Chapter Text
The steady pulse of Alex’s heart pounded in his ears, beating in time to the smack, smack, smack of his fists against the punching bag. Sweat ran down the back of his neck and made his curls stick to his forehead as his breath sawed in and out of his lungs. When was the last time he truly let loose like this? Just absolutely wailed on something until nothing was left?
It had been a while if the way the fire behind his heart refused to cool down no matter how much force he exerted on the poor exercise equipment. God, why couldn’t he just keep it together? What was so difficult about staying calm for him? Every time someone so much as looks at him wrong it's like being underwater and fighting to resurface. Alex’s mind was a whirlwind. Not even the usual method of blowing off steam in the gym did anything to put his thoughts back together.
“My, my. What’s gotten you so riled up?” a smooth baritone suddenly asked from off to the side.
Alex froze with his fist raised for another strike, not daring to turn around to face the one person he didn’t want to see right now. “Go away, Loki. I’m not in the mood,” he growled, putting as much venom into his words as possible.
“Oh, my apologies! Did I catch you at a bad time? Terribly sorry, pet, but I was passing by and thought to drop in.” Alex could hear the smirk in the god’s voice as Loki approached him. The slow, calculated steps seemed to echo around the empty training room as Alex caught his breath and returned to beating up the punching bag instead of the arrogant face next to him.
“I said go away, Mischief. I’m not–”
“You’re not in the mood. Yes, I heard you,” Loki interrupted, leaning against the wall and observing the scene with an impish gleam in his eyes. “What could have possibly been the matter this time? I mean, every time we speak you are the epitome of bestial rage.”
“Nothing happened. It was just a little disagreement with Stark, is all,” Alex snapped, his anger getting the better of him as Loki so perfectly fanned the flames. Even with the blows he landed on the punching bag making his arms sting, Alex couldn’t focus on anything other than Loki’s presence egging him on. It was infuriating how the god wouldn’t just let it go and expertly poked at exposed nerves like a child with a favorite toy.
“Nearly biting his arm off is a ‘little disagreement’? I was already informed of your little spat at breakfast.”
“Didn’t know you were a gossip.”
“Normally I’m not, but your little escapades are too much fun to not keep up with.”
Another growl escaped Alex’s lips before he could think twice, this one sounding a bit more like a panther as the heat in his chest flared once again. He tamped it down with every ounce of willpower he could muster. They just fixed the kitchen after his last “escapade”. Alex took a haggard breath, finally stopping his assault on the heavy bag but not turning to meet Loki’s eye. If he could just get five minutes alone, then maybe there wouldn’t be another incident, but knowing Loki, that was a foolish hope.
“For the love of all that is holy, just leave me alone. I can’t deal with your crap right now,” Alex huffed, the exertion from his rigorous workout hitting him like a train. He swiped a hand across his forehead to clean off some of the sweat on his brow, flinching when he turned to see Loki standing less than a foot away. Loki offered him a water bottle, the same one Alex was reaching for before he had been startled by the sudden change in proximity.
“Have you not taken a break since you started this? That is sorely unlike you,” the Asgardian said as he looked down his nose at the sweaty mess his colleague had become.
If Alex didn’t know better, he could have sworn he heard the faintest hint of concern within the snappish, sarcastic tone. Snatching the water bottle, he took a whiff of its contents. “Did you spike it? I’d rather not spend the rest of the day useless in bed because you tried to poison me. Again.”
“Norns, no!” The tiny smirk tugging at Loki’s lips said otherwise. “I would never stoop so low.”
Without a word, Alex marched over to the shower room and dumped the entirety of the water bottle down the drain. He could get something to drink later, and the action had seemingly stunned the famed Silver Tongue into silence for a few blissful seconds.
“Why in the Realms would you do that? I didn’t tamper with your drink,” Loki sneered, and Alex had to suppress the scoff that would surely have come out as a plume of smoke.
“I’ll trust something edible coming from you the day Hell freezes over. Now, are you gonna let me shower in peace or do I have to melt the tacky leather you call an outfit?”
Loki opened his mouth to retort and then shut it with an audible click. Something flickered in his eyes, but Alex couldn’t care enough to try and decipher what it was. Instead, he watched as the God of Mischief turned tail and left the training room. How Loki maintained an elegant, arrogant posture even after being bested in his own game was a mystery Alex rolled his eyes at before jumping into a shower stall.
The cold water did the trick at soothing the blaze that had taken residence in Alex’s chest. The colder tile against his forehead as he melted under the icy torrent worked even better. People always asked why a dragon hybrid liked the cold and not the heat, and that was because Alex had plenty of fire in his blood that needed dousing already. Especially if someone or something upset him. Like Loki. That cocky prince always figured out how to get on his nerves in the worst ways. Every time the God of Mischief opened his mouth or even looked in his direction had Alex seeing red.
But that was what Loki wanted. He wanted Alex to lose control, to “truly let go of the restraints he put upon himself.” That was their dynamic. Loki would push and prod and dig at Alex’s weak points until someone had to step in before it got out of hand. Alex despised it, how much Loki affected him. Grumbling to himself, Alex turned the shower off and hopped out, slinging a towel around his waist. He caught a glimpse of his reflection as he passed the mirror–
“Oh, hell no.”
His hair was bright green. Not muted or light green. Bright, neon-fluorescent, 90s arcade green. And the telltale shimmer of magic in the wet strands made the culprit clear as day. So much for blowing off steam in a healthy fashion.