Little Mouse
Sleep is lost on you tonight.
However dramatic you might want it to seem but you know it’s because of the espresso shot you had before your workout with Natasha in the evening.
Didn’t even work out as much as you had that ugly poison go down your throat. Blech!
Turning over your bed only accumulates the frustration inside you before you sit up and grit your teeth at your stupidity and punch your pillow.
“I’m never having that tasteless poison again,” you grunt, your feet landing on the cold floor and walking across the space to open the door and walk out the room to find something that can take your mind off this self-inflicted madness.
The resident wing of the Avengers facility is silent at night with Friday guiding the dry-throats and sleep-walking souls with dim corridor lights to their destination while the soothing compound lights outside marked for the different pets everyone hides from Tony mark the green belt, walking strip and the driveway.
The lounge is barely lit in one corner when you cross it to the kitchenette to get yourself some orange juice and a bag of microwave popcorn.
Might as well watch a movie I guess. Gosh! How does Mr Stark do it all the time?
“Y/N?”
Now as much as you love horror movies, you have openly admitted time and again about how easily you get scared and just like the monkey brains all humans are, they keep repeating the part of calling out your name through the eerie silence in the dead of the night with your back turned to them.
“Holy shh-irt balls! Peter how many TIMES!”
You turn around and watch him sitting on the dining table at the opposite end right where you’d come from. He responds with a guilt-ridden face while apologising.
“It’s-” he looks down at his watch- “one-thirty. Shouldn’t you be asleep by now?”
Pouring out the juice in your Brooklyn Nine-Nine themed mug instead of glass gets a raised brow from Peter before he sighs and mutters ‘mood’.
“I could ask you the same thing.”
He snorts his tiredness.
“I’ve been studying for my terms. It’s all too much and my brain is turning to goo. If I don’t get a good grade aunt May won’t let me do the nightly neighbourhood rounds anymore and Mr Stark will-”
“Definitely find out you went on the Blueberry mission,” you both speak in unison.
Picking up the bowl and mug you walk over to the lounge and set them down on the coffee table.
“Come on, take a break. Watch a movie with me or take a nap. Worrying about it won’t solve anyth-”
With the purpose of diving into the fluffy sofa, you let your butt free fall and feel it make an impact with something cold and nothing like the material your butt is used to.
“What in the Nine Kingdoms-”
The inner reflex forces you to stand back up- quite clumsily- watch the unfamiliarly Godlike figure of Loki sprawled on the sofa with a book in his hand, his eyes looking up at you with hot showers of pure judgement while his face does not bother to hide the disgruntled look on seeing you.
“Are you kidding me?” You spew flat in the God’s face. “You do know there are colours other than black in this world, Loki. So that people don’t mistake you for a couch.”
The frustration increases tenfold inside your fully awake brain when Loki chooses to completely ignore you and go back to his book.
And you being the alleged daughter of the most stubborn person you’ve known, still, decide to sit down right there.
“Scooch, black adder,” you mutter as you wiggle your butt to dominate the space and bury yourself in the comfort of the sofa, finding your body’s heat being siphoned off by Loki’s a bit nice.
“Now,” you hear Loki speak with a soft husk in his voice, “would you really like to sit so close to a snake?”
A slam of a book and Peter is standing up from the table. “Yup, I’m out. Off to sleep,” he announces, walking away as he mutters, “I have read too many Merlin fanfics to know exactly where this is going.”
Taking one cooked kernel and popping it in your mouth, you turn to face Loki. “I’ve been sleeping in the bedroom next to this snake every night, darling,” you coo, this time taking a handful of popcorn and shoving it into your mouth as nearly half of them miss the target, “I thnnk hss fnngss rrr ffkk.”
You know he has understood what gibberish just poured out of your mouth as you feel the surprisingly hard body shift behind you and sit up.
Ooh, I think I just poked the snake.
“This snake,” his breathe right next to your ear plays the chords inside you with the tunes that are a bit too ethereal for your body to contemplate, “can slither through crevices you cannot even imagine, my sweet one.”
Sweet mother of all things named pleasure.
Your teeth dig into your cheek to compose yourself as you dare to turn towards the shockingly magnificent green eyes looking at you with a vast of void in the middle.
“If by cervices,” you whisper, your eyes looking up in some deep thought, “you mean the vents that you still don’t know how to manoeuvre like Clint, I’d say yes, you’re right. I cannot imagine. Ever.”
The chuckle originating from your throat makes you throw your head back victoriously, never realising how the God sits there, stunned by the innocence dripping so shamelessly into the air. He wants you to be more careful around him, and yet he does not realise the lines he keeps crossing whenever he watches you so carefree in his company.
With one resolute thought in his mind, Loki moves quickly from behind you, forcing you down on the sofa while his own body towers over you as his arms have now made a temporary lock on your either side while his wild hair teases your cheeks, reminding you with every passing second who you’re dealing with.
“You’re forgetting snakes do not let their prey go away that easily.”
The mischief glints in his eyes as it does on his lips which have risen from their favourite corner.
What this powerful being does not realise in time is that glimmer in your eyes as they land on his lips, the voids surrounded by the galactic y/e/c grow darker the further they take in his face.
“Well,” he hears you sigh while feeling a twitch as your heated finger raises his chin, “as long as the prey isn’t left disappointed…” You leave the words hanging in the air with a shrug and a smirk.
Now the lines between his furrowed brows look at you with a suspicious glare as you bite down your lip, raising his urge to simply wash away the lines holding him back.
“So…” He speaks slowly and softly as he balances his weight on his arms to let himself a little close to you, “will the prey like it if I…do this?”
All the giddy mischief bubbling inside you turns to rock and blows away in the wind the moment you feel his head dip down, his breath raising the sleeping tiny hairs on your exposed collar while his nose teases the nook between your shoulder and neck, wringing every muscle inside your body into one big ball of unexpected mush, never bring aware of the tiniest squeak of whimper that leaves your lips, catching the ears of the beasts quicker than wind.
“Did you say something?” Loki asks, masking his victory with plainness.
“Ahem-hm? N-no. Nothing.”
“Really?” He mutters, his nose driving further up your neck, killing you slowly as every cell lit up in path, sending the reverberations down to your core, his breaths not helping at all when your leg is halfway to wrapping itself around Loki’s thigh.
“You both do realise you have a room.”
The third voice out of nowhere freezes the both of you.
Bucky, half asleep, brows furrowed, hair a mess, tired as he is, looking at the duo with utter confusion in his eyes. “You have two rooms.”
Loki gets up, giving you room to sit up and let him plant himself next to you. He gives Bucky a ‘you wanted something?’ look, driving him to the kitchenette for a bottle of water from the refrigerator.
You sit there, playing with your fingers and hair, your heated face not knowing how to face Bucky- or Loki, for that matter.
Just as Bucky disappears around the corner, you pat away some invisible dust from your thighs. “I…I should go sleep.”
You don’t know why you sit there for the next five seconds till you feel coldness erupt like little flowers of the night, blooming on your cheek.
“Goodnight, little mouse.”
You don’t face him.
You can’t.
The unspeakable joy at what just happened shuts everything down, only letting you get up, walk down the corridor, open the door to your room, close it behind you, walk to the bed and throw your yourself over the bed, grabbing every single pillow on your bed to bring them all near your face as you bury yourself in them to scream something inaudible to the ears across the walls who want to know everything, making them chuckle with unadulterated joy.