[ City noises. Cars, pedestrians, music. They all filter up from the streets below, waking Loki from the most restful sleep he's had in weeks to find Nico bundled up in his embrace, out for the count. As the previous night's events come back to him (fighting with Dick, absconding to a remote beach with Nico) it becomes apparent the demigod has taken care of their shelter for the evening, inventive in solutions as Nico is.
It must be nine or ten, no later, with rush-hour traffic a constant stream of background buzzing as Loki brushes stray curls out of Nico's eyes and regards him over the pillow in the clear light of day; cheeks rosy with the heat of repose, closed eyelashes like long splashes of ink, hair fluffier than usual (a little static from the furs). Gently, he rolls Nico onto his back and prowls over him on elbows and knees, kissing his way from a pink ear down the relaxed slope of a pale neck, fingertips brushing underneath an ugly sweater to sweep across a flat belly. ]
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It must be nine or ten, no later, with rush-hour traffic a constant stream of background buzzing as Loki brushes stray curls out of Nico's eyes and regards him over the pillow in the clear light of day; cheeks rosy with the heat of repose, closed eyelashes like long splashes of ink, hair fluffier than usual (a little static from the furs). Gently, he rolls Nico onto his back and prowls over him on elbows and knees, kissing his way from a pink ear down the relaxed slope of a pale neck, fingertips brushing underneath an ugly sweater to sweep across a flat belly. ]