Chapter 1
Peter lied awake in the middle of the night. The blankets lifted half off his body and he felt sick, but that shouldn't be possible. Ever since the spider-bite, he thought getting ill was impossible.
He was wrong, feverish, and stuffy.
Peter sat up, wiping a bit of sweat from his forehead. He reached over and clicked on the lamp that sat on his nightstand, which he immediately regretted as it intensified the headache he didn't know he had.
Peter stumbled out of bed with an amazing impression of a newborn giraffe. As he left his room, he couldn't tell whether the dark hallway beyond him helped the headache or worsened it from the sudden lighting change.
The elevator ride wasn't any better. His stomach churned as he descended multiple floors. He tightly shut his eyes until the elevator dinged.
The doors opened to reveal a dimly lit kitchen, which was odd. As he stepped (more like tripping over his own footing,) further into the kitchen, he was slightly startled to see the god of mischief sitting at the kitchen island with a book and a mug of something Peter couldn't quite identify from where he was standing. Coffee, tea? ...alcohol?
Peter offered an exhausted wave, which Loki only nodded in return.
While not having an audience would be more than preferable, it wouldn't stop him.
Tea, medicine, and maybe some soup if his delirium allows him.
Fever reducer was likely in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. Or someone's bathroom at the very least, though he wasn't a fan of sneaking into bedrooms to steal some pills.
Medicine would come after the tea and soup.
He grabbed the can of soup first from the pantry.
Peter then reached into one of the overhead cabinets and nearly dropped an outrageously hideous mug. "Must be Clint's," he thought, "Who would buy a purple mug with yellow polka-dots?"
Fumbling for a cup wasn't the most elegant sight in front of a God.
Peter could've sworn he felt a judgemental stare
Right, you need to boil the water for tea.
Peter turned the stove on, then went to look at the multitude of teas the avengers had a cabinet dedicated to.
Peter opened the overhead cabinet and each and every box was beautifully stacked, coded by color.
A bright yellow box sat right in the middle of one of the stacks, it read "Sweet lemon."
Peter reached for the box, slightly standing on his tip-toes.
"You left the fire on," Loki commented. Peter never put water on the stove.
Embarrassment quickly ran through Peter. Right as he was about to turn it off, his hand was snatched from the lemon tea box.
Which brought down an avalanche upon him, sounding louder than it actually was in the quiet kitchen. Loki sipped his coffee-tea-alchol mystery.
"Would you like some help?" Loki asked.
"No thank you, I think-"
"Sit," Loki ordered, rising from his seat.
Peter wanted to argue, but the fever, sleep deprivation, and the fact Loki is a God stopped him.
Peter made his way over and took a seat. His hands were folded in his lap and he looked like a small child in time-out.
Loki grimaced at the can of soup Peter set out. Towards the back, it read: "Ready in three minutes!"
He turned towards Peter, "Do you people microwave everything you eat?" Loki said with such disgust in his voice.
Peter gave a small shrug. "It's...quick."
Loki gave another grunt of displeasure before putting the can back into the cabinet.
Peter watched as he quickly grabbed a cutting board and a variety of ingredients Peter didn't bother to focus on.
"I was trying to quickly make it because I have school in the morning and need to get to bed-"
"You're going to school in this condition?" Loki quickly cut off Peter's sentence.
"Well...yeah?" He said hesitantly.
"That's not very smart."
Peter wasn't sure how to respond; if he were supposed to at all. He nodded, though Loki's back was turned towards him.
He wanted to ask Loki questions such as how he was so skilled at cooking, most of the avengers couldn't chop potatoes as fast he could without risking their fingertips.
He wanted to ask how he was adjusting to staying in the tower.
Peter didn't know whether or not those questions were appropriate, so he kept his mouth shut.
The sound of water threatening to boil over was the last thing Peter heard before he placed his head on the cold marble of the counter.
~
Peter next awoke with a bowl of steaming soup next to him and a decently sized mug of tea that smelled strongly of citrus.
He wiped his eyes and sat up and looked at the meal in front of him.
"Thank you, Mr. Loki," Peter said quietly, unsure of how to address him.
"You have a fever, take some medicine before returning to bed."
"Alright."
He quickly ate and returned to his room, by the time the bowl and mug were empty, loki was gone. He noticed Loki's mug was still there, however.
Coffee. Black coffee.
Figures.