Work Text:
You fall asleep on the couch in the living room early after an extremely exhausting mission. Your work was hell, the commute back home was much too long, and you're just ready to collapse on the nearest surface without so much as a second thought about the sorry state you're in or your needs- so you do. Before long, what started as a way to wind down by watching TV had turned into a nap, and there you were, knocked out on the couch and curled in on yourself for warmth.
That's exactly where Loki finds you three hours later, glasses still somehow resting haphazardly on the bridge of your nose, shivers wracking your body as the cool air from the ceiling vent drifts over your form, the TV screen turned black after the automatic timer had shut it down due to inactivity. He can hardly help the twinge of sympathy he feels in his chest despite how many times he's admonished you for not taking better care of yourself, and his response is almost automatic as he makes his way to the closet nearby to grab you a blanket.
He sighs as he drapes it over your form, but he knows the look in his eyes must betray how he really feels about you, and he thanks the heavens above that no one else is here at the moment to intrude upon your quiet reprieve (or to catch him in the act of being so openly vulnerable with a mortal, of course). He just wants the best for you, and he's concerned you may be overworking yourself. But that's a conversation for later, after you've properly rested and eaten something, after you've processed everything that must have transpired while you were away. He hopes that you at least stopped somewhere to have lunch before you came home, else he'd scold you for that too when you woke. Still, you look peaceful like this- like you need the rest. He can't bring himself to disturb you.
Gently bending down on one knee, he lovingly strokes his thumb over your cheek before pressing a kiss to your forehead and removing your glasses from their awkward perch on your face. He folds them neatly between his nimble fingers and sets them aside on the coffee table next to a forgotten book and a leftover mug from this morning.
His touch, tender and gentle, lingers momentarily on your arm, and then he stands and makes his way to the kitchen, empty mug in tow. Yes, he wishes you would take better care of yourself, but he also derives a twisted bit of pleasure from taking care of you himself. It's not often you let him unabashedly dote on you without at least a little fuss, so he may as well milk the opportunity for all it's worth. Who knows when the next time you'll be willing to let him coddle you is? Maybe it's a bit selfish of him to think, but he laughs at the notion considering that all anyone's ever seemed to call him before now is selfish. Well, besides you. You seem to want to defend him to the ends of the earth, maybe even further, although he's in no position to undermine your devotion to him by testing the boundaries of your love, nor does he want to.
By the time you come to, he'll have made dinner and fresh coffee or tea, just to your liking, and then it'll be off to bed after the dishes are done, where you'll likely become a bit restless from your extended nap earlier on. No worries, he knows just the story to tell you that will drawl your heavy burdened eyelids shut and lull your weary head to rest in his lap. You'll be having sweet dreams for the rest of the night.
But for now, he lets you rest against the cushions of the couch, keeping a watchful eye from the kitchen while he cooks and gives you looks of adoration as he recalls his favorite memories of you. You are so very loved and adored by him. So very loved and adored.