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Seeing Loki alone was nothing new. To accidentally walk in on him during his quiet moments of contemplation was something which occurred, if not frequency, than with some regularity. Since the mage had become more comfortable in the company of Tony and the rest of the Avengers, it was easier to do so, and Loki seemed to mind less and less every time.
Still, Tony thought he might have walked into a moment of vulnerability when he spotted Loki out on the roof of the Tower. It was raining, and the mage was in the wet with no coat, no shoes, and… dancing.
With movements slow and gentle, Loki swayed through the falling drops as though in a trance. He moved easily and freely, body flowing in a way Tony had only ever seen briefly in battle, when he seemed to be fully within himself and in control, but this… This was different. Watching as Loki moved, Tony felt as though he were seeing the man expressing a level of comfort and acceptance of himself that he didn’t think he’d ever seen anyone express before.
The moment felt fragile, delicate, private… and he felt like an interloper.
Tony blinked, coming back to himself, and made to move away, to leave Loki to his privacy and never mention that he had seen. Before he could move even an inch, however, Loki spun round, a small wave leaping up around his toes, and his eyes fell on Tony.
He froze in place, partially in guilt, but more because the sight of Loki transfixed him.
He had seen Loki in battle. He had seen the man filled with fury and saturated with raw magic, the very air around him threatening to catch fire. Those were times when he had been very thankful that Loki had been on his side, and not faced up against him.
None of those times matched the intensity of the look Loki leveled on him now. Soaked through, skin nearly translucently white in the cold, with tendrils of hair clinging to his face and throat, Loki looked on him as though he were the only thing in the universe, the green of his eyes sharp and toxic.
Tony opened his mouth to say something – a quip or an apology, he wasn’t sure, but again Loki preceded him, cutting off whatever babble of words would have spilled out of him. Never taking his eyes from Tony, he held out a hand, long fingers dripping.
“Dance with me.”
For a moment, Tony’s mind went completely blank, and he stared at the hand as though he’d never seen one before. “But… that’s silly.”
Loki smiled at him, the simple expression communicating back to Tony just how thin and ridiculous the excuse was. “Who is there to see?”
Tony flailed in his mind, somehow struggling to find even the simplest of reasons to not go out and take Loki’s hand. It was such a ludicrous offer, to dance, with Loki, in the rain… and yet he had trouble articulating even a single reason of what he knew must be dozens for why not to take his hand…
“I- It’s raining,” he finally managed. “I’ll get wet.”
Loki never lowered his hand, never looked away, his smile still in place – not mocking, but knowing.
“Yes,” he agreed, voice low and warm. “You’ll get wet. But you’ll be with me.”
There ought to have been so many reasons to refuse, to turn away and go back inside. He could pretend that he’d never seen a thing, and that the offer to join Loki in the rain, to dance, had never happened. He could pretend that the invitation hadn’t tempted him in the least, and that all of the excuses why he shouldn’t or didn’t want to weren’t just excuses.
… But logic and reason and ‘obvious’ all washed away like sand in the face of Loki’s gaze and his outstretched hand.
Slowly, Tony stepped through the door, into the rain, and took Loki’s hand.
There might have been dozens of reasons to not dance in the rain, but the sheer, feral joy to be found in going out, in being with Loki as they were both soaked to the skin, was more than enough reward.
And as Loki drew him in close, Tony hardly felt the rain or the cold anymore. All he felt was warmth.