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0.
Thor
There are more than a few words which, when heard from Loki’s mouth, are enough to send a shard of ice slithering through Thor’s heart. To an outside ear, Thor’s list of concerning sentences likely holds no rhyme nor reason, no pattern easily followed. There are those which suggest bad memories, or perhaps a brewing temper. Those that relate to Loki’s heritage, their family, their history. These, Thor can generally deal with, can judge whether he should execute either a strategic pat on the back or hasty retreat. Usually.
But then, there are the worst words of all.
“I’m bored.”
The moment the sentence was uttered, Thor’s gaze immediately cast across from the kitchen to where Loki was slung across a couch, his long legs hooked over the armrest and his eyes staring listlessly up at the ceiling. It was something of an unthreatening pose. It didn’t fool Thor in the slightest.
Stark, it seemed, also recognised the impending disaster, for his head shot up from where he had been bent over a StarkPad, sitting on one of the armchairs.
“Bored?”
“Terribly.” The syllables were as drawn out as one of Loki’s infamous pranks, and Thor felt the unease settle deep into his gut even as Stark made some vulgar comment which caused Loki to launch a cushion in his general direction.
Over the years, Thor knew that he had somewhat lost touch with his brother, had missed certain indicators of mildly darkening moods. But that did not mean that he did not know Loki at all—and this was a situation that he knew all too well.
He also knew that no strategic pats on the back nor hasty retreats would work for this one. The only way to remain unscathed would be to direct Loki’s attention onto something else. And quickly.
“Perhaps it is time for you to learn some of Midgard’s Christmas traditions, brother,” Thor said, stepping out of the kitchen and abandoning the truly magnificent sandwich he had been constructing in favour of moving closer to the living room. “There were many that I enjoyed last year. There is ice skating, tree decorating—”
“Yes, that sounds riveting,” Loki drawled, the roll of his eyes quite clear from his tone.
“Snowball fights?”
“We did that yesterday,” Stark said, shrugging his shoulders. “Loki cheated.”
“Hardly. Though, if you consider using all of one’s skills to be cheating—”
“I consider magic to be cheating—”
“Then perhaps I should ask you to fight with one arm behind your back—”
“Perhaps you should. I’d take you regardless.”
Thor groaned in annoyance, and tried not to let the frustration seep into his tone. The way they acted around each other – but mainly the fact that they did it without even realising – was more than enough to have him pulling his hair out. “Perhaps you should go and spar, then?” he asked. Maybe getting them hot and sweaty and on top of each other would—
“No no, I have a better idea, actually,” Stark said. “I think you were on the right track with Christmas traditions, Goldilocks—and there’s one that I think Prancer here might actually like.”
“Doubt it,” Loki snorted.
“Want to bet? I don’t suppose you’ve heard about that goat?”
Loki’s eyes darkened.
“Uh, probably not a good idea to bring up the goat,” Thor said—
“Yes, for I needn’t be reminded that I shall never let you forget your instigating of that particular rumour, brother—”
“No, not—not that goat, guys, seriously,” Stark said, rolling his eyes. “Here, look. I’m talking about this one.”
After a few quick taps on his screen, Stark handed the StarkPad over to Loki—whose eyes immediately gained that deadly shine.
Soon, Thor thought, soon it will be time for that retreat.
“Oh I see,” Loki said, his voice low and his lips curling into a smirk. “Yes, I do think you’re right. I could learn to enjoy this particular tradition.”
Leaning across the back of the couch to read the screen from over Loki’s shoulder, Thor let out a short sigh.
Well, at least… Loki would no longer be bored. That would be a win for everyone.
(Except, perhaps, the goat.)
1.
Loki
Thanks to the Avengers’ quinjet, it didn’t take them long to reach Sweden—the Bifrost would have been faster of course, but Tony had refused the suggestion before it had even been half way out of Loki’s mouth. They left Thor behind, as he’d muttered something about not wanting to have to put up with their blind buffoonery, which Loki had taken offence to and. Well, he hadn’t want Thor to come along, anyway.
But here they were. In Sweden.
The goat itself, Loki had to admit, was less than impressive. Sure, it was fairly tall, but it was nothing like the statues they had back in Asgard, and the whole thing was made entirely of straw.
At least it wouldn’t be hard to burn down. It was like the builders of the bloody thing weren’t even trying to make it a challenge.
Well. Except, perhaps, for the two metre high metal fence that protectively enclosed it. Perhaps the cameras were an added challenge. And just perhaps the armed guards around the perimeter could pose an obstacle.
“How many times did you say this has been burned in the past?” Loki asked, leaning in towards his friend.
“A few,” Tony replied. “Think you’re ready for it?”
“Don’t wait up for me,” Loki said. “This won’t take long.”
The curve of Tony’s lips was something Loki didn’t want to risk his gaze lingering upon, and true to his word he turned quickly and headed out for the goat.
They had parked the quinjet on a rooftop only a few blocks from the goat itself, close enough that they had been able to see it from the quinjet. Loki left his – teammate – behind as he headed down, muttering under his breath about not being able to use magic as he entered an elevator occupied by a rather nervous looking mortal. He tried not to smirk too much as he noticed their hand trembling on the handle of the suitcase they were dragging behind them—he had promised Thor that as an Avenger, he would try to behave, and he didn’t want to disappoint this early.
The fact that Tony was the one with him, he told himself sternly, had absolutely nothing to do with his conviction to ‘behave.’
(Though, apparently, setting a straw goat on fire was not outside the realm of what he was permitted to do. Oh, he was going to enjoy this as much as he could, regardless of how easy the challenge would no doubt turn out to be.)
Still, the sight of the mortal reminded Loki to change his clothes into something a little more Midgardian – that much magic, he thought, should be allowed at least – before stepping out of the lobby of the hotel they had parked on top of and then out into the street.
As he walked, he plastered a Friendly Smile on his face and tucked his hand into his pocket, fingers lightly brushing over the box of matches he had brought along with him. He nodded to the first guard, who nodded back, no doubt fooled by Loki’s perfectly sculpted Friendly Smile as he did little else.
Lips curling a bit further, Loki continued walking, knowing that if the guards saw him out in the open there would be less chance of them suspecting him of anything, well, suspicious. He was a ways past them and just about to turn around to the side of the goat when—
“Hey,” a guard called out, speaking in a Midgardian tongue Loki had not heard before. Swedish, Loki supposed. “Wait a moment!”
Loki sighed, but let nothing of his annoyance show through his smile as he turned back to face the guards.
“Yes?” He replied, the words leaving his mouth in the same language that the guard had spoken. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“I know you,” the guard said, turning to his compatriot with a frown. “You know him, right?”
“Oh shit,” said the second guard. “Yeah, that’s—”
“Knew it,” the first cut in. “Oh god, you were right, that was the Avengers quinjet we saw earlier—”
“I told you so—”
“Oh god—”
“I think you have me confused with someone else,” Loki said slowly. “Don’t be embarrassed, it happens all the time. People think that this face must belong to someone famous, and they—”
“No, you’re Loki,” the first guard cut in. “Man, wow! Can I have your autograph?”
Loki blinked. “I’m sorry?”
“Your autograph,” the first guard said. “I thought we had the crap shift, that nothing was going to happen and we’d be dead bored, no one is going to make a play on the goat in the middle of the morning, you know—”
“You’re so embarrassing,” the second guard groaned—though he too was glancing at Loki with a tinge of pink staining his cheeks. Loki was feeling a little off-kilter.
Norns, Midgardians were strange.
The first guard was now shoving a notepad and a pen at Loki’s chest, the second eyeing the pen as if he were debating asking for an autograph as well. Loki took it, and wrote his name in large, flowing writing across the page—but as he did so, his eyes were over the two humans’ shoulders. For the gate behind the two was now left entirely unguarded, and in any normal circumstance, Loki could have just left an illusion in place to distract these guards, broken the lock, and walked straight through. But…
I consider magic to be cheating.
No. Loki would be doing this the Thor-fashioned way.
“Wait a moment,” the second guard asked, his gaze following Loki’s to the gate. “What were you doing here? I thought the Avengers lived in New York.”
“Oh, I’m just enjoying your beautiful country,” Loki shrugged. “And I heard your goat was something to behold.”
“It’s only famous because people keep trying to set it on fire,” the first guard groaned.
“Don’t complain,” the second said. “The arsonists are the reason why we have this job.”
“It’s a shit job. I’d rather be guarding a jewellery store.”
“Bet you wouldn’t have met an Avenger while guarding a jewellery store.”
“That’s true,” Loki commented. “And I do so love this goat. I might come back to look at it again.”
“Oh,” said the guard, his eyes widening slightly. And Loki was so ready to tell the man that he would be happy to give further autographs, that he knew that he was doing such an excellent job as a guard that he deserved further reward. Loki was ready to flatter, ready to get on his good side, lower his, ahem, guard so that he wouldn’t see it coming when Loki jumped the fence in the dead of night and turned the goat into an inferno—
But then—
“We’ll make sure to keep an eye out for you. I’ll tell all the other guards you’re here, I’m sure they would all love to meet you!”
“Great,” Loki said, speaking through gritted teeth. “Then I’m looking forward to meeting all of your friends.”
“Cool! Just a word of warning though, yeah?” The guard grinned. “As fun as it would be to watch, don’t even think about setting this thing on fire. We know your past. And trust me… we are watching.”
Hand closing hard around the matchbox in his pocket, Loki fought to keep his smile in place.
2.
Tony
To be fair, Tony knew he shouldn’t enjoy the defeat of Loki’s first attempt at arsonry as much as he did. But—he was only human, and usually, Loki didn’t fuck up a challenge and never needed another try. It was a refreshing change, and he took great amusement out of witnessing Loki being played by guards, who almost beat themselves to get an autograph out of him. They kept him far from the goat, made it almost impossible for Loki to simply pass the challenge as it were.
This was no simple task, not even for a god of Asgard. This ridiculous failure made Loki—more accessible. For Tony. It put cracks into the perfect facade Loki had created for himself, the flawless mask he put on which was difficult to tear apart, although whenever Tony managed it, it turned out to be one of the greatest achievements.
The softness in Loki’s eyes that he tried to keep hidden, for fear someone would exploit it to his disadvantage, perhaps. It made Tony want to see it directed at him more often. Just, as absolutely inane as it sounded, Tony wanted to be the very reason why Loki dropped his act around him, to make him laugh for a purpose other than mockery.
“Good thing I waited for you, Prancer, huh?” Tony chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest. The goat stood mockingly in the distance, untouched. Unblemished. A Titan, not even taking note of the god’s attempt to take him down.
“Spare me your mockery,” Loki responded quickly.
“Not mocking you, merely enjoying that a straw goat bested you.” Tony put his freezing hands into the pockets of his coat. “Let me have this moment before you once more turn into Gary Stu.”
Confusion on Loki’s part.
The smile on Tony’s face grew broader. “What’s your plan B?”
Loki muttered something unintelligible under his breath. His hands formed fists, the pale skin stretching over the tendons and his knuckles stood out. Tony was thoroughly enticed by the sight, forgetting the biting cold which seemed to be determined to freeze his goatee off.
Loki’s brows were furrowed together and he twiddled his fingers, a habit that was apparently so ingrained in Loki that he didn’t even notice doing it anymore. For a second, Tony felt nothing but envy for his friend who didn’t need to wear gloves in the biting cold. For him, this had to feel like standing in a mere summer breeze—Tony’s own fingers were starting to feel stiff, and he swore that any second now, he would feel the skin rupture. He hated being outside in the cold, thank you very much.
“I will return shortly,” Loki announced, then strode off to the town, on an odyssey with unknown purpose.
Tony only called after him to take the other route, lest the guards see him walk towards the goat again. Whatever Loki responded with didn’t sound kind in the slightest, but it made Tony smile. A cussing Loki was better than a Loki in a foul mood, about to destroy New York again just to take the edge off. Fucking maniac.
Perhaps Tony should work on something at home or find something that he could offer Loki to help him relieve his anger issues. They rivaled Thor’s although Tony was in that instance, sane enough to never mention this out loud to the Trickster.
He walked back into the quinjet, scouring the cabinets for the convenient hand warmers that he knew had to be somewhere because their archer was always in a constant state of worry for his nimble hands. A sigh escaped Tony as the warmth was breaking through the mini sheet of ice that had started to build up on his fingers, turning them into icicles.
Eventually, Loki returned, peeking into the quinjet to see if Tony was still waiting for him, he supposed.
“I’m just letting you know that should you fail to take the goat out again, we’re going to be getting a hotel room,” Tony said, hibernating under a warm blanket, reluctant to un-burrito himself. Even though this was for Loki, the cold was a high price to pay—and a room, a warm coffee and a warm interior was high on his list of priorities. Probably fighting spot #1 with making Loki feel good and appreciated.
“A next time won’t be necessary,” Loki informed him flatly. He lifted the torch he held in his hand.
“You think the guards will let you pass with a torch?” Tony asked aghast, wondering if the cold was getting to Loki’s brain more than either of them had assumed was possible.
“No.” Loki shook his head, offering his free hand to Tony. “Not if they don’t see me.”
“Sure.” Tony took the hand, dropping the heat blanket as he did so. His poor blanket. He missed the warmth of Malibu, the sunshine. A fire also radiated heat, yes. Loki better light the goat up so that Tony wouldn’t have to die of hypothermia in Arendelle. Unfortunately, the Elsa role would have to go to Loki, Tony was more the Olaf kind of guy. Adorable, besotted for his friend, would do anything for him and then created more drama and chaos purely by trying to do others right.
Also, constantly frozen and two seconds away from dying.
Yes, that was him.
His teeth started chattering when they left the quinjet behind.
“If you’re so noisy, the guards will be alerted again,” Loki admonished him, but he looked at Tony more closely than before. Much, much more closely.
“It’s freezing out here,” Tony replied, not as sharply as he’d intended, the effect lost by trying to huddle together by himself to create more warmth. “Not a fan. And this coat is warm but not warm enough. So, set that goat ablaze because then it’ll be warm.”
Loki stared at him, his pinched expression melting under the snowflakes landing on his face, turning invisible. He tore Tony from his enraptured glouting by snapping with his fingers, and a jacket that was infinitely warmer than anything Tony had in his closet was suddenly draped around his shoulders. Ridiculously, it also was one of the most comfortable things he’d ever worn—not even his hoodie made of cashmere could hold its own against it.
“Prancer!” Tony closed the jacket immediately, grinning at Loki as his body remembered what it felt like to be alive. “I always knew you truly cared about me, deep inside.”
Loki stared at him, but Tony swore he saw his thin mouth twitch up in amusement. “I need you alive to witness my victory, don’t I?”
“Aaah.” Tony clucked his tongue. “Not buying that anymore. You care about me!”
“So help me,” Loki replied dryly, “I’m feeling. Now, shush, I have a goat to sacrifice to myself.”
Tony thought he could melt on the spot. A Grinch reference, and a pagan god about to set a goat afire for himself and bring good luck for the next year. What more could a man want from a god? Perhaps sex, Tony wouldn’t dare say No to that and hold hands with Loki to piss off Thor and wake up every morning seeing the Trickster stare at him, hunger shining in his eyes before he—
Loki snapped his fingers in front of Tony’s face. “Must I take the jacket from you, to attain your short-lived attention once more?”
“Nope, I’m here. All ready to see you win while I exercise being silent.” Tony winked at Loki, then mimed sealing his mouth shut and threw the pretend-key over his shoulder.
Taking great care not to arouse the guards’ suspicion again as they made their way to the straw goat, Tony tried to keep up with Loki’s speed. The man had legs, too long as that should be allowed. Someone better call the police on Loki for having elongated bones; it certainly had to be a crime in Sweden, right? Foreigners are not allowed to be taller than the locals, otherwise, who knows, they could just climb over the truly massive fence of the goat.
Loki kept walking, made abrupt stops and turns, trying to avoid suspicious looking people in dark uniforms, hiding behind whatever was in their way.
But only 5 more toes had to be sacrificed to the unrelenting cold until they reached the goat.
Tony stayed a bit further back, patting Loki on the shoulder once before sending his arsonist off to commit crimes.
Loki was fast. The torch was at his sides but since he walked like he had a stick up his ass, nobody took any note of it as the god stormed forward.
Tony crossed his legs as he leaned back against a wall, peeking at Loki through slitted eyes, waiting.
Luck had to be on their side, as Loki left his obscured place, lighting the torch. It burned brightly and Tony could hear the guards screaming in alarm, one had to have spotted Loki from close by.
Loki had approximately three seconds to go down swinging or trot back home in shame.
Just as he aimed to take down the goat, a bright spot light was aimed at him.
"Stop!" someone yelled, “We warned you—!”
Tony noticed Loki tensing up, his arm frozen in motion and yes—
There went the three seconds.
Guards were rushing towards Loki and Tony sincerely hoped Loki would just flee the scene before he had to bail him out of jail.
Loki appeared wordlessly by his side, grabbing his arm and dragging him away from the guards, who definitely didn't cheer when the arsonist fled.
"Well," Tony said delightedly as he stumbled with Loki along the road. "Time to find us a hotel."
Loki snorted, his grip losing the strength and he eventually let go of Tony's very warm, very comfortable, and definitely very Loki-coloured jacket.
"We aren't done yet," Loki promised fervently. “If I can’t get close to it… I’ll just have to attack it from a distance.”
3.
Loki
This time, this time Loki knew that he had it. His plan was perfect, infallible.
Simple.
With careful, practiced movements, Loki snapped his fingers and lit the tip of his precisely prepared arrow, making sure that the tar properly caught before nocking it and quickly drawing the bowstring.
He’d learned to shoot as a boy, he’d been taught by the best instructors on Asgard. His draw was perfect, his aim was true.
And as the arrow hit the goat’s straw flesh, Loki held his breath, just waiting for that bright burst of flame which would confirm his victory—
But instead of sparking the inferno promised by all that dry straw, the flame on the arrow merely dimmed, and then died—leaving the goat entirely unharmed but for the small shaft sticking out of its eye.
“Fireproofed,” Tony sighed, shaking his head almost sadly. “That’s a shame.”
Loki threw down his bow in disgust.
4.
Tony
Tony had always appreciated the grace with which Loki moved, how he could somehow imbue something predatory into every twitch of his finger. It didn’t seem like a purposeful thing, perhaps a result of being raised in a culture that valued fighting skill with melee weapons above all else—but whatever it was, it was enough to have hairs lifting on the back of Tony’s neck. Or perhaps that was the faint crackle of angry magic that danced electric through the air.
Even pacing across the (expensively large) expanse of their hotel room, Loki managed to look less like a lion in a cage and more like a wolf preparing his next attack.
“There has to be a way,” Loki muttered, his fingers stretching and curling into fists again and again, his jaw clenching in frustration. “It is a goat made of straw. All the Midgardian fireproofing in the Nine will not be enough to save it. Fire is catching, all I need to do is get it past the protected surface—”
“Can I offer a suggestion?” Tony asked—and the glare that was immediately launched in his direction had Tony holding up his hands, and he went back to watching as Loki resumed his irritant pacing, still muttering angrily.
Tony knew it was unlikely that he’d be able to catch every word that Loki said—and he didn’t really need to, anyway. He just watched the tension build around Loki’s shoulders, allowed his gaze to follow the tight set of Loki’s jaw. He indulged himself in the watching until Loki’s spine straightened, and the god turned to the door with an irritated growl.
“That’s it,” Loki snapped. “Come along, Stark.”
As much as Tony could appreciate the grace of Loki’s strides, he had to admit that their length was a little irritating as he had to run a couple of steps to keep up with their pace down the hallway. Thankfully, Loki held the elevator – though the little uptick of his lips was also irritating, not in half because of the way it drew Tony’s gaze – and Loki was near tapping his foot in the wait for it to reach the ground floor.
“Well, where are you going in such a hurry?” the receptionist asked as Loki all but charged across the lobby, her voice bright.
“We’re going to burn down that damned goat,” Loki hissed, barely looking at her as he stalked out the door.
She stared.
“He’s joking,” Tony assured quickly–and then hurried after Loki and out the door, catching up by slipping over the icy street. “Loki, you can’t just say stuff like that, you know this is technically illegal—”
“I thought you said it was a tradition?”
“Well, it sort of is, and I’m not trying to talk you out of anything, god knows I’m the one who wanted to see you burn down this goat in the first place. I’m just saying, maybe uh, don’t announce it to everyone we walk past?”
“She didn’t believe me.”
“So not the point.”
Loki huffed, and Tony… well, if he were feeling honest, he’d admit that the sensation creeping down into his gut was just a little bit of… guilt? Actually, no, not guilt, but—he just… he didn’t like seeing Loki sad. Or upset. So.
“So what’s the plan this time?” he asked. “Going to launch a fireball and burn the thing to a crisp in an instant?”
Loki gave Tony something of an odd look. “I thought you said that magic was cheating.”
“In a snowball fight,” Tony said. “You didn’t think I meant for everything… did you?”
A crease formed between Loki’s brows as they pulled together in a frown, and Tony realised that. Well. He hadn’t actually clarified that before, had he?
Oh. Shit.
Oops.
Okay, so there was that guilt.
“Loki,” Tony said, swallowing down the lump that blasted feelings often stuck in his throat and forcing the words to the surface. “That is not what I meant. I don’t think you using magic is cheating at all, not unless—well, not unless it’s a game. Something like this… something like a fight, or whatever. No. Not at all. It’s just, it’s you using your skills, making do with what you’ve got.”
“And you couldn’t have mentioned this before?” Loki asked—but although his tone was drier than Natasha’s humour, his expression had warmed some.
“Would it matter if I had?” Tony asked. “Honestly, either way—you’re not going to let a straw goat defeat you, are you?”
Loki’s eyes narrowed. “No. Absolutely not. But I have decided to do this without my magic, and I will stick to that. My plan will work.”
“Of course it will,” Tony agreed, sure that Loki would get it eventually, but—excited to see the next failure, nonetheless. “But, uh, Loki? You know that you don’t have to do this alone, right?”
“Oh, don’t worry,” Loki said, his smile deepening. “I do not intend to.”
*
Despite his earlier thoughts, Tony was actually feeling half good about this one.
The plan, despite appearances, was actually fairly simple. The guards already knew that they were there, so there was no point in trying to keep their presence entirely subtle. They didn’t need to try and be sneaky.
But they did need a distraction.
Now then, children, we all know that it’s not a good idea to take candy from strangers, but to the world Iron Man was hardly a stranger, and besides, it was Christmas. He was more trustworthy than a red and gold Santa, and the candy canes he was handing out were pre-wrapped. Good PR at the same time as distracting the guards for Loki—two birds, one stone.
They picked their moment—mid afternoon, not too late that kids would no longer be around, but late enough that the sun was heading down. Tony headed out in full Iron Man regalia, using the suit he never went anywhere without, red and gold metal glinting in the early winter sunset, wicker basket dangling cheerfully from his arm. The children flocked towards him, calling out for Iron Man, for the candy, for Avengers. Tony crouched down and handed out the candy canes, greeting all the children and posing for pictures taken by parents.
The guards exchanged glances as well, and Tony could see one of them holding a notepad in his hand, leaning forward on the balls of his feet. But Tony made sure he didn’t get too close to the fence. At least, not at first, not until his gaggle of kids was at least big enough to be called a crowd.
He just needed to wait for—
A loud BANG! sounded from somewhere to Tony’s left, somewhere in one of the streets – loud enough to have been a gun, or perhaps something bigger.
“Oh, shit!” Tony yelled – then winced – “I mean, uh, sugar, that didn’t sound good— Hey, hey, it’s okay kids, I’ve got you, I’ll get you to safety—”
One of the guards was already on a radio, and JARVIS alerted Tony to the fact that another had run from the other side of the goat to the source of the noise. The parents of the children around Tony were hurrying forward, and with so many people Tony would have trouble, of course, trying to corral them all by himself—
So, naturally, he called for some help.
At his shout, the guard with the notepad looked over, wary—
“It’s fine, guys, you take this, I can fly over there way faster than you can run. I got that, you get these darn kids!”
Convinced, one guard ran forward—the other stayed by the gate, eyes casting this way and that, hands tight on the baton at his waist. That was fine.
As Tony’s feet lifted off the ground, he did a quick lap of the goat to encourage as many guards as he could to follow him before blasting off toward the source of the noise. He reached the spot quickly, for he was able to fly above the mass of panicking humanity, while the guards had to push their way through. The first to have left the goat was already there, and he looked up as Tony approached, holding out the remains of the cause of the noise.
“Someone let off a firecracker,” the man said in English, his voice laced with disgust. “Who would do this?”
“An asshole,” Tony sighed, shaking his head. “Someone wanting to cause a distraction, maybe. Well done for your quick reaction time, you might have just saved the goat.”
The man grinned. “Thank you, Iron Man. And for your help, though we do not need it. We can handle protecting our own goat.”
Tony nodded, and was about to respond before he once again was interrupted by a loud bang—this time, from right above the goat itself. The sky exploded into bright colours, sparks of red and yellow and blue raining down upon the goat, sprinkling through the air… and then landing harmlessly on the concrete, which had been well cleared by the guards’ efforts.
Hmm.
“Sir, it would seem that Mr Liesmith misaimed his fireworks,” JARVIS said. “He aimed above the goat, rather than at it directly.”
God, of course this would be the one fucking time that Loki decided to follow the instructions on the packet.
“Well,” Tony said to the guard, unable to keep the amusement from his tone. “It would seem that you are right. You don’t need my help at all.”
5.
Loki
Throughout their history, Sweden had well proven that they weren’t a realm that easily bowed to anyone. Not even to their gods. Loki knew that, for the people had long since earned Loki’s respect—
But by the Norns, it was a goat. A straw goat, still standing. Mocking.
Four times now Loki had tried his best to beat the goat. Four. Times. It was stoking his ego just as well as it stoked the flames. As a god of fire, the fact that the straw refused to burn was hardly flattering.
Tony was watching him with unveiled amusement in his eyes, and Loki drew a breath.
“Tony.” He spoke carefully, watching as the ridiculous Midgardian took another sip of his coffee before answering.
"Yes, Loki, oh god of mischief, chaos, and fire?"
Loki fought to keep his patience, knowing that – as much as he loved verbally sparring with Tony – snapping back now wouldn’t help. He didn’t want to give the other man cause for continuing Loki’s suffering, not when Loki needed his help.
(As much as it hurt to admit it.)
"You had a suggestion, earlier," Loki said, still speaking slowly. Perhaps it was a little desperate to be asking for advice, but it was undeniable that Tony had one of the brightest minds in the universe.
“Yes, I did. You remembered.” Tony’s face shifted from astonishment to childlike wonder, his grin stretching wide—and the look was so good on him that Loki’s mouth also curved upward, his voice falling into a tenor. He often did that, consciously or not, when he was with Tony.
He did a lot of things differently when he was with Tony, now he thought about it. Tony had an irresistible charm that made Loki want to do impossible things with him, until they became possible, things that made him feel about to explode with the potential open for them to explore. The things he wanted to investigate together, in the workshop, perhaps in bed—or in other worlds until they tired of company and retreated, leaving behind a sea of chaos to wreak havoc only together.
But actually, Loki didn’t really have the time – nor the right level of masochistic intent – to think about it, and so he focused.
“Well, what was the idea?” Loki asked, leaning forward slightly, holding Tony’s gaze. “Or will I need to beg to make you tell me?”
“I wouldn’t be opposed to a little begging,” Tony replied—
And was Loki imagining the look in Tony’s eye, or—?
“I was going to suggest that we take the quinjet.” Tony sat back in his chair, his expression now somewhat disinterested. But his gaze was still sharp, and Loki’s eyes were drawn to the way that Tony ran his tongue over the curve of his lips.
No. Loki hadn’t been imagining it.
It was true that he had always lived for the thrill, and Tony made his blood sing like only a great ruse of mischief could manage. Every tug Tony made, whether it be a lick of his lips, a look in his eyes, a touch of his hand—Loki would go willingly. The warmth that radiated from Tony was seeping through his clothes, cracking his heart even more open as if the gates hadn't been open wide for ages for this particular Midgardian who didn't realise how deeply Loki's care and hunger ran for him.
Oh, but it was maddening—
Because if Loki allowed himself to fall into that trap, he knew he wouldn’t climb out of it intact. His heart would be torn to bloodied shreds.
“They won’t expect an attack from the sky,” Tony continued, his gaze still holding Loki’s, his tone a little rough. “Instead, they will think that you have given up and feel safe. Nobody will pay attention to the goat and that is when you will strike." He swallowed, and Loki followed the line of his throat.
“Clever,” Loki whispered. Because it was, of course it was, Loki had never shied from admitting that Tony deserved to be called Midgard’s brightest.
But— As drawn in and distracted as Loki was, he still wasn’t so far gone that he was going to let Tony take all the glory for their inevitable success.
“But perhaps not clever enough. I think together we can improve on your plan.” Leaning forward further, Loki reached across the gap between them to place a hand on Tony’s knee. He was rewarded by Tony’s lips parting, his eyes darkening as they flittered down to Loki’s mouth. “Thank you for the suggestion, Tony,” Loki crooned, hand sliding just a little higher—
And then Tony made a low sound as Loki leaned back, a smirk curling his lips as he stood and turned for the door.
He was playing a dangerous game, he knew it. But even though Tony didn’t feel the same, it was nice to know that he could still make Tony react like that.
*
They checked out of the hotel before heading back to the roof, the quinjet waiting for them exactly where they left it. Tony piloted, of course, for while Loki was an excellent skipper of flying craft himself, he wanted to be the one to finally send the ill fated goat to its fiery, hellish end.
When Loki had explained his idea, Tony had seemed to know exactly what it was that Loki would need. They’d visited a hardware store, and Tony had made – something. Loki hardly questioned it, for he trusted that the large glass bottles with chemicals would do exactly what Loki needed them to do.
Then, all they needed to do… was fly.
The quinjet had a rather useful function, which they hadn’t thought to use on the way into Sweden—its outer shell was coated in tiny displays which could mirror whatever was on the jet’s other side, giving it a kind of invisibility without the use of magic. It was an ingenious invention of Tony’s, and it meant that the humans had no idea they were there, even as they hovered exactly above the goat itself.
As Loki leaned out of the open cargo bay, he could see the guards down below, the people milling about the square. It was early evening, and they would have an audience for their show.
It was the work of a moment for Loki to snap his fingers, light the top of the bottle, and throw it down—then another, and then another.
Tony had called it a mix between a molotov cocktail and a firebomb. But watching the sudden plume of flame from below, feeling the flush of heat and the whoosh of a catching inferno—Loki could only call it glorious.
He continued to watch as Tony moved the quinjet further away, so that they were out of the plume of heat and smoke. Loki sat on the edge of the jet and watched, feet dangling down beneath him, eyes on the flames below. He heard the sound of Tony moving over the crackle of burning straw and the shouts of worried humans, and shifted to greet him with a grin, the smile widening as Tony sat down beside him.
“It worked,” Loki said, a grin stretching across his face as he turned to Tony, fully prepared to share in the victory, to laugh and sing revels but—
Tony gripped the lapels of Loki’s coat and dragged him forward, Tony’s lips colliding with his own in a kiss that tore a gasp from Loki’s throat. Loki’s hand was on Tony’s chest in an instant, curling into his jumper, his heart leaping as his lips parted in shock and—
“Sorry.” Tony winced as he pulled back. “I shouldn’t have, but you just looked—”
He cut off with a sharp noise of surprise as Loki lunged forward, refusing to let Tony go that easily. Their lips mashed together perhaps a little too forcibly to be enjoyable, but Tony didn’t seem to mind—he dragged Loki closer still, kissing with a fervent need that suggested he wanted more.
Loki didn’t want to be hesitant, but there was a nagging pain tugging at his chest, a reminder of why he hadn’t yet let this happen. But Tony’s hands weren’t straying downwards, he wasn’t trying to remove any clothes. It was almost like… he was just happy to be kissing Loki, or perhaps kissing Loki because he was happy, and if Loki was being honest, he wasn’t entirely sure if he could trust it. Because maybe it meant that Tony just wanted to kiss him, and what was Loki supposed to do with that?
Well, other than continue to kiss Tony, of course. That response was a given.
And it was only when they almost lost balance and went toppling out of the quinjet that they stopped, holding each other tightly.
“Just to clarify,” Tony said. “This isn’t just about sex, right? I mean, I’m down for sex, not going to say no, but I wouldn’t mind if—”
“No,” Loki said.
Tony seemed hesitant as he asked, “No?”
“No,” Loki confirmed, his heart feeling like it was trying to climb up and out of his throat. “It’s not just about sex. Not for me, at least.”
The sigh that pulled from Tony’s lips was like a breath of new life. “Good,” he said. “It’s not for me, either.”
The way they kissed the second time was different from the first, the heady rush of surprise and desperation giving way to want and greed. Loki pulled Tony close against him, burning with the need for it, after having waited so, so long, holding in everything he desired. This was impossible, now possible, now everything he had ever wanted in the palm of his hand—
“My my, now isn’t this… heated.”
Loki would normally be hesitant to use such a word as sprang, but it did describe the way that he and Tony leapt apart from each other rather well.
What else would one do when one’s older brother suddenly and inexplicably interrupts a rather heated kiss when he was supposed to be on the other side of the ocean–
“Thor,” Loki snapped, turning to see his brother’s overly amused face grinning from the screen at the quinjet’s console. “What are you doing?”
“The news informed me that the goat burned,” Thor said. “I wanted to revel in your success.”
“Wanted to stick your nose in, is more likely,” Loki muttered—and felt slightly mollified about the whole situation when he heard Tony’s laugh.
“I’m just saying, it took you longer than I thought it would have,” Thor said, annoyingly amused. “But now, I see why. Your focus was… elsewhere.”
“As if you could have done better,” Loki shot back.
Thor smirked. “Stark, the Great Goat of Gävle is erected every year, isn’t it?”
Tony grinned.
And Loki… well, he probably should have been more engaged with the fact that his challenge had just been accepted, but he found it rather hard to remove his gaze from Tony’s smile.
+1
One year later
Christmas time in Gävle was always a happy time of year, despite the cold snow that bit at your cheeks, the ice that slipped under your boots. The cold was worth it to see the people smiling in the Christmas market, warming themselves with hot chocolate, greeting their family and friends. The town is a pretty one, with plenty to look at—including, of course, the famous Gävlebocken.
Though of course, the sight of it the past couple of years had been somewhat marred by the metal fences surrounding the once peaceful display.
Since the goat had been burned in a, ah, rather spectacular if mysterious fashion the year before, security had become even tighter. Walking past it was no longer as relaxing as it once had been—the sight of the guards, the barbed wire, the dogs was enough to bring a shiver up the nape of anyone’s neck.
Still, there were plentiful people who liked to walk past the goat on their way home from work, to see if it was still standing even if not due to the usual Christmas cheer. Somehow, the goat had become something of a symbol of rebellion.
It was fun to keep track, a tradition to check on the news. One attempt this year was already reported—some drunk college students who had been caught before they even got close. After the fiasco of a fireball the year before, no one believed the goat would make it through to Christmas. Too many people felt that they now had a point to prove.
Thus the square was often full, people passing, checking, watching, lingering—
A crowd of observers who all paused as an odd whine filled through the air, as the hair on the back of their necks stood on end in a manner far more electric than that caused by the barking of the dogs. They looked to the sky as it darkened—the sky which, only moments ago, had been clear enough to display the stars of early winter peeking through without a shadow. But in a matter of seconds the world was blanketed in swirling grey, a sudden onset of storm clouds predicted by no-one.
Then, a streak of lightning flashed down from above, a single sudden bolt that tore the scene in half as it cracked down from the heavens. People cried out and turned away, shocked and surprised, covering their heads and ears as they darted for the protection of a roof—
“Breaking news here in Gävle tonight! For the second year running—”
“—but for the first time ever—”
“—once again, the Gävle goat has been burned. But not by arsonists. For the first time in history, the famous goat was destroyed by natural causes.”
Thousands of miles and an ocean away, Loki crossed his arms and huffed at the midday news.
“What a cheat,” he said. “I did it without magic.”
Not bothering to hide his smile, Tony wrapped an arm around his boyfriend and drew him into a hug. “It’s all right,” he chuckled. “You can always show him up next year.”
Loki’s pout dropped as a sharp glint shone in his eye. And, somehow, Tony knew that next year’s goat wouldn’t stand a chance.