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sunflower-snz · 4 months

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Secret Santa: @zensations35

Hey Zen! :D You got me as your secret santa this year, hopefully this’ll be up to your standards, I had some pretty big boots to fill. Now I’ve never written male snz before so please excuse the quality. We’ve a few avengers featuring at the beginning of this then we go very Loki focused at the end for you. Hopefully this’ll be enjoyable to read :D

Under the cut: MAINLY male snz, tiny snippet of female sprinkled in, slight contagion but nothing too major :)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Had he known this were to happen, Loki really wouldn’t have bothered going to that god damn party.

It had all started a week ago, Clint Barton had just returned from a week-long stake out overseas, it was a valuable mission. One he completed well. But it wasn’t just a new report of the bases’ ongoing activities which the archer had been kind enough to bring home with him.

“HaH! HH’aETSCHOO!” He barrelled forwards, the edges of his unnaturally red nose twitching as he held a calloused hand lazily in front of his face in apprehension for the next. Not that he did a job of covering up his first one.

“Christ Clint, cover your mouth.” The redheaded spy seated at the end of the table retorted, her usually stoic face cringing at the sound of the thick wet sniffles that he gave in response. He sounded awful. Of course, she had sympathy for her partner, but that sympathy was buried by the urge to violently hurl a box of tissues in his general direction. She did not want to catch that.

Who could blame her really? Everyone was thinking it. Shared glances and hushed whispers made their way round the dining table. Nobody wanted to be the person to say that Clint should probably have been curled up in bed instead of sat sharing (more than) breakfast with the team but as it was his first day back, exceptions were made.

Boy did people really come to regret that. It had taken, what was it, 12 hours? For the second pair of sniffles to be heard in the tower. Tony, sat in his lab, looked up from the mess of wires he has been working on soldering to see Bruce swiping a quick finger beneath his nose. A very recognisable, pre-sneeze look clouding his features. God damn it, Barton! The genius thought to himself, realising that maybe sharing a meal with a man too tired to be bothered about the consequences sharing his germs probably wasn’t the greatest idea in hindsight.

“Damn, hIh- It.” It seems his lab partner was thinking the same thing as his head reared backing, with yet another hitching breath. Then another.. And another. “Hah- Fuck.” Now Bruce wasn’t one to swear but this was an exception. He needed to sneeze, he could feel it right there! Just in the bridge of his nose, but it wouldn’t quite- “Hhh..HAH-”

Suddenly he drew in a loud inhale, more so resembling someone taking in a long deep breath before diving into water. But this wasn’t for holding his breath. The scientist suddenly found his body diving forward with a loud, desperate, “GHAH’CHH! HaH’HTSHOO!”

Barton was clearly more contagious than he thought. Shit.

Maybe had this cold had come at an opportune time, when things were less busy, people wouldn’t had been so annoyed, but this coming Friday was the date of Stark’s annual holiday party. Something the genius was not planning on missing. Some would say that Stark parties over the top. Tony preferred ‘extravagant.” Whatever they were, they were always a big deal. Fully stocked bar, music, dancing. The whole deal. And a Stark party would never, could never, be postponed, the mere thought of it went against his entire ideology. It was an insult to him personally for anyone to even suggest such an action. No. This party would be going ahead. With full attendance.

Sniffles or not.

Day’s passed yet no-one seemed to be improving. Barton had finally retired to his bedroom in an attempt to prevent thing’s being shared further but it was a little too late for that. Pepper also already begun to sniffle last night, Bruce was currently sat surrounded by a pile of tissues in his lab and even Cap had begun clearing his throat intermittently. Tony could swear he felt his throat tickle every now and then – that might’ve just been hypochondria though. But regardless, now wasn’t the time for sickness. There were things that needed celebrating and tonight they would.

Loki hadn’t even been planning to attend the event in the first place. Why would he? Sure, he may be at the point where he was civil with most of the Avengers by now but “frolicking around with that pretentious asshole”, the asshole in question needing no introduction, was not how he wanted to spend him evening.

“Come on, you know you enjoy it really!” It was only after several hours of nagging from Thor that he finally agreed to trouble himself with the effort of attending. If anything, his attendance was only to please his brother - definitely not the promise that he would have full unrestricted access to the open bar.

The night of Stark's annual holiday party arrived, and the Tower was transformed into a dazzling spectacle of lights, music, and laughter. The atmosphere was alive with celebration, and even those who were feeling under the weather couldn't resist the allure of the extravagant event. Not that they had much choice anyway.

Loki, clad in his customary green and gold attire, stood at the edge of the crowded room, observing the festivities with a detached interest. He quickly downed a drink he’d swiped from the doorman’s desk and allowed himself into the bustling crowd, leaving the empty glass on a random table as shifted through the masses. He’d almost made it over to his brother but was interrupted with a sudden slap on the back.

“Enjoying the party?" Came the still slightly Coarse voice of a seemingly now more energetic Clint. The day he’s spent resting seemingly reviving his energy.

The God raised an eyebrow, acknowledging the archer with a nod. "As much as one can enjoy these mortals' festivities." He shifted, noticing the man’s slightly rough appearance. Do these people really not clean themselves up for special events? Typical. He tsk’d to himself

Clint chuckled, seemingly unfazed by Loki's disdain. "Well, they know how to throw a good party. You should try the drinks; they're divine."

Loki smirked, intrigued despite himself. "Divine, you say? I may indulge in a taste." He quipped, taking the drink from the man’s and swigging it before he had a chance to interject.

It wasn’t like he’d be able to warn him much anyway. Clint suddenly sneezed without warning. The unexpected spray catching both of them off guard.

“HhHAHTSCHOO!“

"Gah! Sorry about that," Clint apologised, wiping his nose with the back of his hand, “Still a little under the weather I guess.” He sniffled to himself, before being called away from someone, leaving the God revelling in genuine disgust.

“Christ,” Loki muttered to himself, taking off his spray-speckled blazer and groaning in repulsion, “This jacket costs most then your entire outfit and you have to nerve to sneeze on it?” He mumbled to himself, shaking his head with a sigh. Mortals. Their lack of manners never seemed improve.

Maybe if he’d gone home at that point, he still could’ve escaped unharmed. But no, he just had to get and get himself another drink – he deserved one another dealing with that -. Afterall he did come here to enjoy himself.

The god made his way through the crowd, eyes rolling at some of the terrible dancing he saw from the playboy genius on his way. People really looked up to this guy?

He approached the bar, sliding onto one of the pristine white stools tucked into the counter, “Can I get a larg-” He began, but the redhead stood behind the bar held up a silent finger, stopping him in his tracks as a hazed expression shifted her features, making her eyelashes flutter rapidly.

“Ih’shIEW! Hup’TSHH! Hih!-Hh-IshHh’tSHU!” Her small frame seemed to helplessly curl in on herself as she bent at the waist while simultanously turning away to catch her sneezes into her hands. She coughed a little as she straightened herself back up.

“Do egxcuse me.” Her voice was flooded with congestion. Natasha dared to sniffle before pulling out a napkin from somewhere. How did spies always seem to have hidden pockets in every outfit he wondered to himself, not that he was jealous or anything. Magic would always superior for making things appear and disappear without a trace but for a human, she did a pretty good job at keeping things discreet. She held the napkin to her nose, and he looked away. Clearly she was embarrassed around the whole thing. Normally he would’ve taken advantage of that, even found it somewhat comical, but 2-drink Loki was a bit of a softie. Especially when the usually tough-unbreakable Natasha Romanoff looked as if though she was about to crumble.

She blew her nose quietly and cleared her through but this time different voice spoke as he looked up from his drink. “I told you that you should’ve stayed in bed.” Maria purred softly, coming round to slink her arms around the Nat’s waist, pulling her closer from behind as she too seemingly also appeared from nowhere, “You’re not one to get sick, I don’t want you exhausting yourself.”

How cute they looked. Maybe too cute. Loki didn’t want to be deliberately rude but this little moment was getting a little too sappy for his likings. The God cleared his throat loudly,, bringing both women back to the present moment, “Mind if I take that drink now?”

Maria rolled her eyes, releasing Natasha and stepping back. "Fine, fine. Get him his drink so he doesn't feel neglected," she said, giving Loki a wry smile before pressing a soft kiss to her girlfriend’s cheek.

“The usual?” The redhead asked, not really needing an answer and her nose still twitched a little as she began to pour a dark coloured liquid into a crystallised glass. Oh? He quirked a raised eyebrow in surprise at her remembrance of how he takes his drinks. “Thank you.” Loki smirked before taking a sip of the drink that had been slided infront of him. He would’ve stayed to talk a little longer – truthfully he liked the company of the girls a lot more than he did some of the others – but he was soon whisked away when Thor came over, wearing an alcohol fuelled smile.

“Brother! You came.” He called loudly, raising his glass into the air as he pulled the God away from the bar and towards the group of older men loudly laughing and flaunting their old stories of victory, “You must tell them of our time on Crumelia!” He cheered, referencing the planet the two had visited together a few months prior.

The night wore on with laughter, music, and a myriad of conversations. Loki found himself drawn into Thor's tales of heroism and adventure, the alcohol making the stories more entertaining than he would care to admit. The atmosphere of the party did have a certain charm, he begrudgingly acknowledged.

As the night reached its peak, Loki eventually excused himself from the lively group, citing the need for a moment of solitude. He retreated to a quieter corner of the room, nursing his drink as he observed the chaotic dance floor. The revelry continued around him, but he felt a growing fatigue.

Eventually, the party began to wind down, and guests started to make their way home. Thor had offered out their spare-room for the God so instead of filtering out with the rest of the attendee’s he stayed behind until it was only the Avengers left.

They had huddled into a group now, all nursing their last drinks of the night. Well, nearly all of them. Natasha had already fallen asleep against Maria’s, her mouth hanging slightly open as she snored quietly - much to the earlier vast assusment of everyone at seeing their resident spy finally acting like a true human being for once. Loki couldn’t help but join in as they all continued to laugh and share stories. Of course Thor had brung out his hammer, as he always does, encouraging the others to finally see if they were worthy enough to wield it.

The alcohol that had fueled his earlier enthusiasm now served as a heavy lullaby, coaxing him towards the realm of sleep. The laughter and camaraderie of the Avengers became a distant hum as he excused himself from the group, citing the need for rest. Thor, still in high spirits, clapped a hand on Loki's shoulder. "Rest well, brother! We shall regale you with tales of today's merriment in the morning."

With a nod and a faint smile, Loki made his way to the guest room assigned to him. The Tower, now quieter and dimly lit, felt strangely peaceful. He closed the door behind him, shutting out the remnants of the party.

The bed, though not the grandeur of his Asgardian chambers, looked inviting. Loki undid the clasps of his elaborate attire, letting the green and gold fabric fall to the floor. The room was cool, a stark contrast to the warmth of the festivities. Maybe the night hadn’t been so bad after all.

Well. That’s what he thought atleast. Until he woke up the next morning.

Loki awoke to a pounding headache and a throat that felt like it had been scorched by fire. He groaned, burying his face into the pillow as he attempted to ignore the discomfort. The room, once serene, now seemed to spin with every movement.

Still, he dragged himself out of bed and stumbled towards the bathroom, ignoring the disheveled state of his room. The reflection in the mirror revealed a pale and weary god, a far cry from the composed trickster he usually presented to the world. The remembrance of the previous night’s music and laughter seemed to mock his misery. With each step, he felt weaker, his body aching and chilled and his chest rumbled with a deep, rattling cough. Stupid mortal germs!

He cursed them out, but before he could utter anymore foul words against anyone, his nose itched. A wild tickle, causing his jaw to go slack, fruitless to fight against it, “HAh'tsCHIEW! HHUh-Hah’ESHOO! Heh'gnXNNT! Guh...” He sniffled wetly, grimacing at the feeling of thick congestion already beginning to settle in his sinsues.

As he swayed there in place, contemplating the unfairness of his situation, he was once again helpless to the burning itch in his sinuses. "Hah'KSHIEW!” Ugh, curse these wretched germs," he grumbled, his frustration growing. The once-mighty god now felt as vulnerable as any mere mortal and that alone made him feel 10x worse.

He was Loki! A trickster! A God! And yet here he was, shivering and sniffling through his stuffed up nose like such... such.. such a weakling! With a drasted sigh, he humbled himself and resigned to the fact this was just something he was going to have to get through. He grabbed a box of tissues and blew his nose, the sound echoing in the quiet room making him cringe at himself. He hated this.

Throughout the day, Loki's condition deteriorated further. Sneezes punctuated his every attempt to gather his bearings, each one a reminder of his weakened state. The once proud and regal god found himself reduced to a pitiful figure, wrapped in a blanket on the couch in one of the many communal areas of the the tower, a book in hand, with tissues strewn around him like confetti. His nose was raw from constant wiping, and his eyes were red and watery as he tried to make sense of the words infront of him.

"Hah'KSHIEW! Hhih! Hh..Hah'PTSHIEW! Ugh, this is insufferable," Loki muttered to himself as he turned the page. The trickster god, usually quick-witted and sly, now sniffled pathetically as he tried to regain some semblance of composure. He couldn’t even read properly without having to stop to sniffle every few seconds.

His attempts to use his magic to alleviate his symptoms proved futile. It only left him shivering and exhausted in wake of his efforts. With a final shiver, he sighed and closed his book. He was getting nowhere like this. He needed to sleep.

However it was just as the God resigned himself to the need for sleep, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed through the quiet tower. Thor, ever watchful of his mischievous brother, entered the room, a concerned expression crossing his face as he witnessed Loki's disheveled state.

"Brother!" Thor exclaimed, his voice a mix of worry and exasperation. "What in the realms has befallen you? You look as if you've faced the wrath of a frost giant!"

Loki glanced up, his eyes weary and red, and managed a weak smirk. "Just a mere inconvenience, dear brother. Mortal germs have decided to wage war on Asgardian immunity.” He sniffled thickly, the act irritating his already rubbed-raw nose, causing it to twitch maddeningly.

“Ha-hh.. Hah'KSHIEW! HhhH’HhtSHH! hh’EKSHIEW! God, fgucking, damn HhH- it! Hhh’TSCHOO!”

The thunder god’s eyes widened in surprise at his brothers outburst, offering out a tissue as he tried hopelessly to clean himself up. “I believe the native curtesy is to say ‘bless you.’” Thor chuckled, extending a firm hand to squeeze Loki’s shoulder, “I’ve also heard about the wonders of tea for these sorts of ailments, I’ll go and prepare some.”

The ever-caring brother, quickly made his way to the kitchen to prepare a soothing cup of tea. The scent of chamomile and honey filled the air as he expertly brewed the remedy. Returning with a steaming mug, he handed it to Loki, his concern evident in his eyes, “Just try some.” He urged.

Loki begrudgingly accepted the tea, the warmth seeping into his chilled fingers. "Fine, fine," he muttered, taking a sip and feeling a slight sense of relief slowly come over him.

"It’s not awful," He sniffled begrudgingly.

Thor grinned, satisfied. "Rest now, brother. Back to bed with you.” He motioned, holding out a hand to pull his brother up from the sofa, making sure he had properly gained his balance before letting go.

Resigned to his fate, the trickster went back to his room and wrapped himself in a thick robe. The fabric doing little to stave off the persistent chill that clung to him so he trudged back to his bed, tissues in hand, and succumbed to the discomfort that accompanied his illness. The room, once filled with the echoes of revelry, was now a silent witness to man’s struggles against the common cold.

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