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monstersandgenderqueers · 3 days ago

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Little Gifts (Part Three)

You thought you were getting somewhere with Loki, but somewhere along the way, he's distanced himself from you. You can't figure out why.

Pairing: Loki x neurodivergent!reader

Word count: 2435

A/N: okay, well, I didn't intend on making this series angsty in any way, and yet...

Divider credit @/saradika

Part One | Part Two | Part Four

The sounds of metal clanking and tinkering grates on your ears as you enter one of Tony's labs. He acknowledges your presence with a curt nod, fiddling with something in his hands. You take a seat on one of the stools, dragging a partially reassembled glove from one of his suits toward yourself.

You start to fiddle with it, resting your chin on one hand and flicking a loose part up and down with the other. Tony looks at you, holding the other glove in his hands as he pokes and prods at its innards.

"What's going on, Peanut?" He asks, handing you a piece of metal that slots in perfectly when you push it into the hollow space between the fingers. You roll your eyes mentally a little at the nickname, but you're used to it now. He's probably the only one that can get away with calling you something like that without making you feel icky.

Well, except for Loki, who very rarely uses your name, and instead uses some variations of "little one" and "sweetheart," sometimes using the two at the same time, like, "sweet little thing."

The feelings those give you are very different from what you feel when Tony calls you peanut.

Though… Loki's been silent for a while now. It's like he's avoiding you, his attention to you dwindling ever since the trip to the bookstore. At first, you thought it was because he was so absorbed in the books he acquired, but then you saw the book you gave him lying on a side table in the common room, and your self doubt has been spiraling rapidly out of control since.

You took the book back and hid it away in your nightstand drawer, not wanting to see it for fear of thinking of Loki and therefore feeling certain things again. The fluttery and light feeling is now mixing with something heavy and sickening.

Sometimes you bump into him in the hallway, and he steadies you with his hands and says something akin to "careful, little one." Then you stutter a bit and awkwardly continue on your way. You hold on to those moments tightly, because it's all you're getting.

However, for the last few days, he's just been gone. The presence of Thor and a general lack of panic from the agents assigned to him assures you that he's still here, just never where you are.

Tony taps on your forehead. "Hello? You in there, kid?"

You blink and straighten up, realizing that you've slumped further over the tabletop as you think. "Oh… sorry. Were you saying something?"

He repeats himself without any hint of annoyance, "I asked if there's a reason why you've been so blue. You've been quiet lately."

"I'm always quiet."

"One, that's not true. Two, you're still unusually quiet."

You hmph, pulling a piece out of the glove and pushing it back in.

Tony continues, "You haven't been in here lately, so I guess something major is occupying your mind." He raises his brows and hints at something.

Why is everyone doing that lately? They're clearly suggesting something to me, why not just say it? Ugh.

You keep your response short, knowing that you can't lie effectively, "Not really."

"Yes, really. I haven't had the privilege of using your eyes for my work." You look at him questioningly. "We're a lot alike. We get fixated on something specific, and it gets hard to look at or do anything else. When I'm focused on one piece, you catch the mistakes I made everywhere else. It's a good system." He sniffs and resumes his work. "You're a great assistant."

It makes sense, though you never thought about it that way. In all the time you've worked with him, you never heard him speak so many words consecutively without a hint of sarcasm. Unless it was sarcastic and you missed it…

But the look he's giving you says that he's genuine. The mental fortress you built to prevent yourself from talking about it caves in very quickly when Tony holds your gaze.

You pull a tray of metal bits and bobs and start to piece together a finger to match the one already assembled. "I wish I knew how to read people. I'm just so lost when it comes to understanding what people expect from me." He waits for you to continue. "People act like I should just know what they mean even when they say something only somewhat relevant. Like, I'm good at reading between the lines in books, but not in real life. And I think lots of people have been hinting at things lately, and it's upsetting."

He nods and hums, "I know what you mean." He puts down the glove and leans on his elbows. "Maybe I can help? Give me an example."

"Uhm… okay. Well, last night at dinner, Nat winked at me. I don't know why."

"What were you doing?"

"Eating. Like I do every dinner…?"

"What was the conversation?"

"I don't know… I don't like talking and eating, so I didn't pay attention."

Tony sighs. "Helpful." Ah, there's the sarcasm. He rubs his chin thoughtfully. "Give me another one."

"Well… like when you asked if I was okay. There was a little change in your tone when you asked if something major was in my head or whatever."

This makes him chuckle. "I was hinting at your little crush."

The blood drains from your face. "My what?"

"Mhm. I'm sure Thor is flattered, but I don't think you're his type, unfortunately."

"I don't have a crush on Thor!" You cringe a little. Blegh!

Tony simply smiles. "But you do have a crush on someone."

"Y— It's none of your business!" You get up quickly, leaving the lab and Tony's snorting laughter behind.

Thor? Ew, ew, ew!

You walk back to your room, your mind racing too fast to parse through it with any degree of certainty. Images and sounds circle your mind.

Loki.

Loki when he held your book with care. Loki when she handed you the books after she bought them for you. Loki when he stuck his arm out to stop you from tripping during a walk outside. Loki with his hair tied back. Loki when he made a step towards you when you fell in the gym.

Loki when he looks away from you each and every time you find the courage to look at him.

Your eyes ache and you know you only have a minute or two before the teary-eyes become visible. The pit in your stomach grows into an ache in your chest and a lump in your throat, making it hard to breathe. You can't recall crushes hurting this much. You don't remember rejection hurting this bad, even if you combined all of it into one, tremendously horrid feeling.

The worst part is that Loki hasn't even said anything that even remotely hints at rejection, yet his silence and avoidance speak louder, and it stings worse.

On the way to your room, you pass by his door. You stop, watching his shadow block out the light coming from the door gaps as he crosses his room.

He must be lonely.

You force your earlier feelings to go away, filled instead with the need to fix Loki's apparent loneliness.

It's a feeling you are very familiar with, and you don't wish it on him, whether he rejected you or not.

You sigh and continue to your room. When you get there, you cross the length of your quarters to your closet. You pull out a plastic bin and open it, revealing your little collection of plushies.

Some are ones you keep for sentimentality, others are purely there because you thought they were cute when you bought them, or are evidence of earlier hyperfixations. You keep them in your closet, mostly because you don't want anyone to have yet another excuse to treat you as a child. Only one gets to stay out of the bin of shame, under the guise of helping you stim when you just need to squeeze something really tight. Though, you know it makes you happy just to see it.

You sift through the bin, finding a plushie that doesn't hold any important memories within it like some of the others do. You pull it out, examining the black stallion. You remember buying this because it's missing an embroidered eye, and you felt a little bad that it was one of the only ones left on the shelf.

Hoping that Loki won't be offended by the little defect, you place it in front of his door. Unlike when you gave him the fern or the book, Loki is only a few yards from you at most, making this the riskiest gift yet. He could open the door at any moment and see you.

Without thinking, you knock on his door and quickly shuffle away on the balls of your feet, closing your door moments before you hear him open his.

There's a very loud sigh. An unhappy one. You hear his door close, the lock clicking into place loudly.

Peeking out a few minutes later, you're met with the plushie still where you left it. You ignore it, grabbing your running shoes and walking to the side entrance as the ache behind your eyes resurfaces tenfold.

You run around and around the compound until you can't physically lift your feet anymore. After finding a decently green patch of grass in the shade, you lie down on it, hoping the darkness around the edges of your vision will subside soon.

The exhaustion, coupled with the painful pounding of your heart, makes your mind blissfully quiet. You don't think about stupid, stupid Loki. That is, you don't think of him until you realize you aren't thinking of him. And then you do think of him.

He doesn't like me. Or his 'secret admirer'. Which is me, though I am not an admirer.

I guess he only really likes books. But then again, he seemed more interested in the things I wrote in the book than the book itself. Or maybe it isn't even anything I wrote at all. Maybe he just wanted the distraction. Maybe that's why he got more books.

Reading is a great excuse to avoid socializing, though. I use it often.

But he's ignoring me specifically. He has to be. He's fine with hanging out around the compound until I show up.

I may dislike a lot of people, but even I don't make it that obvious. Do I?

You can't help but be just a little bit angry at him. He gives you such awful whiplash, between those warm fuzzy feelings when you realize he's nearby and then the deep, hard ache when his face falls and he walks away from you.

Feelings are terrible. You wish you didn't have to deal with them at all, so you wouldn't have to struggle with sorting them out whenever you feel.

But, normally, feelings aren't this strong. Usually when you feel feelings crawling up your body, they're small and they flutter away quickly, sometimes before you even realize you have them. Sometimes all that's left is a physical reminder that you had been feeling, like sore cheeks from smiling hard when you don't even remember smiling, or feeling happy. Or like the headache that comes with just about every bad feeling you get.

You sigh shakily, wishing you could just sink beneath the grass and the dirt, deep down into the Earth's core until there isn't a single trace of you left. Counting each breath in and out, you open your eyes and stare at the clouds, thinking about the last real conversation you had with Loki a couple of weeks ago…

Loki sits across from you at the dining table, the corners of his mouth turning upwards as he sees your pout and the way you shove your food around on your plate. "You're eating later than usual. How are you feeling, little one?"

"I don't know," you reply, keeping your eyes down.

"You don't?" he asks, more curious than incredulous. "How could you not know?"

"I just don't. I don't feel feelings until they're too strong to contain anymore."

You look up to see that his eyebrows are drawn together. You look back down quickly. His voice sounds a bit different when he speaks, "What do you mean?"

Trying to figure out how to explain it, you move your feet in little circles on the floor, almost anxiously. "Like… like joy. I don't often realize I'm feeling joyful, or happy, until I—nevermind. You wouldn't understand."

You think about how your body just moves on its own when you're happy, and how hard you've been trying to restrain yourself around him. You'd give up on romance then and there if he laughed at it.

"Sweetheart, I understand far more than you're giving me credit for." His hands twitch near the corner of your vision, like he's trying to keep them from moving.

"You'd still make fun of me."

"Would I?" He smiles again. What is it that he finds so amusing?

You ignore the way he looks at you. "Yeah. A lot of people do. Joy is hard to hold back, and it looks so… silly."

"And what does joy look like? Do you mean smiling?"

"No, I mean—just forget it."

"Why?"

"I can't explain it, and I can't replicate it, either. It just happens."

"Perhaps I'll see it someday."

"Maybe. It doesn't happen often, Loki. I remember each and every time it does. It's so strong and surprising that it scares me sometimes."

"Well, little one, I think you need to experience joy more often. It may scare you less if it becomes more familiar."

"Maybe." You stand up, grabbing your half-full plate, trying your best to ignore how his eyes follow you. "Uhm…Goodnight, Loki."

"Goodnight, my sweetheart." You walk away, your heart skipping like it forgot how to beat.

You don't know what changed between the two of you to make him go out of his way to ignore you, especially after that conversation. It feels personal.

Maybe I said something wrong. I should really learn to think before I speak.

Your swirly ruminations are cut short when something taps your shoe. You look away from the clouds directly overhead and see Thor standing just a few feet away.

He looks at you with a stony face, more serious than the looks you see on him, even when he's fighting.

"I could use your help. Urgently."

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