warnings: i dont know if this is necessarily a warning but it might not be ideal if you are lactose intolerant, its mainly just fluff with a bit of angst because of mentions of stress and high expectations from bosses
summary: loki comes over to cook dinner for reader after a long day
a/n: i love to pretend he's a great cook. i also feel like once someone is nice to him, he’s extremely dependent loyal
you enter your apartment lethargically, kicking off your shoes and dropping your bag and keys somewhere. to say that your day was difficult was an understatement; tony stark was at some healing retreat, good for him, while every one of his employees were running around making sure everything was perfect for the upcoming expo, which would present both his personal projects, and new avengers technology. your job was to make sure the technology was ready to be presented, meaning tweaking tiny details in wiring and coding; two things you weren’t exactly trained in, so your supervisor was not pleased despite knowing this. the whole day, week even, was a septic tank of stress.
your train of thought was interrupted by the smell of garlic and yeast in the air. stepping further into your home, you come to realize the scent could be traced back to the god pacing around your kitchen. observing the source further, you concluded that he was making dinner. in your kitchen.
“ah, welcome home, earthling,” he doesn't even turn to look at you, he holds his focus on the pan on the stove, keeping an eye on the sauce simmering in the pot.
“hey there,” you replied, your voice holding a bit of confusion in it, but who wouldn't be at least a little weirded out? anyone coming home to find a 6'2 god in their kitchen would probably be confused too. it's not like you never interacted with him, but your interactions mostly consist of witty banter, and that one moment of a deep, heartfelt conversation. that one only happened because you found him up late one night, his face stained with tears and his hair tangled and wild. you sat with him for some time, just listening to either his slow, deep breaths, or his words. things had been a bit different since that night. his gaze had become ever so slightly less unwavering.
maybe this was his way of repaying the kindness.
a timer went off and he grabbed an oven mitt. he opened the oven door and pulled out the most delicious-looking garlic bread. your mouth instantly began to water as you stepped closer to the counter where he placed the baking sheet.
“you made garlic bread?” you asked, working hard to restrain yourself from grabbing the piping hot loaf.
“it would appear so, i hope it’s to your liking.”
“it very much is to my liking.”
he stepped aside from the stove, gesturing for your presence. “how does this taste,” he asked, taking a spoon from the pan and guiding it towards your mouth. you allowed him to feed it to you. the sauce tasted heavenly.
“absolutely delicious,” you couldn't help yourself, it didn’t matter how much the answer would feed his ego, that sauce was amazing.
“wonderful,” he replied. he turned the flame off and turned to the sink where he had been draining fettuccine noodles. he picked up the strainer and poured the noodles into the sauce pan. you hopped up onto the counter, claiming a front row seat as you watched him mix the pasta and make his last minute touches onto the meal.
he plated the pasta with michelin star level precision and ushered you over to the table. you sat down as he turned to grab a plate for himself. by the time he returned, you had almost devoured the entire plate.
“someone’s hungry,” he joked.
“you have no idea what kind of week i’ve had, this is so great.”
“i might have some idea, i’ve seen you running around the compound like a madperson.”
his words, although simple, reached your heart. one thing you truly valued was feeling seen by others, so his words and actions meant more than he may realize.
you only hummed in response. he smiled at you as you got up and nearly ran to the kitchen to grab more of everything.
as you sat back down to begin eating again, you couldn't help but point out the flour in his hair, to which he replied that it was a natural dry shampoo, a good save, you thought.
