This was written for author Warriorsqueen for the Loki/Sif Mischief and Mistletoe fic exchange hosted on AO3. Unfortunately you can't add links, but if you google "pregnancy pillow" or "maternity pillow" you'll find what' being referred to in this story!
Jane had sent the body pillow to Asgard packaged inside a large box and covered with decorative paper adorned with little pink and blue birds with long necks. Inside had been an enthusiastic note about the wonders of the pillow and how much relief it had brought Jane during her own pregnancy with little Adla. The giant cushion was shaped like a horseshoe, composed of an absurd amount of padding and covered in a dreary shade of beige fabric, and it was currently taking up the greater part of Loki and Sif's mattress.
Loki stared at it in distaste. "It's hideous."
Sif hummed her agreement, but hoisted herself, large belly and all, onto the bed and maneuvered her way into the middle of the padding to lie on her back. The alleviation her back felt was immediate. "It's comfortable. Surprisingly so."
"It's a complete eyesore," Loki declared. Sif did not respond, smoothing her tunic against her growing stomach and wriggling against the pillow to sink deeper into the comfort it offered. "You can't possibly be considering keeping that? In our bed of all places."
"My back, Loki," she shut her eyes in contentment. "This grotesque looking pillow is soothing the ache. Do you care nothing for my suffering?"
"Hmm, soothing aches? I could help with that too, you know," his voice was lecherous and she felt the bed dip as he crawled up towards her.
"Oh no," she waved her hand, swatting him away. "That is not the kind of relief I'm looking for. Your child has been kicking me day and night, I just want to rest."
"How come it's always my child when the baby is causing you pain?" Loki objected, sliding his hand down her leg as he stood from the bed. "I distinctly remember you being part of the creation process."
"Indeed, I was an enthusiastic participant," Sif smiled. "But the deed is done, now leave me be with this marvelous gift from the Lady Jane." Loki straightened his leathers with a pout before he sulked out the door.
The pillow stayed on their bed and Sif found herself increasingly enamored with the strange thing. Each night wrapping herself around it, amazed at the consolation the cushion brought to both her stomach and her back. Loki, on the other hand, appeared less than impressed with its presence. Not that he said it outright. Sif could hardly feel his thrashing, as he tossed and turned next to her, wrapped as she was in the support of the pillow. But she could certainly hear his displeasure, the dramatic, pointed sighs and grumbles. She let it continue for a few minutes more, fighting a smile.
"Does something ail you, my love?" she murmured, resisting the call to sleep in her amusement.
"Sif, there is literally two feet of fabric and stuffing between us," he complained. "I can hardly even touch you." She did feel him then, pressing against the fabric curving along her back, long fingers stretching out to slide against the skin of her arm. "With your trainings and my duties, rare is it for us to be alone together."
"Is that all you ever think about? That kind of thinking is what got us into this predicament in the first place."
"I didn't even mean that, specifically. Although I wouldn't mind. I just meant, I wanted to," his voice dropped to a mumble Sif couldn't quite make out. "I miss you."
Sif hummed her agreement, but couldn't quite rouse enough will to extract herself from the luxury of the pillow to do anything about it. Loki was silent for a moment, his huffing and flopping under the sheets at a halt, and Sif felt herself too drifting to sleep.
"Is this some kind of punishment?" he demanded suddenly.
"Go to sleep, Loki," she laughed.
The warrior woke the next morning, feeling more refreshed and rested than she had had in weeks, before her stomach had swollen to such a size that she appeared to be smuggling a large cannonball under her tunics. She turned in the arms of her pillow to see Loki clinging to the edge of the mattress. Even if she'd pulled the pillow to very end of her side of the bed, it really didn't leave her husband with much room to sleep. She smiled at his slumbering form and stretched her top leg over the fluff of her cushion to plant her cold toes against his lower back. He stirred, but just barely, before Sif gave a hard push and sent him sliding off the bed and flailing to the floor with a shouted "Wha- Sif!"
He rose from the floor without a word, his face haughty as he smoothed his hair and his loose sleeping trousers and she howled with laughter when he bent and pulled on their blanket, yanking it out from under her and sending her, and her beloved pillow, drifting to the middle of the bed. Silently, he wrapped the furs around his shoulders dramatically, and left the room with his nose turned up, followed out by the sound of her laughter.
It felt like being surrounded by clouds, held weightless in the embrace of relaxation, she had explained to him, sitting at their table to eat breakfast together with her feet in his lap. He rolled his eyes so hard, she was sure he was going to pass out. "All the aches and pains from carrying this extra weight disappear. And I can wrap around it to keep my knees apart."
"There are other things you used to enjoy having between your legs," he sounded miffed, running a hand through his hair, making her think of her own curling fingers buried deep into raven tresses.
"Oh, I still enjoy it," she flexed her feet in his lap, a lascivious smile on her lips. He dropped his silverware to the table, his hands falling to her ankles with a sly smile. "But not now, you're going to be late for your meeting." She pulled her feet from him and stood. "And I am expected in the training yards." She passed behind his chair, running a cruel hand through his hair on her way out the door, pursued by a frustrated groan.
Sif laid on her back in the pillow, enjoying the relief the fabric offered for her aching joints. Perhaps she shouldn't have trained quite so hard. Her armor was beginning to strain under the size of her belly even though Loki reshaped and stretched it with his magic nearly daily. She knew the time was getting close to put down her sword for a while. Her belly was more likely to reach her competitor first anyway, before her sword would ever even near the target.
She sighed and closed her eyes against the thought of a life without her blade, however brief the pause would be, running one hand against her rounded stomach and feeling the baby kick ferociously. The little thing always seemed ready for a fight, a true warrior indeed. A smile spread across her face at the thought, at the same moment Loki entered, looking tired after a day spent in council with visiting royalties and dignitaries.
"Can I offer you any assistance?" He rounded to her side of the bed, running his long hands along the length of his torso to dress in more comfortable lounge clothes.
"No," Sif shook her head. "I have everything I need."
Loki frowned down at her and nodded. "Well then," he muttered. "I will leave you to it."
She watched through half lidded eyes as Loki skulked out of the room, raising her eyebrows at her moping husband. Sinking back into the pillow, she closed her eyes in rest again, half waiting for Loki to sneak back in at any moment. He never stayed away for long, even when she sent him away, he would find his way back to her, reading a book on their chaise lounge or polishing his daggers on the floor.
After more than an hour had passed with her dozing and no sight of Loki's slinking form, she grew curious as to what had caught his attention and decided to seek him out herself. Rolling and groaning, she sat up, the process taking an exasperatingly long amount of time and padded her bare feet across the cold metal of the floor. She would have to remember to ask Loki fetch some rugs from the market, especially with the coming winter cold. Drawing her shawl more tightly around her shoulders, Sif peered into Loki's study, expecting to find him hunched over a spell-book or furiously translating runes but the room was empty.
Her brows furrowed as she continued her search, squinting into each chamber that she passed; washrooms and dining rooms and finding all deserted. Finally, she made her way into the sitting room, imagining her lover absorbed in treaties or texts, losing his way on his path back to their bed. The couches, however, were vacant.
She sighed and was about to turn back, assuming that he had left their chambers completely when a dark lump caught her eye. There was Loki, not draped across the far black sofa, but stretched along the cold floor in front of it, one hand thrown over his eyes against the dancing light of the fireplace.
Making her way over, Sif peered down at him, needing to stand to the side, lest her belly obstruct her view of him completely. She stuck her toes into his ribs.
"What are you doing?"
"Trying to get comfortable." His voice was muffled under his sleeve.
"Are you sleeping out here now?" She raised her eyebrows at him.
"Might as well."
"And what has brought on this fit of drama?"
"I am simply trying to give you what you want. Which is apparently not me. I get the hints, Sif." Loki's voice was completely petulant. "I have nothing to offer."
"What in the world are you talking about?" She prodded his arm this time, toeing his elbow off of his face to look him in the eyes.
"You have your every need met," he bemoaned, flourishing his arm down his body and to the floor, "so I will stay out of your way.
She crossed her arms, staring down at him in utter perplexity.
"Are you jealous of a pillow?" She demanded incredulously.
"No," he sniffed, but pointedly did not meet her eyes.
"Loki," she stepped over his prone form to sit heavily on the couch. "What is the matter?"
"That stupid thing, it feels like a barrier, a replacement," he mumbled. "It has stolen my bed, my wife, my role."
"Don't be ridiculous. You want me to bring all of my aches and pains and gripes to you?"
"Yes," he affirmed as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Just because healing and soothing spells and massages aren't my most common spells, doesn't mean that I'm not perfectly competent and willing to employ them."
He sat up then and leaned his head against her thigh, his face buried away from her. "I just want to help." He just wanted to be needed. She ran a hand through his hair.
"Oh, Loki you fool." Her voice was fond and he turned his face up towards her. "I do need you. I am sorry for making you feel any differently. I need you," she repeated, holding under his jaw to pull him up to his knees, up to her mouth and her kiss. She held onto his face as his hands found their way into her hair and he kissed her, deep and needful. She returned the kiss until they were both breathless.
"Since you've offered. I do have a terrible ache that could use attending," a wicked smile broke across her face.
"Is that so," he murmured, his voice against her lips sending a shiver up her spine as she nodded. "Show me."
"Here," she pointed to her shoulder. "And here," again to her palm, the soothing magic from his fingers kneaded into her skin as warm and welcome as his reverent lips and tongue. She sat back, guiding him as he kissed and touched her every aching, burning place. When the fire had smoldered down to flickering coals, she found herself utterly relaxed and relieved, sated in drowsy contentment on the couch with Loki curled against her back.
"Better?" his confident whisper purred against her spine.
"Mmm, forget the pillow." She pulled his hand that was massaging reassuring warmth into the the indentations of her hips and back to wrap around her ribs. "You are the only support I need."
"Does that mean I can destroy that blasted monstrosity?" He sounded just a little too eager.
"You may seek your revenge on the bedroom decor as you see fit," Sif laughed around a yawn. "But save your retaliation until the morning, please. I'm too comfortable for carnage at the moment."
"Hmm you know my affinity for destruction." Loki flicked his wrist to cover them in furs and pressed a kiss to her cheek before settling against her form, one hand running comfortingly over her belly. "But whatever you desire, my lady. Anything for you."