You heave a long sigh, peering at the busy street and then skyward to the storm clouds that hang low. Every cab you hail drives past you with a sharp honk. You’re probably not going to make it home until after the storm. Shit.

“Mr. Stark says you can stay the night.”

Pepper Potts stands a few feet behind you, a gentle smile on her face. “He knows it’s hard to get a ride at this hour. Not to mention the storm warning has the whole city in a frenzy.”

You turn to walk back into the Tower with her. “Well, I’d be an idiot to refuse.”

Pepper lets out a short chuckle as the elevator dings. “Then it’s a good thing you’re not.”

Your room is next to Loki’s, she informs you before she leaves. Should he cause any trouble, you shouldn’t hesitate to let her or Tony know.

He doesn’t. Which is strange, for you at least, since every time you’ve been in the same room he’s always found some way to raise a little hell. Even when he isn’t wanted, he saunters in board meetings with a quip at the ready and a sly curve to his mouth. So it’s perfectly reasonable for you to have half your attention at the door, ready in case the mischief-maker comes barging in unannounced.

As your luck would have it, you’re in for a quiet evening.

You’re content to sit at the large windows of your room, watching the sky darken and the city lights flicker to life as the first huge drops of rain fall around it. It’s peaceful. Calming, even.

Until the windows rattle with the boom of thunder, and the fluorescent lights in your room flicker.

Your heartbeat slams against your ribs, a powerful surge of panic coursing through you. You’re a grown woman, damn it. You’re past the point of being afraid of a little lightning and thunder.

There’s a bright flash of white, a sickeningly quick crack of thunder, and a shriek, before the hum of the Tower goes dead silent and you’re in darkness.

Tony’s tech is powerful. There’s no way a measly thunderstorm is enough to kill the power.

Your eyesight adjusts to the change in lighting quickly, but you still stretch out a hand in front of you as you walk towards the door. Just in case there’s something in your way unseen to you. You barely make it three feet forward when a silky voice cuts through the quiet.

“Now, now, any further and you’ll find your hand on something you’ll not want to let go of.”

Quick as the thunderclaps before, you jerk your hand away. “Fucki — how did you get inside?”

“The door,” Loki answers. His silhouette is barely visible, but you can see and hear the amused smirk in his tone.

“I didn’t hear you come in.”

“It’s raining, in case you haven’t noticed by now.”

You roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest, about to retort. But whatever you plan on saying slips away from you entirely as another bolt of lightning and thunder propel you forward and towards Loki’s chest.

“Shit,” you mutter, cheeks heating as his masculine scent envelops you, “I’m sorry, I — ”

“Afraid of storms, it seems?” His voice is nearly drowned out as the winds pick up and the rain falls heavier and more relentlessly.

You swallow, shame gnawing at your ankles. “I’m not giving you any ammo, Laufeyson.”

His chest rumbles with genuine laughter, moving against your hair. Why... why are you still standing so close to him? And why is he letting you?

Loki rubs his hands along the tops of your arms. “Oh, little one, you already have,” he sighs, a smile in his tone.

His hand clasps around yours, a soft touch that you welcome begrudgingly. Despite that, you can’t stop yourself from mumbling, “What are you doing?”

Another flash allows you to catch the quirk of Loki’s eyebrow. “Do you not want the company? Because I can go and leave you here, alone, in the dark, if that’s what you’d prefer.”

Thunder rolls overhead, less of a sickening crack and more like a lazy rumble. The clouds are moving farther away, but the downpour of rain is still heavy.

You’d definitely prefer company, even if that company is an unpredictable, unreadable God of Mischief.

As if sensing your resignation, Loki leads you towards the couch that sits in the center of the room. The only time he lets go of your hand is when he plops down on the floor — not on the couch — facing away from the window. By now you’ve adjusted fully to the darkness, and your cheeks burn once more when you see Loki’s legs splayed open and hear his hands pat his thighs.

“Come on. The storm outside is far more threatening than I am.”

“You sure about that?” you deadpan, limbs moving of their own accord as you nestle yourself between his legs and against his chest. His heartbeat is strong and steady behind you, and while thick drops of rain continue to pellet against the window and winds sway the Tower, being encased by another human — well, a humanoid alien, but now’s not the time to be choosy — is significantly comforting.

Loki’s arms come around you protectively, and whether he means for it to come off as such or not, the skip in your chest is unmistakable. “I suppose you don’t want to talk about this completely irrational fear of yours,” he murmurs, gently guiding your head against his shoulder.

You scoff. “It’s rational.”

“Really.” There’s that smile in his voice. He brushes your hair away from your forehead. “Do tell.”

“You’re mocking me,” you dodge. Your tone is close to accusatory, but there’s barely any real bite in it.

“Maybe I am.” His fingers thread through your strands, twirling his finger around the ends. “And if I’m not?”

“I don’t understand you,” you say under your breath. It’s a defense, your attempts at verbal attack. Your fingertips are tingling from the casual intimacy. You need some semblance of normalcy, if that’s even within your reach at the current time. Your tiny crush was never supposed to blossom the way it is now.

His chest rumbles with a short chuckle, and he rests his cheek against the top of your head. Almost... no, completely affectionate. “Must be difficult, trying to comprehend the mind of a god.”

What’s difficult is keeping your heartbeat in control. Who knows what kind of teasing you’d endure if Loki could feel its staccato.

“Why are you doing this?” you ask quietly. The rain has slowed somewhat — it’s still strong, and loud, but it’s not as roaring, deafening as it was earlier.

“Have you forgotten, mortal? You came to me. Practically flung yourself into my arms, you poor damsel.”

“Shut up.” You shove him lightly, allowing yourself the tiniest of smiles. He can’t see. It’s fine. He can’t know you’re smiling.

But as the rain continues to pour and you remain nestled against Loki, easygoing banter between you, you begin to hope the blackout lasts the entire night if it means even just one more hour being held by him.

* * *

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