Chapter Text
“You what?” You stared at the agents in front of you incredulously. “He’s - he’s what? With me?”
“Lady Y/N,” Thor interjected “My brother is serving his punishment for New York, but with the death of our mother he isn’t safe on Asgard,”
“He isn’t safe in your magical jail cell!? What did he do, kill the woman!?” You snapped, your brain refusing to compute the information from the Agents. Thor’s face softened into an appeasing smile.
“Not at all. He is distraught. I have discussed with the other agents and we have decided that he should finish his punishment on Midgard.”
“We think it would be beneficial for Loki to have something to focus his, ah, energy on,” Agent Coulson added in a careful tone, it took everything you had not to turn on him and bite his head off, especially when he had been on the receiving end of Loki’s stick.
“Fine. I can understand that but why me?” You whined, the battle of New York was still fresh in your mind and you were nowhere near forgiving Thor’s demonic little brother for the trouble he had caused.
At which point Agent Romanoff felt it was her time to speak up
“Y/N, you’re tracking gamma signals similar to those given off by the Tesseract, no one knows that thing better than Loki,”
“Incorrect,” you butt in before she could win you over with a reasonable argument “There’s Rogers or Banner!”
“You know they’re on standby for missions,” she spoke gently, reaching out for your shoulder. You flinched away.
“I can do it by myself,”
“You need help,”
“Not from him!”
“You don’t have a choice,” Another voice joined the small argument between Thor, Coulson, Natasha and yourself.
“Mister Stark,” you said politely, but through gritted teeth, as Iron Man himself waltzed down the staircase and joined the three agents trying to ruin your life. “Agent Y/L/N, sweetheart. I’m assuming Point Break has, well, broken the news?” Stark let out a small laugh at his own joke.
“Hey!” Thor protested. Tony ignored him.
“I’m taking that as a yes," he pointed the screwdriver in his hand at your sour expression. "Sorry, Y/N, but you really don’t have a choice this time,” Stark said in that insufferable voice that told you not to argue with him.
“Please Tony, please don’t make me do this. I can handle the research by myself, please, I’d rather struggle than cope with him. I had friends who died in that battle. Don’t make me live with the cause of their death,” you had always sworn that you were beyond begging, but at that moment you would have done whatever it would take to get out of this.
“Y/N, don’t be difficult. If one of the Avengers were around to babysit Reindeer Games then we would, but we aren’t. And you’re our most trusted Agent and a member of the intelligence team, plus I know you kick mean butt,”
“Flattery won’t get you anywhere, Stark,”
“No, but your job on the line might,” he said it so casually it made your blood boil, especially when he walked away planting a kiss on your cheek.
“Good luck with the research, Y/N,”
Absolutely smarting you turned to Thor, jabbing a shaking finger in his chest. “Fine. But he sleeps on the couch.”
As it turned out, Loki did not sleep on the couch. He was released from his handcuffs once inside your small camper-van and Thor read shakily from an Asgardian book, placing a spell on Loki that stopped him from leaving the van. He rubbed his wrists from the shackles, sent Thor and you a scowl that made you want to drop dead and stalked straight into the only other room in the van - your bedroom - and promptly slammed the door.
~~~~~~~
The memory played again in your head, as it did most nights since you had set out on your quest. Anytime you couldn’t sleep or were stressed, or just having a bad day in general, the memory of the day you were forced to take on your less-than-willing travel companion would be stuck on an unpleasant repeat in your mind. It usually occurred at night, sleeping on the tiny couch wasn’t exactly comfortable and ever since New York restless sleep, or the inability to sleep at all was a familiar friend.
You had been on the road about six weeks and was no closer to finding the source of the random gamma signals. All the technology in the van couldn’t help you other than to pick up readings and you were beginning to realise that you had no idea what you were actually chasing if anything at all. And you seemed to be travelling in circles around the State of New York. It probably didn’t help that you were too stubborn to ask your new companion, and he seemed to prefer it like that. In fact, you hadn’t actually seen Loki since the day Thor released him in your van. He refused to leave your room, or at least he did when you were around, you had no idea what he did when you left the van to chase your signals, fill up with gas or even find a shower block. The only thing you knew was that every night you would prepare two meals, eat one alone and in the morning the second one would be gone with a clean plate in its place. After the first few weeks, you had worked out that Loki was less keen on your company than you were of his and it was like keeping some kind of strange, nocturnal pet. But if there was one thing you could not fault him for was that he was tidy.
Occasionally, when you were stressed out or particularly focused you would forget to wash your plate up, but each time you would find it clean and neatly stacked with the second. If you knocked over a stack of papers in your haste to exit the vehicle and run blindly after various beeps and clicks from your tech, you would come back to find the stack neatly placed back where it belonged with not a sheet out of place. You also noticed that your dirty laundry hamper would suddenly contain each garment of clothing clean and neatly folded - you had to assume that Loki was using magic for this, but you weren’t complaining: he was saving you a fortune in laundry quarters and the van always had a fresh, indistinguishable scent to it that was just about pleasant without being overpowering. Over the weeks the smell became home to you.
But things really started to change about two weeks ago. You had woken up sometime in the early morning, unable to get back to sleep you had made your way into the kitchenette and plonked yourself down at the table with a binder of messy sheets, your notebook and a bowl of cereal. You didn’t know the exact time you fell asleep, but when you woke up your bare shoulders had been covered with a blanket, a pillow tucked under your head, your papers were stacked neatly beside you with your notebook closed on top and the bowl of cereal had been washed up and was sat on the side of the sink. An ever so faint smile had flickered across your face.
“Thanks, Loki,” you had whispered as you passed the closed door to what you had finally given in and named Loki’s room. That was the first time you had directly addressed him or acknowledged his existence at all, of course, he didn’t reply but then again you didn’t know if he had even heard you.
Later on in the day when flicking through some calculations, you noticed that there were some notes in the book that weren’t in your distinctly messy handwriting but instead were in a small and incredibly beautiful script. The added notes were seemingly straightforward and you were kicking yourself for missing the obvious: a slight correction to an equation, a suggestion for the calibration of a piece of equipment and once there was a re-explanation of a piece of evidence that you had gotten totally wrong. It wasn’t the key, but it was a leap in the right direction, following the amended equations and calibrations immediately honed in the machinery, the results instantly becoming more accurate.
The next time you passed the door you spoke another word of thanks, but yet again it was silent as a grave on the other side. You were just beginning to wonder if Loki had somehow managed to break Thor’s spell and had escaped - after all you were well aware that Thor was not gifted at magic and a sorcerer as well-reputed as Loki, for whatever reasons, would most likely be able to break the spell. You received your answer the next morning when the second dinner was once again gone and the clean plates had been put away. You also found a sheet of paper folded into your notebook with a series of very helpful equations that you hadn’t thought of in the same neat, slanted font as found in the notebook. It was at that point that you decided you didn’t hate Loki and that actually you quite enjoyed sharing the van with him; you liked the fact that the van was tidy, you liked that someone put your dishes away, you especially liked the help you were receiving with your research and best of all you had no social expectations because your space-sharer seemed quite happy to help from a distance that involved no awkward silences, forced conversation or even seeing each other at all.
The exchanging of information went on for two more days. It was a Tuesday evening when you were struck with a particularly bad bought of sleeplessness. You kept seeing your dead friends on the insides of your eyelids, the sights of their bloodied bodies tattooed on your brain. You couldn’t forget the screaming, the panic as your safe little intelligence team had their building destroyed. Most of them died under collapsing rubble, one from the shrapnel of shattered glass and your closest friend had managed to push you out of the way as you had stared openly at the alien figure that had blasted a Stark Secure Facility and was currently firing a beam from his sceptre at you. The rest of your team had crawled into a cubby hole and hid there until Loki and a few SHIELD agents had passed through the building taking whatever they wanted with them. It was the first night since you had gone on the move that your thoughts were haunted by those faces. A part of you couldn’t help but wonder if it was your brain’s way of chastising you for beginning to like their murderer.
Your whole body felt cold, but you brushed it off, determined not to let the thoughts get to you. Trying to get to sleep was proving more difficult than you liked, and at some point, you gave up. Switching on the small lamp on the stool you used as a coffee table you picked up the novel you were reading in your downtime and continued where you left off. Sucked into a world of spies and espionage and exotic villas you quickly forgot where you were and how much time had passed, only brought back to the real world when a click and the sound of a door opening made you flinch. Unsure of what to expect you tried to steady your breathing and control your heartbeat, attempting to continue on with your story, but your head wasn’t there anymore.
For some reason, you were gripped with an uncontrollable fear that made you turn the pages in an almost robotic fashion as you heard the soft padding of footsteps coming towards you, but as quickly as they came they went, followed by the scraping of a chair. When you were once again engulfed in silence you decided to chance a look over your shoulder. What you saw was so strangely normal that you nearly laughed out loud. There, sat facing away from you, at your tiny kitchen table was Loki. His frame was far too big for the chairs: long legs tucked underneath him and shoulders slightly hunched. His black hair, which had been gelled (if they even had gel on Asgard. Maybe it was magic, you didn’t know) into controlled waves tucked behind his ears and was slightly greasy that last time you saw him currently looked soft and clean, and surprisingly was pulled back into a small, messy bun at the back of his head with plenty of pieces astray and even a few framing his face. You noticed that he wasn’t wearing the complex battle armour either, but instead was dressed in a loose green tunic with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, soft-looking black pants and a leather over-piece. It was the same as what he wore on the first day, and you wondered if he had changed at all. You noticed that he had pulled the plate you left out towards himself and was eating, realising that you were staring you turned back to your book and leaned into the side of the couch.
The next time you were disturbed it was again by Loki. Once he had finished eating he stood up and carried his plate to the sink, immediately beginning to wash up, his back was still to you so you watched him with a slight fascination. He was so tall he had to stoop slightly in the van, yet there was a stillness to his character that you couldn’t fathom, an aura of something you couldn’t quite pinpoint seemed to wash over the room as he stood, cleaning his plates like an ordinary man. Once he was finished he dried his hands and turned, every move he made was careful and calculated, clearly thought out before action. It was so unlike his brother or any of the other Avengers, except perhaps Agents Barton and Romanoff, that you couldn’t help but be completely captured by the way he moved. As he walked past your spot he looked at you and caught your eye. He held your stare, his expression not once changing or showing you what he was thinking. It was you who looked away first, back to your book and tried to ignore the heat rising in your face. He had no reason to make you blush, or at least that’s what you told yourself.
As he reached the bedroom door, long fingers closing around the knob, the silence was unbearable for you and you had to speak.
“Loki?” You spoke tentatively as if talking to a frightened deer, afraid to do anything that might upset him. His body stilled, turning ever so slightly rigid. Other than that he didn’t turn or show any acknowledgement of you, so you decided to speak anyway.
“Thank you. For the notes, and the washing up,” you spoke the words softly, watching him intently for a reaction. He remained still for a second, and again the fear that he might just kill you began to creep into your system when you noticed him nod his head ever so slightly, it was such a minute movement that you noticed it more from the faint swing of his hair than anything else and then he was gone. You sat alone for a second, puzzled slightly by the encounter when all of a sudden you felt tired. Yawning, you reached over and turned the ‘bedside’ light off before falling into a deep empty sleep.
The next day held a similar routine. Get up, do science stuff, be annoyed at the improvements whilst still lacking clear results, move a hundred or so miles closer to the projected target, cook for two, eat for one and go to bed. It was at bedtime when the routine was definitely disturbed, you were sat reading into the night, not particularly late when the door clicked and Loki walked out. Yet again he walked straight past you, sat down, ate, washed up and went back to the room. He made no acknowledgement of you, but you were thoroughly puzzled; it wasn’t even close to the hours when you were normally asleep nor even the hours when you would attempt to get to sleep. He must have known that you would have been awake at this time and yet he came out anyway. You wondered if he had accepted your thanks. If he had he had a strange way of showing it. You decided it was best not to question him and just accept that this was what he was doing now.
For the next three days, he did the same thing, staying invisible during the day and then venturing out in the early evening as you were settling down to read or do some work. Each evening he stayed out a little longer before heading back to the small bedroom, eating a little slower, washing up at a more leisurely pace and even just sitting in the chair. You were beginning to wonder if he was actually starting to enjoy your presence, but you quickly discarded the thought and chastised yourself. This man, this god, alien, thing, was a prisoner, a murderer. He was bad.
On the third night, as he reached the door you sat up from where you had been stretched out poring over your notes.
“Goodnight, Loki,” you said calmly, looking him in the face. His expression yet again did not change, but his head nodded more noticeably before he turned his back and closed the door.
The next night was another milestone, after eating dinner Loki retrieved a book from his room and returned to the little living space that was your home. He sat on the floor, letting you have the couch, and began to read. You spent about an hour reading together before he stood up and went to bed, again you wished him goodnight and again he said nothing but nodded his head in return. He read with you for two more nights, each time again staying out a little longer, with him on the floor and you on the couch doing whatever. Each time you bid him goodnight and each time he politely nodded his head.
You couldn’t help but be intrigued by him, you had still exchanged very few words and you had done all the talking, yet he was spending more and more time in your presence and he hadn’t tried to kill you just yet. After two hours of him sitting on the floor, you were beginning to feel guilty.
“You can sit up here on the couch, too, Loki. If you’d like,” you had tried to make your offer open and friendly, keeping a light tone that gave him plenty of room to leave if he wanted to. You realised that whilst you were comfortable in his presence you were still treating him like a wild animal that you didn’t know how to handle. Loki surprised you by standing up, gracefully stepping over the stool/coffee table and sitting carefully down on the opposite side you. He looked at you sideways and his lips pressed into a thin smile, shocking you. It was a small action, more of a grimace really, but it completely changed his face. It made him look younger, calmer, a lot less sinister. You liked him a lot more when he smiled.
“Thank you,” he said, his voice as soft as yours, but it carried much lower, almost rumbling through the small space. It wasn’t much longer before he stood up to go to bed.
“Goodnight, Loki,” you said as usual, just as he reached the door
“Goodnight, Lady Y/N,”
It was strange how the three words left a warm feeling in your chest, a simple buzz that you just couldn’t begin to understand. He had spoken to you for the first time and for some reason that made you smile. You slept better than you had in a long time that night.
Loki didn’t say much more than that. Your new routine carried on for another week with no changes; you would eat and settle down; he would come into the kitchenette, eat and wash up; pick up his book and sit as far away from you as he could on the couch where he would read in silence whilst you did whatever it was that you did; he would stand up to leave and you would say goodnight, to which he would always respond in that beautifully polite accent of his.
So naturally, it was a bit of a surprise when early one afternoon Loki appeared just as you had sat down to eat. You were yet to reach the stage where you were familiar enough with each other for greetings, instead opting for silence. He walked all the way to the kitchenette where you had just sat down with your food and gestured to the chair opposite you.
“May I?” You hastily swallowed the mouthful of ham sandwich you had and nodded, this was new. Loki hadn’t asked you for anything yet. He took only what he assumed was his and nothing more and he waited for your invitation to do anything.
“Please, be my guest,” you said with a controlled smile, making a conscious effort not to grin like a complete lunatic.
“I am certainly no guest here,” he said with an empty chuckle before sitting down “Thank you, Lady Y/N,” he said in that same soft tone he’d used since the first time he’d spoken.
“It’s just Y/N,” you mumbled “I am certainly no lady,” for a second there was a flicker of a smile on his handsome face. He pulled the spare plate of soup and sandwiches towards himself and began to eat. Funnily enough, this simple action made it all the more difficult for you to eat. You wanted to stare at him, watch him, analyse his every move but you knew it wasn’t polite. Instead you opted for noticing the smaller things, like how he had taken off his leather overall-type piece leaving him looking like a relatively normal human, or how his hair was tied back again today or how he ate in such an elegant manner you felt like a slob regardless of the fact that you were trying your best. You noticed that his skin was more coloured than usual, perhaps he was catching some sun through the bedroom window and that his blue eyes seemed less icy and more inviting. It was hard not to stare, but you managed to tear your gaze away from him. Loki made no efforts to talk again throughout the meal and neither did you.
When you had finished you got up and took your crockery to the sink and began to set the water running. You were just about to begin washing up when large hands gently took the items from you and placed them in the sink with his own. Loki said nothing to you as he washed up, easily batting your hand away when you tried to help. You felt like you needed to be doing something so you grabbed the tea towel and dried off the plates and bowls. You caught Loki watching you, his head tilted slightly in your direction and you could have sworn you saw that slight smile on his features again. Once the washing up was done you sat together on the couch and read again.
“Goodnight Y/N,” Loki spoke first
“Night Loki,” you said, using a more casual phrase for the first time. Although your evening had been filled with few words, there was an easy atmosphere. You felt like you had done the right thing when the smile danced across his features again, lighting them up for a second.
Again life settled into a routine. You still didn’t see Loki during the day, but it became regular that he would eat with you and then sit reading on the couch beside you. You had started to greet him as he joined you, and he would always respond with a polite
“Good evening, Y/N,” there was never any small talk with you, just eating in silence and then doing your own thing until he stood up and bid you goodnight before going back into the room. Some would probably perceive this as strange, but to you it was fine. Your odd little friendship, if you could call it that, seemed to work in the pleasant silences. You never felt awkward around him, in fact, it was quite the opposite; in his presence, you felt calmer. Your work was better, you enjoyed reading more and you would sleep better afterwards. Loki would occasionally lend a hand if you were working, but only if you asked him for help, even then he kept his words to a minimum, quietly explaining things in the shortest terms before going back to his book. And he always insisted that he did the washing up, every time you tried he would take the plate or sponge or whatever it was from your hands with a wry smile and eventually you gave up, taking the official role of dryer-upper by his side. Nevertheless, he seemed willing to help; you would notice how his eyes lit up and that faint smile would ghost across his face again. You learnt to assume that the quietness was just a part of who Loki was - a man of few words.
And that brings you to the present. You had found a trailer park where you could leave the camper for the night and luckily you had managed to get a spot near the reception lodge meaning you had a whole night of free WiFi. You ate dinner quickly, Loki watching you with a quirked eyebrow saying nothing as usual. You ran water into the sink and attempted to begin washing up, but heard him sigh from behind you and get up. He had finished too and yet again took the plate from your hands. You didn’t bother to argue with him, instead opting to just dry up faster than you ever had before, Loki again watching you with that one eyebrow raised and a look that you could only guess was amusement on his face as you made a beeline for the couch, getting out your laptop and headphones for the first time on the journey. You almost moaned when you connected to the internet and had Netflix pulled up in a flash, beginning to catch up on your favourite show - you were rewatching the series Friends and the last few weeks without it were killing you, especially as you were so close to the end. In fact, you hardly registered Loki who had sat himself down at the opposite end of the small couch to you and cracked open another book.
You were two episodes in and losing the fight to control your snickering when Loki interrupted you.
“What is that?”
“Sorry,” you responded quietly, immediately feeling heat creep up into your face. “I’m watching tv,” you responded, barely looking up
“Do not be sorry for making such delicate sounds and I beg your pardon, but that is not a television,” Loki pointed out, you chose to ignore the compliment, unable to think of anything to say and was badly losing the battle with the blush creeping up your features.
“Yeah, I know. I’m using Netflix. I have it on my TV too so I can connect to it here,” you explained briefly and probably badly, too sucked into the Chandler making a fool of himself in front of the adoption agency to give Loki the time of day.
“What are you watching?”
“This old show called Friends,”
“May I see?” He asked, pausing for a second “Please,” the word sounded foreign on his tongue. You didn’t recall the so-called god ever saying please, only ever thank you and even that was rare.
“Um sure,” you replied, a little taken aback as you unplugged your headphones.
You sat up from your curled up position in the corner and scooted closer to Loki so you were sat next to him and placed the laptop more evenly on your knees before pressing play. You hadn’t ever been so close to him and you could feel a sense of panic beginning to bubble, just a little unsure of what to do with yourself. But as quickly as it came the feeling of unease left, replaced by a sense of calm washing over you.
“Who is that?”
“Joey,”
“And her?”
“Phoebe,”
“And they are lovers?”
“No - she’s married to Mike,”
“Which one is Mike?” You ended up pausing the episode and shuffled so that you were sat facing Loki on the couch, legs crossed beneath you as you launched into a brief explanation of the show.
Ten minutes later you were just about finished. Loki watched you the entire time you were talking with intent, his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes flicking across your face, only occasionally straying and even then it was only to where you were waving your hands around as you talked. When you were done the pale blue gaze moved to the ceiling as if he was reading invisible words written there, before speaking slowly.
“I understand,”
“Oh god, I’m sorry. I’ve been talking forever,” you said quietly, this was by far the longest conversation you had ever held with him and you were very aware that you were the only one doing the talking.
“Never apologise for talking about what you love. My mother,” a dark look suddenly passed over his face, a sadness welling in his eyes that you had never seen before “My mother always told me that allowing yourself to be silenced is the first step to allowing yourself to be oppressed,” he spoke so sincerely and with such heartbreak, it was killing you.
“Thank you,” you virtually whispered, sending him a shy smile which he just about returned.
You pulled the laptop back towards the two of you and pressed play, Loki watching silently next to you. After an episode or two, he shifted slightly so that he was a little closer to you, the side of your body and your right leg just brushing against his left. The overwhelming sense of calm spread through you again and you could feel a heaviness settle through you. Not much longer later and you were struggling to keep your eyes open. You don’t remember the exact point that your head dropped onto Loki’s shoulder, but you were vaguely aware of him turning rigid. However, Loki didn’t move and you found yourself slipping into darkness, the same fresh and pleasant, yet indescribable scent from the van strong in your nose. You woke up in the morning alone, your laptop had been closed and propped against the couch, your head placed on a pillow and a blanket covering your body, again.
You didn’t see Loki again until that evening. He came out of his room and aimed that wry smile at you again.
“Good evening, Y/N,”
“Loki,” you stood up from where you had been meddling with some papers. “About last night. I’m, oh god I’m so embarrassed. I’m so sorry,” Loki’s smile hardly wavered, everything about him was still as it usually was.
“Nonsense,” was all he said. Then he sat down and ate with you as if nothing had happened. When you were washing up he stood a little closer to you than usual, making sure that your sides were brushing and when he handed you plates there were small, lingering touches. It was an incredibly strange sensation, being in such close proximity to him should have felt terrifying. You should have been scared, repulsed, angry. At worst you should have been a mess of hormones, your neurones on fire, goosebumps littering your skin. But in reality, you felt nothing but the peaceful calm, a sense of completion at being in his company.
That night when you sat on the couch, Loki sat in the corner and you were right beside him. You had no WiFi so you were sitting with a book, as was he. It didn’t take you long to slip completely into the story and within the hour you were lost to the world, only returning when your mouth was so dry you were desperate for a drink. Marking the page you closed the book, which was when you noticed where you were. You had shifted from your upright position into more of a lean, your legs had come up and tucked to the left, your body leaning to the right. Leaning right into Loki. He was very still, but also very relaxed, the rhythm of his breathing was perfectly controlled and he flipped through his book casually. In fact, the only notice he took of you moving was the ever so slight shift of his head, before turning back to his book.
You got up and got both of you a glass of water before placing them carefully down next to the lamp on the crowded coffee table/stool, taking a long drink of yours before setting it down. Loki reached up and took a sip from his own glass. “Thank you, Y/N,”
“No problem,” you said, sending him a shy smile. You weren’t sure how long you were going to ignore the elephant in the room, but Loki made no move to bring up the subject and neither did you. You sat back down beside him and noticed another slight change. Loki had propped his book on his knee and was flicking through with one hand, his left arm draped over the back of the couch, reaching around you. You weren’t sure whether this was an invitation to return to your original position or a request for more space saying as Loki’s body language was completely open, but he was also completely ignoring you.
You gave up making any effort in understanding the man and let yourself fall back into the comfortable position you had previously been in, curled into his side. At first, he didn’t move, but then, sure enough, his arm slowly came to rest on you, keeping you at his side with light pressure. His hand traced patterns up and down your left arm leisurely, surprising you at how comfortable he seemed with the contact. As with every other new thing Loki did, you tried your best to keep calm, accepting whatever it was and making the desperate attempt not to screw up by pushing him too far. After all, you still knew very little about him.
It was incredibly late in the night when the silence was next broken.
“It is late,” he said, his voice as light as if he were discussing the weather with you.
“I guess,” you responded. You looked up at Loki to see he was looking back down at you. The small smile that you was getting used to seeing more was on his face and his hair was tied back again (most of the time he left it down, you had seen it tied back less than a handful of times) his eyes seemed light and jovial, the blue reminded you of water on a summer’s day the way it shimmered and caught in the light.
“You look good with your hair up,” you blurted before you could stop yourself. Loki’s eyes turned down for a second, looking into his lap, a much more definitive smile crossed his face showing off his straight white teeth that you saw so rarely. He let out a short huff of a laugh.
“Thank you,” his voice was warm, like melted chocolate and velvet, and still held the sound of a smile. That smile, the real full-blown smile, stayed on Loki’s face as his eyes found yours again. Lit by only the lamp he looked stunning.
You couldn’t help but lean forward and kiss him. It was very short, a childish peck more than a kiss, but the point was clear. Hastily you pulled back, moving quickly back to your side of the couch. Loki hadn’t moved, hadn’t so much as changed his facial expression.
“Loki I’m sorr-” you began to apologise but was cut off. He leant forward, grabbed your face in his hands and pulled you gently into him, pressing his lips against yours. There was the sound of a sharp intake of breath, you weren’t sure who from, and then he pressed down harder. You responded, bringing your hands up and wrapping them around his neck and kissing him back. His hand slipped down, supporting your lower back as he quickly lowered you so you were laid flat on your back, he shuffled down so that he was on top of you before leaning in and kissing you again, prying your mouth open confidently. His hands hesitated, hovering for a second as if he couldn’t decide exactly where to touch you, flittering around your face, your shoulders, your hips. He decided on your face, smoothing your messy hair back with one hand while cupping your cheek with the other. His hands were so large that he covered virtually the entire side of your face, but you didn’t care. In fact, you loved it, you loved the feeling of being cradled, protected. You wanted more.
You had slipped your hands underneath the tie in his hair so you could grab onto more of it and gave a clear tug, pulling his face physically closer to yours. Loki made a noise deep within his throat and licked your lips, before pushing his tongue into your mouth. Sighing in content at getting what you wanted, you let your hands slip from his hair, holding onto his shoulders for a second before moving onto his back, spreading your fingers there, feeling the steady muscle beneath the cloth before moving around to the front of his chest and bunching your hands in the soft fabric of his shirt. Loki’s hands had come to rest on your shoulders before travelling down to your hips, one hand straying back up to stroke your hair. You could hear him inhaling into the kiss, and for some reason the sound made you react in a way you would never have normally behaved, sucking in a small noise and moving your hips upwards to meet him. Loki hummed loudly, this time deeper and echoing clearly around the small room, the hand on your hip pulling you closer to him, spreading warmth throughout your body. You curved your leg around his to give yourself a little leverage, desperately trying to mould yourself against him.
Every sense was clogged by him, but you didn’t care. If you died at that moment you would have been completely happy. Loki moved from kissing you and you almost whined at the loss of the pleasant sensation but controlled yourself because you were terrified that he would come to his senses and lock himself back in the other room. His head moved slightly as he began to press open-mouthed kisses along your neck, making you gasp at the sensation.
“Okay,” you spoke shakily “this is new,” as he pressed his mouth against your neck. You felt his lips curve up into a smile and he leaned in again, dragging his nose first across your skin as if he was trying to memorise your scent, then pressing another open kiss to your flushed skin, this one landing right on your jugular vein. There was no disguising the noise that came out of your mouth before you could stop it and you could feel the rumbling from Loki’s throat in response. Unable to bear it anymore you placed your hands on either side of his jaw, as he had done earlier to you and pulled his head up, kissing him once again on the lips.
Loki broke the kiss, pulling away with a deep breath.
“Y/N,” he said before you could begin to ramble. You, however, were utterly speechless after having received the best kiss of your short life and stared openly at Loki. You were pretty sure that your mouth was hanging open but you didn’t care, you were too busy staring at your companion, his pale skin was flushed around his cheeks and neck making him look less haunted and very much more human, his mouth was open ever so slightly because, you noticed, that he was panting, his shoulders moving quickly with his breathing rate, but it was his eyes that captured your attention. They were wide, his pupils dilated so that the crystalline blue you had been daydreaming about earlier was now a pool of black with just a pale ring. You were desperately tempted to lean straight back in.
“Let’s not lose control,” he spoke slowly as if he was trying to convince himself.
“Sure,” you said again, your voice barely more than a breathy whisper. You were still struggling to wrap your mind around what had just happened and words were certainly not your primary concern at that moment.
“It’s late,” he said again. “You should sleep,”
“What if I don’t want to sleep?” You immediately blurted out what you were thinking. Loki’s laugh graced you for the second time that evening, and it truly was a magical sound.
“One day at a time, Y/N,” he said as though he were chastising a greedy child.
You hadn’t noticed that you were following him until you were both standing at the door to the small bedroom.
“Wait, so are we not going to talk about this?” You gestured at the space between the two of you, Loki looked mildly amused much to your bewilderment.
“I haven’t spoken about anything else with you,”
“That was different,” you immediately argued,
“Was it?” He said the slightly crooked smile once again at his lips. He leaned forward, reached for your hand and lifted it to his face, gently kissing the back of it.
“Goodnight, Y/N,”
“Night Loki, I guess,” you said, trying not to let the dejected feeling leak into your voice. You must have failed because Loki spoke once more.
“Tomorrow,” the smile on his features and the glint in his eye made it sound more like a promise than a pacifying statement.