Work Text:
It just wasn’t your week.
It had started off with an extra difficult job in the lab, which both Bruce and Tony were “confident” you could handle on your own. Apparently, they had much more pressing matters to deal with, being bonafide Avengers and all, and so naturally they’d decided to leave the less important job to one of their most trusted employees. You.
Less important didn’t mean easier, however, and a job that should have had at least three people working on it only had… well, you. It was the first thing to send your anxiety pressing at the backs of your eyes, threatening to fill your chest.
But you pushed it down, convincing yourself that you were fine despite the countless times your own mind had proven that statement very wrong. When would you learn to actually listen to the warning signs your body gave you?
Not this time.
The next nail in the metaphorical coffin was your sleep schedule -- or lack thereof. The lab project was draining your energy during the day, and anxiety was keeping you wide awake at night. You tossed and turned into the early hours of the morning, on the verge of panic over the most trivial things.
But even though they were trivial, they twisted inside your gut and sent your heart racing, thoughts spiraling until you wanted to curl inside yourself or scream so loud that the panic went away. It physically hurt you, and no matter what you did, there was no relief.
You could feel the tension building throughout the week -- a week that should have been perfectly peaceful and normal and nice. There shouldn’t have been anything wrong with you, and you shouldn’t have been making such a big deal out of nothing, but you couldn’t figure out how.
All you knew was that you were one inconvenience away from breaking down. You could feel the tears pooling at the backs of your eyes, a constant threat that had you feeling out of breath and miserable. The last thing you needed was a breakdown. You worked for the Avengers for Christ’s sake, you needed to keep it together.
But by the end of the week, you were a ball of nerves and exhaustion -- not a fun combination -- and you knew that it was only a matter of time.
Tony and Bruce were expecting your job to be finished by next week, and you’d hardly made a dent in the work. Realistically you knew that you only needed to reach out to one of them and bring attention to your struggle and both would jump to help alleviate as much as they could, but… asking for help was hard. Especially when your mind was so overwhelmed, giving you all sorts of reasons why you shouldn't.
So you bit your lip until it nearly bled and continued to work. It was midnight by the time you finally had to call it quits. You could feel the edges of your ability fraying and knew that, at this point, your work was definitely going to suffer if you didn’t stop.
Dragging yourself to your room felt like a surrender to the darkness that waited for you there.
After changing into the most comfortable clothes you could find, you threw yourself into bed wrapped tightly in several blankets. Hugging a pillow to your chest, you tried not to let the thoughts grab you by the throat and pummel you until you couldn’t see straight.
You failed.
For a moment you thought you’d managed to doze off, but instead, you stayed suspended in that space between sleep and waking, exactly where your anxiety had its full advantage. The next time you looked at the clock, it was one-thirty. For some reason, that was when the panic really set in.
Your already frantic heartbeat began to pick up, and you felt your breathing stall in your chest until you were gasping for any bit of air you could get. Remembering different methods you’d read about online, you made a conscious effort to steady your breathing.
In, out. You’re going to be fine . In, out. You just needed to calm down. In, out. You only feel this way because it’s nearly two in the morning and your brain is fried.
Shockingly, it helped, and you found that you weren’t at risk of passing out anymore. Though, maybe that wasn’t a good thing, considering it probably would have been the only way you could have gotten a good night’s sleep.
Groaning, you rolled out of the blanket burrito you’d made of yourself and wobbled to your feet. You needed a distraction -- anything to keep you from focusing on how you were feeling. With your heart still fluttering violently in your chest, you opened your bedroom door, hesitantly checking both ways before padding into the hallway.
The compound was silent, as it should be so early in the morning, and dark enough that you had to feel along the walls. It was only once you reached the kitchen that you were able to see well enough in the dim blue light coming from inside.
You stumbled in without thinking and nearly ran into a brick wall.
“Easy there, mortal,” the brick wall said, grabbing your elbows to keep you upright.
“Shit, I’m so sorry, I…” your eyes met Loki's, his hair looking ruffled and bed-worn, and lost the few excuses you’d managed to think of. “Sorry,” was all you could say instead.
The god just scoffed, releasing your arms and stepping back.
“It’s quite alright. Though I must say, I wasn’t expecting anyone else to be out and about at this hour.” he crossed his arms, and you thought you saw him stifle a yawn.
In fact, now that you got a better look at him, he seemed… disheveled. You’d never seen the Asgardian with so much as a hair out of place, let alone in pajama bottoms and a wrinkled shirt. Though you weren’t necessarily on best friend terms or anything, Loki was always a bit more friendly with you than the others. It probably had something to do with you treating him like a living person and not some storybook villain or boogeyman.
Was that a lapse in judgment? Hell if you knew. But he’d been perfectly decent, if a little rough around the edges, whenever he’d interacted with you, so you weren’t about to hold his past against him. Now, though, you couldn’t help but noticed how he was watching you, eyes narrowed as they followed you through the kitchen.
You opened the fridge and winced at the white light before scanning the shelves. For what, you had absolutely no idea. Unless Tony had stocked up on decent mental health and the ability to sleep for more than a few hours, you weren’t going to find anything you wanted.
“Yeah, sorry. Couldn’t sleep,” you murmured in answer to Loki’s comment.
“I can see that,” he replied.
You closed the fridge, managing to hold back a groan of exasperation.
“Are you alright?” Loki asked in that half-annoyed way.
“Yeah, just tired.” You tried to offer him a smile, turning to the cabinets now in hopes of something.
Hot chocolate. You could make hot chocolate. That was a good coping mechanism, right? Pulling open the cabinet door, you stretched up to grab a mug.
In hindsight, you should have known.
Just as you began to lift the mug from the shelf, the ceramic slipped through your fingers and crashed onto the floor where it shattered. You tensed at the noise, not missing how Loki had jumped forward as if to catch the mug, or maybe to stop you from trying to catch it but had pulled back at the last instant.
Staring down at the broken pieces, you felt your own resolve crack. The tears that had been threatening you all week began to surface despite your attempt to choke them back. Instead, you covered your face with your hands.
“No,” you whispered, voice wet with the tears you could feel collecting between your fingers. “Fuck.”
“Alright,” Loki took a step towards you.
“That was Nat’s favorite,” your expression twisted behind your hands, and a silent, breathy sob caught in your throat.
“Okay, it’s alright,” Loki assured, his voice alarmingly gentle. You glanced up, sliding your hands down your face enough to look at him.
He gave you a kind smile. Then, with an almost imperceptible twitch of his fingers, the mug began to come back together, pieces melding into one another until it was whole again. He bent down to pick it up, then placed it carefully on the counter. Meanwhile, you stared at it with a mixture of awe and contempt.
How easily he had put it back together. How easily it had broken you .
“I’m so stupid,” you groaned, returning your face to your hands. You resisted the urge to scratch at the skin as you felt your heartbeat pick back up. You couldn’t breathe… when was the last time you breathed?
“Hey,” Loki grabbed your attention. “You’re not stupid.”
You had meant to argue. It came out as a hoarse whimper instead. You dug your palms into your eyes.
“Darling, I need you to breathe,” Loki said, and the shock of hearing it from him was enough for you to look up.
He was watching you carefully, mouth slightly ajar as he seemed to think something over. Then he said,
“Can I… can I do something to you?”
“Wh… What?” You asked nervously. “Do what ?”
“It will make you feel better. If you don’t like it, I’ll never do it again.” he held his hands out placidly as if trying to convince you that it wasn’t a trick.
“Alright,” you said eventually, dragging the heel of your palm across your cheek. He straightened up, a blank look crossing his face.
“...Come again?”
“Yeah, why not,” you nodded. You felt like you were dying -- what was the worst thing he could do to you?
Well… that list might have been quite long, actually. He seemed to realize it, too, going by the look on his face, but you couldn’t be bothered to care. You were exhausted, and your head was spinning, and you felt so overwhelmed.
Loki closed his mouth, narrowing his eyes before making up his mind. Reaching forward, he gently laid his hands on either side of your temples. The second his thumbs brushed your forehead, a green glow began to pour out of them. You felt your anxiety slowly ebb away as an inexplicable calm washed over you.
Swaying gently, you let out a long sigh. You watched Loki take a similarly deep breath, only he released his slowly. After a minute or so, the green light faded and he returned his hands to his side. Your head had drooped slightly, chin falling towards your chest, and your eyes were half closed.
“I haven’t lost you, have I?” Loki’s voice suddenly pulled you out of your haze. Straightening up, you blinked a few times and tried to smile at him.
“No,” you sniffed, feeling another tear curl down your cheek. While your panic was gone, exhaustion had set in with new vigor, and you couldn’t help but feel overwhelmingly foolish.
Tentatively, Loki leaned down towards you and reached out a hand, fingers gently brushing your elbow.
“You’re not hurt, are you?” he asked.
“No,” you said it again, shaking your head. The tears wouldn’t stop coming, and you groaned, trying to claw them away.
“Hey now, stop that,” Loki insisted, gently grabbing your wrists. You complied but buried your face in your palms.
Taking a deep, shuddering breath, you tried to stop crying. Why were you still crying?
“I’m sorry, I--”
“If you say that one more time, I’m going to throw something at you.”
His tone assured you that it was a joke, and the gentle smile in his voice told you that it was because he cared. Even so, you couldn’t help but try and shrink yourself out of existence. Of course, Loki noticed, and he seemed to go rigid.
“Did I… overstep?”
“No,” you quickly replied, voice firmer than before, despite its miserable tone. He released your wrists, and this time you looked up at him, but the sight of him watching you -- his expression almost tender -- sent you right back to feeling timid.
“I’m just--”
“Not sorry, I hope.”
“Tired,” you finished. “I’m so fucking tired.”
He hovered near, but you got the sense that he didn’t know what to say. Why would he? He was a god, a prince -- hell, he wasn’t even from this world -- why should he be bothered to comfort you? Yet he already had. And he was still hanging around as if he wanted to do more.
“Thank you,” you finally found your voice. “For, uh… that. And the mug, god, thanks. I think I would have died if I had to tell Nat I broke her mug.”
“I’m… sure she would have forgiven you,” Loki offered without much conviction. He didn’t really know Natasha, but he was right. She would have.
“I know, I know. I’m just such a--”
“I’m going to stop you there,” Loki interrupted, holding out a pointed finger for emphasis. “You’re in no state to be giving opinions about yourself, especially when they are as wrong as I suspect. Now tell me: if you’re tired, why aren’t you in bed?”
It should have sounded like such a demeaning question, but it didn’t.
“It’s just,” you shrugged, picking at your sweatshirt. “Work’s been really hard lately, which sounds ridiculous because I work in a lab, for Christ’s sake, I don’t even do anything" -- you waved your hand -- “that important.”
Loki opened his mouth, but you kept going. You really shouldn’t have, but you did.
“And my… uhm, my anxiety’s been kind of bad?” you phrased it as a question. You’d never been good at talking about your mental health. So many people had it so much worse than you did; you felt selfish complaining about something that you should have been able to handle on your own.
“I try, I really try, but… god, it’s so stupid, but I just can’t sleep.”
“You,” Loki began, taking another step closer to you. “Are not stupid, nor are your struggles. Do you understand me?”
His tone left no room for arguing, and you stared up at him wide-eyed.
“I… um…” you felt your eyes grow watery again, and you tried so hard to get yourself under control.
But when Loki made a soft noise of sympathy and tilted his head, you knew you had failed miserably.
"Just nod your head, love," he murmured, smirking kindly.
Eyebrows scrunching together with pain, you nodded and sniffed -- embarrassingly loud in the otherwise silent room. Suddenly, Loki shifted his weight. When he spoke next, he glanced down at his feet and wouldn’t meet your eye.
“What, uh,” he cleared his throat. “What were you coming in here to get?”
You must have looked confused because he tilted his chin towards the mug he had brought back to life.
“Oh, uh…” you contemplated lying to him instead of telling this gorgeous, otherworldly Asgardian prince that you’d come into the kitchen at nearly two in the morning to make hot chocolate like some child.
But after a moment of internal struggle -- and a bit of panic, too -- you came to the conclusion that lying to the God of Lies probably wasn’t very smart. And you’d already dug yourself enough of a hole for one night.
“I… was gonna make hot chocolate," you sighed. "Thought it might… distract me, I don’t know."
Loki finally looked up at you, eyebrows drawing together ever so slightly in another moment of internal conflict. And then he nodded almost formally.
“Alright then.”
Spinning around, he grabbed the mug off the counter and headed for the fridge. You blinked at the empty space he’d left behind, and by the time your brain had caught up enough to realize what exactly he was about to do, Loki was already pouring milk into the mug.
“Wait, Loki you don’t need to do that,” you insisted, stepping towards him. He turned around to face you, straightening to his full height and leveling you up with a regal and very determined glare.
“Sit down,” he said in a voice that was used to giving orders. Your mouth fell ajar, but your body was already backing you onto a stool. “Good,” he added, softening to a more sultry tone, accompanied by a very Loki smirk.
You were way too tired for this.
Leaning sideways over the table, you dropped your head onto your hand and watched Loki through half-lidded eyes as he popped the mug into the microwave and turned it on.
“How do you know how to make hot chocolate?” you mumbled, feeling completely drained.
Loki only scoffed.
“I have learned some things from you mortals, much as a loathe to admit it.”
“Mmm…” you wiped a hand across your eyes. You could feel a headache coming on -- which was exactly what you needed. Maybe there were meds somewhere in the cabinets.
Pulling yourself to your feet, you began to sluggishly swing open cabinet doors, searching the dark shelves for familiar pill bottles. When you finally located them, they were on the very top shelf.
Of-fucking-course.
Why did all your roommates have to be freakishly tall?
Stretching up onto your tip-toes, you reached as far as you could, but your fingers barely brushed the shelf. With a muffled groan, you bonked your head onto the cabinet door and left it there. Maybe you’d pass out from exhaustion. It would have been a blessing, at this point.
But suddenly, you felt a presence looming behind you. Your breath caught in your throat, and yet you still didn’t move. Not even when Loki stepped closer to reach over your shoulder.
“What’ll it be? Pick your poison,” he said, his voice startlingly close, even though you’d already known he was there.
“Um… that one,” you pointed to a bottle and nodded when he laid a finger on it.
“Here you are,” he leaned towards your ear, retrieving the bottle and holding it out.
“Thanks,” you managed, noticing how cold his fingers were.
“Of course,” he replied, so casually that you had a hard time wrapping your head around it.
“Why are you being so nice?” you hadn’t meant to ask the question aloud, but there it was. And now you were left staring at Loki, who scrutinized you for a moment before turning to pull open the microwave door.
“I can go back to being my generally disagreeable self if you’d prefer,” he returned, obviously intending to sound like he was challenging you to a fight. But… somehow it didn’t. His usual bite fell short.
“No, I just… I mean there’s nothing wrong with the way normally are, I guess, it’s just…” you sighed. “I don’t know. Sorry.”
Slowly turning around, Loki looked at you like a cat looks at a mouse while he lazily stirred the contents of the mug.
“What did I promise you if you said that again?” he asked, arching an eyebrow.
Oh. Shit.
“Uhm…” your face grew hot, and you smiled nervously, hunching your shoulders.
But Loki only smirked and shook his head before tapping the spoon on the rim of the mug. Popping it into his mouth, he handed the mug to you.
“Thanks,” you whispered, feeling a swell of gratefulness. It made you want to cry again. “Really, thank you, Loki.”
The god crossed his arms, leaning back against the counter and looking smug. He pulled the spoon out of his mouth and pointed it at you.
“Your gratitude is much more endearing than your apologies,” he said, then tossed the spoon into the sink with a soft clang. You felt your face burning up, but oddly enough, you weren’t uncomfortable. Not exactly.
“Thanks, I guess?”
“Mm,” Loki hummed, arching an eyebrow almost lazily.
Feeling your legs grow tired, the fuzziness in your head not helping, you sunk back down onto the stool. If you hadn’t been so exhausted, you might have been shocked when Loki sat down next to you. Even though you were exhausted, you nearly did a double take before pulling yourself together.
Then it dawned on you that you weren’t the only one up in the middle of the night. Loki had been in the kitchen before you. Maybe he wasn’t sleeping well, either. An idea entered your mind, but you struggled with it for nearly a full minute before finally working up the courage to ask.
“Why are you up?”
Turning to look at him for the first time since he’d sat down, you saw Loki raise his eyebrows in acknowledgment of your question, giving you a sideways glance. It looked like he’d been spacing out, and suddenly you noticed the dark circles under his eyes -- a deep contrast against his pale skin.
“I… couldn’t sleep,” he offered, sounding like he wanted to be defensive but just couldn’t find the energy.
“I can see that,” you replied, your mouth twitching with a smirk.
His head swiveled around to give you an almost scandalized look, and he exhaled a quick, hoarse laugh. Soon, you were laughing too, leaning your head in your crossed arms. You could feel the heat radiating off your mug, and it lulled you into a sense of calm.
Shaking his head, Loki peered down at you again with… amusement? That was odd. You’d never seen him like this -- without all his illusions and facades -- and it made you worried.
“Seriously though,” you whispered, brow drawing together as you thumbed the handle of your mug. “You okay?”
When Loki looked down at you this time, his eyes were filled with a gentle, almost childlike confusion. Your question had obviously caught him off guard, and it was even more clear that he didn’t know how to respond to it. You could see his internal warfare as he looked away from you, scanning the kitchen and trying to make up his mind.
You, on the other hand, watched him with a gripping curiosity. Finally, his eyes found yours again, and you were intrigued to find shyness in them.
“Uhm… nightmares,” he said with a shake of his head, as if he were trying to brush away the seriousness of his answer. Like he was trying to convince you it was nothing.
“I’m sorry,” you said -- and both of you realized at the same time.
“That’s twice now that I ought to have chucked something at your head, little mortal,” he murmured, smirking wryly.
“Okay, well, I think I should get a pass for that last one,” you insisted, smiling right back at him.
But after a moment, both of your faces fell enough that you remembered where you were.
“I really am sorry, though. That you have nightmares,” you hesitantly offered, spinning the mug between your hands. You took a sip of the hot chocolate.
“It… is what it is,” Loki shrugged, and it was the first time you’d ever heard him sound so desperate.
“Still sucks,” you insisted.
“Yes,” he hesitantly agreed.
“Do you, uh, want some hot chocolate?” you suddenly asked, scooting the cup over to him. He looked at you like you’d lost your mind. “It won’t cure your nightmares, but it makes things a little better, at least."
Normally you would have never -- but then again, normally you wouldn’t be having this conversation at all. Not with Loki. But there was something about seeing him at this hour, seeing him so weary, that gave you the courage.
Loki’s jaw ticked as he seemed to try and work out a cunning remark or a rude response. But after a moment, he simply rolled his eyes and reached for the mug. You grinned proudly as he took a small sip, then went back for more.
“Told you,” you muttered, only grinning wider when he shot you a glower over the lip of the mug. “Hey, I’d still like some--” you reached for it when Loki didn’t stop, and he surrendered it with surprisingly little resistance.
“I could… make you a cup if you’d like?”
“That won’t be necessary,” Loki replied, but with a sense of gentleness. He gave you a hesitant smile.
You returned it with one of your own, then swirled the hot chocolate around in your mug before taking a sip. It was still warm and filled your stomach pleasantly. Without thinking, you passed the mug back to Loki. The god took it with a raised eyebrow, but he, too, seemed to relinquish all thoughts as he drank some more.
The two of you passed the mug back and forth until the last of the hot chocolate was gone.
“You make it better than I do,” you whispered, nodding to the empty mug. Loki glanced over at you, seemingly confused.
“I… don’t know whether to take that as a compliment or an insult,” he muttered, some of his characteristic humor returning. You snorted, picking up the mug and scooting back from the table.
He followed you with his eyes as you washed out the mug, setting it upside down on the drying rack. When you settled onto the stool next to him again, he was still watching you -- almost apprehensive about how much attention he was sending in your direction.
“I… don’t want to go back to my room,” you admitted, giving him a shy glance. “It’s weird, but… I just can’t.”
“No -- I, uh,” Loki cleared his throat, staring pointedly at the table. “I understand.”
The silence felt thick in the air as you hesitated to ask the question that had appeared on your tongue. When Loki finally looked up at you, eyebrows drawing together in hesitant anticipation, you found yourself asking it.
“What do you do, when…” you gestured vaguely to the kitchen. You wanted to know what he did when he couldn’t sleep. When he felt like he was losing his mind. When nothing felt real or even remotely okay.
As Loki watched you, you could see the wheels turning behind his eyes. And then, with a distant smile, he held out his hand.
“Come on,” he said as you placed your palm against his. “I’ll show you. But I’m afraid it’s a little underwhelming.”
“I don’t think you could ever be underwhelming, Loki,” you murmured, and he stopped to give you a strange look before leading you out into the hallway.
His ‘underwhelming’ way of dealing with his insomnia was… sitting in the common area and reading. There was a small bookshelf to the far right of the room, hidden away in a corner that was rarely visited by any of the other Avengers. Now that you thought of it, you don’t ever recall seeing Loki in this room during daylight hours.
“It’s quiet here, at night,” he said as if reading your mind. “I much prefer it to the alternative.”
“The alternative being you having to socialize?”
“You said it, darling, not me,” he returned with a smirk, and you settled down onto the couch.
Sighing, you pulled your legs up underneath you and patted the empty cushion. Loki drew back, grimacing a bit, but after seeming to consider it for a moment, he lowered himself next to you.
“This is kinda nice,” you admitted, leaning back against the cushion. You were so far beyond exhausted, you probably could have fallen asleep in a subway station or standing up in a broom closet like some vampire. Anywhere but your room, it seemed.
“Isn’t it?” Loki smiled softly, tilting his head to look over at you. He was so beautiful in the darkness. He was always beautiful, but there was something different about him when he was bathed in moonlight.
“Hey, uhm… thank you. For… all of this.” You fidgeted with the fabric of your pants, staring into your lap and hoping he somehow wouldn’t notice your blatant nervousness.
“You’re welcome, little mortal,” he replied and you smirked at the name.
As the minutes passed, you settled further and further into the couch. Loki made a book appear out of nowhere and began to flip through it. It wasn’t long before all traces of your anxiety were gone, replaced instead with a sort of calm that seemed to radiate around the god. Around the God of Mischief, no less. Irony at its finest -- but something you were very grateful for.
You don’t remember your socked feet brushing against Loki’s thigh as you got more comfortable. You didn’t see the look, the way he watched you and all your tiny shifts, little rearrangements. You don’t recall the exact moment that you drifted off to sleep, only the warm, content feeling that filled your limbs, settling comfortably in the cavity of your chest.
The next morning, the rest of the Avengers would wake up and go about their business, completely unaware of you and Loki in the common area, slumped into each other, fast asleep.