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This night seemed just like the others. The giant mansion had gone dark and quiet, save for the continuous humming of machines. The city lights twinkled, the stars were barely visible and the clouds brushed the highest windows. It was safe, quiet, and lonely. By all accounts, all should be normal.
But unlike those hundreds of other nights, Odin Eidolon had a guest.
The man himself hovered in the open doorway of one of his many guest rooms, glancing nervously at the sleeping form before him. The Duck Avenger was sprawled out on the bed, snoring loudly, and the sound made him ache. He hadn’t heard it in centuries. It had been so, so long. He was sleeping with his mask on, presumably to protect his identity, and Odin could not help but notice the irony.
Donald was hiding from the one person in the future who knew who his secret identity, who knew him best.
Odin was doing the exact same thing.
In some ways he was vastly different from his past self, but in many more he was exactly the same.
Odin was still completely, helplessly in love. The feeling bubbled up in his chest and spilled out of his hands, they twitched fruitlessly. He curled them into fists. He was invading the Avenger’s space, Donald’s space, but he could not help himself. He took a tentative step closer into the room, his hands loosening and twitching again. He was so close, he ached.
He wanted to slip in the bed with him, he wanted to kiss him awake, he wanted to watch him smile as he woke, blinking the sleep out of his eyes, he wanted him to say his name in his scratchy, sleepy voice.
“One,” He’d mumble as he snuggled closer, not wanting to get up just yet. He was never a morning person.
For the first time, Uno would be able to feel him. He’d run his hands over his soft feathers, he’d smooth down the two unruly ones that always stuck up no matter how much gel Donald used. Donald would laugh, blinking the sleep out of his eyes and look at Uno with that expression he saved just for him. He would press Donald’s warm body against his and kiss him again and again, for real, not just cheap imitations of it through his bubbles. He would get Donald moaning, gasping, then tell him he loved him.
And he would say it back.
“I love you too, O-“
Donald snored especially loudly. Odin’s daydream shattered.
Odin’s chest felt like a lump of lead had settled in it. He wanted to stay, he wanted Donald to stay, he wanted, oh how he
wanted.
He stepped closer.
It was selfish. He had lived his life with Donald, he had always known how this would end.
After all, he would just be robbing himself of his most cherished memories.
Odin left, the door sliding silently shut behind him.