Work Text:
Her car’s clock reads 10:02 when she pulls into the parking lot. She shuts the car down, watching the dashboard lights slowly fade to black and feels the car stop shuddering beneath her. Rain hits the top of the car, and she’s surrounded by darkness. There’s an irrational part of her that is screaming to call Loki, to make him come out here and get her because she’s all alone in the dark and holy fuck what could be out there.
She shoves away the mundane terror she associates with the dark, ignores the overwhelming panic, and opens the door, because she's a goddamned adult. With keys and purse in hand, she uses the phone’s bright lock screen as makeshift flash light while she heads up to the apartment. Rain splatters on her face, and she grimaces when she steps her moccasins into a puddle that is deeper than she expected it to be. She reaches the door, and prays that Loki hasn’t locked it already. No gods are with her tonight, and honestly she wishes they were because she's fucking exhausted and wants to go to bed and who even cares about washing her face with the bottle of proactive in the bathroom. (Which is only there because she doesn't know what else to do about her wreck of a face.) She digs through her keys, until she reaches the brightly painted blue one that matches her apartment, and shoves it into the lock. It sticks, so she flips it over and, jiggles it, only to find she had it right the first time, so she flips it again, and jerks it to the left, then turns the knob to the right.
When she finally manages to unlock the door, she stumbles into the dark, toes off her shoes, drops her keys in the bowl on the hall table. The lights are all out, except the bathroom light. She doubts Loki is awake, he probably just left the light on as his welcome home darling . Which as far as welcomes go, it's better than nothing. She drops items as she heads to the kitchen, her jacket draped over the back of the couch, her purse on the counter, her lunch bag and water bottle in the kitchen next to the sink.
She shoves her shitty gluten free pizza pocket that she forgot to eat at work in the microwave, watches it spin round and round for two minutes until it’s done. It's still soggy when she pulls it out, which pisses her off more than anything, but there isn't much she can do, so she eats it silently and angrily, then puts her plate and fork in the sink. Her water bottle is still half full with warm tea from work, so she drinks some of it, sets it on table, and heads for the bathroom.
She doesn't use the shitty proactive, in pure spite at the stuck up product that taunts her when she's washing her hands, she just wipes off her makeup, and rubs in some lotion. She instead finds belatedly that her period has started, and a surge of relief that nothing is wrong with her reproductive system overwhelmes her for a moment. She puts a pad on, drinks some more tea, and ignores the fact that cramps are going to be wracking her body soon. Walking into the bedroom, she stumbles her way out of her bra and jeans, leaving the comfy sweater, and opting for loose sweat pants and forgoing the tight spandex shorts she knows she should wear. She's going to regret it later, but she doesn't care too much right now, she's too exhausted. Loki is fast asleep when she slips into bed next to him. He doesn't stir, or make any noises, so she plugs in her phone, turns turns off the lamp and curls up next to him, listening to him breathe, feeling sleep drag her under.
She’s awake for some reason, with the groggy I-just-woke-up-from-a-nap-what-even-is-time sensation, and she checks her phone, wondering why in the hell she's awake at four in the goddamned morning- and her pelvis is slammed with cramps she hasn't felt in two fucking months because her last period was so weird and light she wasn't sure it even happened, but these cramps hurt like someones squeezing her ovaries through a pasta strainer or something. Another cramp rolls over her hips, and she grunts, sitting up to hug at her stomach. She hates how dependant on tylenol she’s become, especially when she knows it works, but it doesn't stop her from futually refusing to take it in the hopes that the craps will stop coming.
Loki stirs when she leaves the bed, turning his torso toward her and making a questioning noise. She shushes him, and reaches to dig through the nightstands drawer for her bottle of tylenol that she just bought, but can’t find. With another groan and a hand at her abdomen, she stumbles into the kitchen for her purse, grabbing the travel sized tube of pills and for paranoia sake, reading the instructions in the non existent light. It’s so fucking early and she’s so fucking tired and in so much pain it takes her a solid five minutes to find the familiar line of take 2 caplets every 6 hours while symptoms last. She downs them quickly, taking a moment to bend over the counter and clutch at her stomach and whimper. Because goddamn that hurts like a bitch. She reminds herself that she’s had worse. She's had her hand cut open with kitchen shears and stitched together. She’s been conscious and jolting when the oral surgeon numbed the roof of her mouth. She's been through enough pain for her to know that this is trivial pain, it shouldn’t matter.
Pain is pain, dumbass. Its valid, and it hurts. A voice whispers in her head. It sounds like Tony’s, so she ignores it. She grumbles to herself making her way back to the bedroom. Loki sitting up as she slides the sweats off, and pulls on the spanks she neglected earlier, and he holds his arms out she crawls back into bed.
“I told you to go back to sleep.” she whispers, grunting and clutching at her stomach again, once she's settled down next to him.
“That would be rather rude of me, don’t you think?” his hand is on her lower back, rubbing soothing circles firmly into her skin, under the sweater. She presses her face into his neck, breathes, tells herself that her mother went through worse than this without an epidural for her, she handle cramps for 30 minutes, until the drugs kick in. Loki starts stroking her hair.
“Do you need anything?” he asks quietly. She knows what he means. He could magic away the pain and she could get some sleep and he would wake up with a mild headache the next day, but he'd say he felt fine. She won't let herself get used to that though, because then Loki would offer to do everything for her and drain all his magic, and then they wouldn't have it for when they need it. So she shakes her head, content to clench her abs against the cramps and choke back whimpers when they get to be a little too much. Loki hums lightly, still rubbing her back.
She doesn't know when she falls asleep.
The next morning she’s dazed, unsure if what happened the previous night actually happened, but she’s fucking exhausted still, and it’s only 7 am. She turns over, grumbling and shoving Loki’s limbs around until she’s comfortable again, and dozes off.
She wakes again at 9, jolting out of bed and thinking she has to go downtown to meet a friend for a movie, before Loki’s telling her they cancelled, and she’s sinking back into his embrace.
“How do you feel?” he asks.
“Better. Thanks.”
“Mm. Do you need anything?” his thumb finds her wrists, rubs over it a few times.
“My water bottle?” She offers, expecting him to crawl away from her to go get it, and she moves to sit up. Instead, he summons it for her, and she’s pleasantly surprised to find fresh tea in it. Normally, she'd protest and smack his chest or something because that's precious Magick, and this is not Asgard, you idiot- but she’s willing to make an exception for hot tea in the morning. The fact that he knows this, and he knows she won’t get upset with him for it is a testament to how much he really knows her. He reaches over, picks up her phone from the night and and unlocks it.
“Stark wants to know if you want to go with everyone to watch Peter’s play tonight.” he comments, scrolling through her notifications.
“Details?”
“He says he’ll pay, it’s at 7 tonight.”
“I have plans.”
“Certainly not without me, I’d hope.” he smirks, presses a kiss to her head as he types out her response.
“They involve, you , me, chocolate, and Pride and Prejudice.”
“Mmm… I don't know, against Pride and Prejudice, a poorly rendered version of Singing in the Rain sounds better to me.”
“Liar. You love Kiera Knightly, her voice is far superior to any high schooler.”
“You know me so well,” he croons, and she settles for tucking her head against his chest as he keeps typing.
“Tell him I'm indisposed, but we’ll come over and watch the DVD version tomorrow.” she listens to Loki’s fingers against the screen, and sips at the tea in her water bottle. She’s thankful it's Saturday, that she doesn't have to work again until Tuesday, and Monday is a holiday. Loki sets the phone down, playing with her hair, braiding it into small strips occasionally.
“I wish you would let me help. When you're in pain like that.” he starts.
“I told you-”
“I know.” he quiets, and she watches him as he chews on his lip. “It hurts to watch you suffer.” he says, clearing his throat, unwilling to show any sign that he has feelings, and some of them are for her, even though she already knows that. He knows he can be vulnerable around her, but he’d rather not. So he settles for biting his lip, playing with her hair, and breathing slowly.
“Thank you.”
“What for?”
“Being the best boyfriend. The best back rubber. The best pillow in my bed.” She runs a hand across his stomach, wrapping her arm around him. “For caring so much.”
“You deserve it, darling.”
“All the same.” she’s learned not to protest too much when he gives her huge compliments like that. She learned that he doesn’t like accepting them either, but is too stubborn not to give them too her. So she tells him when it counts, but this morning, she knows that he knows he’s loved.
She loves these quiet mornings, his hand in her hair, his heartbeat under her ear. She feels peaceful, Less shitty about life in general. Less like she’s alone. Her cramps are gone, leaving a warm throb behind, subtle but there nonetheless, and he's content to not move until that too goes away. Because while it’s just her period, she’s earned the right to a lazy Saturday in with her boyfriend.
His hand rubs her back slowly, habitually, until she’s dozed off again. Until Stark calls her on the phone with an urgent tone that says that something has blown up in New York and they quote, “need all hands on deck,” and she yells curses at the sky after he’s hung up.
She’ll go start making the medical bay ready, she’ll kiss Loki, and tell him she’ll beat his ass if he comes home too injured.
But for now, the medical lab is quiet, and warm. She’ll settle into her chair, drink the tea that Loki presses into her hand, and scroll through dumb crafting hacks on Instagram because she knows in the end everything will be fine.
It's always fine.
Eventually.