“No!” She flung herself down on the beanbag. “Don’t call me that. Don’t ever. I’m not a lady. I’m not special. You wanted company, you wanted to play at desire, and that was fine, okay. Don’t play with my emotions. I’ll give you desire, I’ll give you mischief, hell, I’ll even drive off your monsters, but don’t /play/ with my heart, mister.”
“You misunderstand,” Loki furrows his brow, confused. Here was a being who took flight with her emotions more than even he had, before…He waved those thoughts away.
“I have heard of your kind, Summer. Fire child. I have heard whispers of belittling words, ideas in the backs of minds of your inferiority. Your weaknesses. Do not think me ignorant to them.”
He wrapped his hands around her arms, gripping her tightly, forcing her to look at him.
“But do not think I listen to such things. I don’t give a damn what you are born being, each of us can choose what we become ourselves.” He faltered for a moment. Can’t we?
Wanting to bury her face in her hands, Summer settled for closing her eyes for a moment. “I … jumped to a conclusion, there. Sorry.” She tried to laugh. “I thought you knew all my weaknesses before we started, Loki. Isn’t that what you said?”
She looked back, green eyes to green eyes. “Can you care for someone who will always know if you truly do or not? That’s the sticking point for so many, you see, luv.”
Loki took her hand in both of his and gently lifted it to his heart. He pressed her fingers to him and held her gaze as steadily as he could. It was often hard for him to maintain eye contact, considering he was usually being deceitful.
Not this time, though.
“Feel it, then. Sift through my lies. What do you see, fire child?”
Her eyes went half-lidded and distant, fingers flexing against his hold. “Loneliness,” she breathed. “Hope, such hope. Relief … and gratitude.” A silence that seemed long, but truly lasted only a few swift breaths. “Love.”
The word was almost inaudible.
“You do care. Why?”