My Best Friend's the God of Mischief // Peter x Loki

liquor on your lips makes you dangerous

"What's wrong?" Quentin asked worriedly. Seating behind Loki, he continued combing raven locks with his fingers. His touch gentle and caring, though Loki couldn't help but flinch a little ever so often.

How did he end up here? Before he knew it he found it too hard to back away, and Quentin was always around. Watching Loki's every move with his mesmerizing gaze that sent shivers down Loki's spine. Beyond the sweetness those eyes held, Loki saw cruelty. Warning.

"I... nothing," he shrugged, unconsciously drew his knees closer to his chest, hugging himself. He had the urge to push Quentin's hand away, to reject the false affection. Though Loki knew better than that.

(Last time Loki snapper was last night. They were making love. Or to be exact, Quentin wanted it. Not Loki. Loki never wanted those. When he lost it and bit the man hard, Quentin made sure he learned his lesson. His punishment was never physical for they both knew it would be useless, Loki was a God and Quentin wouldn't be able to hurt him physically. It was the words; bitter truth coming from Quentin's lips that cut deep into Loki's soul. He - Quentin - knew that; knew how to make Loki stumble on his knees, shatter his will and break him down to the atom until he was too broken to stand against him. No one loves you, Quentin always told him that, no one but me. I saved you. I rescued you and you are to treat me with respect. You are to do everything I told you to. He kept saying those. Again and again until Loki started to believe them)

"Hey," his voice brought Loki out of his trance. Two fingers found his chin and tilted his head backward so their eyes met. Quentin looked worried (like he cared) "come on, I thought we got past that point now. You have anything on your mind, you tell me."

Loki opened his mouth slightly, like he was going to say something, then he closed it seconds later. His shoulders slumped before he averted his eyes. "It is nothing," he said.

"Lo,"

"I'm just... tired," he lied. He was, in fact, tired. But that was not it. He wanted to leave, wanted to go back to May's. He missed her, he missed Peter and he missed Thor.

"Well then," Quentin smiled, "rest." He grabbed Loki's shoulders gently yet firmly, easing him down on the mattress, and Loki knew better than to protest. Even if he didn't want rest (he was exhausted though he could never really rest here; he should be running, not closing his eyes and drifting off) he had to keep telling himself, just for now. Just for now he'd sleep the whole things off. Until he could think of anything. Loki closed his eyes as Quentin tugged him in. He would count it as a blessing; how he fell asleep so fast within 10 minutes.

For the moment he didn't have to worry about anything.

~~~

Quentin never asked the question again; who Spider-Man was. Though it was still there, awaiting the right time. Loki knew he couldn't - wouldn't - give Quentin what he wanted; the answer, and it was only a matter of time until his patience would run thin.

What are you afraid of? The voices inside Loki's head sounded like Thor. He's only a mortal. You are a God!

A pathetic one, you mean, Loki wanted to laugh. The only time he ever was fearless was when he attacked Midgard, and even that wasn't his own doing but under the influence of Thanos, controlled limb by limb like a marionette. Maybe Loki had always been weak, pathetic, and he was a fool for believing otherwise for so long.

How stupid of him for thinking he was strong. How stupid of him for thinking he could survive on his own. For running away.

(He had run away because he believed family and friends weren't something he deserved. He ran away because he believed he was doing them a favor. What if he was also wrong about that? He missed May's warm soup and the way she always managed to comfort him like Frigga did. He missed Peter's annoying self, and it's been so long since he'd last seen Thor his chest acted by the longing to reunite with his brother)