The Heat of the Snow // A Loki Fanfiction

Chapter 9

The dim lights of the sleigh are hardly doing anything now, and weaving through the trees comes down mostly to intuition. They pass fast, grazing the sides of the sleigh and throwing you both around, but Loki keeps his arm tight around your waist...his chest pressed to your back. It'd be comforting was it not for your impending death.

As you round another corner, the lights of the igloos appear in the distance, casting a dim glow through the tumbling snow. The dogs notice them too, barking their appreciation and heading straight there. You suddenly consider your father, whether he made it back in time, hoping that he did and that he's not stranded in town. Your heart lurches at the thought. No, he's smart...he'd be safe, wherever he is...unlike me.

Loki feels you tense in his arms, your gloved hands shaking around the reins. "Not long now," he shouts through the wind, stating the obvious. But the words calm you a little anyway.

When you reach Loki's igloo, the snow has already fallen so thick that the main cabin is almost buried. You have to dig through the snow to open the door. "Get inside and get the fire going," you instruct him.

"What are you doing?"

"The dogs...the shelter door is buried here too."

Loki is by your side instantly. "I'll help you."

You're too exhausted to protest. You scoop the snow back with your hands, wishing you had a shovel or something useful to make the process faster. It's a good five minutes before you're inside—a considerable amount of time in terms of the storm—and you hurry the dogs inside, pulling off their equipment and filling their bowls with food and water.

"We need to hurry," you say out loud, fumbling with the straw bedding before flinging it all over the place. With the dogs bedded down, Loki grabs your arm and yanks you outside, locking the door behind you before racing up the cabin steps.

"Fuck," you say, sagging against the wooden hallway wall.

"Are you okay?" Loki asks, locking the cabin door behind you both.

For a moment, all you can do is pull air into your lungs and stare at each other. "Yeah," you say eventually. "I just really thought we were dead."

Loki smiles softly before nodding to the living room. "I'll get the fire started."

With all the urgency and panic, you hadn't considered the fact that you'd be staying with him...locked up together...alone. But now, in this quiet moment where all you can hear is the wind whistling outside, the gravity of the situation weighs down on your shoulders. How long would the storm last? Would you have enough food? Did Loki even want me here?

Fuck, this isn't ideal.

You peer out the small oval window by the cabin door, watching the snow build and build outside. The dogs would have enough food and water, you were certain. But would you survive inside this igloo with a man you've only just met? A man who—if today is anything to go by—has a way of turning your world upside down and leaving you hanging from the stars?

The memories of his fingers wiggle their way into your mind and your stomach clenches deliciously in response. God, did that even happen? It still feels like a dream. He was good at it—too good. And if that's what his fingers can do...then what about his—

"Y/N?" Loki calls, making you jump. "Do you want a drink, darling?"

You open and close your mouth, unable to think of an answer with the memories still clinging to your brain. "Uhhh...a drink?"

Loki holds out one of the bottles of red wine from the basket, and over his shoulder, you notice the fire is already roaring in the wood-burning stove. Your feet pull you towards it on their own accord, desperate for that promise of heat. In the frenzy, you had forgotten how wet and cold you'd been—how the inside of your clothes are still damp and clinging to your skin.

"You think getting drunk is a good idea?" you ask, stepping around him and dropping in front of the fireguard.

"I didn't say drunk," Loki smirks, placing the bottle onto the table and joining it with two glasses. "Though after the evening we've had, I wouldn't say no." You just make a low noise in your throat, holding up your hands to get warm. "You'd get a lot warmer if you took those clothes off, Y/N."

As if to show you what to do, Loki unzips his jacket and hangs it over the back of a chair. This time you get to your feet. "What is this? Alcohol...? Inviting me to undress...? I'm just here because of the storm and the snow. It doesn't mean that I...that we will..." You struggle to find the right words, losing all sense of what you want to say. "Well, you know!"

Loki raises an eyebrow. "And so, to keep me at arm's length you've decided to remain uncomfortable in wet clothes, with no food or drink?"

You fold your arms across your chest, standing taller. "Maybe."

Loki scoffs. "You're so stubborn." He pops the cork on the bottle and pours out a large glass, leaving yours empty.

"Well, suit yourself," he says, taking a long sip. "If you change your mind, you know where it is. I'm going to take a shower."

You follow his retreating form with a glare, swearing that he was grinning. As soon as he closes the door behind him, you deflate, suddenly realising how cold, wet, hungry AND thirsty you are.

With a groan, you crumple to the floor by the fire. He's right...I am stubborn...not that I'll admit that to him though...