Avengers Imagines

Loki - This is part 4

You sit there listening to your favourite song and occasionally singing along in a soft voice. You're waiting for Loki to get out of the shower. For a man that doesn't seem to care much about people, he sure as hell cares about his appearance. You wait.

Time seems to go so slowly, but he's still in there, and the water is still running. Then finally, it turns off. You wait a second more and he comes out the door, towel wrapped low around his waist, black hair glistening with droplets of water, and a ridiculously attractive smirk on his face.

You sigh, getting up. "Finally," you say, though you're much more interested at looking at him.

He smiles innocently though you know that there's nothing innocent about him. "I happen to like being clean."

"Yeah. Or you actually care about what people think about you."

He walks right up to you, infringing on your personal space and towering over you. There might even be a shadow cast. You wonder about that until you look right into his eyes which are boring into you. You gulp.

"You, (Y/N)..." he says as he reaches up with his right hand. He looks like he's about to slap you. Instead, he touches the tip of your nose with the tip of his index finger. "... are mistaken."

You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding as he steps back. You look at him, incredulous. "On a first name basis now, are we?" you ask after a week of being called 'Midgardian' as though it were a curse word.

He shrugs. "Well, you call me Loki, do you not?"

"But you don't call me (Y/N). It's always 'Midgardian'."

He moves closer to you again, this time completely towering over you. His face becomes inches away from yours. "Perhaps I like your name better."

And again, he backs off. You let out another breath, he's going to make you go crazy with all of that ridiculous intensity.

"Or perhaps I should be calling you 'Asgardian'."

He chuckles, throwing a shirt over his head. He fixes it onto his torso. "Perhaps."

***********

"Honestly, I don't get it," you say as he goes to switch the light to your shared sleeping quarter off. The darkness engulf you.

"What do you not understand, (Y/N)?" he asks. Now your name seems to end up strewn delicately into every conversation you have. If you hadn't know your name before, you definitely knew it now.

You don't reply him and find him tugging on the corner of your blanket. He occupies the bottom bunk of the bunk bed Fury so graciously put you in. Bruce had had a fit over the sleeping arrangement. He sleeps next door, checking once a night to make sure you're alive and that no funny business is going on.

He continues tugging until you begin to answer. "Why you'd come back for her."

You hear him change positions. "There's something about her that I know I cannot leave."

"But how would it even work out? You're in Asgard, but she's gonna be on earth..."

There's a long silence. "I'd take her with me. She would become a princess. My princess. Everything she would ever want she would have. Anything I could give her I would."

You giggle. "So you're a romantic?"

"I suppose... Are you?"

You begin to delve into conversation about this mysterious woman and he seems to get very comfortable with the topic, then turns it on you. He asks you about your partners, your previous relationships, all the people you've rejected. He seems to enjoy knowing that you're currently single.