helllooooo everybody!! i just saw Project Hail Mary in theaters and thought it would be cute to write a little tickle fic for it!! I hope you enjoy! :D
Human Discoveries
Lee Grace / Ler Rocky
Word Count: 1,855
Rocky finds out something interesting about humans, and about Grace.
!!! Slight Project Hail Mary Spoilers !!!
it doesn't really spoil much but i just wanted to be safe :)
The interior of the Hail Mary spacecraft was a bit of a mess at the moment. Eridian Rocky and Earth science teacher (slash newly become astronaut) Ryland Grace were sitting on the floor, working on creating xenonite models.
Not only were the models helpful for the two to use to communicate when language barriers occurred, but Grace thought it would be nice to show them to the science team back on Earth. It would make explaining his and Rocky’s plan easier, since recording his research on video diaries meant he couldn’t answer any live questions or clear up any discrepancies.
“Where is ♫♪♬, question?” Rocky asked.
Grace looked up at him from his place on the floor, unable to understand the last part of his sentence. “What?”
“Where is ♫♪♬ model, question? Rocky cannot find,” the Eridian elaborated. He rolled around in his ball, searching for the missing model piece.
“Can you be more specific, please? What does it look like?” Grace started searching around as well, lifting stuff up and looking underneath them in an attempt to help his alien buddy.
“Small,” Rocky replied.
The human shot him a blank look. “Great. Very helpful, thanks.”
Rocky paused. Wait, there it was. It was caught on the side of Grace’s jacket. “Rocky found,” the Eridian announced as he rolled over.
“Huh? Where?” Grace looked around, the model piece following him as he turned.
“On you,” the alien pointed.
Grace looked down at himself, his body twisting around like a dog chasing his tail. He somehow still didn’t find it. “On me? Where?”
Rocky rolled closer to him. He would just get it himself. He reached out towards the human, putting his claw through the meshy, flexible part of his portable enclosure. “There-” He tried to grab the model piece off of Grace, but with all the moving around the human was doing Rocky missed and ended up grabbing his side. It shouldn’t have been a big deal, but Grace just happened to have rather sensitive sides.
A tingly feeling shot through the science teacher’s nerves at the touch. “Gah!” He yelped and leaned away from the Eridian on instinct. A small smile crept onto his face.
Rocky’s head tilted in confusion. He had never heard him make a sound like that before. The alien cautiously backed away from him. “What happen, question? Did Rocky hurt Grace, question?” He asked nervously. His two front arms joined together as he waited anxiously for an answer.
Grace awkwardly scratched the back of his neck. “Oh, no, no, sorry. I’m fine, uh, I’m just ticklish,” he admitted sheepishly.
There was a pause for a second. Then Rocky spoke up, “What is that?”
Oh goodness. How on earth was Grace going to explain something like this? He doubted a being from another planet would share the similar trait of being ticklish. “Um,” He put his hands on his sides as he tried to think, “Humans have certain areas on their bodies that when touched in a certain way, can trigger a self-defense response. It’s like… a tingly, uncomfortable feeling. But it’s also sort of fun in a way?” He seemed unsure of his own answer.
Even though he had no face, Rocky looked fascinated. He took a second to ingest all the new information given to him before asking another question, “Is this with all humans, question?”
“Uh, yeah, mostly. Not with everyone, but it’s with a lot. Some people are more ticklish than others,” Grace answered. He totally wasn’t thinking about himself as he said that last part. Nope. Not at all.
Rocky hummed in thought. He had a claw up to his mouth as he pondered. “Can you show Rocky?” He asked.
Grace squeezed his eyes shut and sighed quietly. He was hoping he wouldn’t ask that. “Uh, sure,” he agreed to it anyway, not wanting to let his alien pal down. It was for science! Now how should he do this? He slid off his jacket revealing a goofy science-related T-shirt underneath and set it off to the side. He slowly laid down on his back and spread out his arms. “Here, come closer,” he motioned. Rocky did as told.
“Uh, every human is different, but some common ticklish spots are the stomach, the sides, underneath the arms, and the bottoms of the feet. You can um, try it if you’d like,” Grace felt his face heating up as he explained. Holy moly, this was so embarrassing. He’s a scientist sent on a mission to save his planet yet here he is explaining tickling to an alien.
Rocky put an arm out. He retracted it in hesitation before slowly reaching back out again. He gently poked Grace’s side, trying to mimic how he did it before. Then he opened his claw and closed it, dragging his fingers down the human’s side. Grace tensed up as the fluttery feelings started to come back. He jerked away as a smile started to reappear on his face. Guess it was working.
“Y-Yeahah. Lihike that.” Wait, why was he encouraging him!? Rocky repeated the motion before adding another claw into the mix. This turned Grace’s light snickers into bubbly giggles.
Rocky paused. “What is funny, question?” He asked.
“Nohothing. Laughing is a reaction, remember?” The human answered, some residual laughter escaping him.
“Oh, okay. Rocky understands. Can Rocky try again, question?” He was so genuinely curious that it was endearing.
“Uh, yeah, sure. Go ahead, buddy,” Grace nodded reluctantly. Another new record to add to his mental collection: First Human to be Tickled by an Alien.
The Eridian crawled back over. Hmm. Grace mentioned that human stomachs gave this reaction too, right? He reached further out, trying to replicate his poking and nudging motion but this time on Grace’s belly. His soft body felt so different from Rocky’s hard exterior. It was cute.
“Squishy. Squishy. Humans are so squishy,” he commented. He brought out another arm and tried spidering his claws into his stomach like it was dough. Grace’s reaction was instant, even stronger than anything Rocky tried in the previous spot. Grace sunk into the floor as his stomach retracted as much as possible, trying to escape the tickly sensation. Intrigued, Rocky did the motions again, but faster.
Grace squealed like a kid. His legs bent inwards as his body tried to protect itself. He tried to stay as still as possible in order to give Rocky the best demonstration he could muster, but holy cow was it difficult! How was Rocky so good at this!? Maybe there was a form of tickling on Erid. Or maybe Grace was just really ticklish. Or maybe it was both.
It had been a while since Grace had last been tickled, it wasn’t really something that came up often in his life. Heck, it had even been a while since he’s laughed this hard. It felt nice in a way, like nostalgic. Being the only human in your spaceship meant that you started to forget what physical affection felt like.
Grace continued to giggle and squirm on the Hail Mary floor as his alien friend prodded and squeezed at his ticklish spots. He let Rocky have his fun for a few more moments before deciding it was time to toss in the towel. “Ohohkay, Ohokay! Uhuhuncle! Rohocky, stohop plehehease!” He called out.
The alien stopped as soon as Grace said so and backed away. He still couldn’t understand completely what was happening, but it was fun. And it was nice hearing Grace laugh. He liked knowing his friend was happy. Human bodies felt so different than Eridians, they were so soft. It was interesting.
“Rocky like that. Grace laugh so much! Rocky never heard before. Rocky like ♪♪♬♬,” the Eridian chirped happily.
Grace assumed that was Rocky’s word for tickling. He would have to add that to the dictionary later. “Good, glad you do,” he grunted as he sat up on the floor. He felt like he had just run a marathon or something. He adjusted his glasses and ran a hand through his hair.
Rocky could hear the human’s increased breathing and started to feel concerned. “Is Grace okay, question?” He hoped he didn’t hurt him on accident.
“Yeah, I’m fine don’t worry. It just has been a while since I’ve last been tickled, I’m not used to it,” Grace replied.
Rocky was still curious about the subject. “Was Grace ♪♪♬♬ a lot on Earth, question?” He asked.
Grace tried not to laugh. It was funny imaging grown adults tickling each other on a daily basis. “Uh, no, not at all. It’s not really a common thing that occurs. Unless you’re a kid.”
“Why?”
“Um,” the human thought for a second, “It’s just kind of weird for adults to do unless they’re close. It’s too personal. It’s kind of embarrassing.”
This just raised more questions for Rocky. “Embarrassing? How embarrassing, question? Rocky like it.”
Grace felt his cheeks heat up. “Uh, I don’t know. I guess I’m just kinda too old for it,” he responded. The truth was that he was a little insecure about being so ticklish. His ex-girlfriend used to tease him about it. She thought it was cute while he thought it was embarrassing. He’s a grown man, for Pete’s sake! He shouldn’t be giggling like a little kid! Thinking back about his past relationship made him feel a bit depressed. Stupid Mark. He probably wasn’t this embarrassingly ticklish.
Rocky could sense that he felt a bit down. Poor Grace, this shouldn’t be something he’s insecure about. Rocky tried to comfort him, “Grace should not be embarrassed. ♪♪♬♬ is fun! Is cute! Is normal for humans.”
Grace looked over at him. Perhaps Rocky was right. Grace was only human after all. “Thanks, buddy,” he smiled and leaned on Rocky’s bubble. Rocky leaned back, getting as close as he could to the human from inside his ball.
--------
“We had a lot of good findings recently, I feel like our project is rolling along smoothly,” Grace reported, looking up at the camera. He had decided to record another video diary for the team back on Earth. “Plus, we’re learning more about each other’s species and stuff, which is pretty cool.”
As if on cue, Rocky rolled into the room. He sat and listened, staying just out of sight. Oh, Grace was doing another one of those video things. Rocky got an idea. This would be funny. He snuck up behind the human then suddenly started poking his side in the middle of Grace’s sentence. “Tickle. Tickle. Tickle,” he teased playfully.
“Like for exampl- Ah! Rohohocky!” Grace jumped out of his seat, giggles escaping his mouth. Rocky couldn’t help but snicker along with him. Grace’s face heated up as he adjusted his hair and glasses, trying to play off what just happened. He cleared his throat, “Oh, and also, Rocky found out what tickling was.”
“Hi,” Rocky waved to the camera, “Is fun! Rocky like.”
The two may have had lots of language barriers between them, but Rocky and Grace could at least be comforted knowing the universal sign for happiness: laughter.
He wasn’t really tickled very much as a kid, and he certainly hasn’t experienced it much as an adult, so it isn’t until you come around that it becomes a common occurrence for him.
He doesn’t know what to think of it. The first time you got him, it was an accident. You were carding your fingers through his hair, and your nails grazed his ear. He jumped near out of his skin.
Definitely 100% absolutely ticklish in “weird places”.
Ears? Ticklish. Palms? Ticklish. Shoulders? Tops of his feet? The bend of his elbow? All stupidly ticklish.
In fact, one of his really bad spots is his biceps, especially if you get him pinned down really good. Just tracing your nails oh so gently from his elbow to his armpit is enough to have him a giggling mess.
Poor guy cannot at all tolerate being teased, especially if there’s any sort of praise involved. He’s so awkward about compliments, he short circuits every time you call him cute or talk about how pretty his laugh is.
He doesn’t handle anticipation very well at all. He’s very cocky up until he knows he has no way out of it. Smartass remarks very quickly turn into half-assed bargaining points. Once he’s pinned down, it’s just a mess of rambling and poor attempts to convince you to let him go.
Chronic lip biter. He’ll do everything in his power to fight back giggles and hide his smile. Not that he does a very good job of that but he does try.
“Hey, w-wait— hold on! Can’t we talk about this?”
No.
Absolute worst spots for this guy are his ribs and hips, but his thighs are definitely an honorable mention.
Incredibly susceptible to kneading and squeezing, but if you have long nails, spidering and clawing at his ribs will break him.
Loud as hell.
He’s very grumbly at the beginning because he’s actively straining to force himself not to laugh. He growls and huffs and tries to act all angry, but that never lasts more than about 30 seconds before he’s a cackling mess.
Baby talk and fake pity don’t really work on him. It definitely gets under his skin a little, but because he begs and barters with you so much, the worst thing you can do to him is ignore him, or pretend you didn’t hear/understand what he said.
He doesn’t have a problem saying the word or generally talking about tickling, but he will NOT tell you he’s a in a lee mood.
Not that it matters, it’s blatantly obvious when he’s in a lee mood. He gets way more energetic, and significantly more sassy than usual.
Rocky has in fact told on him for being in a lee mood (more on this further down), to which Ryland responded by teaching Rocky the word “snitch”.
I cannot stress enough how easily he breaks, and you can always tell when he’s just about reached his limit because loud cackles turn to weak, desperate, breathless laughter riddled with pleas and apologies.
Aftercare is always the same for him. He likes to lay his head in your lap while you comb your fingers through his hair, and he’s always left with this big dopey grin and his eyes glazed over, pupils blown out like saucers.
Ler Headcanons
This man is a mean ler.
He loves tickling you.
If he’s working on something or researching in the lab, he’ll hold you in his lap and tickle you with one hand while the other stays busy with the task at hand.
“Can you stop squirming? I’m trying to focus.”, and then he’ll tickle a worse spot on purpose specifically so he can punish you for “distracting him”.
Begging gets you nowhere.
“Please? Please what? Please stop? Mmm no.”
You remember the fake pity that I mentioned doesn’t really work on him? Yeah. That’s because he’s using it all on YOU.
“Aww it tickles? Yeah? Poor thing. Too bad you can’t get away, huh?”
This man absolutely loves a chase, and he has never been above calling himself the tickle monster.
Gets stupidly into the role. Growling and manhandling you and biting. Never enough to hurt, but enough that it tickles like crazy.
He’s very aware of the power of his stubble, and he uses said power very liberally.
Pretends he’s gonna let you go/lets you think you’ve escaped just to drag you back by your ankle when you start to crawl away from him.
Taught Rocky all about ler moods and lee moods and tickling in general because Rocky once found Ryland tickling you to absolute pieces and freaked out.
“Grace! Let go! They ask you to let go!”
So Ryland stopped just long enough to explain to Rocky that he wasn’t hurting you.
“Why you keep going when Grace mate say they not like tickling, question?”
“Because they’re a liiiiar!”
He proceeded to use you to demonstrate to Rocky all the different spots a human can be ticklish, along with different ways a human can be tickled.
He has never crossed the limit or made you use your safeword, but he sure knows how to get close, and he’ll intentionally make sudden movements long after he’s done just to watch you get all giggly and jumpy and nervous over nothing.
He absolutely pins you down just to hover and wiggle his fingers over one particular spot
“What’s wrong? I’m not doing anything.”
Just mean for no good reason.
Asked Rocky to make him a set of those claw rings, and told Rocky they were a present for you.
Quizzes you with science questions while he tickles you.
Tickles you more if you get them wrong/can’t answer them.
“You’re not taking this very seriously. This is very important information and you’re laughing.”
I have many many more thoughts about Ryland Grace, but I’ll leave it there for now.
idk what it is, but i love bob and wade talking about what makes mark laugh right in the middle of him dying laughing
“the same joke’s been making him laugh just as hard all day,” “you just have to find a new way to say the same joke, that’s the trick,” “once you find something that makes mark laugh like that”
Oh man. I like laughter. I like when humans laugh. I like when people make each other laugh. I like when people enjoy laughing and seek out the things that make them laugh. I like it when people laugh so hard they cry. I like when people make that strangled squeak noise as they push out the very last of their air and then draw in a big gasp. I like it when people wheeze and cough and make silly noises. I like it when people can barely talk through their laughter. I like it when people enjoy mirth and togetherness in such a human thing. I like giggles and snickers and huffs and cackles. I like laughter a normal amount and I *don't* think excessively about it every day. I definitely don't get really really flustered when my friends or anyone I admire is giggling really bad and they can't even talk because they're so lost in mirth and their words are barely more than squeaks and OH MY GOD if it's because of ME? I will die. I love it when two people were laughing but they finally calm down and then they look each other in the eyes and immediately start laughing again. I like joy and happiness and laughter and friendship. I'm so normal. I love it when people enjoy other people's laughs. I love it when people want to make other people laugh. I love it when people tickle each other in order to make them laugh. I love it when people can just let everything go and relinquish control of their body and mind in a moment of pure, real, unadulterated love and laughter. the trust it takes to give someone the power to make you laugh yourself sick. the absolute reward it is when it happens. the vulnerability of it. ohhh man my face is red. i like laughter i like tickling i like human behaviors i like them a lot. ok. p. post over
~6400 words of (a little ruthless but still very soft) Loki tickle fluff. Perhaps the softest Loki I've ever written. Tender and protective.
This kind of poured out of me one night, so I think I needed to read this. Maybe you do too!
You can all thank @just-another-blog-of-fluff and our posting pact for why you’re getting this now and not Saturday 😉
CW: mentions of death, non-explicit PTSD, one single swear word but I'm not getting rid of it because it's needed.
Everyone coped with the aftermath of a tough mission in a different way. Some of your teammates, mainly the ones with excess strength and testosterone, preferred taking out their frustration on a punching bag in the gym. Others needed space - to get out of town for a few days. Tony had houses all around the world and an unlimited amount of sympathy for those who got overwhelmed by being around other people for too long. Others liked to ignore it, act tough, not talk about it, process internally.
Piles of ripped canvas, private jets to Cancun, solitude? Those didn't sound too bad to you. But, strangely enough, what really helped you unwind when things were too much was a little bit of baking.
The first time it happened you didn't really intend for it to become a pattern, and never thought it would have been. You'd just returned home from a somewhat stressful mission where you'd been posed undercover as a waitress in a private casino. When serving your target a chocolate lava cake infused with bourbon (and a tracking chip), topped with raspberry ganache, well, you couldn't get the smell of it off your mind. After arriving back at the Compound and getting a bullet graze on your shoulder patched up, you went to work trying to recreate it.
Something about the process was strangely soothing, even if you hadn't done a lot of baking before then. Sifting the flour, cracking the eggs, whisking the chocolate and butter, baking the raspberries and blending them into a puree, you let the silence of the kitchen and the sounds of the preparation wash over your mind as you focused your tired brain on something completely unrelated to your job. It felt amazing, and it tasted even better.
Perhaps that was part of why the pattern continued: the compliments. Your teammates got excited when they saw you whipping something up in the kitchen, and it made you feel stronger. Sure, some of them were bulletproof, but only you could recreate a cherry pie that had Steve and Bucky worshipping at your feet, begging to know how you captured the 1930's in a dish.
As time went on you learned everyone's favourites. Wanda was a sucker for anything with a Christmas-esque spice, Nat, of course, dark chocolate. Tony loved anything you infused with alcohol but also, strangely enough for his personality, would do anything for a vanilla cupcake. Thor liked everything, and heartily let you know this with a bear hug that lifted you from the ground whenever something fresh came out of the oven. Vision couldn't taste, but he was happy that Wanda was happy. The list went on. You took metal notes for when birthdays rolled around, knowing you couldn't out-give Tony but Pepper couldn't say no to your almond biscotti.
Although, there was one person in the compound who seemed impervious to your baking spell; Loki, as much as you kindly offered, had never tried one of your creations. He was never cruel about it but he always firmly declined, saying he couldn't believe how much sugar Midgardians consumed.
One day, after you'd nearly been blown up by a grenade and baked a a triple-chocolate brownie to cope, he entered the kitchen as it was coming out of the oven. You'd just finished cleaning up after yourself, and you didn't quite meet his eye as he entered.
He noticed your breathing was shallow. He'd been there that day, and truth be told he'd come to check on you. You'd gone silent after the faulty grenade failed to blow, and he didn't fail to notice how your knees trembled as you climbed back into the jet. You'd refused assistance, said you were fine, but this was a lot of chocolate.
Without fail, even knowing he'd refuse, you always offered him some of what you baked. Even today, somewhat. Today, you pulled it from the tray by its baking paper and plopped it on the counter with some faint mumble about people being able to help themselves. Loki got to work making himself a cup of tea so he'd have a reason to be in here with you in case you needed to say something else, or in case your knees finally gave out. But neither of those things happened.
You pulled a cake-cutting knife from the drawer, slapped it down next to the brownie with a little more force than usual, then walked out without another word.
He held his breath as he listened to you retreating, not wanting it to obscure the tell-tale signs of distress he was listening for. He tracked your footsteps until he couldn't hear them anymore, then turned the kettle off. He didn't want tea anyway.
"Our little baker at it again," Nat commented as she walked into the kitchen with Steve. She gave a brief nod to Loki, not bothering to ask why he looked a little agitated since he often did.
Today the annoyance wasn't just from who he was as a god surrounded by mortals. Couldn't they see what these creations often meant? Didn't they care?
"You gonna try some?" Nat asked Loki as she took a slice of the brownie, sticking her finger in her mouth when some of the molten-hot chocolate burned her. Loki's nose turned up at the suggestion. He never minded when you offered, but that's because it was yours to offer. The pitch from Romanoff's mouth sounded grating to his ears.
"It's a miracle your lifespans are as long as they are," Loki grumbled, placing the mug he'd pulled out back in the cupboard. He exited the kitchen as Nat rolled her eyes and cut a piece for Steve.
A week went by without another creation of yours filling the Compound kitchen with the lingering scent of cinnamon or white chocolate or anything else. Loki took this as a good sign, especially considering that you seemed to be okay when he saw you the day after the brownie, and progressively better each day after that.
You got sent out on another mission six days after the brownie and returned in good spirits, but he still found you in the kitchen that evening with Bucky peering over your shoulder. It was the metal-armed soldier's birthday that day, and he simply wasn't patient enough to wait for the cherry pie you were making him. When you finally threatened him with a rolling pin, he left you to your devices, watching you press the base into the pan as he walked backwards out of the kitchen.
"Loki," you greeted with a warm smile, only briefly looking up as he entered. He nodded his hello and watched as you wiped your hands on a cloth, turning to pick up the bowl full of cherry and rhubarb filling to empty into the pie. "You know, I think I may have found something you'd like," you commented as you spread the filling evenly over the base.
"Pardon?"
"I know you don't have much of a sweet tooth, but I came up with something I think you'd like," you clarified, lifting your eyes to smile again before reaching for the strips of pastry to cross over the top of the pie.
"That's..." Loki shifted, crossing his arms and tilting his head. The word in his head was precious, but he went with, "Not necessary."
Luckily, you weren't put off. In the same way you weren't dejected whenever he declined some of whatever you'd made. You smiled down at the pie as you carefully, but expertly, weaved the pastry under and over to create a little net on top.
"I'll get you one day," you playfully threatened. "Just you wait."
Loki was glad you turned your back, because he actually smiled a bit as you put the pie in the oven and set the timer. He pulled an apple from the bowl on the counter and left the room, wondering what you could possibly make him that he would enjoy. Part of him felt a little guilty for so fervently doubting you could do it.
Another week went by after Barnes' birthday pie, and you'd not yet made good on your threat to bake something that Loki would enjoy. You hadn't baked at all since then, which he again took as a good sign. He encountered you in the hallway as you were rushing off, securing the straps of your bag. Your senses were too keen to walk into him, but you didn't look up as you stepped out of the way.
"Off somewhere?"
You looked over your shoulder and shot an apologetic smile, "Shaky situation in Chilé, I'll be gone for a few days. See ya!"
It made sense to send you considering how many languages you knew, and that you'd spent a good amount time undercover in South America before. These weren't things he was alone privy to, but from conversations he had the pleasure of being sat in on as you and the others talked in the living room. You always made an effort to include him, even if he preferred to sit in silence and pretend to read. You were always so warm and kind to him. Maybe it was all of that sugar you ate.
You'd gone with Steve, Bucky, Wanda and Thor. A team put together intentionally for the different skills you could all bring to the table. Loki wondered why they didn't need him on this one, considering he'd been more than willing to help out since taking up residence, but he didn't question it for fear he'd seem a little too obvious about wanting to keep an eye on you. A pang of guilt struck him, scolding himself as he tried to not doubt your strength. But all that softness, that kindness, surely that would hinder you - would it not?
He kept busy while you were gone, actually enjoying a few sparring sessions with Romanoff and having a stimulating conversation (debate?) with Stark over intergalactic scientific cooperation. It seemed unheard of to be here now, after trying to kill them all those years ago. He was about to make a fantastic argument to decimate Stark's idea when suddenly an alert came up on the screen in the lab. Steve was calling.
"Talk to me, Cap."
Steve's voice was low as he looked around to make sure he was alone. "We got the drive, but it's not good Tony."
"What happened?"
Steve explained a hostage situation occurred when the team tried to infiltrate where the hard-drive was hidden in the safe of an office building. The terrorists had captured five members of an accounting firm and you had gone in to negotiate. Loki's throat tightened when he heard your name.
"But they saw the snipers take aim from the building over right when she was about to talk them down and take her instead. Before the snipers could take their shots, they fired first and killed all the hostages."
Tony asked about you. You, apparently were physically fine. Loki shuddered to think of how your knees must have shaken as you got back on the jet.
"Alright find the names of the victims, we'll set up some kind of education and rent fund for their families, and uh-"
"Already on it," Steve assured, letting him know they'd be back in an hour or two before hanging up.
Tony dropped the pen he was holding and took his lower lip between his fingers. "Shit," he hissed, then stood and got to work at his computer. Loki, not really knowing what else to do, left the lab.
You'd carefully avoided everyone when you arrived back home, keeping your head down and going straight to your room. Loki was in the hallway when you sought your refuge behind your closed door, and he heard you lock it.
"Loki," Thor called for his brother and the younger Asgardian turned to see the God of Thunder looking utterly defeated.
"Are you alright?" The words left Loki's lips before he could think about them. He wasn't necessarily asking about Thor, but the team, but mostly you.
Thor sighed and spoke in a low voice since your room was so close by. "We are uninjured, but... I fear for the young agent. She watched five innocent people die and has barely spoken a word since."
Loki nodded and turned again when he saw Wanda approaching your door. She, too, looked defeated. She knocked softly and said it was her, but some kind of muffled reply came and she nodded to the locked door, turning and walking away. Loki knew you wouldn't talk about it, and he knew what you'd do to cope a little later.
So after nightfall, when everyone else had gone to sleep, he sat in the living room with a book he'd already read and kept an ear out for you. You didn't have to walk through the living room to get to the kitchen, so he wasn't afraid of putting you off your coping strategies, but he wanted to be around. Just in case.
Sure enough, at some hour after midnight, he heard you enter the kitchen and pull out various utensils and ingredients. The familiar hum of the oven preheating, the clicking of the dial as you set the temperature, a faint sniff. Oh, gods. He wasn't prepared for that. But it was only one sniff, so he was almost certain whatever crying you'd done was probably over by now. You never seemed one to do that publicly.
After giving you time to settle in and truly start, he entered the kitchen with a his empty mug under the guise of getting a refill of his tea. You looked up as he entered and smiled warmly as you usually did, but it didn't reach your eyes. Your eyes, this time, were the faintest bit glassy and still a bit red - a redness that graced the tip of your nose too. He nodded his greeting and flicked the kettle on, leaning against the counter next to it as he watched you work.
"I, um, I'm making that something I said I thought you'd like," you tried not to mumble, a little less articulate than you usually were. He noticed how your fingers trembled slightly as you opened the large bag of flour. "I-it's not sweet, so maybe... yeah. Maybe," you laughed uncomfortably and flinched slightly when the kettle clicked off.
"Tea?" He asked softly, you shook your head and kept measuring the flour. He made his brew and then, instead of exiting back to the living room, he took a seat at the kitchen island across from you as you worked. You watched him curiously from the corner of your eye as you selected a couple of eggs.
"I think rosemary..." you muttered and turned to see the few potted herbs, nodding a little as you saw there was, indeed, fresh rosemary available.
"What are you making and why, pray tell, are you so sure I'll enjoy it?" Loki asked. He didn't talk to you delicately, which he saw you appreciated. It seemed to put you at ease that he wasn't going to ask about the mission, or how you were.
"Scones," you replied. "But I'm not following a recipe, we'll see how they taste."
"You're not?” Loki repeated. "Then how-"
"Well, a little bit. I've modified it to exclude sugar and I've added some things and I think I can make this butter that-" you looked up at him and smiled, this time it reached your eyes a bit. "You'll have to wait and see."
"But how do you know it'll work?"
"Basic science," you replied, cracking an egg in the bowl. Loki's eyebrows raised.
"Science?"
You chuckled a little and did a half-grin, "Yes, Loki. Science isn't just for weapons and poisons."
"Explain to me then," Loki nodded, taking a sip of his tea. He knew it was transparent, what he was doing, but he didn't mind being a little obvious. Not if it meant you could get your mind off of things.
"Okay, so..."
You began explaining how the ingredients reacted, how you knew which combinations would work at which quantities, how long to bake it for. When to use white sugar, brown sugar, maybe both, caster sugar, icing sugar, there were so many sugars. Self-rising or plain flour, add baking powder or soda? How many eggs to use, how they would change the consistency.
As you talked you regained your articulation and lost the redness from your eyes. Loki asked questions to keep you talking as you rolled out the dough on the floured countertop.
"But ultimately, it's nice that people enjoy it," you shrugged and kneaded the soon-to-be scones.
"You must also find it most enjoyable that you can undo a super-soldier's composure with a simple mouthful of cake," Loki smirked and gave you a teasing look.
You rolled your eyes, but smiled back. "It doesn't hurt to make allies."
"Hmm, hulking men worshipping at your feet? Is that why you do this?"
You scrunched your nose and picked up a bit of flour between your fingers, flinging it across the counter and catching him in the mouth. It was a little more than you anticipated, and it made you giggle to see him caught off-guard. He gave you a warning glance and wiped it from his mouth, but then was shocked to see it stuck to his hands. You laughed at his confusion and shrugged.
"Hey, don't mess with a baker in their element."
He laughed once through his nose and reached for the bowl to throw some back at you, but you pulled it out of his way. Instead of stopping there, you bravely picked up a half-handful and threw it right at him again, this time catching him mostly in the chest but a bit on his cheek.
"I said don't mess with me," you said threateningly, but Loki could tell there was nothing but humour behind your voice. He used a cloth on the bench to wipe the flour from his face and stood with a smirk, rounding the corner to get his revenge. You squeaked from the shock of how swiftly he moved and bolted in the other direction to try to keep the counter in between you, picking up another handful of flour.
"I wouldn't do that if I were- PFFT!" You caught him in the open mouth with the flour and couldn't stop the spluttering laughter as you watched him spit it into the sink. Antagonising Loki was maybe a little too much fun, and a little too dangerous. But then, he started coughing over the sink so you warily stepped closer, grimacing a bit.
"Jeez, sorry. You alright?"
He made a lunge for you, the fake coughing ceased and you turned to run. Catching you around the waist with one arm, you laughed and struggled to hold the ever-depleting bowl out of flour out of his reach as he pulled you into his chest.
"How would you like this all through your face and hair?" He growled playfully, making a swipe for the bowl. You simply laughed cheekily in response and kept trying to evade him. That's when he grabbed at the same side as your outstretched arm, conveniently right where his hand was rested from his arm restraining you, clawing his fingers into it in an attempt to make your arm recoil.
"H-hey no FAHAIR!" You squealed and giggled as your arm came flying down to protect your side from his ticklish touch.
"You think I’m the one making this a dirty fight?" He chuckled with a grunt and grabbed the other side of the bowl to wrestle it from your grasp. As you fought for it he decided it was more than fair to pinch at your side again. You squealed once more and struggled against his touch, releasing the bowl to use both hands to fight him off. The second you did, he dumped the contents of it on your head and released you.
You laughed incredulously, but good-naturedly, as you jumped away from his touch and tilted your head forwards to deposit the loose flour onto the counter in front of you. Loki saw your shoulders shake with laughter as you both wiped flour from your face, and you also from your head.
Eyeing the last egg in the carton right in front of you, you decided this fight wasn't over. You picked it up and kept your hand behind your back as you turned to grin at him.
"Truce?" He held out a hand and his eyes sparkled at you, but there was no way you'd feel bad about what you were about to do.
"Sure," you took his hand and stepped closer, but the second his hand closed around yours you whipped your hand out from behind your back and smashed the egg into the side of his head.
He didn't even flinch. He just stood there still for a moment, which was a little unnerving. You went to remove your hand from his but found he wouldn't let you go. Wiping the egg from his cheek and ear, he sniffed and looked at you calmly, curiously.
"You really thought that was a good idea? After I just discovered that you're ticklish?"
Your eyes widened, you pulled on your hand and tried to run but he pulled your back into his chest once again and wrapped his arms firmly around your waist.
"Wait wait wait, I'm sorry! Truce! TRUCE!" You panted nervously and opened your mouth to make a deal, only for laughter to spill out when he dug into your sides with both hands.
"Ah, now you want a truce..." He taunted, digging his thumbs a little deeper into the space right below your ribs, relishing in how you thrashed and hit at his hands between your laughter.
"Pl-plehease, pl- LOKI!" You shrieked and lost the weight-bearing ability in your legs when he pinched your lowest ribs in between his thumb and forefinger. He followed you down, continuing his torment as he let your fall to your knees. His current targeted place seemed rather effective, so he had no issue with chuckling along to your laughter-laden pleas as he felt your body weaken underneath his touch. When he added his other fingers to the fray, scratching them at the side of your ribs, he was pleasantly surprised to see you had even more fight you.
Your squeals overtook your laughs as your feet scrambled beneath you and he continued pinching at that godforsaken rib. You managed to almost get into a crouching position, but he sat himself down and leaned against the kitchen counter, pulling you back into his chest as he continued relentlessly.
"MOHOVE YOUR HAHANDS, GOHOD, PLEASE!" You squealed and hiccuped as you writhed helplessly in his arms, feet failing to gain any sort of traction on the flour-covered tile floor.
"Hmm, but this is rather amusing," Loki teased, pinching just a little harder and faster. You let out a scream and he suddenly stopped, bringing up one flour-dusted hand to cover your mouth. "You'll wake the others and they'll think I'm killing you," he scolded into your ear with a laugh.
"Myoum-arrre!" You whined from under his hand, taking in as much breath from your nose as you could, whimpering a little as he removed his hand. "Are you done now?" You made to sit up but he didn't release you quite yet, rather pleased with himself for how he managed to turn your disposition around this evening.
"Agent, for your sake, please tell me that's your most ticklish spot. I shudder to think how it could be worse for you," Loki taunted.
"Yeah," you mumbled and felt the heat creep into your cheeks. "You found it," you laughed humourlessly, once again struggling against his hold and hoping you'd convinced him.
"It's not, is it?" Loki grinned as he felt you tense when he wrapped his arms tighter around you. You whimpered and pushed at his forearms.
"No noho, plehease," you were already giggling. "The oven's on and I need to the dough needs to go in and-"
"Alright," Loki chuckled and released you. You scrambled forwards away from any potential take-bakes and stood to your feet, doing your best to glare down at him.
"You'll pay for that," you threatened half-heartedly, turning back to the dough, hiding your smile as you saw flour fall from your shoulders.
"Ooh, I'm terrified," Loki teased from the ground, wiping his hands and making to stand up.
It was wasteful, really. You scolded yourself even before your hands settled around the half-full sack of flour. It was going to be a big mess, not too hard to clean, he'd probably have flour in his nose for days. You couldn't stop yourself - he was just so smarmy. With a grunt, you turned and emptied the remaining flour in the bag straight onto Loki's head.
This time, he didn't hesitate.
He lunged for you with a snarl and grabbed around your calves. You stumbled a bit and nearly fell backwards but he grabbed your wrist and pulled you down onto him before expertly flipping you two over to hover over you. The stray flour dumped straight onto you, but his face was nearly completely covered in the stuff. You laughed heartily at his attempted menacingly glare through his powdery skin. Even with him poised to attack, you laughed so hard your eyes closed and you curled in on yourself a little bit, laying on your side.
"I'll give you something to laugh about," he growled and grabbed your wrists, prying them from your midsection and turning you fully over to be face-down, still laughing. You shook your head in a plea you knew was futile, still laughing. Then, you were laughing for a different reason.
His fingers wormed their way under your arms and dug in, wiggling and prodding relentlessly. You squeaked and a stream of giggly laughter erupted, you squirmed underneath him as he settled on top of you. Okay, this was a mistake.
"WAHAIT!"
"I actually showed you mercy, foolish mortal. And you threw it away," he hummed, pushing in harder and finally making his way past your defences to press his fingers straight into the softest part of the middle of your underarm. You jolted and shrieked, renewed energy to thrash underneath him. He pressed deeper, grinning at the way your laughter grew so desperate that you couldn't even beg. He suddenly retracted his fingers and went straight back to that space on your ribs, reaching underneath you to pinch and scratch at it.
"NOHO," was all you managed to get out before kicking your legs helplessly. Loki, still curious, shifted his hands down further to claw at your belly despite how to tried to crush his hands into the floor. This wasn't as violent of a reaction, but Loki found he rather enjoyed the special kind of high-pitched giggles it elicited, and the way you still couldn't form sentences as the giggles bubbled from your lips. You gripped at his forearms so he pulled them from underneath you, shooting a hand behind him to spider his fingers along the back of your knee. You squeaked again, but not as violent of a reaction needed to truly be your most vulnerable spot. Perhaps your back?
He prodded his fingers around your back to see if any spots there got a reaction, but other than when his fingers got a little close to the sides of your ribs, it didn't seem to work all that much.
"Whahat are you l-looking for, h-huh?" You teased with your cheek in a small pile of flour. Loki playfully growled and suddenly rolled you over to be on your back underneath him. Unfortunately for you, he had gripped you by your hips. Even though he didn't squeeze, the way you tensed and went to grab his hands told him everything he needed to know. He smirked down at your quivering form as you watched him unravel the pieces of the puzzle. Taking your wrists in his hands, you looked on frantically as you felt some kind of cool tingling magic pass across them, and he pressed them to the floor just outside of where his knees were straddling your hips.
"N-no," you said barely above a whisper and began to shake your head, flour falling out of your hair around you. "No, Lohoki, no n-no."
He released your wrists with a devilish grin and, as you suspected, they were stuck where he'd placed them. He cocked his head at your fear and let the grin meet his eyes. "Ooh, you're in trouble," he whispered with a wink.
Then, he attacked.
Magic. He must have been using his magic, you thought. There was no way in the Nine Realms something could tickle so much unless it had been magically enhanced. But Loki wasn't using his magic, other than to keep your hands out of the way; he was just that good at knowing where to drill his thumbs in, how hard to squeeze, when to pause the squeezing to scratch through your shorts at the bone for a few seconds with his blunt nails.
He perhaps would have used his magic to silence your screams if you hadn't immediately descended into silent laughter. You shook and jolted underneath him as he hovered more over you, only opening your eyes briefly to maybe plead with your gaze, but closing them again when flour dusted from his head down onto your face. He pinched at your hipbone as your chest heaved with deep shaky laughter that he was sure would release as a screech at any point, but it seemed to all be breathless.
Then, finally, after he noticed you'd grown impossibly weak and had submitted yourself to your fate, he relented. You took a massive loud breath in and twitched, coughing and rolling your head to the side. You tried to open your eyes but they immediately stung with the powdered wheat.
"Ooh," you coughed, squeezing your eyes shut.
"Are you alright?" Loki asked with a laugh, releasing his magic from your wrists. You nodded and coughed a little again, still trying to regain your breath.
"Flour. In my eyes, can you-"
"Here."
He stood and pulled you to your feet by your hands, guiding you over to the sink. You heard him turn the tap on but before you could put your hands underneath it to splash your face you felt his hands on your waist. You squirmed and braced for further torture but he chuckled, careful not to tickle you, and lifted you effortlessly to be sitting on the counter next to the sink. You couldn't see him, but at this height your faces would probably be level.
You heard the fwip of fabric as he pulled a clean cloth from where it hung on the oven's door handle, and you heard the water's stream interrupted when he wet part of the cloth underneath it before he turned the water off. Then, you felt his steady hand cradle the back of your neck and the cool damp cloth gently wiping flour from your eyes.
After a few swipes you had to giggle at the absurdity of it all.
"Don't tell me your eyelids are ticklish. That's just unheard of," Loki mumbled, moving to wipe the flour from the rest of your face. You grinned at that comment and successfully fought the urge to shake your head.
"Luckily no," you replied, relaxing into his gentle touch. It had been a while since anyone had been so close to you. Not counting the times someone would pull you out of harm's way, or when you'd press yourself against a fellow Avenger as you hid in a tight spot, or applied pressure to a friend's bullet wound. It felt... nice. It felt unfamiliar. With a tiny sigh, you tried to not let yourself sink too much into his touch, but your gut whispered that he'd finished cleaning your face long ago, and he was being kind in continuing.
Loki felt the way you withered under his touch. It wasn't a destructive withering, or one from shyness or a desire to get away - no, that much was sure. He could have sworn you nestled a little more into his hand when he brushed a clean patch of fabric over your lips. He got the feeling, as he then swiped the cool fabric again over your already-clean cheeks, that you didn't know how to ask for affection like this. So instead, you created treats.
When Thor would hug you after eating an orange-chocolate danish, when Bucky would squeeze your shoulders excitedly over cherry pie, when Wanda would swipe a bit of dough so you could playfully swat at her. Steve's hand on your back as he smelled the chocolate chip cookies, even Tony's high-fives. Those little moments were worth the sugar-stained hands, the nutmeg under your nails, the oily butter marks on your clothes and even the few burns you sustained from the oven.
"There," he said in his husky drawl, barely above a whisper, before leaning his own head over the sink, turning the water back on, and briskly rubbing all the floury watery paste from his own skin. You wished you'd opened your eyes quick enough to stop him, to return the kindness. When he was sure he got it all, he stole a glance at you and you nodded to tell him his face was clean. Then, he put his whole head underneath the tap and got to work getting the egg and flour out of his hair.
There was so much of it, and it was your fault, so you bravely turned and folded a knee under yourself, reaching out and gently moving his hands. He flinched a little, then understood, and rested on his elbows on the edge of the sink with his head under the stream of water. You put the pressure of the water down and made it a little warmer.
As you worked the clumps of flour from his silky black hair, you heard him sigh a little and settle into your touch. Touching someone like this wasn't too familiar, but you tried to make it feel nice as you pulled the clumps of flour from his hair, taking care not to tug too hard, trying to press a little firmer into his scalp when the moment allowed. When you tilted his chin away from you to get rid of some flour and eggshell that had settled just above his ear, he shivered a little under the touch, from bliss, when your fingers glided over the skin behind his ear.
A minute or so after you'd cleaned the last bits of flour from his hair, you reluctantly removed your hand and turned the tap off. Loki stayed silent for a few seconds before shifting himself, drying his face and hair with his magic. He then looked back up at you, but you were looking at your hands.
"Bloody mess we’ve made," he finally broke the silence. You laughed once through your nose and nodded. He looked at your anxious fidgeting fingers, aware that you'd been pulled from your baking mode and you'd now gone back to the headspace of the mission that day. You didn't look up at him, afraid you would cry if you did.
He could have told you that would be okay - to cry, in front of him. He could have told you that it was normal to feel what you did, or that you didn't need to bake things for people to get affection; everyone loved you.
Everyone.
He wanted to say it all, so he said it in a way he knew you'd appreciate: "Will you show me how to turn that lump on the counter into something I might possibly enjoy?"
So there you stood side-by-side with the Prince of Asgard, both of your clothes (and your hair) still covered in flour, as he let you show him how it was done. Once he got the hang of it you let him take over while you took the butter from the fridge and mashed it up into a bowl. You directed him to put the scones in the oven as you took some fresh rosemary from the plant in the corner, rolling it between your hands before sprinkling it over the churned butter. Sea salt, a bit of fresh garlic, a squeeze of lemon juice, then you mixed it all together and got to work forming a rectangular block with your hands.
"This will go well on top," you explained as you pressed the flat parts against the counter to sharpen the edged inside the baking paper it was wrapped in. By the time it was perfect, the oven timer sounded and Loki caught your excited smile as you made your way over the still-floury floor and pulled the golden cheesy loafs from the oven.
You slid them onto a cooling rack and told him to go sit at the counter. He obliged with a small uneasy smile you didn't see, hoping to the gods that he'd actually enjoy what you'd created.
After a minute of letting them cool, you put one on a plate and cut it open lengthways. Steam poured out, as did a smell that Loki could only describe as homely. When you took a notch from the rosemary butter you'd just so carefully crafted, he almost reached out to stop you. You'd taken so much care in shaping it, only to make it imperfect on account of him. How wonderful you were to believe he was worth that.
You swiped the butter along the scone and smiled as it immediately began softening and melting into the hot bread. You then pushed the plate over to Loki and crossed your arms, thumb nail between your teeth as you watched him intently.
He'd finish every last bite in that batch to keep that look in your eye as you expectantly watched him raise the scone to his lips. He'd already decided to promise he loved it no matter what, but after the first bite he knew he wouldn't have to lie.
His eyebrows raised from the explosion of flavour in his mouth. It looked so simple, but there was a sharpness, a bite, a softness and an aromatic steam that filled his mouth and seemed to be breathed out through his nose. His involuntary noise of delighted surprise made you clap your hands once and brought a grin your face.
"I told you I'd get you one day," you giggled, still grinning as you began cleaning up.
He finished the scone eagerly, not forgetting the care with which you made it. And you'd made these for him, so he could enjoy the fruits of your strange coping mechanisms. May the gods bless your kind heart, you always found a way to include him.
So maybe, just maybe, next time he'd say yes to whatever sugar bomb you made. If not for any other reason than to see you smile.
