Loki Misses the Asgardian Prison System

Chapter 9

Loki's stomach has been growling all day, but he doesn't get up until well past sunset. He's just so tired. He doesn't want to stand up. He doesn't want to put clothes on. He doesn't want to walk. He doesn't want to risk running into another Avenger. There are just so many reasons he'd like to stay in bed. But he needs something to eat, so he does it anyway.

Loki picks the pillowcase up off the floor and wipes the sweat from his body. The cloth is getting disgusting, but there's nothing he can do about it. Even if there was, he wouldn't have the ambition to.

He slips his pants on, and he's reminded once again how heavy Asgardian leather is. Fortunately, he still has his prison shirt, and that material is a bit lighter. He almost doesn't want to put it on, but he doesn't know whether he'll run into anyone outside and he doesn't want to walk around half-naked if there's a chance he will.

He misses when the Avengers would leave him alone. It only lasted for a few days, but it was nice. He didn't have to pretend he felt okay. He didn't have to risk anyone seeing him look weak. But with Steve Rogers here, he'll have to maintain the failing facade to the best of his abilities.

Loki slowly walks down the hall, his legs shaking with every step. He wishes he could move faster, that he could get this walking over with, but if he tried, he thinks he might fall. So he persists, slowly but surely, until he reaches the kitchen.

Steve is once again already sitting at the table, and Loki purposely avoids his gaze, just opening up the freezer to get his chicken nuggets. The cold air calms his clammy skin, and all he can do is just stand there, letting the cold overtake him. But if he stands here for too long, Steve is going to start asking questions again, so he reluctantly pulls out the chicken nuggets and starts arranging them on a plate.

"Loki," Steve says.

Loki ignores him, his attention solely on his chicken nuggets because he's not sure he can concentrate on two different things at once. He reaches into the bag for a few more chicken nuggets, but it's empty. He sighs. This will have to do.

"Loki," Steve says again.

Loki slips his nuggets in the microwave and turns it in. He learned the hard way the first time he reached the end of a bag that fewer chicken nuggets require less time to cook, but he's not actually sure how long that is. He just picks a random number and turns the microwave on. He doesn't bother cutting the time in half. He's not flipping them today.

"Loki!" Steve repeats, clearly growing frustrated.

Loki steps back in front of the freezer before he finally answers, his only response being an irritated, "What?"

Steve frowns. He takes a moment before he speaks, like he didn't even have anything to say, and when he does, he just asks, "What happened to you?"

"You should know," Loki says, and had he had a little more energy, he'd make it sound much more rude. "You were there when I was arrested."

"Exactly," Steve says. "I was there, and you looked fine. And now you're..." He gestures to him vaguely.

"Still fine," Loki finishes.

"No, you're not," Steve says.

Loki lolls his head back in exasperation. What will it take to get these people to leave him alone? He doesn't want to talk about this. He wants to pretend he's okay and he wants everyone to be indifferent enough that they don't push. Is that too much to ask for?

"Are you sick?" Steve asks.

"No," Loki says monotonously. He might be sick. He's not sure.

"It has to be more than a cold," Steve continues.

"It's not." He wishes it was cold. He wishes he was cold. It would be a big improvement from this constant sweltering heat.

"What is it?" Steve asks. "What's happening to you?"

Loki shakes his head. He's so done with this guy. He leaves the freezer open, letting the cold air fill the room while he fills up his water bottle. Just taking off the cap takes more energy than he cares to admit, and he has to rest his arm on the lip of the sink while the bottle fills up.

"How can I help?" Steve asks.

Loki keeps his gaze on his water bottle. "Why do you care?"

"I don't know," Steve admits. "I probably shouldn't, but..." He sighs. "You look awful. And, against my better judgment, I feel bad for you. So if I can help fix you up, that's what I'm going to do."

Loki thinks about that as he's turning the faucet off. He's long since learned not to admit weakness to the enemy, but he's past that point now. He can deny it all he likes, but Steve can obviously tell he's not okay. So the question now becomes: is he willing to ask an Avenger for help?

The microwave beeps and Loki diverts his attention to it, pulling out his chicken nuggets that may or may not have been cooked well. He doesn't feel like checking. He has what he came here for. He could very easily just leave. Steve probably wouldn't think anything of it. He could just head back to his room in peace and pretend this never happened.

Or...

He reluctantly turns to face Steve. This is really going to hurt his ego, but if there's a chance it could make him feel just a little better, he has to try it. "Do you have any other pants?"

Steve stares at him. "Pants."

Loki nods.

"You want... pants."

Loki nods again, more reluctantly this time. This is exactly why he didn't want to ask for help. This is just one very small step above being laughed at.

"I guess I can find you some pants," Steve says, "but... why?"

Loki shrugs sheepishly. "The leather gets hot." He can already feel it sticking to his sweaty legs. It's going to be a pain to take them off when he gets back to his room.

Steve cracks a small smile, and Loki immediately regrets asking for help. He'd almost been naïve enough to think Steve wouldn't laugh at him the way everyone else has been. He'd sounded sincere when he asked how he could help. But it's impossible to notice the amusement in his smirk.

"I'll bring you some pants tomorrow, okay?" Steve says. "I don't have an extra pair on me."

Loki gives a small nod. He can wait until tomorrow. He won't want to put them on until he goes looking for food tomorrow night, anyway. He picks up his food and his drink, kicks the freezer shut with his foot, and walks out of the room without a word. Now if he can just make it back to his room without passing out, he'll consider this a somewhat-successful trip.