Ooohh, shiny new fandom! I can't help myself...

I've been seeing a lot of pairings around with this fandom, but I haven't seen much Thor/Sif, and that's the pairing I'm liking. So, we'll see how this goes.

I don't own Thor. I wish I did, but I don't.

Lightning Crashes

It's a dark night, silent and brooding, and Sif wakes in the late hours to find the spot on the bed beside her cold and empty. She throws on a simple shift and slips out the door and into the passageway. The lady warrior roams the halls for a bit until she finds him, her golden-haired lover. But Sif does not disturb him; she follows quietly along, being careful to keep a distance from the wandering god. She follows Thor all the way to the Bifröst, where he stops and sits by the edge, his hammer beside him.

He looks out at the horizon for some time, then reaches out to rest his hand upon the hilt of Mjolnir, and Sif knows that he's calling up a storm. The rain is always able to calm his troubled thoughts.

Within seconds, the sky darkens and the rain begins to dampen Sif's clothes. She remembers how he once told her what it feels like to wield a weapon as magnificent as Mjolnir. He had said that he felt connected to it in a strange, fulfilling sort of way, and that he could feel the presence of it, the power of it within his very soul.

She closes her eyes and raises her face to the sky, welcoming the feel of the cool rain against her skin. She can always tell when it's Thor's rain. Somehow, his feels softer on her skin, tastes sweeter than ordinary rainwater. And whenever his lightning flashes through the sky, the air is filled with his essence.

When she opens her eyes, he's standing right in front of her, Mjolnir in hand. "Good afternoon, My Love." He says, blue eyes boring into hers. His tone and face betray no emotion, but Sif can tell that her presence has surprised him by the way the rain suddenly picks up. The water soaks her clothes and hair and runs into her eyes, but she doesn't care.

"It's a bit late to be considered afternoon, Thor." Sif says, smiling, trying to raise his spirits a bit and catch a glimpse of that smile she so craves. She succeeds. A fleeting smile crosses Thor's face, but quickly fades, replaced by an expression of pure anguish. He moves to stand at the edge of the rainbow bridge, looking down at the water churning below.

"Sif," he whispers, her name catching in his throat.

She goes to him and rests a hand on his chest, the other smoothing the folds of his tunic. "You mourn for your brother." She says, not a question, but a statement. He nods, eyes filled with some unnamable emotion. Sif smiles sadly. He always acts so superior and untouchable, but it's all a part of the constant façade he maintains. On the inside, Thor is as vulnerable and breakable as anyone else. And the death of Loki, although in the wake of his betrayal, is a deep cut to his spirit.

Sif reaches up to rest a hand on his cheek, sharing the sting of grief that he is feeling. The great god Thor looks at her, searching for something, and Sif finds herself lost in the unfathomable depths of his blue eyes.

Mesmerized as usual, she leans in, breathing in his musky scent. Her lips find his, and lightning crashes around them, the product of Thor's profound emotions. He deepens the kiss and Sif swears that he tastes like sunsets, like the endless Asgardian summer, like the Golden Apples of Idun that grant her and the rest of her race immortality. It's a taste she can never get enough of.

R&R, please!