You Want It Darker? (OC x Loki x Winter Soldier)

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

"Breakfast's ready!"

A loud commotion breaks through the door, pulling me from the fragile remnants of sleep. I groan and bury my face deeper into the plush, silk sheets, their luxurious softness doing nothing to ease the unrest that plagued me all night. Sleep had eluded me, chased away by the relentless spectre of Loki's face, his mischievous grin seared into my mind. Every time I drifted close to unconsciousness, that infuriating smirk would materialise, yanking me back to the surface, my heart pounding with frustration.

I tried everything. The sheets felt too silky, like a trap woven from deceit, the mattress too soft, like sinking into a lie. Desperate, I'd even dragged a pillow down to the carpeted floor, hoping the plush bedding was to blame. But it was little to no use.

Just as I'm about to surrender to another futile attempt at rest, I hear two faint knocks on the door, followed by the soft creak of it opening. Steve's face appears in the narrow crack, his eyes scanning the room, searching for any sign of life. "You awake?" he asks, his voice uncertain, as if he's afraid to intrude on whatever storm is brewing inside me. His gaze finally lands on my dishevelled form, half-hidden behind the oversized bed. "Sorry to barge in, but if you don't hurry, the rest will have devoured everything before—"

I prop myself up on my elbows and peer over the edge of the bed. My eyes are heavy, the weight of the sleepless night evident in every sluggish movement. "Over here," I murmur as I gesture in Steve's direction. "You're all good, I'm up."

Steve freezes for a moment, his expression flickering with surprise and something else—concern, maybe, or recognition. His usual confident demeanour falters as he takes in my rumpled state, the shadows under my eyes. But it's only for a brief second before his features soften into something more familiar, a look of quiet understanding. "Guess we're not so different after all," he says, a soft smile playing at the corners of his mouth as he leans casually against the doorpost. "You'll get used to it... eventually. Took me ages to get a good night's sleep here too."

"Let's hope you're right," I reply, a faint smirk tugging at my lips as I push the blankets off me. My muscles protest, stiff and sore from the uncomfortable night, but I force myself to sit up. The room is bathed in the soft morning light filtering through the curtains, casting long shadows that stretch across the floor.

"Freshen up, Fury's here," Steve adds, his tone lighter now. "Meet ya in the common room?"

He seems like he's about to say more, his mouth opening slightly, but the moment is interrupted by a sudden clamour from the hallway—a heavy set of footsteps pounding the floor, accompanied by a chorus of muffled curses and frustrated grumbling. The noise grows louder until Barton appears, sprinting past the door, his hair dishevelled and eyes wild. He catches a glimpse of me through the crack in the door and skids to a halt, throwing his hands up in mock outrage.

"Why does the walking dead get to sleep in but not us?" he calls out, his tone a mix of teasing and genuine irritation.

Steve doesn't miss a beat. "Didn't I tell you to go get breakfast?! Why are you still here? I told you—" His voice rises as he marches out after Barton, pulling the door closed behind him with a firm click, leaving me alone once more.

I sit there for a moment, letting the quiet settle around me like a comforting blanket. My muscles ache as I push myself off the floor, the lingering exhaustion making my legs unsteady, but I grit my teeth and steady myself. We'll work on that. The room feels cold now, the early morning light casting long shadows across the walls, and I shiver as I head toward the bathroom.

The hot water from the shower feels like a small mercy. I stand there longer than I should, letting the steam envelop me, a brief escape from the thoughts that have been plaguing me. But eventually, I step out, towel off, and catch my reflection in the mirror. My hair is a tangled mess, my eyes shadowed with fatigue.