The Heat of the Snow // A Loki Fanfiction

Chapter 4

As you drive the dogs through the tumbling snow, there isn't much chance to really say anything to each other because of the howling wind. So, Loki just watches. He watches your cheeks, reddening against the frigid air. Your arms, how the smallest movement creates a ripple effect all the way up the husky pack. Your eyes, how they focus on the horizon as the sledge drives onwards, ready to react to any danger.

I could watch her do this for hours, he realises. They have nothing like this in Asgard. And although the wind is howling around them, Loki decides he's never been able to hear his thoughts so well. This simple way of living, away from monarchies and expectations...he already feels freer—able to breathe more easily.

He's almost disappointed to reach the igloo. It wasn't a long journey, but if asked to repeat it himself, he'd have no idea of the way back. The crystalline dome peeks out of a glade of snow, reflecting the light of the stars across the glass.

Looking up into the sky, there are thousands and thousands of white dots pinned against the black fabric of the night. It is beautiful, while slightly reminding him of home. The thought of what mother, father and Thor might be doing right now sends a jolt of irritation through his temple. They probably don't even realise I'm gone.

"I love watching the stars," you say beside him, pointing up to your left. "You see that constellation there? Ursa Major."

"Mhm," he replies, not looking at the stars at all, but rather how your lips part as you look up. He's never understood why Midgardians put so much weight behind astrology. They're all just looking at the many different worlds of Yggdrasil in the end—and it has little to no effect on the date they were born. But he whispers back anyway, "I see it."

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" you say with the faintest smile.

"Yes," he answers before finally following your gaze.

After a couple more silent moments, you suddenly realise how close you both are—the small space on the sledge seemingly growing smaller as the seconds tick by. "You will see the aurora while you're here," you say, directing the dogs into their temporary shelter before hopping off the sledge.

Loki unhooks himself, grabs his belongings and follows you, casting a glance behind him again, up into the night. Whatever you're playing at Heimdall...I'm not so mad about it anymore.

"Here are your keys." You press the keys into Loki's hand after opening the door—wood-panelled, similar to the rectangular cabin that's attached to the igloo. It looks like it would be warm and cosy, but as soon as Loki steps inside, he quickly notices the coldness in the air.

"The fire needs to be lit," you say, directing him to the small log burning stove sitting in the corner of the living room, surrounded by deep comfy chairs.

It makes sense. He can still pick up the scent of smouldering wood from the previous occupants. "Of course," he replies, watching you flip some switches by the door. After a moment, a generator kicks in and the lights come to life—soft and twinkling, casting a glow from the small lamps dotted about. With the fire lit as well, it will certainly be a comfy space.

"And the igloo...?" Loki asks with a frown.

"Oh, yes. It's here." You walk through the living room, towards a wood-panelled screen before pulling it back to reveal the large dome of crisscrossing glass. It's occupied only by a large bed; perfectly made, with a thick fur draped over the foot and six fluffy pillows stacked at the head.

"Are you satisfied with the space?" you ask, gesturing to the room as he turns in 360. And inwardly, you pray that he is. The idea of having to take him back to your house suddenly pings into your mind, leaving behind glittery panic. "Don't worry, it becomes much warmer with the wood burner lit."

Loki's eyes come to rest on yours. "I'm not worried, Y/N. It'll get warmer in no time." Something about you standing so close to the bed stirs heat inside his stomach. And he notices the recognition in your face...how you take a small step away.

"Good," you croak, absently tugging at your glove before heading back into the living room—putting some space between you. "And you're okay with lighting the fire?"

Torn between wanting you to stay and the pride of lighting the fire himself, Loki hesitates. "I'll be fine," he says after a moment. "Your father is a good teacher."

You lick your lips. "He is. He taught me everything I know."

"I'm sure there is more for me to learn," Loki says softly, stepping towards you.

You can't move, the kitchenette counter is right behind you, and if you step backwards, you realise you'll look scared—not something you want to show, despite the way your stomach is somersaulting. "Undoubtedly," you say, taking a steady breath. "We can all learn new things."

"Undoubtedly," he repeats softly. "Well, maybe you can be my tutor instead...if your father taught you everything you know."

"Um...I don't know what I could teach you."

I've got some ideas, Loki thinks to himself. He gestures to the space at your back. "Cooking for one. The food you served earlier was delicious. I would certainly enjoy learning how you put so much care and attention into that."

"I—it's simple really," you say. And Loki notices your pupils dilate as he takes another tiny step forwards. You find yourself trying to fill the loaded silence. "You really don't know how to cook?"

"I've never had the need to until now," Loki admits, thinking back to the countless chefs, servers and tasters his parents have in their employment. "Will you show me?"

With a quick breath, you slide sideways, escaping the confines of the kitchenette—and Loki's slow advances. "Um...sure...if I have time. I'm quite busy over the next few days."

"Is that so? No matter, I'm sure our paths will cross again."

Making your excuses to get back home, you can't get out of there fast enough. After quickly double-checking that everything is set up correctly, you pull your hat back over your head and say a brisk goodbye to Loki. And as soon as you close the door behind you, you stop and take a deep breath, suddenly able to think again.

What the hell just happened? Did he—? Did I—?

Pulling more air into your lungs, you cast a quick glance at the igloo before heading to the huskies. And the more steps you take, the angrier you feel about what just happened.

Who does he think he is? He must think that because I'm the only single girl in a 20-mile radius, he can just hit on me and take what he wants. You clench your fists together, banging through the door of the dog shelter before instructing them out. And just because he's...somewhat attractive with his long dark hair and blue eyes...he thinks I'll just bend over willingly. What an asshole!

The dogs watch you curiously as you ready the sledge, mumbling to yourself about the audacity of men when the door to the shelter opens again, silhouetting a figure against the moonlight. "Y/N?"

You drop the ropes, standing up straight. "L—Loki?"

"You forgot your glove," he says, holding the offending red mitt out to you.

Red-faced, you snatch it from his hand with a quick thanks. And before he can open his mouth to say anything else, you jump onto the sledge and shout at the dogs to go.

Only when you've put ample distance between yourself and him do you let yourself breathe again.