a/n: I decided to join the Frostiron writers club. it's a like gentleman's club, only with fangirls that cry a lot. And this, for whatever reason, ended up having elements of fluff. Don't question it.
It's three in the morning when Tony wakes up.
Or, to be accurate, something wakes Tony up without his consent. It takes a while for his brain to stop sputtering, and once it does, he's suddenly aware that it sounds like a freight train is barreling through his bedroom.
Tony doesn't want his brain to wake up, but it's highly impossible that he'll fall asleep with that noise, so he opens his eyes a little wider and looks about the room. He sees everything that was there when he had fallen asleep—only the sound is worse, now that his brain is functioning. Tony sits up, and, as he does, something pokes into his back and wiggles.
He freezes.
In one, swift motion, he whips around to see a mass of dark, black hair splayed on a pillow. The blanket is pulled up to the person's face, and it takes Tony all of two seconds to pin-point the dying whale sound.
Without hesitation he lifts his elbow and brings it down on his bedmate's head—hard.
Tony isn't exactly sure what he's expecting, but when Loki shoots up fast as lightning with his eyes blinking wildly and his hair in a sleep-mohawk, he gawps for a few seconds. Then he remembers the night before and the fact that Loki is shirtless makes a lot more sense.
Speaking of, the god is glaring daggers at him. Tony shoots him an unimpressed look—he jabs a sleepy finger in his chests and says, "Don't look at me like that. You were asking for it."
"Funny," Loki says, his voice subdued by sleep, "I certainly remember nothing of the sort."
"I'm too tired for your sass. News flash: you snore. Or you swallowed an elephant with chest pains, I don't know. Bottom line? It's loud and annoying and it needs to stop."
Loki snorts. He leans on his side and gives Tony a heavy-lidded smirk. "That is ridiculous. I do not snore."
Tony dropped face first into his pillow. "No, I'm not doing this with you, it's three in the damn morning," he says, but his exasperated tone is muffled. "But I swear you snore. I would not elbow you in the head at three in the morning if you weren't snoring."
There's silence, and while Tony can't see his face, he suspects that Loki is rolling his eyes. "That was a bit much, don't you think?"
"S'not like it hurt you, you big baby."
"It was still rude." Loki sounds like a petulant child. A sassy one. "…Did you just call me a baby?"
"It was necessary," Tony stresses. "And yes, I did, but in my defense it's late—or early, whatever—and I'm not thinking clearly."
"Obviously," Loki says with a yawn. He turns on his side and slides back into the covers. About two seconds after he gets comfortable, Tony jerks out his leg and kicks the god once, twice, and was going for a third when Loki grabs his food and twists.
Yelping, Tony brings his foot up to his hand to massage the pain away. "That was uncalled for." Now he sounds petulant, only he's too tired to be angry.
"Says the man who just attempted to kick me out of bed."
"Because you snore, and I'm tired, and those things don't go together." Tony raises his head and pouts at Loki, who merely lifts an eyebrow. "We can figure things out in the morning. But right now could you just…you know…take a couch?"
Loki purses his lips, frowning in a way that makes Tony feel bad. "Are you banishing me from your bed?"
"Sounds melodramatic when you say it like that," Tony mumbles, "but yeah, pretty much." He yanks the covers away from Loki and pulls them to his chin, trying to manage a sweet smile at the god. "So, uh, see you in the morning?"
"Stark," Loki warns, baring his teeth. Tony hums and submerges into the blanket, pulling it around his body like a caccoon. "Stark," Loki tries again, but Tony has a death grip on the blanket and Loki is too bleary-eyed to fight him for it.
Loki gives a haughty sniff and climbs out of the bed, holding himself regally even though know else can see him. There's a couch on the other side of the room. Not at all gently, he snatches the pillow out from Tony's head and takes the walk of shame to it, narrowing his eyes to see in the dark.
He does his best to be loud as he plops on the couch, wearing nothing but his underwear because Stark wouldn't let go of the blanket. The room is cold, when he's exposed like this, and Loki vows to seek his revenge in the morning.
From the lump on the wide bed, Tony quietly calls out, "Goodnight."
There's a moment of silence. Loki sighs heavily and responds, "Goodnight, Stark."
As far as romantic nights go, this isn't one, but Loki tolerates it anyway. Maybe because he's actually quite fond of Stark—and he won't lie, Stark id terrific in bed—or maybe because revenge is sweet, Loki isn't entirely sure. But he can ignore the cool air and within moments he's asleep again, snoring contentedly, as if nothing had happened at all.
In the morning, Tony is woken up with a pillow smothering his face and Loki's laughter ringing in his ears. Which is, actually, something he can get used to.