Loki Laufeyson: A One Shot Series

The Terrible, Horrible, No-Good 'Man-Cold'

{Loki catches a cold and you have no other choice but to care for him}

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"By the Gods, I'm dying...dying, I say...this is what it feels like to be just on the brink..."

What was it he had uttered just a few days prior...? Oh, but of course.

"My dear, I know not of your petty Midgaurdian illnesses. It would be certainly an impossibility for me to catch one of those...bugs."

The cold I had just a few days ago knocked me down pretty heavily, but to Loki, the mere ghost of a headache had him completely unraveling. It was somewhat...amusing.

A sly smirk found its way to my lips as the man before me placed a pillow over his face in futile attempts to suffocate himself. I grabbed the object and slowly peeled it back from him.

"I thought Asgardians couldn't catch colds..." I notioned, tilting my head off to one side.

I was fortunate enough to have Loki around to boss for tissues and medicine when I was feeling under the weather. It would only be right for me to provide the same services to him. Unfortunately, a bad case of the sniffles sent his body into fight or flight and I was in for a terribly long day.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid...leave me to suffer, Midgardian...you're good at that."

He threw the pillow in my direction, slapping me square in the chest. I laughed whole-heartedly as he shrunk back into his bed, disappearing under the covers. He groaned, the rasp coating his horse throat making him sound far less intimidating.

"Why is it that I feel both hot and cold at the same time?" He launched the blanket off of him and floundered about like a small child, "You must be joking. This is torture."

I sighed, my smile slowly disappearing as I spoke, "You probably have a fever then."

His lanky fingers raked down his pale face in desperation as I leaned closer. He peeked in between the spaces and jolted back.

"What are you doing?" His question bore into me, voice hardening.

I rolled my eyes as my hand found a home over his forehead, "I need to see if your skin is warm to the touch."

No kidding. He was warm. Warmer than warm. Loki's eyes rounded into innocent, glossy circles as he peered up at me. Mine met his gaze accidentally and an indetectable string caused my stomach to lurch into the dead center of my chest. Laying a mere finger on this man was far from my level of expertise, and here I was with the flat of my open palm against his sickly face, popping his social bubble. His skin was softer than I had imagined...and his eyes were-

"Is it...warm?" He interjected, shaking my advances away from him and folding his arms across his slender chest.

I cleared my throat and pulled back, hand curling in on itself, "Uh. Yeah. You're pretty warm. I should probably grab the thermometer."

I motioned towards the door with my thumb as I brought myself to both feet.

"I'm gonna run downstairs...do you need anything...?"

He pursed his lips, looking down for a moment in consideration. His chest heaved with a sigh as he dramatically back-flopped onto the cushions.

"The will to live..." He growled, earning a smug smile and a warm laugh from my end.

I rummaged through the medicine cabinet and grabbed all the necessities for a sick day at home...tissues, DayQuil, a cold compress, and a couple of cherry-flavored cough drops to soothe his throat. Despite the man being an absolute pain in the ass most of the time, I couldn't help but feel bad for him.