Work Text:
“I love you,” Rin says, the sentence tastes like blood, like weakness. Even worse, he means it.
Even worse, Loki brings their faces closer and presses their cheeks together to murmur, “Thanks. I love you too.”
“Horrible,” Rin says. They’re splayed across his sofa, entangled. He fears that he is far too cozy against Loki to even push at him properly, even worse, he finds that he may be turning pink, “you’ll regret it.”
Loki laughs and kisses him. Rin is stupid warm. This whole arrangement is stupid. What was the universe thinking, giving him something like this, something so wonderful and homey? What the fuck was he supposed to do now? Rin grabs Loki and tries to shove their bodies closer, which is pretty hard considering they’re cuddling, but Loki doesn’t mind. Loki’s name rests on the tip of his tongue. What now?
They’re so close, and Rin feels so stupid happy, like there’s molten gold seeping through his veins. His head is light, and he feels like he’s floating. Someone’s pumping helium straight into his chest. It’s so pleasant that Rin wants to pull away. He wants, mainly.
He wants to frame this feeling, crystalize it, keep it forever. At the same time, he wants to forget it, as if it never happened.
His hands finds Loki’s face entirely on its own, cupping the perfect thing at an awkward angle. Rin tries to meet his eyes. Rin tries to glare. This is all Loki’s fault, after all.
Loki, completely missing the memo, kisses his palm, and Rin draws back before he can get to his fingers. Rin’s ticklish there. They compromise by intertwining hands.
This better last forever, Rin thinks, this better.