Not A Monster ● Loki × Reader ●

04 - Asshole Magic'd My Feet To The Floor!!

TW - none

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Turned out, living with the infamous God of Mischief was not as terrible as society made him out to believe. He was, in fact, tolerable. Which, according to my own opinion because no one else's mattered, was a lot coming from me.

Purely for the convenience of the Avengers, his room was placed right beside across the hall from mine in case either of us became a "threat."

I had just automatically assumed that I wouldn't be considered such a thing after my presence had been lurking here in the shadows of the tower for the past month, but here I am. Wrong.

Woop-dee-doo. Did I mention that the entire agency of S.H.I.E.L.D absolutely despises me? 

Once a threat, always a threat, I guess.

Luckily (Maybe) I had begun to be a bit more talkative around everyone. Usually only with sarcastic quips or the judgement of someone's - usually Thor or Tony - "brilliant" ideas. Each idea landing on each opposite end of the spectrum. One side being, "It's so stupid it might actually work." And the other being "It's so smart it's going to fail."

I have come to the conclusion that there is no in-between.

Meanwhile, I found Loki unwavering. No conversation in sight. Only ever responding to literally anything with yes or no answers. And I mean anything. It doesn't make sense, but he clearly gets a kick out of confusing everyone. 

Though, today seemed different. The air no longer lacked excitement.

I stepped into the kitchen with late-night insomnia only to be met with a now familiar skull-splitting headache, feeling my heart throb against the back of my head.

I turn, knowing it's him, but I did not expect him to be right there.

Right there as in I almost collided with his chest while he just stared at me with a less than amused expression.

"May I help you?" I ask, not even bothering with my usual aloof attitude as it was far too late for any sense of being. Late as in almost four in the morning. So I guess that made it early. The only noises being the odd drilling coming from Tony's lab and some odd bubbling noise behind me.

He smirked and leaned down to meet me at eye level.

"You're in front of the kettle,"

I look behind me and, sure enough, the bubbling sound from earlier was the kettle resting on the stove top, working on boiling the water with scorching steam escaping the funnel.

"Lovely." I pick up the hot cook wear and pour myself a mug the bubbling liquid, throwing a teabag in and letting it steep. My hands hardly even notice the scalding heat of the metal of the boiling device.

Loki grimaced. "No teabag? How uncivilized."

"Do I look like I magically have a teapot on hand? News flash, this isn't Asgard," I retorted, waving my hands in the air for effect. Next thing I knew, there was a pale green teapot with its handle resting tightly in my grip. 

Asshole.

He took the pot from my hand and our fingers brushed. He was cold. Like frozen. Was he ill?

I could have sworn he froze for a moment, his eyes darting to my fingers with a look of mild panic. When I looked down, accidentally signaling that I noticed, he looked away. My fingers were fine. A bit calloused, hardly a finger print left in sight, but fine otherwise.

I shrug and sip my tea while he fills the pot with water, adding two chamomile teabags and letting it steep.

I wanted to talk to him, but words died on my tongue.