Warnings: talk of death of loved ones, mental health
Tags: loki, lokioneshot, lokifixation, lokifanfic, imagineloki, god of mischief
βYou do realize youβve been in here all day?β a velvet voice comes from the double doors to your right. You look over your shoulder, sigh, and turn your attention back to you book. A fire was crackling on your left, making quite noises in the warm library. And it was big. Large wooden shelves lined the big room. At the far end, where you sat sideways on a couch was a fireplace, blankets and chair, your sanctuary in times when you needed comfort. And someone was disturbing it. You have the sudden feeling that you should acknowledge him and not be a dick.
βIβm surprized you noticed.β You say, not looking up from your book. βNo one else did.β You mumbled to yourself. Not that you really cared β well kind of β it was nice being sought out, but you did want to be left alone. You were in a particularly unstable mood, and it was increasingly becoming more unstable.
βDarling I notice everything.β He said in a preoccupied voice. He was scanning a book he took from the shelf. βWhy are you in here anyways?β It was a valid question. Of all the places to be at the Avengers facility, this was one of the least popular spots.
You fought the deep urge to sigh, close your eyes and place your head against the arm of the couch, but you thought that dramatic. You were unstable remember? And you often act and said rude things when you were this way, thatβs why you were alone.
You took a moment to gather yourself before saying in a monotone voice, βItβs a sanctuary to me.β You stared at the words on the book page, not reading because you knew the conversation wasnβt over β Loki did love to talk.
You heard his book snap close and slide back on the shelf. He stopped at the other end of the couch.
βWhat are you seeking refuge from?β His smooth voice held a deep monotone note, reflecting her own drowsiness.
βMy own thoughts.β You said, not looking up.
Although you didnβt see it, a mild look of confusion and interests washed over his face. After a moment of not hearing a response, you look at him, staring at a pillow on the floor. βWhy are you here?β Trying to be polite in your impatient state.
He looked at you and huffed, a hurting smile tugging at the corner of his lips. βTo do the same.β You looked at him now, really looked at him as he gazed into the fire. The light of the firelight glow danced in his emerald eyes, giving them a dark, mysterious glow. The light cut across his face, making his prominent features stand out with a white light outlining them, and giving the hollows of his face a deathlike, graven appearance. He looked unnatural, unearthly. You suppose he was, but it didnβt change his ghastly presence. He sighed deeply, bringing you back to reality. You saw the dark circles under his eyes and wondered what demons he too locked outside the library door.
You curled your legs in to yourself and pulled the big blanket from the other side of the couch to make room for him. Loki looked back at you at the movement, then at the empty spot. He looked confused and didnβt move from his standing position. You gesture rather aggressively to the open spot, gesturing for him to sit, hoping he would. He looked at you, then back at the seat, and then moved to sit on the couch. He sat like you, his back to the arm and legs on the couch. You stared at each other a moment, you closed your book, crossed your arms, then tucked yourself against the side of the couch, placing your head against the plush leather.
You gazed at him a moment longer before saying, βYou look like shit.β He cocked his head to the side, brows furring together and responded, βThank you.β You smiled to yourself at your blunt comment, but you meant it. He did look like shit. After all heβd done and all heβd been through, you reasoned that his demons may be twice big and twice as many as yours. You had a sudden urge to help him, and if it didnβt, at least if would be amusing for you.
You jerked your legs, kicking the blanket out to fall on Lokiβs lap. He frowned deeper, looking at the blankets and asked, βWhat are you doing?β You got up from your seat, chuckling to yourself, and tucked the blanket around his torso and legs, hoping he wouldnβt run from how close someone was to him. He visibly tensed and held his arms from being locked in as you tucked the blanket in, but that was the extent of his movements.
You respond once your job was done, βArenβt you cold?β You say, smiling from above him.
βIβm always cold. Iβm used to it.β He retorts.
βThen tonight itβs your armour.β You say, in all seriousness.
Loki gets a confused look on his face as you turn to leave him and the couch. You look back and point at him. βDonβt move! Iβll be right back.β
βWh β where are you going?β He asked, feeling like heβs in a prison in the blankets.
You donβt give him the satisfaction of a response, but smile to yourself as you head towards a kettle. Loki, back by the fireplace, looks down at the fluffy blanket and places his arms on them. Itβs very soft. He realizes, as his arms sink in to the cushion of it.
When you return with tea in your hand, Lokiβs head is resting on the couch, his eyes sleepy as heβs lost in the trance of the fire. You stop in front of him and hold out the cup to him. He looks up at you, then the cup and asks, βWhatβs this?β in a confused voice. He takes the cup anyways.
βTea.β You respond before crawling back under the protection of the blanket.
βAnd why do I need it?β He demands ungratefully, holding one of his arms to the side, clearly not seeing the point.
You place you book down again and cock you head to the side. Really? This boy going to be that ungrateful. You sigh and a million rude and cringy comments run through your head. You decide not to share any of them. You want Loki to see that not every person is a battle to win, or every conversation has a winner and loser. You pick you book back up and look down.
You shrug when you respond, βYou donβt have to drink it.β You say rather lamley. Sometimes itβs nice to have warmth run through your body when your blood feels so cold. You look at the fire again, wanting to give him a real answer. βMy mother always liked tea, books, blankets and a fire all together.β You say, not looking up. You hoped your vulnerability would touch something in him that would be a comfort. βWhenever Iβm in a rough spot in reminds me of her. I feel closer to her, and itβs comforting.β You looked at him saying the last part, but only for a brief moment. He met your gaze and saw that his face had softened. Loki understood the desire of wanting to be close to ones mother.
You see Lokiβs movement from the corner of your eye as he brings the cup closer and him and wraps both hands around the warm cup.
βPerhaps they were the last defenses against our nightmares.β He says lowly, looking at his cup. You look up at him, his face is quite now, looking as if heβs reminiscing.
βDid your mother ever hold you? When you needed it?β You ask hesitantly. Youβre not sure what caused you to ask such a question, maybe the fact that he was a norse god and you a mortal questioned if family dynamics worked the same.
His eyes met yours and eyebrows rose as he pondered your pointed question, then looked away again. βI suppose so, when I was younger.β
βDid you like it?β You ask again. You may be pushing your luck but you donβt feel like you have anything to lose that night, nor do you care if you did.
He looks back at you, gaze raking into your eyes. βA little bit personal, donβt you think?β He questioned, clearly annoyed at how personal this conversation had become.
You shrug your eyebrows and shift to lying on the couch. Your legs bump in to his and you pull the blankets closer around you, wanting a larger defense for the emotions youβre trying to block out. A moment passes, the voices in your head growing louder as you think of the loss of your parents. βI miss it.β You say as a tear slips from you eye. You sniffle and choke down bile, knowing now a book will provide no escape from the memories you inflicted on yourself.
Loki, on the other side of the couch, understands your turmoil. This was new for him, new for someone to be so vulnerable with him in a way that could hurt them so deeply in the future. You hear him take a sip of his tea.
Your head pops up from under the mass of blanket, βDo you like it?β You say, almost switching personalities.
He hums in response. βYes, itβs quite nice.β He says quietly. βThank you.β You stare at him as he speaks, unsure of the tone in his voice. But you read sincerity when you look at his face, thinking you should respond. βYouβre welcome.β You say quietly.
The minutes go by, your head and heart in turmoil from the recent events. Loki was just content to sit there. It seemed that whatever had plagued him, ran from the vulnerability you gave.
The vulnerability forced him to address himself, address his own feelings and the lost of his mother and father. He hadnβt thought about it much, he never liked to think about what had befallen him in the past, but it was hard to run from it when the only other person in the room is also thinking about it. He looked at you, or where he thought where your head was, then back at the fire, curious of what you were thinking and if he could, help. Help? His voices told him. The only help you bring is pain and dysfunction. He tried to tell himself that wasnβt true, that we had been useful since arriving, but they were empty words, hard to believe. He sighed.
You heard his sigh, and now it was your turn to wonder what he was thinking. You sat up on your elbow and looked at him. He returned your gaze, watching you carefully. The tears marks and red nose were easy for him to see, even in the dim light. βAre you ok?β You asked, not wanting to ruffle his feathers again by being too specific.
βAre you ok?β He returned the question. You looked away into the fire, not sure how to respond. If you said yes, youβd be lying. But if you said no, what could Loki do? How could he help? It would probably just make him feel awkward and leave sooner, and you didnβt want him to leave, you rather enjoyed his presence right now. You decided to be vulnerable, like before. Whether Loki liked being vulnerable himself or not, he didnβt seem to care if you were, and you liked having someone to listen.
βNo.β You responded strongly. Your voice and words didnβt match, but maybe that communicated what you wanted β the ability to say what was wrong but continue on anyways. You rested your head back on the couch, stuffing bile and tears down as you desperately tried not to sniffle.
βAre you staying here tonight?β Lokiβs voice enveloped your ears like a blanket, a warm dagger to combat the raging thoughts in your head.
βProbably.β You respond in a shaky. Loki pulls off the blankets and walks to the fire, turning over the coals and places more logs in. Once ablaze, he walks to the couch not meeting your gaze, readjusts the blankets draped across you, then heads towards the library doors. Pain clutches you heart as your company takes with him the only lasting distraction from your emotions. You start to cry, slow sobs through shaky breath, making sure to be quiet enough so Loki canβt hear.
But Loki stops part way by his own volition. How could he leave someone in pain like that? He knew he couldnβt help everyone, nor did he want to, but this was different. This type of pain was so familiar to him, it pulled at his heart and the pit of his stomach. He clenched his fists at the rage that was still alive deep in his heart. And the regret. And the burden of knowing he played a large role in the murder of his mother. Grief swept over him as images of his mother and father played in his mind. He rubbed his eyes, hoping to brush away the vision as well. His vision blurred, not from rubbing his eyes, but from tears. He told himself if he believed himself to be different than his old self, he would have to start acting it. So thatβs what he did.
You looked longingly at the fire, hoping by magic to see some face in the flame that would comfort your heavy heart. You felt the blanket rustle and a rush of cold air come sweeping onto your legs. You turn in confusion to what was happening β Loki had pulled half the blanket off. He didnβt look at you as he moved.
βWhat are you doing?β You asked through a croaky voice. Loki didnβt respond. Instead, he slipped in the crack between you and the back of the couch. He placed an arm behind your back, maybe to create some space you thought, and used his free hand to pull the blankets back over both your bodies. The sudden closeness made your heart beat faster, and if you werenβt awake before, you sure as hell where now. He took his top arm and reached for your hip, then your shoulder, pulling you in to his body.
You didnβt know what to think, you had never seen Loki touch anyone, let alone be this close. βLoki.β You say again, hoping to get a response from him.
βHmm.β He says from behind you, feeling the puff of air on your neck in the process. The feeling makes you freeze and you tense from the sudden feeling.
βWhat are you doing?β You ask again, a bit more forcedly.
He snuggles into the back of your neck and shifts his legs behind yours. The movements of settling into a comfortable position quizzes you. He sighed, sending a buzz down your back.
βComforting.β He says in a muffled tone. The response doesnβt help you understand anything. You silence asks the question. βIs that so hard to believe?β He asks. The stiffness in your body suddenly become real to him and he pulls his head back to ask, βAre you alright with this?β He says, uncertainty and almost embarrassment come rushing over him.
βAre you ok with this?β You retort back. Youβre not entirely sure why heβs doing this, although you really donβt mind.
He chuckles low and soft against your ear. Not only do you hear his laugh, you feel the vibrato against your body, making you aware of how close he really is. Your breath catches in your lungs for a split second. Calm down, you order yourself, this means nothing.
Loki continues, βYouβre not the first woman Iβve held in my arms. Although, the reason was completely different.β His voice died off near then end, unsure if that was too much information or not.
See? Exactly. This means nothing. But you could tell yourself that all night, when his breath was on your neck and his voice soft and close to your ear, it put you in a dopey trance.
βAnd I didnβt want to be alone tonight. And I thought you wouldnβt mind.β He said. You realize that was a confession. You pull away from his arm and turn over to face him, You prop your head up on your hand and open your mouth to say something, but you canβt find the words. In the dim light you see two gemstones, faintly reflecting the light of the fire. Theyβre cold and dark, and any other explanation you ask for will be lost in his sea. But they reflect a warmth, even if temporary. You decide whatever question you have isnβt of great important and settle back down. But instead of turning back around, you settle down into his chest, wrapping one arm around his waist. His arm hesitated a moment, as if he wasnβt sure what to do with the information youβve just given him, but he reciprocates and places a protective arm over your body, shielding you from the dark.
βThank you.β You say into his shirt. He runs his thumb over your back in response. As he hears your grateful response to his actions, his heart skips a beat, and he hopes this wonβt be the last time you hold one another in each otherβs arms.
