Him
The feeling in your chest is unsettling. Not the kind that sends you into a short-breathed panic. But the one where the uneasiness floats over the chest, slowly building up, making you wonder why the water is getting closer to your ears until eventually, your heart is gasping for muted sobs of air.
This feeling is coming out of nowhere. You are sitting on a bench overlooking the lake. No sounds around you. Just the visage of the sun settling for its well-earned sleep. But you? You are feeling hot tears on your cheeks, rolling out of nowhere. Your brain is trying to figure out the cause, but the sound of numbness coming from your heart is drowning all the thoughts.
You wipe your cheeks, but they come out again; a never-ending waterfall.
Someone is coming your way.
Is it a stranger? Or a friend? You are unable to make out their face through the blur. But their voice is soothing.
"What's wrong?" There is concern lighting up the air around you. It is a beautiful feminine voice; mother-like. The weight of consideration plucks at the dam made of twigs inside you, bringing forth more tears.
"Hey, hey...it's okay."
You shake your head, your sobs growing a little. The weight over your heart seems to have increased. And your wet vision is looking around for something you have no clue about.
"What happened?"
You try to communicate through your sobs but no coherent words come out. Even you cannot understand what exactly it is you are trying to tell her.
"Y/N-" she calls out your name soothingly- "is something bothering you?"
You feel your lungs take in one big gasp of air.
"He's not here. I cannot find him," you finally breathe out, blubbering through the weight.
"Who's not here, dear?" Her concern is genuine, whoever she is.
You are still looking around the lake, the bench, and that tree next to you.
"I can't find him," your voice breaks repeatedly as your heart races.
"You can't find him here?" The delicate whisper from your well-wisher is nearer to you now, like a warm scarf wrapping around you in the midst of winter noon.
"No," you whimper and hiccup.
"Then how about we wake up and try to find him?" she whispers with the rhythm of a lullaby.
And you listen.
With a slight jerk, you wake up; not fully but enough to remember where you fell asleep. Fresh tears are falling on the bedsheet under you. Your heart is still feeling the ache, but the weight seems to have been left back in the dream.
And then you smell it.
The familiar redolence that immediately calms down all your worked-up, sleepless nerves.
Through your blurry eyes, you see a figure; a familiar, larger shape, lying next to you.
Without another thought, you scooch your body over, shifting and adjusting till your swollen face is buried deep in that figure's chest and your body is taking in the warmth of the warm duvet someone has carefully placed at the edge of the sofa to warm up your feet.
Your nerves have calmed down now. Your tired eyes are heavy again with slumber. The rhythm of your breaths is getting lighter. You feel safe.
The figure carefully shifts their arm, bringing the duvet up to your chest, tucking you in even in their sleep, making sure there is no escape for the heat that has put you to sleep. And then the arm draws you closer to their chest, securing you and gently patting you on your back till they themselves have been lulled to sleep.
...
It is torture.
Watching you sleep.
And it's not the fact that you sleep like a baby- that in itself is a beautiful thing to witness. But right now, you sleep in Loki's arms.
Tony stands there at the edge of the sofa that has been laid out into a bed, watching the two of you cuddle as if your life depends on it.
The father in him wants to kick the God through the roof for even breathing in your direction. But the father who is still a little kid inside him just knows how secure that hug must feel right now.
With one tired sigh that does not seem to come to an end, he turns to Wanda.
The witch sits at the other end on the kitchenette stool, discreetly wiping her tears off.
"Just tell me when it's over," Stark announces softly before leaving the room.
Wanda passes a gentle smile in your direction before realising she has company on the other side of the counter.
Scott is sitting, his head in his palms, looking at the two of you with dreamy eyes.
"God, I wish I could bury myself in tiddies like that."