Work Text:
The blanket weighs too heavily on your shoulders, but every time you push it away, the cold comes over you and you put it up furiously. You'd done everything you could to get to sleep: avoid screens, read a little, get into bed at the first yawn. But the fact remains that your brain refuses to pause, to switch off your train of thought for a few hours. Tomorrow you have to get up early, you need that night's sleep. However, the hours go by and you're still wide awake. It's a vicious circle of irritation, fatigue and anxiety that embraces and suffocates you. You let out the umpteenth sigh as you turn over, your body tense and feverish.
The bedroom door ajar, Loki stands on the threshold and despite the darkness, you can make out his concern. Loki, who sleeps so little, has been listening to you spinning for the past two hours and can sense your annoyance. With his supple gait, the god enters the room and comes to sit on the edge of the bed as you apologize for disturbing him, as if it were your fault. The young man dismisses it all with a wave of his hand.
"It's alright, my love. Tell me instead what preoccupies your mind, what clutters your head and clouds it."
You know he's sincere, waiting for you to confide in him, and he's always been good at relieving your conscience of its clouds. So you step aside to let him lie beside you, relieved that he has broken your isolation and solitude. It doesn't take long for the words to flow from your lips, and it does you good to express aloud what's haunting you. Your work stresses you out, you have a lot to think about, to anticipate, you feel like you're swimming against the tide while your colleagues are on the shore. You work so hard you're sick with fatigue and yet you're never satisfied, it's never enough.
Loki listens to you without interrupting, one hand resting in your hair, his slender fingers slipping between your locks in a very gentle movement, a delicate caress. After several long minutes, you catch your breath and realize that having poured all your anguish into the dark leaves you with an emptier head, as if you'd pulled the plug out of a bathtub that's about to overflow. Relieved, you hug the Asgardian, who continues to stroke your hair without saying a word, as you seek neither advice nor approval. You're just looking to get it off your chest, and you have.
Have your eyes gotten used to the dark? You can make out your lover's features better, the room bathed in a slightly flickering bluish glow, like the beating of a calmed heart. Loki closes his arms around you, not enough to feel trapped but enough to limit your nervous movements, like a weighted blanket providing a welcome cocoon. His hands keep coming and going, one in your hair, the other down your back, while his lips graze the top of your head. You relax, tenderly caressing his chest as a sweet scent reaches you, the kind that makes you smile, that soothes. You know it's the god who summons it ; he knows your tastes, what pleases you. The silence seems less oppressive, and you struggle to string your thoughts together, simply concentrating on this sensation of well-being, the gentle warmth at your back, the presence of the one you love so close to you.
Loki doesn't need words to calm the flow of your thoughts; his embrace alone conveys his intention. "Rest, my beloved. Lay your weary head on my shoulder and deposit your sorrows, entrust them to me. I promise, I promise to take care of you. You can close your eyes, I'll watch over you."
You could almost hear those words in your mind, the softness of his voice in the hollow of your ear. Your eyes close, you try to keep them open, to look at Loki to enjoy this moment, but it's an uphill struggle.
The young man smiles, places his hand on your cheek to part a lock, his warm palm overcoming your last resistance. Your whole body relaxes, your mind silent, soothed by the warmth of his caresses. Unless there's something magical in the air. It's only when your breath slows and deepens that Loki removes the sweet smell, returning the room to its original darkness. He won't slip away tonight; he'll remain your cocoon for the night, your haven so you can rest fully.
Sleep well, my love.
