Shut Up And Kiss Me (Loki x Darcy)

Talking Tactics

"I....said...I'm....fine!"

To her horror, Loki pushed open the door, and stepped inside with almost comical reluctance. "Oh dear. You look even less fine than you sound, and the unholy noise you are making is bad enough."

Hastily she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, then immediately wished she hadn't, because what must he think of her? But she didn't want him seeing her dribbling either.

"I...I'm okay....I'm okay." She repeated over and over between gasps.

"Clearly you're not. Am I to presume this is the typical human response to having had too much to drink?"

She shook her head helplessly, as he edged closer and placed his hand precariously on her back, rubbing it gently.

"No, I'm usually fine, and I've drunk way more than this before. I shouldn't have mixed my drinks. That's what it is. I'm such an idiot."

She turned her head to look at him, and saw him grimace as he hurriedly pressed the flush on the toilet.

"I really don't want you to be here right now." She exhaled shakily. "You really don't have to be here."

"I know. And I'd rather not be, in all honesty. It's awkwardly disgusting." He pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingertips and closed his eyes.

"Then why are you here? Go!"

"I shan't." Taking a washcloth from the side of the bathtub, Loki soaked it in cold water, and carefully wiped her face and mouth with it. "As disgusting as it is, I've seen worse."

She smiled a watery smile. "Gee, that's such a comfort."

He brushed her hair from her face, and pressed the cooling cloth to her warm forehead. "It ought to be." Grasping her shoulders, he gently hoisted her up, peering at her face with an anxious frown. "Darcy, you look dreadful."

"Thanks. You sure know how to make a girl feel special." She wailed melodramatically. "Oh, God. I want to die."

"Sorry, I don't do requests."

This was the last thing she wanted. Loki having to take charge, dealing with her mess. She found it ridiculously embarrassing. She felt like a fraud. A pretend adult. A pathetic mortal that couldn't even take care of herself. But she was too exhausted to resist, as he took hold of her, supporting her limp, aching body against his own.
He shouldn't have to do this. She shouldn't be his responsibility, even Greg had never done this sort of thing for her.

"L, you really don't have to do this. I'm a big girl. I'll be fine--"

"Darcy. Please. Just, shut up for once." His commanding tone made it impossible to defy him, as she sagged like a rag doll, and in the next instant, he scooped her up in his capable arms, which thrilled and worried her in equal amounts.

"My hero." She giggled weakly, as he carried her through into the bedroom, and tucked her into bed, displaying a level of attentiveness and care she'd never expected from him.

The last thing she remembered before drifting off to sleep, was asking him to stay with her. He lay on top of the covers beside her, and when he answered his voice was calm and soothing....

"I'm right here, Darcy. I....I'm not going anywhere."

When she awoke with a start a few hours later, sickness was the first thing Darcy was aware of. Lots of sickness and a terrible throbbing headache.