Archive of Our Own

“So I saw this flyer for a Post-Blip anxiety hotline, right? And all I could think was, yeah, no doi, who the hell doesn’t have post Blip anxiety? I mean, not that it helps to have fourteen million, six hundred and five different futures rattling around in your head. You know, seeing everyone die over and over and over again, your own death, it kind of gets to you? And…I don’t know. Maybe it was almost worse watching the ones where we almost won, we almost beat Thanos. If I’d kept looking, would I have found one where I didn’t have to ask another person to sacrifice himself? I don’t know. I really don’t know. I looked for one where it was me. I don’t know if it would have been better, but it would have been a hell of a lot easier to handle.”

The Basset Hound cocked his head at Stephen.

Stephen leaned his elbows on his legs and met Bats’s soulful eyes. It was probably dumb to feel like he had a lot in common with a rescue dog, but hey, here he was, volunteering once a week at Animal Haven (like he had time), coming back each Tuesday because Bats seemed to get him, in a ‘hey why didn’t you call that hotline?’ kind of way.

It wasn’t that Wong didn’t get it or didn’t understand. Well. He didn’t. Couldn’t. And he knew he couldn’t, which was a certain kind of relief. Wong hadn’t pretended he could empathize with Stephen. He had gotten drunk with Stephen, and then held him while he sobbed, which a past version of Stephen Strange would have been really humiliated about, but—

Hey. He’d seen over fourteen million futures. He’d knowingly, willingly, asked a man to sacrifice himself for the greater good. Crying in the arms of someone who was like a brother to him really didn’t seem so embarrassing anymore.

But he identified with this dog, for some stupid reason. Bats probably hadn’t asked anyone to sacrifice themselves, but he, too, had come back into a world that was really different than the one he’d left five years ago—and in some ways, startlingly, jarringly similar.

He’d been found in an empty apartment, in a building slated for demolition, actually—only then the Avengers had brought everyone back, and suddenly New York needed all that housing again. Bats’s former owner hadn’t been Snapped, because they hadn’t appeared in the apartment along with Bats, but no one knew what had happened to them. Shelters definitely didn’t have the resources to track people down. And no one had come to claim him. So maybe his owner didn’t care, or maybe they’d died in the past five years.

Stephen didn’t know which he preferred to think. Probably that the person was dead, because it bugged him that you’d know your pet would be back, but you wouldn’t bother trying to find him. And he wasn’t even an animal guy.

So why the hell was he doing this?

Stephen wrapped Bats’s leash loosely around his hand, then unwound it. It was hot today, one of those stifling, baking New York summer days where the pollution hung heavy in the air and everything smelled damp and overly ripe—people included. Probably himself included. His t-shirt stuck to him, his armpits felt like a swamp and so, for that matter, did the space behind his knees. Should have worn shorts. He’d brought a bowl and a bottle of water for Bats while they hung out in the park, but he hadn’t brought anything for himself. Whatever. He’d live. He’d already died a bunch of times, anyway.

But seriously. He’d looked at this future, and he definitely didn’t die of thirst sitting in Columbus Park.

Then again, he hadn’t seen himself volunteering as a dog walker for an animal shelter, either, so. Anything was possible.

Bats looked up at him, tongue hanging out of his mouth, and rested his head on Stephen’s knee. Stephen smiled and scratched him behind his ears. “Someone’s gonna adopt you, bud.” Bats licked his hand and Stephen grimaced. Dog slobber. The companionship was nice, but the slobber was definitely something he could do without.

Stephen patted Bats’s head and said, “Here. Finish up this water.” When he held up the bowl and sloshed it around, Bats looked from the water to Stephen. “I know, I know,” Stephen said. “I didn’t bring anything to drink, and it’s really nice of you to offer to share. But I’m gonna pass on the dog water.”

After another second, Bats slurped up the water. Some of it sloshed onto Stephen’s hands, but it was so hot, he honestly didn’t care. “We better head back,” Stephen said. When he stood, Bats’s tongue lolled happily out of his mouth. Stephen tugged on his leash and headed for the shelter.

“Same time, same place next week?” Stephen asked, as he handed the leash over to one of the other volunteers and bent over to pat Bats on the head. Bats licked his hand again. Stephen made a face, but gave Bats one last scratch behind the ears before he left to walk home to the Sanctum.

It was July 18th, 2023.

That was the day Loki of Asgard landed on the sidewalk in front of him.

Summer turned to fall turned to winter, and things were weird. Not as weird as maybe they should be? After all, there was a space Viking living at the Sanctum, an alien prince who’d once invaded New York City. Oh, and who was supposed to be dead. Well, Stephen had sort of known about him not being dead. He’d seen the future, after all. A lot of futures. And in the one he’d settled on, Loki of Asgard found his way back to life. 

Loki Odinson. That was what he went by now.

Still, it was one thing to see some flashes of it, some possibilities, some crazy turns your life might take. It was another to actually have Loki Odinson living at your house. 

Once he didn’t actively want to murder you anymore, he was a pretty alright guy. They were even, maybe, friends. Not that Stephen would ever risk saying that out loud, because he knew how Loki would react.

Well…they were kind of friends. Stephen thought they were friends, at least. Stephen had never been very good at having friends, so the stuff he did with Loki—meandering, all-day walks around the city, long talks late into the night about magic and philosophy and music and pretty much everything, watching movies together, going to the tiki bar—that was friend stuff. 

Was it maybe more-than-friend stuff? Hey. If Stephen knew better than to suggest the two of them were friends, he definitely knew better than to suggest that maybe, maybe, there was like…sort of something…else.

Or maybe it was just the fact that Loki was undeniably good looking, and Stephen was definitely in the midst of a dry spell. 

Yeah. Probably that. Safer if it was that, at least. 

Anyway. Stephen did a lot with Loki, but he’d never mentioned the animal shelter stuff. He didn’t know why, exactly, except…it might have because Stephen had been returning from there when Loki had showed up. Stephen had been startled by his appearance—and he wasn’t proud of the way he’d acted. He’d known, more or less, that Loki wasn’t a threat, but he’d treated him like he might be.

Maybe he’d been looking for someone to blame for how he was feeling—which was shitty. How could he not feel shitty? He’d given up the Time Stone to Thanos, and then he’d sent a man to his death for the good of the many. Loki had been an easy target.

He still felt like a douchebag about that.

So anyway. Every Tuesday, he went out. Wong knew where he went, but he’d never mentioned it to Loki. And Loki had never asked. Probably just assumed Stephen was out fighting evil. Loki usually didn’t ask where Stephen was going or what he was doing. For a few months, Stephen had thought it was because he didn’t care. He figured out eventually it was because Loki actually cared a lot, and he hated the fact that he did.

Actually, that was a pretty good summary of Loki in general.

So this particular Tuesday in late January—Stephen did what he always did, and got ready to go without mentioning it to anyone; “anyone” primarily being the distractingly good-looking space Viking that, as far as Stephen had known, was in the library teaching himself Kamar-Taj magic.

Probably at some point, Stephen was going to have to figure out exactly what magic Loki had managed to learn.

Humming that new Lil Nas X song to himself as he went to get his coat out, Stephen felt around in his pocket for the dog biscuits he always brought. He kept the box in his room, which felt kind of like hiding it. But then again, he knew Loki would make a joke about how he was aware Stephen’s taste in food was bad, but he hadn’t realized just how bad.

The idea made him smile a little. Easy to imagine Loki’s drawl as he’d deliver that line.

“Where are you going?”

Loki’s voice was definitely easier to imagine when he was talking to you.

Stephen stopped, then turned around. Loki was standing behind him in the middle of the foyer, hands on his hips, his face set and blazing, like he was ready for a fight. Like he’d been talking himself up to doing this for weeks, expecting Stephen to resist the question, when actually? Stephen was kind of surprised it had taken Loki this long to ask.

With a twitch of a smile, Stephen said, “Out.”

Just to mess with him a little.

Loki rolled his eyes. “The puffy jacket sort of clued me in, believe it or not. Why aren’t you wearing the nicer one?”

“My peacoat?” Stephen asked. He was kind of surprised Loki was asking this particular question, though he didn’t know why. Loki had a real stick up his ass about Stephen’s fashion choices. Or lack thereof, Loki would probably say. Stephen could hear that in his head in Loki’s voice too, and it made him smile a little more.

Folding his arms over his chest, Loki said, “Yeah. The peacoat. The nicer black one. It still doesn’t have any shape, but it’s nicer than this”—his nose wrinkled delicately—“thing.”

“Yeah, I’ll take your sartorial advice under advisement,” Stephen said dryly. “You know, I gotta say, considering one of your nicknames is supposed to be Silvertongue, you don’t say much to me that I’d really say qualifies.”

With a slight smile, Loki dropped his arms to his sides. He took several steps forward, until he was standing right in front of Stephen. Loki was taller than him by a few inches, which meant Stephen had to look up to meet his eyes. Drawing his eyebrows together soulfully, Loki said, “I can’t help but notice, Strange, that every Tuesday, you go out for a few hours, and when you come back, you always have such a lovely smile on your face. And you know, I just think, if wherever he’s going can make him smile like that, it must be such a special place.”

If Stephen hadn’t been sharing living space with Loki for six months, he might have believed this. “Wow,” he deadpanned.

The smile dropped right off Loki’s face. “How was that? Charming enough?”

“Kind of fake,” Stephen said. “Is that seriously the Loki charm turned up to eleven?”

“Well.” Loki flicked a wrist. “I wasn’t really bringing my A game, if I’m being honest. Maybe a six and a half? It always works better when I’ve gotten a drink or four in me.”

Stephen chuckled. “Four drink Loki would probably be something to see.”

“It’s something, I’ll agree with you there.” Loki cocked his head. “So, Strange. Where are you off to? A tryst? Is there a special someone in your life?”

“Would you care if there was?” Stephen asked. The face Loki made at him was expressive enough that he might as well have answered out loud. A weird twinge went through Stephen, which made him want to scoff at himself. Did he care if Loki cared if there was someone special in his life? He shouldn’t care. The idea of that whole hand-wavey something else between them was a bad one. If he wanted to do something about his current dry spell, there were plenty of places he could try.

Though that sort of thing, Tinder or Grindr or whatever, didn’t really appeal to him much.

Well, whatever. Sometimes women came up to him while he walked Bats. Something about a single guy with a dog, apparently. The flirting was nice, but he was never tempted to get their numbers. Then again, they never really seemed like they’d be able to handle his day job. Night job. Whenever-he-was-needed job.

The idea of someone flirting with him while Loki stood there awkwardly was kind of appealing, and Stephen couldn’t quite identify where the appeal was coming from. He also didn’t care to look too closely at it.

“If you want to know where I’m going, come with,” Stephen said.

Loki blinked, as though this was the last thing he’d expected Stephen to say. Maybe it was. Probably it was. Loki had this tendency to think he was always everyone’s last choice, always the one who was going to get left behind, and he was preemptively pissed about it. Defensive barely began to cover it. Loki was convinced he was alone, and he wanted you to know that was exactly what he wanted even as he was practically hissing with pain and rage.

“It’s not very nice today, though,” Stephen added. “So you’ll probably want to dress warm.”

For a long moment, Stephen thought Loki would refuse. Then, slowly, stiffly, keeping his eye on Stephen like he thought this was a trick, Stephen’s space Viking roommate walked to the closet and pulled out a coat, pulling it on over his shoulders.

He’d chosen an old leather one that must have been Daniel Drumm’s. It had always seemed weird to keep a dead guy’s jacket in the closet, but then again, people came and went from the Sanctum, and it was good to have some extra clothes on hand. Case in point.

The jacket was a little big for Loki. Daniel had been a lot broader through the chest and shoulders. Unfortunately, that didn’t stop Stephen’s stomach from doing something really stupid when he put it on.

Goddammit. Guys in leather jackets. That was not supposed to be a thing that still got him.

As Loki jammed his hands in the pockets of the jacket, he eyed Stephen warily. “You’re not luring me into some sort of trap, are you?”

Stephen quirked an eyebrow. “You think I’m playing the long game, here? Let you stay here, hang out with you, really lull you into feeling secure—”

“Who says I feel secure here?” Loki interrupted.

“—and then,” Stephen went on, ignoring him, “I snap the trap shut?” When Loki wrinkled his nose at him, Stephen chuckled. “Come on, Odinson. What would I have to gain at this point?”

“Certainly not dignity,” Loki said. “I think that will elude you no matter what you try.”

“Did you want to come with me or not?” Stephen asked dryly.

Tilting his chin up and giving his head a little shake—which made his curls flip out in a way that couldn’t help but catch Stephen’s eye—Loki said, “Only to satisfy my curiosity.”

“Uh huh. I know you well enough to know you don’t actually like spending time with me.”

There was a flicker in Loki’s eyes at this, maybe a little flash of mischief, a tiny acknowledgement that this wasn’t actually true, and both of them knew it. But Loki was all about illusions, and Stephen was okay with letting him have this one.

The two of them set off, Stephen heading along Bleecker for a few blocks before he turned south. Loki walked at his side, his long legs giving him a swagger which Stephen would be lying if he said he hadn’t noticed.

He liked that Loki kept pace with him, even though he didn’t know where they were going. You’d think he did, from the way he practically led Stephen, one foot just a hair in front.

“This is all very mysterious, Strange,” Loki said, his hands still in his pockets.

“Yeah, I’m a man of mystery,” Stephen said, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, that’s true, though possibly not in the way you think.”

Opening himself up to Loki’s snark was, for some reason, endlessly delightful. “Okay, hit me with it,” Stephen said.

Loki flicked a wrist. “It’s a mystery how you stay employed at this, it’s a mystery you have any friends, it’s a mystery people trust you with anything important.”

“Wow, that all really rolled off the tongue.”

“They write themselves. I have more?”

“Thanks, I think I’m good.”

Loki smiled, a sharp, sly little smile that made his eyes gleam. Then, he looked around. The day was gray, the clouds that low, iron colored scud that always made Stephen think maybe, maybe he could live somewhere besides New York. The feeling always passed pretty quickly. Where the hell would he live if not New York? This place was way too deep in his bones for him to go anywhere else.

Anyway, he was the Guardian of the New York Sanctum. He couldn’t really move anywhere else, even if he wanted to.

Wrinkling his nose, Loki said, “I hate this kind of weather.”

“Me too,” Stephen said. “Did you get this crap on Asgard?”

With an awkward shrug, Loki said, “Yeah.”

Yeah, yeah. Critical error. Stephen wanted to know everything about Asgard, but it was so hard to get Loki to talk about it. Being direct usually resulted in exactly what had just happened: an uncomfortable hesitation and monosyllabic answer. You had to wait until Loki wanted to talk about Asgard, which was rarely.

Not that Stephen didn’t get it. The guy had watched his planet explode. That was rough. He was the Prince of Asgard, and he’d stood there while it blew up. He blamed himself. Stephen knew if he was in a similar situation, he’d blame himself, too. You found yourself in a position of responsibility for a whole planet, and of course you would. If something happened to Earth, Stephen wasn’t sure he’d want to talk about it, either. It would hurt, satisfying someone else’s curiosity, when you knew you could never capture what the place had actually been like in words. And the other person could never appreciate it, anyway. Maybe they didn’t really want to.

Stephen did want to appreciate Asgard. But this was why he usually didn’t try the direct route to learn about it.

Dropping the subject of Loki’s home planet, Stephen said, “This is my least favorite part about living in New York. By far.”

“Really?” Loki asked, raising an eyebrow. “You hate this more than the heat? It was so…sticky in the summer.”

“Oh, yeah. I’d take that any day over this.” Stephen pointed upwards with a thumb. The shakiness of his hand snagged his attention, and he quickly jammed his hands back in his pockets. Stupid. Wasn’t like Loki didn’t know about the injury and the scars and the tremor.

Loki made a face. “I prefer this, I think. But…”

When he hesitated, Stephen asked, “Yeah?”

Shrugging, Loki went on, “I thought you’d say something like your least favorite thing is the traffic, or the tourists. Or…I don’t know. The tendency to have your city attacked by aliens.”

“Well, that last one’s only happened twice,” Stephen said with a shrug and a twitch of a smile.

The look Loki gave him was searching, but Stephen was pretty good at not letting on what he was thinking. Sometimes he wasn’t sure exactly what he was thinking. He loved this city and Loki had done his part in attacking it, and that…had never bothered Stephen the way it probably should. It definitely didn’t bother him as much as he knew Loki thought it bothered him.

To keep the moment from getting awkward, Stephen added, “And the tourists are a pain, yeah. Why do you think I stay away from Midtown?”

Loki snorted, then glanced at Stephen. His gaze was still searching, but now, Stephen didn’t know what he was looking for. Maybe Loki didn’t, either.

The backs of their hands brushed and Loki, to Stephen’s surprise, didn’t snatch his away. Maybe he hadn’t noticed. It had been pretty glancing. It didn’t happen again as they continued the walk to the shelter.

What did happen was Loki developing a more and more mystified expression. He kept looking around, like he expected the reason for this trip to become obvious at any moment. God, did he really think Stephen was capable of a trap? Not capable as in, Stephen could never pull that off, but capable as in capable of doing it to Loki. Stephen really liked Loki. He wanted good things for the guy. He wanted him to reunite with his brother and save the universe and smile more often, and hopefully be freer with that bright laugh that Stephen only got to hear once in a while.

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” Loki finally asked.

He had great timing. Stephen stopped and extended an arm with a flourish. “We’re here.”

Loki came to a dead stop, looking around in confusion. Animal Haven was sandwiched between a tattoo studio and a fish market. A grocery store was a couple doors down. The tenements were old school New York—fire escapes crawling down the sides of the brick walls, fancy concrete lintels over the doors that marked them as once-upon-a-time something nicer than a seafood market.

The mystified expression on Loki’s face grew deeper. “I don’t understand.”

Stephen pushed the door open. “Then follow me, and all shall become clear.”

They walked inside to the reception desk. The tiny front room smelled like disinfectant and animals, mostly dog—which was because the owner’s dog, Amarula, was usually sprawled out on her bed behind the reception desk. She was there now, though the owner, Fatima, wasn’t behind the desk.

Loki froze. It occurred to Stephen that maybe he didn’t like dogs. But then, he said, “Strange—this isn’t where they get the animals for those markets next door, is it?”

“What?” Stephen almost laughed, but the aghast expression on Loki’s face stopped him. “No, of course not. This is an animal shelter.”

Eyebrows drawing together, Loki asked, “An animal…shelter?”

Stephen nodded. “For homeless animals. They stay here and the staff try to find people to adopt them.”

Loki’s mouth opened soundlessly, then closed. He looked around, his eyes taking in the small, worn reception room, the old dog, whose ears had barely twitched when they’d walked in. “That’s…their job?” he asked slowly. “To find homes for animals who don’t have them?”

“Sure, dogs, cats, birds, sometimes. There’s a place in Brooklyn that specializes in reptiles.” Stephen watched Loki. “Asgard didn’t have animal shelters?”

Maybe it was a mistake to ask. Obviously Loki didn’t want to talk about Asgard—Stephen had already established that. And it wasn’t clear what Loki thought about the idea of an animal shelter. The idea of animals being supplied to the grocery stores down the block had definitely horrified him, but…that didn’t make him an animal lover.

Hell, Stephen wasn’t an animal lover. That was what made this whole thing so weird. And private. And now that they were standing here, it was like…a weirdly intimate thing that he was sharing with Loki. He’d never even brought Wong here, and there was no one he was closer to than Wong.

But for some reason, it had just felt…right to invite Loki to come with him. Whatever weird friendship…thing…they had, it just felt like…it was okay to have Loki come with him to the animal shelter.

No, it didn’t make any sense. Stephen couldn’t explain it. But he also didn’t need to. When it came to feelings, sometimes it was best to just accept them and not worry too much about trying to pin them to some kind of logic.

The question hung in the air between them—Asgard didn’t have animal shelters? Stephen was about to brush it off, tell Loki to forget about it, but then Loki said, “No.”

No. Well, that was par for the course. Monosyllabic, a clear indication that it was time for the conversation to end.

Loki drew a breath in through his nose and said, “So. This is where you come every week? What do you do here? Are you finding homes for animals?” There was something in Loki’s eyes as he regarded Stephen, something considering, and surprised, and maybe—warm?

Stephen wasn’t going to lie. He liked it. “I’m not that good of a person,” Stephen said. “I just walk the dogs. I kind of have a favorite.” He hesitated. “Want to meet him?”

The considering expression in Loki’s eyes flickered into surprise. “I—”

Man, there was something deeply satisfying about stunning Loki into silence.

He recovered fast. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, I’d…I’d like that.” His surprised look grew wry. “I have to admit, Strange—this isn’t what I expected.”

“You didn’t seriously expect a trap?” Stephen asked.

“I expected maybe a second job. Maybe Starbucks. You clearly need the money.”

Stephen laughed. Warmth flared in Loki’s eyes.

And it was actually probably kind of a problem how much he liked that.

“Oh—Stephen, you’re here! I tried texting you…” Fatima appeared in the door to the back, where the animals were housed. Stephen hadn’t even heard her approach, too caught up in…whatever had just been happening with Loki.

Much like he apparently hadn’t noticed that he’d gotten a text. As he groped for his phone, Fatima went on, “Bats isn’t doing well today. He can’t go for a walk, but if you want to take one of the other dogs…?”

He was still fumbling for his phone, his hands shaking, as she said this, and he continued trying to pull it from his pocket even after she’d finished speaking. It was only when she fell silent, staring at him expectantly, that he realized he didn’t need to read her text. She’d just told him what she’d already tried to tell him.

“Bats isn’t doing well?” he asked, his heart tightening.

It was just a dog. Why was he reacting this way about a dog?

Fatima looked stressed. “He had a little heart attack—”

“What?” Stephen asked.

Nodding, she said, “He’s okay. I mean, relatively okay. We have medication for him now and a treatment plan, but he has to rest for the next few weeks, so…” She spread her hands helplessly. “If you want to take Licorice out, she hasn’t been on a walk today.”

“I…yeah,” Stephen said, his chest still tight. “I guess I can do that.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Loki glance at him. “Can we see Bats?” Loki asked.

When Fatima looked at him, a flustered expression on her face, Stephen said, “Sorry, Fatima. This is my—er…friend.”

No reaction from Loki about the F word. He extended a hand to Fatima, a friendly, disarming smile on his face. “He talks about this place all the time. I’ve been after him to let me come along for ages. My landlord won’t let me have a dog, which is the worst.” Loki made a face. “Anyway, I’ve been dying to meet Bats. It’s okay, isn’t it? I mean, my dog when I was a kid had a heart problem, I know not to spook him or anything, and”—Loki looked at Stephen again, then grabbed his shoulder and rocked him back and forth in a really manly show of solidarity—“it would mean a lot. I know it would.”

Fatima shook his hand, still looking doubtful. But she was a big-hearted woman, and Loki’s plea sounded so sincere that Stephen himself almost believed it.

God of Bullshit.

Then Fatima said, “I think Bats would like that, actually. Go on back, Stephen, you know your way around.”

With a swallow, Stephen said, “Thanks.”

Stephen went through the door, feeling Loki’s presence at his back as he walked down the hall. Animal Haven had two rooms for dogs and two for cats. The animals all had kennels to sleep in at night, but during the day they were free to walk around their rooms. Usually, Bats was on his feet, his tail wagging and his tongue lolling, when Stephen came into the room.

Today, he was lying on his bed inside his kennel, his eyes closed. Stephen let out a slow breath and crossed the room. As he got there, Bats opened his eyes and raised his head a little. His tail thumped on the floor.

Stephen knelt and reached a hand out, scratching Bats behind the ears. “Hey, bud,” he said softly. “I hear you’re not feeling so good.” Bats made a soft whining sound, and Stephen settled on the floor next to him as he stroked the dog’s head. “How am I supposed to get my exercise if you don’t feel good enough to take a walk, huh?”

Bats put his chin on Stephen’s knee and gazed at him, eyes doleful.

He was just a dog, but he felt like a lot more. Or maybe he felt exactly like a dog. Maybe Stephen just hadn’t ever thought he was the kind of person who felt this way about pets.

There was a scuffing sound behind him. Loki. Stephen had forgotten about him for a second. As Loki lowered himself to a crouch, Stephen said, “Thanks. For doing that.”

With a shrug, Loki said, “Don’t mention it.”

“So that’s the famous Loki charm?”

“I can be very charming when I want to be,” Loki said, his tone equally affronted and playful.

“Yeah, no, I can see that.” Stephen rubbed Bats’s nose. What did it mean, exactly, that Loki had deployed his charm now? To help Stephen? He definitely wasn’t going to ask. He was going to take it for what it was, and just be grateful about it.

Loki rested his hands on the tops of his thighs, then sat cross-legged on the floor. “Can I pet him?” he asked.

Stephen glanced up at him, meeting his eyes. “I think he’d love that.”

When Loki rested his hand on Bats’s head, Bats swiveled to look towards him. The extra attention seemed to thrill him.

The two of them sat there quietly for a while—maybe thirty minutes, maybe an hour—petting Bats. Loki didn’t say anything, and neither did Stephen, and it was…really nice. Loki didn’t make fun of him for obviously being upset about Bats’s condition. If anything, it seemed to make Loki kind of sad, too. The way he petted Bats, Stephen could tell he cared.

Both of them could have said something sarcastic, something to make it clear that actually, they didn’t care that much, actually, neither of them was touched by what was happening here. But Stephen didn’t, and neither did Loki, and Stephen already knew Loki was his friend, but he could feel something change as they sat there.

Finally, Stephen said, “We should probably go. I only take him out for an hour, usually.”

“Oh,” Loki said. He gave Bats a final pat on the head and said softly, in a tone that Stephen probably wasn’t meant to hear but couldn’t possibly not hear, considering they were sitting right next to each other, “It was nice to meet you, Bats.”

Bats turned his head and licked Loki’s hand. “Traitor,” Stephen said, but he smiled. Loki shot him a smile of his own.

As Loki got to his feet, Stephen stayed seated, still stroking Bats’s head. He let out a breath, then leaned over and pressed his forehead against Bats’s soft head. “Same time next week, okay?” Stephen said quietly. “If you’re not up for a walk, we’ll just hang out again.”

Bats bumped his wet nose into Stephen’s, then licked Stephen’s cheek. Stephen scratched behind his ears again, then stood up creakily. As Loki and he walked to the door, Bats heaved himself to his feet and followed them, looking much happier than he had when they’d first come in.

Oh—shit. Stephen had almost forgotten. At the door, he turned around, pulling the dog treats out of his pocket, and let Bats eat them out of his hand. “I’ll bring a bunch more for you next week, okay?” Bats licked his hand. Stephen tried to ignore the way his chest hurt. Was this how it felt to be an animal person?

The two of them said good-bye to Fatima, and Loki gave Amarula a pat on the head. And then they were back outside in the gray January afternoon, traffic picking up as the city moved into rush hour. Neither of them spoke for a couple blocks. It was like some kind of spell had been cast, like the two of them had just bared themselves in some way, and neither of them wanted to really acknowledge it—but they also didn’t want to forget it.

They stopped to wait for a red light, traffic moving by sluggishly. Loki stuck his hands in the pockets of his jacket, then pulled them back out. He looked at Stephen, sucked in a breath, and said quickly, “I think you should adopt that dog, Strange.”

The light turned, but Stephen remained where he was, staring. There wasn’t an ounce of mockery in Loki’s tone—he sounded totally sincere. Raking a hand through his hair, Stephen shook his head. “Yeah, I don’t know. What am I going to do with a dog?”

“Feed him, take him on walks, talk to him because you don’t have any other friends?” Loki arched an eyebrow. “You’ve seen this in movies, right?”

“Ha, ha.”

The light changed back to red, and Stephen kept staring. Shaking his head slowly, Stephen said, “He’s old. And sick, obviously. He doesn’t have much time left.”

Loki cocked his head. “That’s exactly why you should do it. Even if he only has a few months, doesn’t he deserve to be happy for those months?”

Stephen didn’t know what to say to that. For all that he’d been doing this for seven months, it had never occurred to him to actually adopt Bats. He’d figured someone else would. Or…maybe someone else wouldn’t, for exactly the reasons Stephen had listed, but now with the heart condition, it was hard to believe anyone would invest the time and money in him.

Abruptly, Loki moved into the street. Stephen realized the crosswalk had changed, and he rushed to catch up. Flicking a wrist, Loki said, “Never mind. Forget it. I was only messing with you.”

Which was it? Stephen wanted to ask. Are you messing with me, or should I forget it?

“You might be onto something, actually,” Stephen said. Loki glanced at him, a flicker of surprise going through his eyes. It made Stephen sad. That was the look of a person who was used to being shot down—who took a chance and spoke from the heart only once in a while, and who had been laughed at too many times for doing it.

They walked without speaking for another block, and then Stephen said, as though there hadn’t been a pause in the conversation, “So maybe I’ll look into it. Adopting Bats.”

Loki shrugged. “I don’t care what you do.”

“Didn’t say you did.”

“No, but…oh.” Loki blinked. “I guess you didn’t.” His brow furrowed, and then he smirked. “Wait until after I move out of the Sanctum. I don’t care for the smell of wet dog, and this city is far too damp and disgusting in the winter.”

Stephen chuckled. But honestly? Loki was onto something. Doesn’t he deserve to be happy? Yeah. Yeah, he did.

It wasn’t just Bats. The god—the man—walking beside Stephen deserved to be happy, too. Stephen wanted Loki to be happy.

The force of that feeling blindsided Stephen. Suddenly, he couldn’t think of anything he wanted more for Loki than happiness—for Loki to hear someone say hey, that’s a good idea, actually, and not suspect there was mockery waiting behind it. He wanted Loki to smile and laugh more. Loki had a nice smile, and a nicer laugh.

That was a friend thing, right? That was what friends wanted for each other.

What maybe wasn’t a friend thing was the fact that he also wanted Loki to not forget him.

Obviously, Loki was going to leave. Loki had to leave. That was part of the deal. Stephen had seen that with the Time Stone. Some of the stuff in there, who knew if it was going to happen or not—but Loki leaving, Loki finding Thor again, the two of them doing battle and having adventures or whatever it was space Vikings did—that was for sure happening. Which was good. Stephen didn’t know if it was enough to make Loki happy, but it was a start.

It was just going to suck to get forgotten by the guy. Loki was…well, Stephen had never met anyone like him. He wanted, somehow, to keep being part of Loki’s life, even though he didn’t know how that was possible. In the future he’d seen…but no. That had been crazy. No matter how their relationship had mellowed over the past six months, Loki still only stayed at the Sanctum because he didn’t know where else to go.

Once he had somewhere else to go? Of course he’d leave. Stephen definitely couldn’t have him staying at the Sanctum forever, anyway. It was just how things had to go. And then Loki would leave the planet, because he didn’t want to stay on Earth, and Stephen couldn’t blame him.

And he’d forget Stephen—and maybe Stephen couldn’t blame him for that, either.

Maybe Stephen would just have to remember enough for the both of them.

Which meant making moments for himself to remember now, before Loki was gone for good.

So Stephen glanced at him, taking in his rangy leanness, the way the biting January wind caught his curls and kept blowing a strand of hair across his face, the way he slouched into Daniel Drumm’s old leather jacket and still made wearing it look effortlessly cool—and he said, “Hey. You want to grab a drink?”

Loki met his eyes and a smile flashed over his face, that smile that Stephen would never ever forget as long as he lived. “Sure,” he said.

Stephen returned the smile, his stomach and chest full of feelings he knew he needed to ignore. And then, behind Loki, his eyes snagged on a flyer for a Post-Blip anxiety hotline. Huh. If you’d asked him six months ago, would having an Asgardian who was supposed to be dead living at your house in secret increase or decrease your anxiety? For sure, for sure, Stephen would have laughed a little hysterically and said, That’s a joke, right?

If he told Loki that his post-Blip anxiety eased when they spent time together, Loki probably wouldn’t believe him. It would be nice if someday, he could. Or would.

For now, Stephen just concentrated on finding a bar to share a drink in—and on chasing that smile that Loki was so sparing with, but which cured Stephen’s anxiety all on its own.