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“That was a particularly inspired rendition of Halo,” a deep, smooth voice that instantly made Stephen’s eye twitch said behind him before the particular god - who always happened to turn up whenever he was doing something he’d rather keep between him and Wong - took a seat a chair away at the round table decorated with a lilac tablecloth and a vase with gold daffodils and baby breath. “Perhaps I should commission you for a record.”
“I will not be singing it again,” Stephen said gently, enough for Loki to hear, but certainly not loud enough to encourage conversation.
“The cake is rather scrumptious, is it not?”
Stephen was about to take another bite of it from his plate, pausing to finally make eye-contact with Loki, regretting it as soon as he saw the delight cross his green eyes. He remembered all too suddenly that Loki had jumped out of the cake he was consuming.
He put his fork down and looked back up at Loki. “You have a bit of it,” he started, motioning to Loki’s cheek, “right there.”
Loki didn’t even blink in response. “I know.” He picked up the unused fork at the place he sat at and reached for Stephen’s cake. “I hope someone will lick it off. It was almost the best man.”
Rolling his eyes, Stephen picked up his napkin and wiped the frosting off Loki’s cheek before he set the napkin down.
The god pouted and it caused him to roll his eyes again. “It’s bad for your complexion,” he said.
Loki snorted before sitting back with a bite of cake on his fork, kicking his thigh high boot clad feet up on the chair between them. “You needn’t be jealous, Strange. You could have licked the frosting from my face and I would not have been opposed.” He wiggled his eyebrows as he ate the bit of cake.
Stephen didn’t respond and went back to eating the cake, uncaring anymore. He didn’t want to entertain Loki’s attempts at being amusing. He supposed, at least in a way, they were on even ground by being freelancers for weddings for couples with questionable tastes at best.
“How much are you paid for this?” Loki broke the quiet.
“This wedding or in general?”
“I suppose this one would be sufficient enough for an answer.”
Stephen pointed to his plate with a fork. “This piece of cake.” He pursed his lips together briefly. “I’m sure Adam Sandler got paid more.”
Loki scrunched his nose in confusion, but didn’t ask about the reference. He looked over at Wong who was still on stage singing Rolling in the Deep instead. “Those matching suits are rather charming.”
“Noted.” Stephen nodded to Loki’s legs. “So are those fishnets.”
The prince - or really whatever he was now - looked back at him before he shrugged. “That had not been the intention.” He moved his legs from the chair so he could take another bite of cake. “Though I hope I obtain some sun damage on my thighs so I can embarrass Thor with the healers later when they believe it to be a skin condition.”
“Couldn’t you just fake it?”
“It wouldn’t be authentic.”
Stephen tried not to think too hard about what that could even mean and just shook his head. He looked over at Wong who moved on to another Beyonce song this time. The doctor could live with never butchering another cover from the two artists again. They had to find another way to make money, especially considering it was more wasting Saturdays for nothing but also wasting calories on cake.
And then it occurred to him.
“Loki, what are you doing for the next week?”
It wasn’t even a correct arrangement of candles nor had they even brought an ouija board like the clients seemed to always expect - even though they were nowhere near necessary for this manner of seance - but they seemed to buy it enough. Stephen really drew on his one summer at theater camp for the dramatic backward head tilt and the distant looking eyes as his head turned about the room.
Wong definitely went over the top with the fog machine, but no one choked on the weird atmospheric taste of fog fluid vapor.
What probably was the big mistake was inviting Loki along at all. He’d been good for a few scares for the first several of these they did - given he could entirely conceal his presence and teleport - but he must have gotten bored around the seventh and started to stir family drama almost meant for an episode of Maury.
“Your sister is laying with your husband every Saturday,” Loki said in a rather fake demonic voice near the ear of a woman to Stephen’s left. “You think he goes fishing, but it’s rather hard to do from her bed.”
“Seriously, Jeffrey?” the woman questioned in a shrill shriek.
Stephen sighed, tilting his head backward again for about a minute as the family started to argue and then lifted it again to turn to the man to his right. “We accept tips through Venmo,” he said, standing, crossing the room to the door where Loki stood, no longer visible, and grabbed the front of his shirt and dragged him out of the room and into the wide entryway the mansion straight out of some murder mystery had.
He flipped off the fog machine and Wong looked up at him.
“Okay, we’re no longer making money at this either,” he said to the two.
Some strange realization dawned on Loki’s face and he spoke, “Oh, you wished to earn money? I can assist with that.” He walked past the other two, grabbing a candelabra from the front table on the way out.
Stephen very nearly held his breath for two weeks over what idea Loki could’ve possibly had, but then he found himself following a small group of nine as the god led them through the Sanctum. They’d just made it to the artifacts when he’d finally seen them.
“This is the chalice of…” Loki began and paused briefly as he mumbled through nothing that resembled a word. “Odin, my father, once relieved himself in it during a long journey to Alfheim.”
He moved on to the next case motioning vaguely to the ancient helmet inside. “This is the Helm of Bjørn. He used it to decimate an army entirely by ramming his head into them. Something my brother rather admired in our youth.”
“Now this-” he began toward the next case, but Stephen interrupted him by clearing his throat.
Everyone turned to face him, but he looked over their heads at Loki who gave him a little wave. “Oh, what a pleasant surprise, we’ve been blessed by the presence of the self proclaimed best Wizard in all of New York.”
“And he’s sending all of you on a fun detour to Central Park,” Stephen said, turning to open a portal that he ushered all nine people through before closing it behind them. Jaw set, he turned to Loki.
“It’s a miracle I made them pay ahead of the tour.” Loki crossed his arms like he deserved to be upset. “I thought your intention was to earn money.”
“I can’t believe I have to say this but: we cannot just let the general public into the Sanctum.”
“Without them paying, of course not.”
“No, not at all.”
Wong stepped up behind Loki, looking between him and Stephen just as Loki raised his arms and let out a huff.
“What do you wish to do, then? Host puppet shows for children?”
“That’s actually not a bad idea,” Wong interjected and Loki smiled, turning to look his way. “I could do a retelling of Master Strange facing Dormammu.”
Stephen looked up at the ceiling.
“Oh that sounds riveting.” Loki propped his elbow in his hand and place his chin in his other hand.
“He died many times.”
“A very astute lesson for young ones.”
“We’re not doing puppet shows,” Stephen said, making eye contact first with Wong and then Loki. “We’ll find something else.”
The three were quiet and surprisingly enough to the Sorcerer Supreme the other two seemed to be actively thinking about their next effort instead of tabling it for another day. He waited, hoping the next thought either had had nothing to do with Beyonce or subjecting random people of New York to close to awful sideshows.
Loki was the first to speak and Stephen wondered for the first time why the god had even gotten so invested anyway. He certainly wasn’t doing anything worthy of his time Stephen would’ve thought, but maybe it was all to annoy him.
“I’ve an idea,” Loki announced.
“We’re not hosting a bed and breakfast in the library,” Stephen clarified.
He scrunched his nose in response like he was disgusted by the idea. “Hardly. It’s more one that solves multiple issues at once.”
“This is a dog,” Stephen said and the Cloak of Levitation pointed for him in the direction of the powerpoint projection over the white wall of the New Asgard gathering hall. He clicked the next key on his laptop and looked back up at the crowd of at least thirty Asgardians sitting in folding chairs in front of him. “This is also a dog.”
The Asgardian front and center raised his hand, but spoke before Stephen acknowledged him, “It appears to be a cat, actually.”
“Nope, it’s a dog called a chihuahua,” he corrected.
“It still resembles a feline,” the Asgardian argued.
“It looks fierce,” one, two rows back and to the left said, raising a hand too.
“And irate,” the one to the right of the first added.
Stephen pursed his lips together briefly and looked back to the laptop to flip to the next image. “This is a narwhal.”
“That is a good jest, Wizard, but we already know unicorns are not real,” a fourth from the back row stated loudly.
“Do unicorns not resemble horses?” someone three rows ahead of the fourth asked their neighbor.
Stephen looked up at the ceiling but clicked next while doing so. “This is a reindeer.”
“And they taste absolutely wonderful,” the second said, grinning.
“Do those not fly as well?” the first questioned.
And that erupted the small crowd into a big debate over what constituted a flying animal by Midgard standards. Some came to the agreement that all could fly with magic while others argued that didn’t count.
The ceiling, decorated in elaborate art detailing Asgard’s fall and New Asgard’s rise, turned to be entirely less stressful and yet Stephen still looked down and made immediate eye-contact with Loki who sat middle row, dead center, grinning up at him with his arms crossed over his chest.
Yep, it was the god’s goal to annoy him the entire endeavor and Stephen still fell prey to the obvious.
“Reindeer can fly so effortlessly they can carry a large man and toys for all the children of Midgard,” Loki said loud enough for the conversation to turn once again.
“That’s hardly impressive,” one who hadn’t spoken up yet said. “Cats can certainly do better.”
Sighing, Stephen pulled up the next picture. “This is a frog.”
And, with as much ability as a chorus, the entire group of around thirty said, “For norns sake, we know what a frog is.”