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Loki had lost count of the number of times he had paced along the same wall, peered outside the same row of windows. The sun had set on Christmas eve and still no Stephen.
“Come on, Stephen, where are you?” Loki groused to himself, silently counting down the ways he would ensure Stephen a permanent understanding of the extent of his wrath…once the Sorcerer Supreme got home safely, of course.
Stephen had been gone for far too long for a simple recon mission.
A whirl of magic surged through the air, heralding the oncoming of something powerful, and from the cloying scent of blood assaulting Loki’s heightened senses, something very, very wounded.
Stephen stumbled through the misshapen portal and Loki flew across the room as swift as the wind -
"What happened?" he gasped, gaping at Stephen’s blood-soaked front. "How could you let yourself get hurt this badly?"
"I didn't exactly do it on purpose, Loki," Stephen grunted. But before he could say any more, he swayed where he stood, the only thing saving him from kissing the floor being Loki’s lightning reflexes.
The Asgardian lowered his injured boyfriend gently, laying him out on the hardwood floor.
"I’m getting a towel," Loki snapped. "Please refrain from bleeding all over the floor, I did just have it buffed."
Despite the stars speckling his vision, Stephen had to chuckle; Loki and his priorities, one of the dearest things Stephen found about him, among many.
Either Loki had seen this coming or Stephen had lost the sense of time as well as blood, but Loki reappeared almost instantaneously, his arms laden with clean towels, hot water, and surgical supplies.
“How are you doing?” Loki asked, eyes softer than usual.
“Never better,” Stephen lied.
“Right,” the God of Lies snorted.
He lifted Stephen’s shirt gently, his heart sinking at the long, garish cut that spanned almost the entire width of Stephen’s abdomen, beginning from his right hip all the way and ending just under his left rib cage.
Loki’s breath caught in his throat. “Oh, Strange...”
Stephen’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he fought the urge to be sick. “It’s not bad, is it? It feels bad.” A pause. “ - ish.”
Loki teased the wound apart a little with magic, lifting the broken skin to see how deep the laceration went. He uttered a silent prayer of relief; the cut, as unsightly as it was, did not appear to have penetrated deeper than the most superficial layers of tissue.
"Congratulations, your insides are still largely inside," Loki said, voice dripping with false cheer. "You'll live."
He pressed a towel to the still-oozing wound and carefully helped Stephen to stand.
Once Loki had deposited him onto the couch, Stephen flung an arm over his eyes and sighed, thanking the powers that be for small mercies. Hospitals were definitely not somewhere you would want to be spending the holidays at, not at this time of year.
Either Loki misread Stephen's sigh as one of pain or he had just remembered that for all his mortal lover’s magic powers, Stephen was still human and a lot less sturdy than an alien from outer space no matter how alike they looked, but the Asgardian was immediately stricken. "Do you...need the hospital?"
“No, that wouldn’t be necessary,” Stephen said tightly. “If you could - get Wong - ” he uttered a gasp and fell back against the couch. Sitting up proved to be too much of an effort, so he reluctantly lay himself down, groaning the moment his head hit the armrest.
“Will you stop?” Loki admonished in exasperation as he arranged Stephen’s legs to make room for himself. “You make tending to you much more difficult than it needs to be.”
Stephen breathed through the pangs of pain. “...I may need stitches.” He swallowed hard. “Lots and lots of stitches.”
Loki levelled him with a look. “I may not look it but I am well-versed in warfare and field surgery, Strange. I’ll be done stitching you up before you know it.”
With a steady and practiced hand, Loki began suturing, taking neat bites out of the skin and approximating the wound edges as closely as he could.
Stephen forgot about the pain for a while, captivated by Loki’s handiwork; he couldn’t have done it more beautifully himself.
“You’re very good at this,” he marvelled.
“I told you,” Loki murmured. “It’s the reason why you hardly see any of Thor’s scars. Norns only knew I stabbed him enough times.”
But Stephen may have unwittingly done a very unwise thing, starting a conversation when Loki could have been left stewing in silence.
"You said it wasn't dangerous."
"I said I was going to be quick - " Stephen’s attempt at weaselling his way out fell flat for Loki was not about to let the conversation get away from him, not when he was wrist-deep in Stephen’s blood.
"Were you lying to me?"
Stephen inhaled deeply. "What's really going on, Loki?"
“You know I hate it when you answer my questions with another question,” Loki said flatly.
"I've been hurt before, many times," Stephen argued. "But I've never seen you this upset."
“I’m not upset!” Loki exploded.
An awkward silence fell over the room, made all the more awkward by the fact that Loki still had his needle embedded in Stephen’s abdomen.
Loki wiped the back of his other hand across his eyes quickly. “Now shut up and stop distracting me.”
They spent the next ten minutes in a silence that was painful in every sense of the word. Stephen may have drifted off to sleep when Loki abruptly announced, “I’m finished.”
Stephen lifted his head but all he could see of his wound was a bandage taped around his abdomen, clean and tidy. He was about to say thank you when he realised Loki had left him, presumably to clean up.
He listened to the soothing sounds of Loki pitter-pattering in the kitchen.
His eyelids were beginning to droop once more when a glass suddenly appeared in front of his face.
“Drink this,” Loki ordered in the tone of voice Stephen knew better by now than to contest.
Stephen scrutinised the drink that looked familiar but smelled suspiciously of something else. “Eggnog?”
“It’s more cognac than eggnog, but you need something strong. You’re going to be very sore come morning,” Loki predicted ominously.
After a tentative sip,
“It’s…good,” Stephen said, licking his lips. “Hate to admit it, but it’s better than the one I always make. Where did you get this?”
“Our neighbour has been playing Christmas songs all day long. Guess it got into my head,” Loki said with a sniff. “Found a good recipe in one of your books.”
Stephen’s eyebrows rose to meet his hairline. “I didn’t know we had cookbooks in the archives.”
“Life’s like that, isn’t it?” Loki asked lightly. “Sometimes you don’t know what you have until you’ve lost it.”
Stephen’s sensors tingled. Loki had gone cryptic and that was never good, but to the naked eye, Loki appeared normal as he took his seat on the couch and scooped Stephen’s legs into his lap.
When Loki made no move to drink his hot cocoa, merely letting the mug rest on Stephen’s shins, his unease grew.
“Are you alright?” Stephen asked carefully
That finally got Loki to establish eye contact. “Why wouldn’t I be? I’m not the one who got into a fight with a business of demonic ferrets and lost.”
“I didn’t lose,” Stephen muttered indignantly. “The city’s still standing. Christmas isn’t ruined.”
“That’s open to interpretation,” Loki murmured.
Too exhausted from his ordeal, Stephen could do no more than offer a weak smile. “At least I made it back in time for our Christmas movie night.”
“Yes,” Loki drawled. “At least you made it back at all.”
Another heavy sigh. “You’re never going to let this go, are you?”
Loki gave a nonchalant shrug. “I’ve been told I’m unpredictable, so who the Hel knows?”
Clearly not in the mood to talk, the morose Asgardian pointed the controls in the direction of the television and pressed the play button.
As the first few frames rolled across the screen, Stephen frowned. He had spent enough Christmases watching it with Loki to know.
“This isn’t Die Hard,” he said, puzzled.
“No, it is not,” Loki said calmly. Too calmly.
Against his better judgement, Stephen leaned forward, ignoring the protests of his screaming ribcage, but the chimes and bells of the opening titles evoked not only the crystalline sounds of winter and holiday cheer, but the once-happy memories of his childhood…and of a more recent memory.
“Loki,” he called, very much aware of how strange his voice sounded. “Why are we watching Home Alone?”
“I haven’t the faintest idea,” Loki answered, sounding quite faint himself.
“Loki,” Stephen tried again. “Are you…telling me something?”
Loki’s only answer was a soft, “I don’t know.”
The gears turned in Stephen’s head, and everything just clicked.
Gripping the backrest of the couch, he slowly hefted himself to a sitting position.
“Are you - ” his hand hesitantly reached out to feel Loki’s belly. “Are we - ?”
The dead giveaway was in the instant watering of Loki’s eyes, and an even softer, “Yes.”
Stephen lunged, fiercely gathering all of Loki in his arms, painful wound be damned -
“You marvelous, beautiful thing,” he gasped, dotting frantic kisses all over the pale face, “You’re pregnant?”
Loki did not trust himself to speak so he nodded, spraying his tears everywhere.
Stephen still could not believe it. “We’re having a baby?”
“Yes.” Loki’s tears turned to joyous laughter. “Yes, Stephen, we are.”
“I love you so much,” Stephen choked. “I really, really do.”
Now that he had calmed down somewhat, Loki could finally give voice to his fears. “I love you too, I’m afraid.”
Stephen pressed his lips to Loki’s temple. “Oh, Loki.”
“You scared me, Stephen.”
“I’m sorry,” he murmured into Loki’s hair. “I am so, so sorry.”
“This way you will never spend Christmas alone again,” Loki promised.
Stephen solemnly shook his head.
“Only if I get to spend it with you,” he said. “And our little one.”
Just the sound of it was making Stephen’s eyes water.
“One hell of a Christmas gift you’ve given me, Loki,” Stephen managed.
Loki’s eyes disappeared behind his smile. “Merry Christmas, Doctor.”
“Merry Christmas, my sweet Loki.”
