My Best Friend's the God of Mischief // Peter x Loki

when night ascends

In a room full of decapitated corpses, walls and floor painted with blood, Loki stood, panting, in the mist of the massacre. His masterpiece. Not one life left alive. There, in that moment, he found what he sought; revenge.

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Back with a new chapter!! Wow, it's been forever since my last update. Sorry for keeping you guys waiting, life has been a bitch lately, but thank you for sticking around and for your amazing support and feedback! They're what keep me going.
Anyway, here's another chapter. Hope you enjoy. I promise I will try my very best not to let it get that long until my next update.

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Alarm clock on the nightstand went off and Loki let it wail for about half a minute before he decided to, with a groan, lazily reach out a hand, fumbling around a little, and turned it off. His face buried in the pillow throughout the entire process. He was... well on his way of recovery. The blisters were gone and so was the itch. And it didn't scar.
(And he didn't actually turn into a chicken like Peter said he would. Loki didn't believe him, of course, but he was.... considering the possibilities, whether it was a hoax meant to get on his nerve — because Peter thought it was funny — or if the virus turned those infected into complete different creature. It appeared the first was the case. Loki was more or less relieved.)

He hugged Zeus a bit tighter, about to go back to sleep when someone kicked the door open.

"Rise and shine!" Came a way-too-high-off-key-note that pierced into Loki's brain through his (probably now damaged) ears. An overly-enthusiastic Peter Parker waltzed into the room before he so carelessly yanked open the curtains like he wanted to rip it from its hanger. Waves of sunlight beamed down on Loki's body and he hissed savagely like Count Dracula burnt in the sun.

He could never understand how the kid could maintain this... bubbly and happy energy all the time. What he was, Loki thought, was the opposite — he was dark and twisted and he would really love to spend the rest of the day cocooned in bed, away from the world.

"Let me die," he said, voice muffled against the pillow as he pulled the blanket up over his head.

"Mister Steve asked about you,"

Loki froze, his eyes snapped open and he rose up to sitting in a flash. "What did he say?"

Peter purposefully shrugged. "Does it matter? You said to let you die. I'll just tell him —"

"Alright, fine. I'm up," Loki rolled his eyes, making sure Peter saw it. He'd been underestimating the evil kid since day one. He really needed to... step up his games.

Peter smirked. The mischievous grin Loki wanted so badly to rip it off his face. "He's in the kitchen. Mister Stark ordered Japanese. You ever had those before?"

Loki shrugged. He'd been on Midgard for quite a while, but there was still so much he hadn't learned, so many things he hadn't tried.

"You know what they are?"

Another shrug. Peter flopped down on his bed, sitting cross legged. The kid was... easily distracted, that or he had the attention span of a dead snail, either way it was almost amusing. Loki let him ramble as he began his morning routine. Brushing his teeth from the bathroom with the door left open, he could clearly hear Peter talk about Japanese food. "You ever tried sashimi?"

"I'm afraid I don't know what that is," Loki said, stepping out of the bathroom with his hair up in a man bun.

"I think maybe you've had them. You just don't know they're sashimi," Peter turned to look at him, hugging his pillow like it was his own.