Chapter Text
Loki’s hand goes instinctively to his fingers, covering over the red string that has been tied around them for the majority of his life. He can’t feel anything, of course; it isn’t a physical cord, but a metaphysical representation of the entwining of his soul to another. A line that just trailed off into the distance, or had done, up until a moment ago.
It isn’t that Loki is surprised his soulmate is Midgardian, he has known that for quite some time. Growing up, as soon as he determined the direction that his string pointed, he devoted a good amount of his time and energy figuring out how to travel to Midgard in secret. It had taken him longer than he would have liked to determine how to pass through the realms, but he was nothing if not determined. He sucked up any and all magical knowledge like a sponge, if only for the hope that it could one day help him find his soulmate.
It was magic that allowed Loki to view the thread in the first place, of course. Only sorcerers, those who tap into the energy of Yggdrasil, can do so, for it is from the roots of the great tree that the Norns read one’s fate. Sorcerers may not have as strong of a connection to the fabled tree as the Norns themselves, but by some quirk of reality they are granted this one boon, this one hint at the path to great happiness.
Of course, Loki was a prince. Not the crown prince, certainly, that was made clear, though perhaps not as early on as Loki might have preferred. Still, he had responsibilities. He couldn’t spend all his time scouring Midgard for his mate, but he had been able to take short jaunts when he could, following that trail of red that runs forever into the distance.
Loki knows now why that was. While the Yggdrasil told of all that was, is and will be, the String could only do so much. Yggdrasil had identified Loki’s soulmate, but the red line couldn’t lead Loki to the person until they were actually born. He is so young, even considering he is in the latter half of his life, a thought that Loki shies away from immediately. By the time he had been born, Loki had long before given up on his trips to Midgard. His duties as Thor’s advisor had become a full time job.
Still, it’s amusing, in the way that all of Loki’s life has been one big joke. This isn’t the first time that Loki has met his soulmate. He supposes they were both a bit preoccupied the last time. After falling through a black gaping nothingness, every moment longer than the next as Loki tried to block out his memory of the Void, Loki had been too keen on revenge to notice a suddenly shorter red string wrapped around his hand. He supposed that the other sorcerer must have been similarly occupied, for Stephen Strange could see the strings as well, given his occupation.
Neither of them were going to notice during the battle, that was a given. Fighting a Mad Titan bent on wiping out half of the galaxy, which the heroes had just managed to get back, in fact— not that Loki would know, being of the percentage who got dusted—one doesn’t pay much attention to one’s fingers. Still, the battle is over; relief and exhaustion are in the air. Now is the time for reflection and reconnection.
As if he can sense Loki’s thoughts, Strange looks over towards the trickster and they make eye contact for the first time. Loki’s never seen the point in beating around the bush, at least, not unless it otherwise benefits him to keep information to himself. So he raises his hand and an eyebrow at Strange, his mouth quirked into a wry smile. Strange frowns at Loki, shrugs and turns around to speak to Stark.
Loki feels gutted. It’s not as if he doesn’t know what Strange thinks of him, what this world thinks of him. Strange has made that perfectly clear. But that was before . Surely their connection changes things? Even if Loki hadn’t fought by the heroes’ sides, by Strange’s side, he had to be worthy of some small consideration. Yet Strange obviously disagrees, choosing instead to clap Stark on the shoulder and shake the young Spiderman’s hand.
Loki isn’t alone in victory. Thor is quick to pull him into a crushing hug. Valkyrie tempts fate by ruffling his hair. Loki tries to lose himself in their excitement. They had five years to mourn Loki and the others who were gone, they deserved their celebration. For Loki that time passed in an instant, but now he has to mourn the hope he once had for a happy life with his soulmate.
<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<
Loki has been told, more than once in fact, that he has a flair for the dramatic. Giving up on his soulmate over one glance was a bit much, even for him. Perhaps it was the overabundance of emotions. Part of him had never dreamed of defeating Thanos; part of him had never imagined that he could find a life for himself among the Asgardians, on Earth, no less. It was an overwhelming feeling, and finding his soulmate had even made it more so.
A few weeks of processing, of concentrating on helping Thor settle their people in Norway, and Loki is ready to talk to Strange, to really talk. Which is why he finds himself standing on the doorstep of the Sanctum, willing himself to knock on the door.
He has almost steeled himself up when the door opens suddenly, startling him into taking a step back.
“If you want to come in, you should just knock,” Stephen’s fellow sorcerer, Wong, says to him.
“Yes, well, you seemed to know I was here regardless.”
“That’s because I’m a sorcerer.”
“And this is a house of sorcerer’s yes? So knocking was apparently unnecessary,” Loki responds, fighting a grin.
Wong glares at him before shrugging and stepping aside so that Loki can enter. The interlude had distracted Loki from his nervousness, but it comes back again in full force as Loki follows Wong, somehow knowing Loki is here to see Stephen.
When Loki steps into the library, it is clear that Strange hasn’t heard him come in yet. Loki has never seen the man so relaxed; he certainly wouldn’t be if he knew Loki was there. He is curled up in a large armchair, a thick, leatherbound book in hand. A few tufts of hair has fallen across the man’s forehead, blocking his eyes from Loki.
An image flashes before Loki’s eyes. Another armchair is tucked in next to the one Strange is in. Loki is lounging in it with his feet thrown over the arm. Loki, too, appears to be reading, but he is also poking Strange’s shoulder with his toe. The man ignores him, but Loki can see a smile twitching in the corner of his mouth, and he knows that soon he’ll win the man’s attention.
The vision quickly dissipates, but Loki feels its loss like an ache in his chest. It’s silly, to feel this much for a man he barely knows; one he hasn’t even liked. It’s more the potential that Loki really mourns, not the man himself.
But no, he can still have this, Loki reminds himself. All is not lost. He shouldn’t hold a man to a few encounters they’ve had in battle situations. For all Loki knows, Strange is just as concerned about Loki rejecting him . After all, under the Mind Stone’s influence, Loki hadn’t exactly had much good to say about humans in the past. Not to mention Loki hadn’t taken their last encounter particularly well. No matter, they just need to start over.
Loki clears his throat politely and Strange tenses. He looks up and his eyes widen as he sees who has joined him. Loki searches through the surprise, looks for any other emotion in those gray eyes, but finds nothing.
“Loki! What are you doing here?” The question isn’t accusatory, that’s a small comfort. Strange appears to be genuinely puzzled.
“With Thor and I settling in Norway with the other Asgardians, and also joining the new team, I thought it might be beneficial to address the elephant in the room.”
If anything, Strange looks more confused. There’s no dawning understanding on his face as Loki addresses this most painful topic, but again, no anger or disgust either. Loki thinks it may be surprise at his use of the idiom. It’s true, Thor struggles with them. In fact, most Asgardians, who never learn anything but All-Speak, that magical language that allows oneself to understand and be understood in all languages, would struggle as well. All-Speak allows one to hear the meaning of the words spoken, but with idioms there’s the meaning of the words themselves and an entirely different one with the phrase as a whole. It tends to get a bit muddled in translation. Loki, fortunately, made a study of languages, many of the Midgardian ones as well as the other realms, and is therefore much better at parsing meaning. He’s just about to explain when apprehension comes to Strange’s face.
“Oh yes, that, ” he says meaningfully, looking uncomfortable. He sighs and looks up, making eye contact with Loki for the first time. “Don’t worry about it.”
Loki gapes at him. What could he possibly mean by that? The bastard even smiles a little smile, further confounding Loki.
“What?” he manages to get out through his strangled throat.
Stephen gets out of his chair and walks over to Loki. Instinctively Loki takes a step back, but Stephen is quickly in front of him. The sorcerer puts a hand on Loki’s shoulder and looks at him earnestly.
“Really, just forget about it. I know I have. We’ll start with a clean slate.”
Loki’s fairly sure the only thing keeping him standing after such a blow is the hand on his shoulder. Soon, the man relinquishes even that comfort, patting Loki softly before drawing back to his chair. The man is so calm, so assured, as if rejecting his soulmate isn’t a life-altering, soul-crushing event. Maybe it isn’t, for Strange. After all, he is new to sorcery, he’s only had a few years with the knowledge he had a soulmate to be found, not the centuries of searching Loki endured.
Loki’s knees want to buckle, but there’s a tiny remnant of pride that manages to keep his back straight, his face neutral.
“I see. If a clean slate is what you wish, then let it be when we next meet as if we are met for the first time.” Loki's voice is firm, falling into an old formality he hasn’t used in years. It’s a comforting mask.
Strange laughs, damn him. “Perfect! I look forward to it! Thanks for coming, Loki.”
He actually seems genuine in that. Loki supposes that even if the sorcerer didn’t wish to pursue a relationship, he is relieved that Loki is taking it so easily. Well, Loki wouldn’t allow himself to do any differently. From here on out, every time he and Stephen met they would be perfect strangers, nothing more to one another than casual allies. If Strange could manage it so easily, Loki would too.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
“Loki, I need your help.” This time Strange is the one interrupting Loki’s reading. Well, not that Loki had ever interrupted Strange reading before. No, the first time they met, according to their new status quo, had been several weeks before at a newly organized Avenger’s meeting, the sorcerer cheekily winking at Loki as they shook hands, saying it was nice to meet him. Internally, Loki raged at the gall, but was as cool as ice. He supposed he was lucky to not have to be saddled with such a clearly contemptuous soulmate. No, Loki didn’t have a soulmate, lucky him.
“I know that you did not grow up creating portals all your life, Strange. Perhaps you learned something useful in your youth. I believe you’d call it knocking?”
“Too slow,” Strange says with a wry grin.
“But polite, especially when you’re asking someone for their help.” Loki looks back down at his book as if the matter is done.
“Come on, I know you're intrigued as to why I’d be asking for your help,” the sorcerer weedles, completely undaunted.
Loki sighs and sets his book down. “Fine, I’m curious.”
Stephen walks over and settles himself in the chair besides Loki, the one Thor generally occupies when he’s trying to convince Loki to join him in sparring or hunting or something else that isn’t reading. It’s cozy and certainly too close for Loki’s comfort, but he doesn’t want to draw attention to it by moving. When Strange draws an object out of his bag, all discomfort is forgotten.
In Strange’s yellow-gloved hand rests an orb. It’s about the size of a baseball, dark grey, plain but for a few very thin, faint swirls on the surface. Most intriguing though, there is something about it that calls to Loki. Its magic beckons Loki’s own. He finds himself reaching for it without really making the conscious decision.
“Wait!” Loki’s finger touches the orb right about the moment Stephen speaks. Nothing dramatic happens, Loki just feels a comforting warmth trickling into his fingers.
“Huh,” Stephen says, staring at where Loki’s still touching the item. “When I tried to touch it with my bare hands it shocked me.”
“Hmmm,” Loki looks up at Stephen questioningly. The man waves his other hand in a ‘go ahead’ gesture and Loki takes the orb from him.
The warmth doesn’t increase, even with his hand around it. Something to hurt humans in particular, perhaps? Loki traces the lines and swirls that are so intricately etched into what feels like metal. It’s not a language, at least not from what the All-Speak can tell, but that magic isn’t foolproof. There is something familiar about it, Loki just can’t quite trace it.
“Obviously it’s magic, I could feel that when I grabbed it, but it’s not like anything I’ve seen. Generally, with magical items I can see the magic working or be able to feel it. With this, it may as well not be magical at all to me, except for the shock.”
Loki hums again in acknowledgement. He can feel the magic; why him and not Strange? Why does Loki feel welcomed by the object and Strange repelled? Loki has no idea, but he certainly isn’t going to admit that right off.
“Where did you get this?” Loki asks, stalling for time.
“Found it in the Sanctum,” Strange responds.
“And the rush that required you to portal in unannounced would be…?”
The sorcerer looks a bit sheepish. “Curiosity?”
Loki rolls his eyes. Yes, they were a pair, weren’t they? Except in all the ways they weren’t.
“Well, I’m afraid it will take me some time to sate your curiosity. I have several theories, but I’ll need to do some research to narrow them down.” Lies all, but even if Loki had any idea, he wouldn’t have shared it immediately. Let Strange squirm for a bit.
Surprisingly enough, the man leaves the orb with Loki without much argument; with almost no argument; with a suspicious lack of argument, actually. It has Loki studying the item long after Strange leaves. Is it some sort of spying device maybe? Trick Loki into studying it so Strange can check that Loki is behaving himself? Or maybe it’s something less passive, meant to capture or disable him if the sorcerer triggers it.
Annoyed at his own line of thinking, Loki tosses the orb onto the now empty chair and goes back to his book. No matter what it is, Strange will not be Loki’s priority.
<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<
Loki sees Strange the next week at a completely pointless and tedious Avengers meeting. He stalls and diverts the man like the Silvertongue he is, but the truth is that Loki hasn’t looked at the device since the night Strange brought it. He’s guessed, by this point, that it probably doesn’t have any ill intent. Strange wouldn’t be so insistent on Loki examining it if that was the case. So at this point, Loki just can’t bear to admit that Strange’s curiosity could ever be his priority over anything else he has going, and instead of studying, researching or examining the device, he tries not thinking about it. He tries not thinking about it so much he is pretty much constantly thinking about it, or rather, the man who brought it. Damn him.
They meet several more times over the next few weeks during meetings and battles and Loki continues to lead Strange on, without providing any details. In fact, Loki is fairly sure that all he has done is feed the man’s curiosity. In the end, Loki comes across the answer purely by chance. He’s reading a book on elemental magic so, of course, Jotunheim is heavily featured. Considering the pointlessness of reading about something he’s able to do without much effort, Loki is just about to skip the ice chapter when the illustration on the page catches his eye. It’s a Jotun, staring straight at the reader, looking stern and unyielding. Looking an awful lot like Laufey, to tell the truth. Loki shivers and is about to press on when it strikes him. He grabs the orb from where it’s been sitting on the chair and holds it up next to the illustration. The designs on the surface look just like the lines on a Jotun’s body. Suddenly far more intrigued, Loki summons several other books and digs in.
Hours later Loki has his answer and finds himself back inside the Sanctum’s library. Much like himself, Strange is also spending his evening reading. Loki halts more visions of comfortable nights reading together in companionable silence before they can manifest. He’s wanted so long for someone who shared his own interests in magic and study over swords. Of course his soulmate would have to be someone who could provide that, for all the good it does him. Before he can linger any longer on despair Loki knocks on the door frame.
Strange practically jumps out of his chair this time and Loki muffles a laugh. The man glares at him and Loki affects an innocent face. It is a bit late, he realizes, but that makes it all the more fun.
“You know, the knock is to request entrance, it doesn’t mean anything if you are already inside,” Strange growls.
“But I still announced my presence which is more than you can say,” Loki replies.
“I at least chose a decent hour! It’s three am!”
“You’re awake,” Loki shrugs.
“Which you couldn’t have known until you arrived,” the sorcerer pointed out, not incorrectly.
“Well, if you insist, I’ll head to bed and tell you about the orb tomorrow. Phone me when it’s a decent hour.”
Loki turns on his heel as if to leave, which is a complete bluff since he’d leave by teleporting anyway.
“Not fair, you know I’m dying to find out.”
Loki turns back around with a cheeky grin, but inside he’s squirming. He doesn’t know if Stephen is aware of how personal the origin of this item is to Loki. He hasn’t exactly hidden where he’s from, but he doesn’t really discuss it much, not even with Thor. He knows this will lead to a discussion. Strange’s thirst for knowledge wont allow anything else. In the end, the desire to share in a discovery wins over.
“It’s a communication device,” Loki says as he pulls it out.
Strange frowns. “Then why would it shock me?”
“Ah, that’s the interesting part. It shocked you because you aren’t Jotun.” Loki searches Strange’s face for a hint of recognition at the word. There is none. He isn’t sure if he is relieved or disappointed.
“Jotun?”
“From Jotunheim?” Loki leads.
“That’s one of the Nine Realms, right? Like Asgard?” Stephen asks, recognition starting to grow in his face.
“And Midgard. Whether you like it or not, you’re at the heart of Yggdrasil as well.”
“Yeah, I’m not much for religion,” Strange says.
Loki laughs. “Nor I. I believe in what I can prove and Yggdrasil is real. I’ve walked its branches.”
“You are telling me there’s a giant ash tree whose branches extend to nine different planets with a squirrel that runs up and down the trunk spreading gossip to the three ladies who water the roots?” Strange shoots him a dubious look.
“Well done, you’ve got a decent grasp of Norse mythology. Which is just that, of course, mythology. I have no idea where the squirrel myth came from, but think of the tree as a metaphor. It isn’t a real plant, but a force connecting the Nine Realms. It’s not much different than your Gravity, Electromagnetic, Strong and Weak forces; it works at a distance rather than by contact so most can only measure it by its effects, but it’s there.”
“Ok, now it’s my turn to be impressed at your grasp of our physics.”
“Well, your physics is rudimentary at best. I learned most of what you’ve been able to discern on this planet before I had lived a century, so it wasn’t exactly that hard to just apply your terminology.” Loki shrugs and stifles a laugh at how perturbed Stephen looks at that. Loki holds up the device again “This orb, this is imbued with Yggdrasil.”
“Wait, it’s magic? Yggdrasil is a type of magic?”
“It’s not a type of magic, it’s the magic; it’s how I do everything that I can. As a sorcerer, I tap into the force to perform magic.”
“That’s fascinating, but it isn't the only magic. It’s not how we do it here. We tap into dimensional energy, not Yggdrasil,” Strange explains.
“Interesting; yes, I suppose that would do well enough for most things. I’ve even had to resort to that myself when outside the Nine Realms, but it’s far weaker than Yggdrasil. It also explains why you couldn’t feel the magic in the orb, you just don’t know how to work with this particular force.”
“And since I’m not Jotun I couldn’t even really touch it without it shocking me. Wait, you’re holding it right now and it’s not shocking you. Did you disable it?” Strange frowned at the device, his gloved hands twitching a bit as if they were itching to grab back the item. Loki supposes he must take them off on occasion, or he wouldn’t have gotten shocked, but Loki’s never seen him without them. Germaphobe maybe?
“No, I didn’t disable it,” Loki says pointedly.
It takes a moment, a very uncomfortable moment where Strange frowns at him in silence. “I didn’t realize you weren’t Asgardian,” he says finally.
“Neither did I, not until about a decade ago.” Loki says lightly.
“Oh… that’s….I’m sorry?” Once again, Stephen looks so earnest Loki almost wants to reach out to him.
“It’s in the past,” Loki says with a shrug. One of these days he will say it enough that it actually becomes true.
There’s an uncomfortable silence that Strange, fortunately, cannot help but break soon enough. “So why set up a communication device that won't allow anyone but a Jotun to use it?”
Loki smiles, enjoying that the sorcerer has led him to the interesting part. “It was designed for spies. Jotuns could have these on hand, it would look like no more than a bauble or bead as they are far larger than Asgardians or Midgardians. The magic in it is very subtle, and so many of our personal items are imbued with some form of magic that it would likely pass most searches undetected, the better to get one up on those dastardly Asgardians.” Loki winks.
Stephen blinks at him in confusion; maybe the gesture was a bit too friendly for their current terms? “I’m guessing the Asgardians and Jotuns don’t get along?”
Loki huffs a laugh. “That’s putting it far too lightly. There was a big war. I was one of the spoils that Odin learned to regret.”
“I don’t know what to say,” Strange replies after a time.
Loki half shrugs. “Nothing to say.”
His statement cuts off the easy conversation they had going. Loki suddenly feels the need to escape.
“Well, curiosity sated. I should probably get some sleep.”
“Yes, sleep,” Strange agrees, but he’s frowning as if something is wrong. “Would you teach me? Your way of magic, that is?”
“Of course not!” Loki exclaims before he’s really thought it over; it’s the right answer, though. That would be opening himself up far too much.
Strange’s frown deepens. “Why not?”
“Because you are far too arrogant and conceited as it is. I’m not spending my valuable time fueling your ego.” Loki smiles, hoping that will show he’s teasing, even if his denial stands.
“I could do something for you in return. I know you said you know my form of magic, but I could teach you something else? Maybe give you something?” Stephen pleads.
Loki pretends to mull it over. “I do rather like that cloak of yours.” Especially if flying would mean battling with more interesting companions.
Before Strange can respond, the cloak wraps around his body like it’s clinging to him for dear life. Interesting. Loki had assumed Stephen made it move with magic to look more mysterious, but there appeared to be a sentience to it.
“I’m afraid he doesn’t like that idea,” Stephen confirms. “Something else?”
“I’ll give it some thought.” Loki smirks. “Good-night, Strange.”
“Good morning, Loki.”
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
“Strange!” Loki calls as he wanders through the Sanctum. He is fairly sure that the sorcerer is in the library as usual, but it’s amusing to get him riled up.
“I do have a first name, you know,” Strange calls from the library. Damn, Loki wasn’t able to make him get out of his seat this time. He’ll have to be more annoying on the next visit. His trips to the Sanctum have only gotten more frequent as Strange seeks his company more and more and Loki can’t bear to stay away. He would be angry with the man for rejecting him and then continuing on like this if he didn’t genuinely enjoy every moment in his company.
“It’s far more fun to just call you what you are, Strange ,” Loki says with a wide grin as he enters the library and throws himself in a chair, but not the one right next to the sorcerer. Boundaries.
Strange rolls his eyes, but there’s a fond tilt to his lips. “So, to what do I owe this interruption?”
Oh yes, Loki had almost forgotten. Silly him. He starts playing with a totem from the library shelf. It’s a rattlesnake, all coiled and drawn up to strike. It’s very good. “I need your help; it’s of the utmost importance.”
Loki glances over at Strange and sees him frown. “What is it?”
Loki picks up the snake and starts running his finger down the coils. It’s generally easier on him than looking Strange in the eyes, even if it detracts from the seriousness of his statement. “I need you to teach me how to drive.”
“Wait… what? Why?” Strange asks.
“Why not? I live on Midgard. I’d say it was about time.” Loki responds.
There’s a long pause and Loki has to fight himself not to look over at Strange’s reaction. “You want to steal Tony’s car don’t you?”
“He’s just so damn smug about the thing!” Loki splutters. Stephen chuckles and Loki wants nothing more than to see his face when he does, but it’s not a good idea.
“Loki, you have magic, you could just steal it that way. I’ll even help if you need me to.”
“It’s far more fun this way, plus I want to see what all the fuss is about. Come on, teach me!”
“No,” Strange says sharply.
Now Loki looks at him. That tone was not at all in keeping with the lightness of their conversation.
“Oh come on, it won’t take you long, I’m sure. I mean, all you humans manage to learn.”
“No, Loki,” Stephen says, just as firmly.
“Oh fine. I’ll teach you how to do my kind of magic. Even trade.”
“I can’t,” Strange says, looking increasingly strained. Suddenly, Loki realizes this is about more than just not wanting to.
“Why can’t you? I mean, I know you don’t need to drive any more, but surely before?”
Stephen holds up his gloved hand. As before, Loki can see little twitches and tremors in it. He’s always associated that with Stephen’s thirst for knowledge, his desire to touch, feel, learn, and understand things, so like Loki’s own. Stephen takes the glove off and then turns his hand so Loki can see the back. There are scars running in clean lines along each finger and down the back towards his wrist. All around those lines are less precise grooves and marks. The tremor of the hand is much clearer without the glove.
“It was a car accident then?” Loki asks finally.
“Yes. I was an idiot. Not paying attention to the road, too worked up in my own ego. I’m lucky I didn’t die, but I haven’t gotten back into a car since. Fortunately, I haven’t needed to. Teleporting is much more convenient.”
Loki smiles a bit at the weak attempt at humor. He understands trying to deflect, though he can’t just leave it without saying, “I’m sorry.”
Strange looks surprised at that, even if he murmurs his thanks all the same. It shouldn’t hurt, but it does. No matter.
“So,” Loki says lightly. “Who can I get to help me in my quest? Barton loves a good prank.”
“But he still hates you,” Strange cuts in.
Loki hums his assent. “Sadly true. What about young Spiderman? He is old enough to drive, right?”
“And Tony will murder you for corrupting him. Probably not the best plan.”
Loki nods reluctantly. He’ll save getting Peter into trouble for when he is on a bit more solid ground with Stark and the rest of the team. That should be fun down the line.
“Rhodes likes me well enough, but he’s Tony’s best friend.”
Strange laughs. “Yes, Rhodey’s perfect.”
Loki frowns at him in question.
“He’s Tony’s best friend. How many pranks do you think Tony has pulled on him? He will absolutely be on board.”
Loki grins, ridiculously pleased with how this worked out. Sure, he wouldn’t have his excuse to spend more time with Stephen, but he did learn more about him. What’s more, Stephen didn’t try to talk him out of his silly stunt, didn’t try to give him any moral arguments like Thor would have. He couldn’t help himself and he helped Loki find a proxy.
So weeks later, when he’s driving off in Stark’s bright red sports car, it’s not the whoop of glee that Rhodes gives out that he focuses on. It’s not the dark frown that promises retribution on Stark’s face that gives him pause. No, it’s Stephen’s fond smile that makes him realize, for all his trying to start fresh and forget just who he is dealing with, he is in deep trouble.