When he opened his eyes to the dim light of morning, Loki felt lighter than he had in—probably centuries. It wasn’t until he remembered that the Allfather’s watchful eyes would soon find him and throw him back into that prison with perhaps an extended sentence that the weight returned. He turned to steal a glance at the woman beside him. He was relieved to find Summer still asleep, her shoulder rising and falling just slightly as she breathed.
He always felt so exposed in the daylight.
Part of him wanted to reach out and curl himself around her, press her hips against his, hide his face in the warm cascade of her hair…but she stirred, and he stayed still.
Summer opened her eyes to sunlight-spattered leaves, closed them again, and rolled over, putting an arm over her eyes. She made an incoherent sound. “I’m on vacation, why am I awake?”
With a sigh, she flopped over onto her back and opened her eyes. She could see Loki’s shoulder, dark hair falling down it. “You’re still here,” she said softly, pleased.
“I am not always unreliable,” he replied, his voice scratchy with sleep. He pushed himself upright and leaned his back against the trunk of the tree that had sheltered them.
“I’m not sure how much time I have left,” he commented as he watched the leaves flicker in the breeze.
It took a minute to process that in a not-entirely-awake brain. “Are they likely to know to look here? Here here, I mean, not here Asgard.” She lifted a hand and ran it along his leg, musing. “How big is Asgard, then? We could get pretty lost in these forests, I should think, though food and shelter might be a problem.” She cocked an eye up at him. “Are you capable of roughing it, my lord?” Summer teased.