#does wheatley look smug or annoyed cause i was going for smug but someone said he looked annoyed and thats not

[ooliecat]

[imagine-loki]

When All Is Said And Done

TITLE: When All Is Said And Done CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: One Shot AUTHOR: land-of-dragons-and-frogs ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Image Loki going out of his way to piss you off. He loves to see you angry, but one day you have enough….

RATING: T NOTES/WARNINGS: Mentions of depression (including very minor implications of self-harm) and medication. This was supposed to be fluffy and then it wasn’t rip me.

If anyone chooses to make a sequel-y thing to this then you’ve got my permission right here!

The first time it happens, you assume that it’s just Loki being Loki. It had been a simple prank, swapping the actual coffee with decaf that day. You, being tired and upset, had given Loki a glare that could kill when you swapped the decaf for actual coffee (which you had felt incredibly guilty for when you got home–it was just a harmless joke, and you’d still made the proper coffee in the end). You’d assumed you were just collateral damage, and that it had been intended for Steve or Tony.

You couldn’t have been more wrong.

Things had accelerated in the year and a half you’d known the Asgardian. Not only had he increased the amount of things he did to piss you off (only supplying decaf coffee, hiding your things, turning your computer on and off randomly), he also increased the severity of what he’d do to you. Recently, he’d started unplugging your electronics and shattering light bulbs at seemingly random intervals as you walked under them.

Each prank led to an increase in the bubbling anger you had towards the man, yet each one also forced you to internalise those emotions and only release them in small taps of glares or agitated comments that caused your mental health to tank. You doubted Loki could see through the emotional mask you wore, though; you’d worn it for years like a pro. Besides, he seemed like the kind of person who would stop if he knew what it did to you.

But today…

Today, you were numb.

There was seemingly nothing he could do to you that he hadn’t already done to you. You’d forgotten your medication and were already in a downwards spiral, and as such were in a state of numbness. Your arms and legs were sore, for reasons you wouldn’t explain to anyone. Thank God Tony didn’t require a strict dress code, otherwise, you’d be more than a little bit screwed. What can you say; suits and other fancy clothes were uncomfortable.

You rolled into Stark Tower at around 10 am, in a comfortable hoodie and sweatpants that you wouldn’t mind getting dirty in a lab experiment. Bruce and Tony met you in the elevator; Tony noticed what was wrong with you immediately, as you knew he would.

“Wheatley, would you like to take the day off today?” His voice was quiet, gentle. You shook your head, smile falling slightly; this was the first time this had happened since Loki’s arrival, and you wouldn’t miss the chance to be deadpan and not give a solid fuck about the other man’s actions.

“No, sir. But thank you for the offer.” He nods, smiling softly at you.

“Remember that if you need to take a minute or two for yourself, you’ve got rooms here where you can take a breather.” You nod, letting out a soft sigh.

“Of course I will. Hopefully, I won’t have to use it” Tony frowns; before he can speak, the elevator doors open and Loki steps in.

“Hello, Bruce. Tony. Wheatley.” You absently note that Loki does not say your name with even a hint of malice, as he does Bruce and Tony. This was a normal occurrence, especially before…

Fuck.

You weren’t mentally prepared for any shit he was about to pull, yet at the same time, you couldn’t find the heart to care.

You all nod in response to Loki’s greeting, Tony tensing up and taking a slight step closer to you. You knew that the two men had spoken to the trickster god about his pranking before, but it had never worked. They’d likely be keeping a closer eye on him today.

The elevator ride continues in silence. You shut your eyes, visualising where everyone is. Loki is a few paces in front of you, Tony on your left and Banner a foot or so farther from you and Tony.

You open your eyes and cannot see a thing.

… Your immediate thought is that you’ve died, and relief washes over you. Your mental illness can’t bother you if you’re dead, it can go suck it– 

You can still hear the elevator.

God damn it.

You’ve reached the tipping point.

Absently, you reach a hand out and place it on Tony’s shoulder.

“I might have to take you up on that offer after all” You hear a distinct Tony sigh; you can even imagine his face of pure god fucking damn it before he speaks.

“You sure, kiddo?”

“Yeah. Shenanigans and all that jazz.” You regain your vision after that, blinking a few times to clear the brightness of the light from your eyes; Tony has a look of concern rather than “god fucking damn it” on his face, and Loki…

Loki looks befuddled, as well as rather annoyed.

Sucks to suck, fucker.

Absently, you note that the button for the floor you have rooms on had already been pressed. You’re uncertain about if it was Tony, Banner, or Loki that had done it.

It was probably Tony if you had to guess.

The doors opened again, revealing the lab you had come to love in your three years of working at Stark Tower. Tony and Bruce headed off, leaving you with Loki as the doors slid shut and headed up towards your floor.

Your world becomes inky black the moment the doors open for your floor, voices of malice whispering in your ears.

You walked off the elevator and towards your room, the layout memorised in your head.

Don’t show the outside world how you are truly feeling.

The light bulb shattering over your head as your vision is slingshot back to you is the pushing point.

You stand stock still, broken glass cascaded at your feet as electricity crackled over your head. Instinctively, you know exactly where Loki is; a few yards behind you, whereas a clone is several feet in front of you looking smug.

You drop your mask, turning to look towards the Prince of Mischief. You know exactly how you look–dead, emotionless, statue-esque–before your rage bubbles to the surface.

Every prank, harmless or not, rises to the surface. Every instance of maliciousness that was only directed towards your person skyrocketed to the forefront of your mind, eyes turning cold as ice.

“You need to stop this game you’re playing. Someone’s gonna end up dead, and it won’t be pretty.” Through some freak force of nature, your voice retains an emotionless and dead element while also voicing pure anger. You see Loki’s eyes widen in surprise.

You speak the truth.

You turn on your heel and walk towards your room on the floor, walking straight through his now weakened illusion and around a corner.

Apparently, Loki isn’t as smart as he seems to be; he’d teleported himself in front of your door.

“Explain.” You’d think the concern was legitimate, except you know that it isn’t. Trickster Gods are notoriously good at lying, especially to themselves.

“Fuck off, Loki.” You reach for the doorknob; he puts himself in the way of your hand.

“I am a god.” He sounds annoyed. Used to getting his way with anyone that wasn’t royalty, perhaps.

“What’s a god to a non-believer?” You push him aside, his shock at the comment making him easy to move. You open the door, sliding inside and slamming it shut before Loki can get a word in edgewise.

“What’s that supposed to mean?!?” He calls through the door, knocking loudly on it; You steal the comforter and pillows from the bed and set up a blanket nest inside the mostly unused closet.

“Wheatley, please…” His tone gives you pause; it no longer has that false element to it. He’s very likely legitimately concerned about you now.

God.

Fucking.

Damnit.

“Go away.” Your voice once again lacks any emotion. You’re just… Done.

You quickly finish setting up your comfort place, your little nest, and hide in it. You shut the sliding door behind you, and not a moment too soon.

You hear footsteps in your room a few seconds after you’ finished setting everything up; you cuddle a pillow, far too emotionally drained to care about the fact that it’s Loki in your Stark Tower home.

It takes him a minute of searching the rest of the small apartment-style rooms to find you in the closet, wrapped in the blanket and curled around a pillow.

You do not look at him.

You do not acknowledge his existence.

“Wheatley… Come on, talk to me.” You hear the desperation in his voice.

To be petty or not be petty, that is the question.

Being petty seems pretty fitting right about now.

After a minute or two of silence and you not moving, he takes the hint.

“I… I’m sorry.” You raise an eyebrow; out of the corner of your eye, you notice that Loki tunes into that minor movement of your face. He knows you’re listening.

“I’m sorry that I’ve been doing this to you. I just…” He sighed softly. Prince of Mischief and Lies couldn’t find the words he wanted to use, more news at 11.

“I like seeing you mad. It’s… more emotion than anyone else bothers to show towards me, except Thor.” Internally, you sigh–a reason for a person’s actions is never an excuse to get out of apologising was what you’d been taught, and you’d yet to see that logic fail you.

“I didn’t realise it was hurting you. I… never intended to cause you harm.” You internally call bullshit; you’ gotten cuts on your head from shattered light bulbs before and he hadn’t even batted an eye.

“I’m sorry. Even though it probably doesn’t seem like it, I’m… I’m so, so sorry.” You turn your head to look at him properly. His head is bowed, hair hanging over his face. He’s kneeling next to you, hands held limply in his lap; instinctively, you know he isn’t lying.

“Why should I forgive you?” You aren’t sure why you ask the question, but now that it’s asked it hangs in the air. Loki opens his mouth to speak, then closes it; he doesn’t have an answer for you.

“You’ve made me hate coming to my job. You pull this shit every damn day, to the point where it’s become a detriment to my mental health and my work ethics. Honestly, by this point, I’m just waiting for Tony to fire me because I can’t focus on my work because of the shit you do. So tell me: why should I forgive you?” You lock eyes with him; you don’t have the energy to be angry right then. You have just enough energy to demand an answer with a single look.

“… Because… Because I…” He fell silent as if trying to word what he wanted to say.

“I bet you’re going to confess that you like me or something.” The words spill out, a slightly sarcastic undertone to them. It’s not true, of course. He’d been treating you like utter shit for a year and a half, so–

“Well, I guess even the God of Mischief is powerless against your power, love.”

…

..

.

No.

No, he’s lying.

He has to be.

You look into his eyes, dread seeping into your bones. You can’t find the lie in his eyes.

You don’t have the energy to handle this.

“Is this how you court people you like on Asgard? Or is all this bullshit just you being an idiot and refusing to acknowledge your feelings for others?”

“… Second one.” You can feel the regret in his voice in the very fibre of your being.

God, you need some alcohol to properly handle this right now.

“… Okay.” You hold up your finger, pausing Loki’s noise of surprise. “I understand why you’ve been treating me the way you’ve been treating me. However, this doesn’t excuse them. As of right now, you are not forgiven. You’re going to have to put forth some effort and look deep inside yourself to really figure out if even befriending me is something you’re willing to do.” He nods, a spark of… something in his eyes. Hope, probably.

You’d probably regret the decision you’ made later, after downing some of Tony’s alcohol and passing out in the Tower that night. Right now, though…

Right now, for the first time in a long time, you were comfortable in Loki’s presence.