Loki Laufeyson x Reader One Shots CLOSED

You're So Good to Me, Baby

You're So Good to Me, Baby
Request for Lissy

"I am not sick."
That was about the tenth time in the last hour that the very stubborn and very sick God of Mischief had tried to argue. For the last hour you'd been taking care of him – or trying to. He proved to be very difficult to contain. He was constantly getting out of bed as soon as your back was turned, though he was rather compliant when you found him out of bed and pointed to the bedroom with a stern expression. He would look at you like he was a child you had just caught in the cookie jar, and then he would look betrayed by his own lack of stealth and dramatically trudge back into bed.
You learned early on in this relationship that he was a drama queen.

You sat in a small wooden chair by his bed, a bottle of Excedrin in one hand. You popped open the lid and poured a couple of pills into the other hand before offering them to the groaning brunette in front of you. He accepted them with a shaky hand and sat up against the headboard as you extended a glass of water towards him. He took it with a nod before swallowing the pills, downing the rest of the water in the process.
You had been dating for about six months, and you spent almost every moment together. Though the Avengers had accepted him and even considered him a friend, he accepted your offer to move in shortly after your relationship began. There had been a few domestic arguments here and there about household rules, but so far it had been enjoyable.
You smiled at the god, reaching out to hold his hand. His usually icy skin was unnaturally warm, thanks to his fever. Your smile faltered as you thought about how dramatic his cold must be to warm his skin so dramatically.
"What is it?" he mumbled, seeing your concern expression.
"Your skin... I know you're sick but even humans don't get this warm. And your regular temperature is far lower than a human's."
He nodded. "Gods and frost giants don't get sick very easily or very often, so when we do it hits us hard. Our colds are far more dramatic and take longer to pass than a mortal's."
"Is there anything I can do?" you asked.
He smiled. "You've done plenty." His stomach then let out a rather loud grumble, causing him to chuckle.
"I can make you food," you offered. "I don't know about god sicknesses but chicken noodle soup usually works for us."
"Homemade?" he asked, eyes lighting up like a small child's. He'd grown rather fond of your cooking and decided that nothing in a box or a can tasted better than what you made from scratch.
"Of course," you agreed. You stood from your chair and leaned over him, pressing a kiss to his burning forehead. "I'll bring a cold rag back for your head."
He nodded appreciatively as you left.

You returned about half an hour later to find him asleep, though he wasn't sleeping peacefully. He mumbled incoherently every now and then, and his head turned this way and that as though he were trying to escape something. You set the bowl of soup down on the nightstand along with a bottle of water. While you were cooking, you wetted a washrag and placed it in the freezer. It was now mostly frozen and a tad frosty as you folded it in half and placed it directly on Loki's brow. He let out a soft breath and his shifting ceased. When his eyes fluttered open, you were the first thing he saw.
"Any better?" you asked, brushing a sweaty strand of hair from his face.
"Much," he replied. "Whatever you did is working wonders."
"Frozen towel," you replied. "I thought it might help with the fever. Still hungry?"
He nodded and sat up once more. You adjusted the pillows behind him so he had something to lean against. He smiled softly as you handed him the warm bowl of soup. He ate slowly, blowing a frosty breath over the bowl so it cooled to eatable temperature.
"Can you only cool down other things and not yourself?" you asked, having watched him.
He nodded again. "If our places were reversed and you had a fever, I could fix it just by touching you. But I cannot do the same to myself."
You frowned at the news. "That hardly seems fair."
"Magic is rarely fair," he replied with a smirk. He drank the rest of the broth and set the empty bowl on the nightstand. "Thank you, love."
"Of course," you said. You moved to sit on the bed beside the god, holding his hand. His temperature dropped to somewhere in-between your regular temperature and his.
"Lay with me?" he whispered. You smiled lovingly and nodded, waiting for him to scoot over. You nestled in beside him under the blanket, curling into his side. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders. You didn't really mind if you got sick from being so close. You knew he'd take care of you in turn if you did.
You liked the rare moments when his walls were down and he was soft and gentle. It happened more often around you now that you were dating, but he still felt the need to be confident and strong. Only when he was ill or exhausted did he ask for help or comfort. He always accepted it – he never pushed you away or denied you. But he would only request it when he really needed it. And you would immediately give it, because it felt nice to be needed.
"How long do colds usually last for gods?" you asked, looking up at him. Your hand rested on his bare chest, lightly tracing random designs on his skin.
He hummed in response to your actions. "Usually a week or two."
You tilted your head up and pressed a kiss to his jaw. "I'll just have to play nurse for a week or two then."
He chuckled, turning his head to kiss your forehead. "You're so good to me."