Work Text:
Steve was painting again.
Loki had, of course, insisted they set aside a room in the apartment (or get a bigger one, they could absolutely afford it, but Steve threw a fit about living below your means at all times) solely for his painting, because no that ochre streak does not add character to my white couch thank you, and also because ugh Steven what is that foul smell? and sometimes STEVEN NO NO GET THAT AWAY FROM ME WHAT ARE YOU DOING UGH UGH UGH.
But Steve said the living room was fine and the space was better. These artist types...
Loki swallowed the impending lecture like a big boy and gingerly approached the Captain, whose brow was furrowed in deep concentration.
"Watchadooooooin?" purred Loki.
"You have been watching too much television. We are throwing that thing out."
"But I like that show."
"You're too old for it."
"HOW DARE YOU?!"
"You're like a million years ol--"
"I'M ONLY 531 I WILL HAVE YOU KNOW--"
"Do you like this?"Steve pointed his brush at the canvas, unperturbed by Loki's outburst.
"Don't change the sub--oooooOOOOHHHH."
To any other pair of eyes, it was just a man lying on his side, facing the window in the background. To an art critic, it was an exquisitely drawn subject, the "light" just right, you could almost swear the painting was breathing and real. To a romantic it was a glorious moment, stolen and suspended, capturing the best part of the morning after if the night before was something to write home about. To Tyra Banks it might have been the most gorgeous male model she'd ever seen. To Steve it was his best work. But to Loki...
"Well this is an awfully subtle way of asking me to blow you right this minute."
Which, for the record, is what he did.