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"This looks like so much work…" Stephen said, trying to convince Loki what a bad idea it was to toil away in the kitchen at this late hour of the night.
"That's the fun part, cooking. Getting these seemingly incompatible ingredients to come together in a dish, it's magical!"
"So is frozen pizza," Stephen said dryly. "Which is essentially a cooking process I have outsourced to a factory somewhere at no detriment to my time, energy and wallet."
"Stephen. Let me do this okay?" Loki stopped rummaging through the freezer for a second to place his frigid hands on his boyfriend's hips. "You deserve a nice, hot meal once in a while, and...I want to be the one to make it for you."
How could Stephen say no to that?
"I should be the one cooking for you," Stephen said apologetically. "You're my guest."
"Permanent guest," Loki corrected. "And last I checked, the Sanctum wasn't a B&B."
"It's got aesthetic appeal."
"And shitty central heating."
"Good thing you don't mind the cold."
"No, I don't," Loki agreed in a husky voice. His hands travelled upward to wrap around the back of Stephen's neck. "Not when I've got you to warm me up."
Stephen savoured every second of the kiss, hoping it would lead to something naughty involving the kitchen sink, but when Loki had put his mind to something, there was no budging him.
"Behold!" Out of his pocket dimension, Loki produced a sleek chef's knife that glinted in the dim kitchen light, its ebony handle adorned with buffalo horn trimming so exquisite it must have cost Loki a fortune. "My prized Santoku knife, forged in the same fire that made the legendary Honjo Masamune, with hardness and sharpness unparalleled!"
Masamune? The thirteenth-century knife smith?
"I hope you kept the receipt," Stephen snorted.
"Laugh at me all you want. I can make my stew as awful or as delicious as I want it, and you are going to eat every single bite," Loki promised with a benevolent smile.
Stephen cleared his throat; he'd better change the subject quickly. "That looks sharp. Please be careful. I can't be seen doing kitchen surgery at this juncture in my life."
"Knives have been my plaything since I was a child," Loki pooh-poohed good-humouredly. "Besides, a lot of Japanese knifemakers purposely don’t sharpen the blades to maximum sharpness. They may be the masters of knifemaking but the customer is the master wielder. It is the owner's prerogative to take it to the sharpness needed for the task."
"That's interesting," Stephen murmured, losing himself to the lulling sound of Loki chopping up the vegetables with an enthusiasm that was almost obscene. There was a smile on his lover's face and Stephen was grateful he was privy to such a private moment.
A soft, pained gasp shattered his reverie, and the sudden smell of blood had Stephen leaping out of his chair.
"Loki!" He exclaimed, eyes widening at the sight of blood bubbling from a laceration on Loki's index finger, trailing down Loki's elbow and dripping onto the chopping board.
"Ah," Loki offered a sheepish smile, but Stephen could see the shock and pain in his eyes. "I seem to have cut myself."
He held Loki's wrist under the tap, waiting anxiously for the swirls of blood to disappear. "I told you to be careful."
"It's just a scratch," Loki said in an attempt to placate him but Stephen was not having it.
"This is going to take ages to heal," he grumbled. "You've sliced through the distal interphalangeal crease, that's an area of high skin tension, you're going to need stitches - "
"Stephen, stop." Loki laid his other hand on Stephen's chest. "It is fine. I am fine."
"But your hand…" Stephen protested.
"My hand is fine," he soothed. "I've been cut worse."
"Loki…"
Loki pulled his hand out of Stephen's grip and quickly wrapped it in a clean tea towel. "Some blades need...tempering. Hopefully what little of my blood it took was sufficient."
"What the hell does that mean?" Stephen asked irately.
Loki only gave one of his trademark smiles, mysterious and infuriatingly patient. "Just know that it is appeased, and it will not hurt anybody else in this house."
A chill ran down Stephen's spine. "Your knife...is not something anybody can buy at Walmart, is it?"
"For the sake of your world, I hope not."
Stephen shook his head in bewilderment. "You never cease to surprise me."
Loki's surly 'sorry' had Stephen reaching for him and kissing their foreheads together. "All this for a stew."
"Damn those cooking shows," Loki mourned. "They make everything look so easy."
Stephen chuckled, but he sombered soon enough. "You know what else is easy? Frozen pizza."
Loki sighed. "Frozen pizza it is."
Stephen took in the sight of his lover's slumped shoulders and something inside him gave. "Come on. We're going out. My treat."
"But what about the health of your wallet, the detriment to your time and energy? I really do not mind just stayi - "
"Odinson," Stephen interrupted Loki mid-sentence, "Cheese or chocolate?"
"Fondue?" Loki's face brightened in an instant. "You really do love me."
Stephen reached for the tea-towel wrapped hand as gently as he could. To the fingertips protruding from the top of the makeshift bandage he pressed kisses, wispy and light and magical.
"Abso-bloody-lutely."