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On the one hand, there was something about Loki with his sleeves pushed up to his elbows, hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, flour dusted over himself... that really worked for Tony.
On the other hand, Loki baking was almost always Bad News.
It wasn't that Loki was a bad baker. On the contrary. Somehow, despite never sticking to the measurements or even really the recipe, his creations were always delicious. But they were always just kind of... wrong.
Like the hot chilli cookies. Tony gave a little shudder remembering them, while his stomach growled appreciatively.
Loki was chaotic, and nowhere was that more evident than in the kitchen. Tony preferred precision and careful weighing of ingredients and Loki preferred... none of that.
(Well, okay, there was maybe one place Loki was even more chaotic than the kitchen, but that was a whole other story.)
(And that one time that Loki had tried to combine the two, which was fucking traumatizing, and mint essence was now banned from Tony's penthouse for good reason.)
Today, Loki had baked a cake, and it was still warm from the oven, rich and fragrant. Molasses oozed from it and Tony eyed it with trepidation. God only knew - so to speak - what flavor combination lurked in that thing, waiting.
"How does it look?" Loki asked, smirking like a man who knew he was striking fear into another's heart.
"Listen," Tony said, and then ran out of things to say. He tried again. "Listen."
Loki cocked his head in that really aggravating way and opened his hands a little, clearly waiting.
Tony scowled. "I don't trust your devil cake."
"I'm wounded," Loki said. "Well, perhaps your little friends will appreciate my artistry."
"No poisoning the Avengers," Tony said automatically.
"You're Midgardian," Loki said scornfully. "Do you know how difficult it is to find ingredients which won't poison you? Even in your own pantry--"
"If you would use sensible proportions--"
"But where would the fun be in that?" Loki flashed a bright smile at him.
Tony groaned. He already knew he was going to give in and eat the cake. And it was going to horrify him, and somehow still be delicious. "Just cut the damned cake."
"A wise decision." Loki cut a perfect wedge and slid it onto a plate, passing it to Tony with a cake fork. A cake fork. Some god of chaos.
Tony took a tentative bite. He tasted butter, a lot of butter. And molasses, and... blue cheese? What in the world had Loki put in it this time?
"You're terrifying," he said, and took another bite.
"Why, thank you," Loki said, and put a hand over his heart with a shit-eating grin that said he was about to say something that would drive Tony absolutely up the wall. "That means a lot, coming from my... butter half."
"Oh god, don't start," Tony pleaded. Once Loki got stuck in on the puns he could be at it for literally hours.
Loki grinned at him. "I couldn't have said it butter myself."
"You are the absolute worst, you know that?"
"Muffin compares to you."
"I hate you, so, so much," Tony said. He helped himself to more cake.
Loki kept laughing.