pressure on his lip to draw a few beads of blood.
Blitz is shaking his shoulder more frantically now, and Hearth can feel his worry as strongly as he can feel his own misery. With a great amount of effort Hearth rubs his tears away and glances over his shoulder, his face blank.
Okay? mouths Blitz, his eyebrows pressed together in concern.
Hearth compresses his lips into a thin line and raises his shoulders temporarily before dropping them after a moment.
Blitz sighs and forces Hearth to roll back over, his hands never leaving Hearth's shoulders. That means that Hearth has to read Blitzen's lips, but right now the effort is welcome, since it distracts Hearth from crying. "I know what you're thinking," Blitz is saying, his eyes gentle and empathetic. There's a little bit of sadness in there somewhere as well. "You gotta stop, Hearth...you know how much it hurts me to see you like this."
A sob builds up in Hearth's throat, and it takes all of his power and years of learning how to hide his tears to suppress it. There it is. Right there. He's making Blitz feel bad. He's a disappointment. A failure. A good-for-nothing elf that does nothing but hurt the people who say they love him. A --
"Hearthstone." His name -- his full name -- is spoken again, firmer this time. Hearth can tell by the way Blitz's eyes blaze with an unreadable flame.
His hands weak and shaking, he tries to sign back to Blitz. Don't mind me. Don't worry. It's okay -- I'm sorry.
"Sorry for what?" growls Blitz, his fingers curling into Hearth's shoulders so tightly it's almost painful. Hearth begins to notice very small, insignificant things, like the way that he's beginning to get pulled closer and closer towards the dwarf's face.
He squeezes his hands from Blitz's bent arms and signs, Everything. Ruining the moment. Being a burden. Weighing you down --
"You ruined nothing," interrupts Blitz, his tone clearly a strong, insistent one, firmly putting his hands over Hearth's and squeezing them. It releases a cloud of lime into Hearth's neck. "I know you don't get that. I just -- I hope you do in time, yeah?" He pauses, and ducks his head before smiling tentatively, "I, uh -- and I'll help you along the way. I've got you, pal. You're not a problem or a weight. You're my friend."
Hearth gently pulls his hands from Blitz's grip, sniffing back his tears. Promise? he asks.
"I promise. I swear by my life, understand?"
He swears by his life.
Blitzen swears to Hearthstone by his life.
What really pains Hearth is that he knows that Blitz is just trying to be sincere and attempting to get his point of seriousness across, and that he probably didn't mean 'by his life' in reality when it all came down to it. And if Blitz really did mean it, well, he's wasting his mouth and a useless mention of his soul. Blitz's life -- the life of a beautiful, hilarious, unique, kind, sometimes shy but also loud and iron-hearted and amazingly wonderful dwarf -- wasn't worth a centimeter of Hearth's hide. Hearth knows that. The thing is, Blitz doesn't. Being the determined best friend he was, Blitz was confident that Hearth deserved every inch of the dwarf. But Blitz doesn't know a lot of things.
The hurt.
The despair.
The agony.
The rejection.
The mockery.
The scars.
The holes in Hearth's heart that have never been filled and would be hard-pressed to be filled ever again.
Blitzen thinks he knows Hearth's pain and tortured past, but he doesn't. Hearth finds it more incredible than anything he has ever experienced that Blitz tries, but he does not. An empty cup could be seen, could be pitied, could be held and comforted by anyone. But only a generous pitcher of water filled to the brim willing enough to find the effort and heart to lend some of its valuable, irreplaceable essence to that cup and fill even one quarter of its dry hollow, could hope to give the cup life and meaning.
And as Hearth lies there, wide-eyed and reeling from Blitz's benevolent vow that had secretly meant more to the elf than anything he had ever possessed, he realizes something. Maybe Blitz could be that pitcher of water. Maybe Blitz could be the one to fill him up again. It would take time, it would take patience, it would take love -- but if Hearth knew one thing about that dwarf, he had all of that. Never once has Blitz not had time for Hearth. Never once has Blitz not been patient with Hearth, like when the elf was struggling to read lips or find a suitable jacket that matched his fair complexion. Never once has Blitz ever showed any sign of genuine hostility or hatred towards Hearth. It was always love. It is love. And it will always be love, and love only, that Hearth will draw from the dwarf.
Perhaps that love, platonic and brotherly or not, will be enough.
And right now, Hearth can swear that his broken, lanky body just got a little bit stronger.
But for the time being, Hearth just manages to wipe a glittering tear from his own cheek and draw a wavering smile. Blitz is gazing at him, his eyes soft and empathetic, and Hearth suddenly gets a crazy image of the dwarf reading a teleprompter behind Hearth's eyes, scanning a script listing each realization and revelation that had just dawned on the elf. Whatever the case, Blitz doesn't say anything, and Hearth is grateful. This new bond that they're both creating with nothing but glances and silence and dwarven fingers just barely grazing the shoulders of an elf is a tender and raw connection, unable to handle the physical and metaphorical contact of promises and verbalized feelings. For now, it's enough for Hearth to reach up and cup Blitz's cheek with his palm, the thick stubble lining his jaw rough but pleasing against Hearth's skin. Blitz tilts his head into Hearth's hand and tightens his hands on the elf's shoulders, closing his eyes and letting out a little puff of breath. "I'm here for you," he dares to breathe.
Hearth feels a shiver coursing through his body, and he lets out a violent tremble that causes Blitz to look at him with a raised eyebrow. He simply smiles, a little embarrassed, and does his best to make the same movements with his lips that he sees everyone else do. Thank you, he tries to mouth.
Thankfully he must've done an okay job because Blitz's eyes light up. The dwarf pulls Hearth closer, and this time Hearth is certain he is about to kiss him. The minty breath (when and how did Blitz find spearmint Tic-Tacs in Jotunheim?) is hot and welcome against Hearth's face as Blitz mumbles, "Try again?" and this time Hearth doesn't think that Blitz only means their previous hug.
Hearth finds the strength to dip his head, and then a lot of strange, affectionate things begin happening all at once.
First, Blitz extends his arms back around the thin figure of the elf, easily wrapping around his narrow frame. The hands are back at his spine, stroking in long touches. Hearth returns the gesture, except this time, instead of pressing his fingers down Blitz's bumpy backbone, he gets a fistful of chic clothing and keeps his fingers intertwined in the thick chiffon-like fabric of Blitz's vest. From where Blitz briefly presses his head to Hearth's pulsing neck, he feels a tiny, joking frown against his skin as the dwarf grunts, probably because Hearth is wrinkling fine fabrics, and Hearth giggles a bit. That in itself makes Blitz grin again.
The next thing Hearth gathers is the legs that return to rub against his, and he willingly wraps his thighs and calves around Blitz's midriff and hips. Cold long forgotten, their torsos meld together into what seems like one being, and it begins to become a challenge for Hearth to figure out where his body ended and Blitzen's began.
The last thing is the newest and easily the best. Hand momentarily lifting from its place in the curve of Hearthstone's back, it lifts to Hearth's chin and gently guides it up towards Blitz's face. Hearth is sure that wave after wave after wave of emerald blush is coursing through his cheeks, but Blitz doesn't comment on it. He smiles affectionately and presses their foreheads together again, the second time in forever. There's just enough room for Hearth to see the dwarf say, "You deserve it all, Hearthstone," before Blitz lifts his head up and brushes their lips together.
Even that little contact sends a current of electricity and heat surging through Hearth's body, from the tip of his nose to the bottom of his toes and fingers. He shudders again, but this time the spasm is welcome. Blitz grins, and Hearth can feel every part of it. Then a very hesitant, very faint kiss is pressed against the corner of his mouth, and Hearth simply melts.
He nearly falls against Blitz's chest, which is impossible for two reasons -- the first is that they're lying down, and the second is that Hearth's chest practically was Blitz's chest at this point. But it happens, because in this world, impossibilities become reality. For instance, a homeless boy in Boston becoming one of the most important Norse demigods in history in one day, or a Muslim schoolgirl that believes in a god of thunder transforming into a horsefly, or an elf finding restoration in a gentle kiss given by a dwarf willing to share his pain.
Hearth is basically glowing when the kiss slowly slides down from the edge of his lips to meet them full on. It's tender, it's sweet, it's awkward. It's everything Hearth ever wanted his first kiss with Blitz to be. Except he never thought he'd get it, let alone get it accompanied by all these vows and touches.
And just like the first ten to twenty hugs that they shared, it takes Hearth a few tries -- or rather, in this case, a few seconds -- before he begins to return the kiss, despite it being the only thing he wanted. His hands twist harder, his legs hold on tighter, his heart dissolves even farther. Blitz keeps one hand flat against Hearth's back and reaches up with the other one to glide upwards on Hearth's neck before pushing into his hair, thus turning his head down and his lips deeper. Hearth's nostrils flare as he tries to soak up Blitz in his entirety, sucking all of his affection and hope and light and fiery passion into one breath. But Hearth's lungs aren't that big, nor are they strong enough to continue a kiss for this long, so Hearth has to pull away reluctantly.
Before Blitz can say anything, Hearth unwraps his fingers from the sky-blue shirt (with some difficulty) to sign with very unstable hands. I called Magnus my brother, Hearth tells Blitz, his chest heaving. What do I call you?
The dwarf's mouth curves upwards into a sign of ethereal amusement and equal sentiment. Still unwilling to let go of Hearth, he answers with short words. "Friend. Guardian. Partner. Defender. Lover." His obvious stutter makes it clear he had stumbled over the last word. "Brother, too, if you want." Then Blitz hesitates, and questions, "What do you want me to be, Hearth?"
Mate. Significant other. Boyfriend. Husband. The words spin around in Hearth's head, but he doesn't select any of them. Instead he signs one word. B-L-I-T-Z-E-N.
I want you to be Blitzen. My best friend. My angel. Be you, and don't ever change. Be there for me. Love me. Do everything you have been and nothing more. Care for me. Don't ever leave me. Provide me with a home. Provide me with a heart. Fill me up. Just be...you.
The thing about Blitz, he's spent enough time with Hearth to understand everything. And Hearth finds peace in knowing that Blitz has just heard all of those wishes and desires as clearly as if Hearthstone had spoken them himself.
This quest doesn't exactly allow such passionate feelings to be explored, to find out what the true meaning behind the kiss is, but Hearth is okay with it, despite his personal feelings that have done nothing but skyrocketed. He's okay with it because he's learned to live in the moment and not to dwell too much on the past -- or the future. And he tries. He starts by laying one last kiss on Blitz's lips after the dwarf nods solemnly and then curling up in Blitzen's arms, closing his eyes as he holds him tightly. They stay like that for the rest of the night, and Hearth falls into a peaceful, restful sleep at last to the sensation of fingers connected to arms that tightly press him against a burly dwarven chest tracing three words over and over again on his back.
I love you.
END