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“You’re being entirely too concerned about this,” Loki says offhandedly, not bothering to look up as he flips a page of the book in his hands, seemingly wanting to resist moving even an inch from the olive pillow back he was comfortably nestled atop, an army of cushions peppering the (already) soft space beneath.
Loki, completely at home on one of the common floors of Stark Tower was quite a sight to see, Tony finds himself thinking. He surprises even himself when his heart lurches a little less at the sight every single time he has the privilege to chance upon it. Right now though, his mind’s a little preoccupied to pick apart the nuances the scene presents. So when Tony very understandably flails and fails to provide any verbal response after a whole second, his lover sighs and closes his book with an exaggerated snap, an almost pained expression clouding his face as he puts off the indulgence of a good night’s read.
The book flickers out of sight.
Tony fights a grin at the fairly theatrical gesture – curt , he thinks, if only to cover up its underlying softness, everything he’s come to love about Loki, from the months they’ve been together and even, he suspects, before then. Loki knows by now, he’s fairly certain. But between the two of them, it was easier to pretend, like they weren’t so eerily transparent to one another, like the magnitude of their feelings didn’t exist, sometimes.
“We’ve saved the world,” Loki says, unnecessarily slowly, “twice,” he adds, an arched brow somehow managing to fully capture and convey his distaste. “Do enlighten me darling, how preparing for an insipid trip to Asgard is able to cause you more distress than any of that?”
Tony groans, choosing to ignore Loki’s grunt of protest as he all but plops himself on top of Loki and, uncaring that the couch wasn’t exactly made for two grown men laying fully stretched out, presses his face against the crook of Loki’s neck. Loki’s hair, which the god now wore slightly past his shoulders, trickles his face. It had no business at all, feeling as good as it did. His feet hang precariously off the rolled arm and in the air and Loki’s scent; all mint and tea and green things, fills his lungs.
“‘M not stressed” he objects feebly, nuzzling closer. Loki responds by wrapping his arms around his back and Tony hums, pleased. But then Loki muses, “I’m sure that’s why you asked Matt to walk you through the intricacies of criminal and family law. Matt’s a genius with what he does, but surely you must realize he’s not Asgardian.” Loki chuckles, no doubt recalling in vivid imagery, Matt’s perplexed frown caused by one of Tony’s more absurd requests, struggling to find a plausible response that would derail the line of enquiry without sounding dismissive.
“I know that.”
Tony shifts then, propping himself up by the palms of his hands to really look at Loki; takes in the barely concealed mirth dancing in Loki’s bright green eyes and upturned lips, his choice of a black cotton shirt and pants faintly reminiscent of robes with the way they clung loosely to his frame, and insists, “It still doesn’t hurt to be prepared.” Even as he says it, he thinks that sentiment might be quite superfluous after all, when he couldn't find any of those idiosyncrasies that suggested Loki was stressed– a world of difference from the time Thor had first brokered the suggestion of them taking a trip to Asgard together.
Loki tuts in a put-upon fashion, but his eyes soften. “Things were a little tense the last I was there. Everyone’s had a little time to process my pardon. If this was yet another battle to be won, we would have known. Now stop fretting .” Or you’ll make me start again. Lingers in the air, unsaid.
Well, if that was the conclusion Loki arrived at after taking the time to mull over it then–
“Nothing but a tour and holiday?”
“Nothing but a tour and holiday.”
“Okay,” Tony agrees, burying his face back in the crook of his lover’s neck and declares: “I happen to be great at those”
“I’m sure,” Loki says and Tony feels his stomach swoop as Loki presses an indulgent kiss to the crown of his head. “What were you reading, before Merlin?” he breathes, caught halfway between pure unbridled curiosity and a desperate need to distract himself. Beneath him, Loki tenses minutely.
“Uh,” Tony continues, now mildly alarmed, “please tell me its not another obscure book of spells that you picked up from your last trip.” the book he recalled Loki reading had looked suspiciously Migardian and not threatening in the least, but you never knew with physical books, really. The last thing Tony wanted was an encore of the other time where Thor had turned into a golden retriever and Bruce had, for the life of him, been unable to hulk out, and Stephen slept the days away. Within a week, everything was back to normal and no one was any worse for wear; but Tony couldn’t help feeling a little aggrieved that as Loki’s other half, he was allocated to half of the blame when he had zilch to do with the entire fiasco.
The last he checked, being a supportive partner didn’t automatically make him an accessory to crime.
“Nothing quite so villainous, I assure you” Loki’s quick to say. And okay, Tony could work with that. The probable inconvenience didn’t seem so important anymore, not when Loki’s hands were wandering along his more sensitive side and sending bright, sharp twinges across the breadth of his torso. He’s well distracted enough then, and only when he drifts off curled around long limbs and a slender frame does he realize– Loki’s never actually answered the question. Tony registers that drifting thought under the ‘old habits die hard’ tab he keeps on Loki, and promptly forgets all about it.
It’s rather obvious that Loki held no small fondness for Asgard. Tony finds himself thinking. The rainbow bridge, pretty and iridescent and extraterrestrial, as well as his lingering apprehension of space, of falling, was not enough to distract him from the tense set of Loki’s shoulders, and the way his lover held himself just that bit straighter, ever since they arrived at Himinbjorg and were politely greeted by Heimdall who had been anticipating their arrival.
It looks like regardless of what Loki might’ve agreed to, that idea of a holiday just flew right out of the window. But if Loki managed to be honest about the things that made him uncomfortable, then, well, he wouldn’t really be his Loki anymore. Tony heaves a mental sigh as he flips through, in his head, the possible excuses they could use to leave earlier than planned.
Ahead of them, Thor bounds forward energetically in quick confident strides.
Tony desperately tries to focus on his list of excuses and not draw parallels to that time when Thor existed as a dog, when the older god says jovially, with a grin on his face:
“Welcome to Asgard, friend Tony! My brother can be the most gracious of hosts when he puts his mind to it. I have no doubt that you will be in truly great hands.”
“I verified that several months ago Point Break. Keep up.” slips out of him. It draws an amused chuckle out of Loki and a frown from Thor.
“What I meant about my brother’s hands was–”
“I would advise you to let this go, Thor” Loki cuts in good-naturedly as Tony laments the loss of a potentially quippy comeback.
“Right you are as always brother,” Thor says after a pause, apparently seeing the uncontested advantages of that advice.
They got on their horses in comfortable silence. Tony gratefully takes the hand Loki offered him, rather glad that he didn’t need to take his chances. He's strangely confident that all of the horse riding classes he had taken decades ago did not have any horses that looked as intimidating as the ones Thor and Loki were currently on.
In the distance, the ambitious feat of architecture that Tony learns is the Royal Palace of Valaskjalf that Thor and Loki grew up in, looms. He briefly contemplates snapping a photo for everyone who’s ever said Stark Tower was over the top, and promptly dismisses the notion, fairly certain it would make for terrible manners; hardly something he wants to put across to Loki’s parents. At least, not just yet. Not until he judged for himself how much Loki meant to them and how much they meant to Loki.
It’s rather obvious that Loki held no small fondness for Asgard, save for some of its inhabitants. Tony corrects himself mere minutes later.
As formalities would have, they were whisked to the throne room to greet its King and Queen as soon as they reached Asgard proper.
The throne room was overzealous and swashed in gold; a commonly recurring theme. From the way the lines on Loki’s face instantly smoothened, and the way the stiff set of his shoulders inevitably loosened when his eyes caught Queen Frigga’s across the room, Tony could see as clear as day, that the Queen was one of those inhabitants Loki might actually lay down his life for, no matter what he said to the contrary. Loki loved her, and although his partner hardly wore his heart on his sleeve for the world to see, only fools would deny the obvious swell of affection in Loki’s eyes.
King Odin though, was a wholly different subject matter altogether. Their relationship itself was a mess. And so it wasn’t at all hard to comprehend, that Loki’s reaction to the King read like that– complicated. A barely there smile warring with itself, twisting into a slight frown and back, like he couldn’t quite decide. They were on an edge, Tony realises. Where the simplest movement might tip the scales and send them both careening off to a dark, empty void, or fling them completely onto safety. The edge was harsh and unforgiving like that, but you couldn’t afford to just simply bring impatience into the picture.
Tony resisted the urge to sigh (yes, again– already cottoning on that he’d be doing a lot more of those as long as they remained in Asgard), certain by now that three days (or less) was not enough to make any significant amends to the familial ties Loki had, especially with his dad.
“Now then,” Queen Frigga says, clasping her hands and smiling warmly at them, “the Einherjar will show you to your chambers. Get some rest before we reconvene for dinner,”
Odin inclines his head, a clear sign of dismissal, but there’s a spark in his eye which suggests something akin to fondness and Tony fights the urge to heave a sigh of relief. As far as perfunctory greetings went, they were off to a good start.
Curtailing his eagerness to see more of the place Loki had grown up in, Tony shuffles to Loki’s side, falling in step with his partner to follow the Einherjar. He almost chuckles at the look on Loki’s face that reflects his exact sentiments back at him– gratefulness, that Tony was playing it safe, and disappointment, that Tony was doing exactly that. Never one to back down from a challenge of any sort, Tony catches Loki’s hand in his, interlacing their fingers the way Loki likes. The action is subtle and loud all at once. Tony grins as he catches a surprised-yet-delighted laugh from the Queen and a red flush blooming at the tips of Loki’s ears.
Perhaps they just might survive three days in Asgard after all.
Despite already knowing it was a lost cause, Loki groans his dissent when his freshly-out-of-the-shower-menace-of-a-boyfriend all but throws himself on top of him and he sinks deeper than he should into his bed. Truth be told, the presumably newfound hobby hardly bothered Loki. But there was absolutely no need to give Tony such undue encouragement.
“Please say you don’t wanna bail, Houdini,” the said menace was now looking at him with wide pleading eyes. “I was promised three days of you waltzing me around this place,” Likely the widest he could possibly manage.
Meddling, sentimental fool . Loki thinks with an affectionate huff.
“That insult had better not be meant for me,” his lover complains without missing a beat, nose scrunched up in mock offence.
Loki arches an eyebrow in confusion. He most certainly had not said that out loud.
“Oh c’mon Lokes,” the genius has the audacity to roll his eyes at Loki’s confusion, “every time you huff, there’s an insult to be found in there somewhere,”
The man made a fair point.
“We’re staying,” Loki declares, smiling as his partner’s countenance visibly brightens at the confirmation. “Someone has to keep an eye out for Thor before he gets himself into trouble he can’t talk his way out of,” Loki concludes matter of factly.
“Uh huh,” Tony says, visibly unconvinced. “Quite the irony when it's the same someone who gets him into trouble half the time”
“There’s trouble, and then there’s trouble , they’re hardly the same thing,” Loki says, ignoring Tony’s yelp of protest as he rolls the inventor off him and onto the bed. “Now get dressed and we’ll have some time to ‘waltz’ around the place before dinner,”
The encouragement is enough to send his partner in crime padding off to his wardrobe and Loki chuckles at his partner’s bemused look when he flings it open.
To the right, there’s a grand assortment of garments that obviously scream Loki, all black and green and gold. To the left, there’s a small assortment of garments that look like they don’t belong in his wardrobe. They’re mostly a dark gunmetal grey, with emblems and highlights in black and red and gold if you took them out for a closer look, which was exactly what Tony was doing at the moment.
“What… This is… Lokes . When did you…”
“When you insisted we needed to make Migardian suits,” Loki helpfully supplies. “They’ll endear me to the Migardians, you said,”
“That’s…” Tony replies, evidently at a loss for words. No doubt reaching the realization that they were done two months ago. “You didn’t have to,” he decides on.
“I wanted to,” Loki says. The decision to tailor Tony his very own set of Asgardian garments and carving out a space for them in his wardrobe was not one that Loki made lightly; it basically yelled commitment and sentiment, and by default, Loki tended to lean heavily towards flight rather than fight when it came to matters of the heart. But Tony had already wormed his way well past his defences, and so, here they were.
“ Loki ,” Tony breathes.
Warm brown eyes affix upon green with reverence and Loki realizes that Tony understood the greater meaning behind the gesture. Once again, his lover was showing that he could truly see him behind his many walls. If Loki wasn’t quite so certain about the deepness of their bond, he’d be quite terrified of being seen , the way Tony saw him.
Given the current situation, a genius straddling his thighs and too soft lips against his own– a kiss laced with something akin to worship– Loki wanted , oh how he wanted, anything and everything that his lover offered. Including being seen. They break apart and Tony’s looking at him with that look again, all adoration and awe, the one which makes him feel a million things. And Loki doesn’t mind that he’s been figuratively laid bare.
Surrender had never felt so sweet.
It’s only after dinner that Loki finally finally manages to bring Tony to explore the parts of the palace that are swarming with nightlife.
Dinner had been a utilitarian affair where they had traded some words with his adoptive parents that were strangely void of any condescending remarks or judgement. It implied that they had truly let go of what Loki had done under duress, and it was enough to relax him just a smidge.
And although Tony was rather enthusiastic about trying all the different types of Asgardian cuisine at the start, Loki’s glad that at the end of dinner, he’s found someone who shared his sentiment that it was wholly unnecessary to celebrate everything with a feast.
“I mean, whatever would I do with all my clothes if I get fat?” his partner says as he tugs him along the lighted streets, his attention already wandering, his eyes hastily sweeping the area and drinking in the new sights all around.
Loki allows him his musings with a non-committal hum. The urge to contribute a snide comment is present, but he’s too distracted by the realization that he doesn’t mind all the stares that they’re drawing as they walk along, Tony’s hand around his wrist. Half the Asgardians are looking at them in horror, seemingly worried that Loki might actually smite the mortal pulling him around, and the other half are frowning in distaste at the sight they make.
None of that really matters, Loki thinks, when he’s literally with someone who’s as unapologetically different as he is, and unafraid to flaunt it.
“Reindeer games?”
Loki turns his gaze to find Tony still holding on to his wrist with one hand, and a bottle of liquor he’s snitched off a roadside store in another. Smiling, Loki presses a pouch of coins in the merchant’s waiting hands and steers his lover away with a hand to the small of his back.
The urge to indulge his mortal is undeniable, but this was hardly a place with the best nor rarest of goods. The sparkle in Tony’s eyes as he grins up at him tells him that he’s arrived at the exact same conclusion. Loki offers the genius a smile of his own, and, trying to ignore the pounding of his quickly beating heart, drops his hand to encircle Tony’s waist. The gesture only serves to widen the grin on Tony’s face and amidst the surprised gasps of the nearby patrons, Loki wonders if he could perhaps make it through the night without feeling the same dull ache he usually did while in Asgard.
On the third day, their purchases, if unpacked, would easily fill Loki’s entire chambers. Some of the glimmer and novelty has worn off, and his lover’s willing to sleep in the way he normally does, so it’s in the wee hours of the morning that his mother catches him casually strolling in her gardens, genuinely at ease instead of the front he usually presents.
Out of sheer force of habit, Loki holds out his arm. The queen smiles, slipping her arm through his. They walk in companionable silence across the flower beds, before his mother stops at one, clasps his hands, and says what he feels.
“He’s good for you.”
“I know,” Loki easily agrees.
The love and joy in his mother’s eyes is almost too much to bear, but Loki soldiers on and holds her gaze anyway; desperately needing her to see, that he was well and truly happy, and she really needn't worry so much. Even if he’s not going to be in Asgard for the most bit.
Frigga seems to understand what he doesn’t say and exactly what he needs, because she draws him close for a hug and suddenly, Loki’s hyper-aware of how she’s so very warm and alive. He’s torn between wanting to clutch her cape like a lifeline, the memory of her death and his cruel words from another timeline fresh and painful, and forcing himself to relax and bask in the comfort of the moment.
“I am your mother and I’ll always love you. So does your father,” the queen says softly, and it’s a combination of both as Loki clenches his hands tight around the back of her cape, biting back the impulse to question the declaration and very much surprises himself when he finds he’s actually quite willing to believe it this time.
“Now,” Frigga continues, pulling apart and shoving something small into his hands “this is for your one Anthony Stark,”
“Mother,” he breathes. The object in his hands is glowing, completely encased in gold, and it is, without a doubt, a golden apple of Idunn. Something Loki had been trying to get his hands on for a while now.
Of the numerous plans he had hatched, this one had been unaccounted for.
“I’ve seen the way you look at him. If I didn’t take the liberty, I’ll probably hear of something untoward happening in Idunn’s gardens,” his mother smiles at him knowingly. “I’ve also seen the way he looks at you, and there really isn’t anyone who’s more deserving,”
“I’m glad you like him mother,” Loki says, bowing graciously as he hastily vanishes the apple to his pocket dimension.
If Frigga notices the haste she makes no mention of it.
“Has he realized yet, that you gravitate towards poetry when you’re feeling strongly?” she asks instead, blue eyes twinkling with mirth.
“I’ve got no clue what you’re on about,” Loki denies, averting his eyes. Frigga chuckles. He knows there’s no escaping her mother’s intuition and his lover would figure it out sooner rather than later, but with the golden apple in his hands, Loki had way more important and pressing matters to focus on.
As if on cue, Thor appears in the gardens the very next moment, Tony trailing behind him in close proximity.
“My mother and my brother!” Thor booms in greeting. “I told you my brother would be here,” he turns his head to grit out to Tony in what Loki would correctly assume was a futile attempt at subtlety.
“Queen Frigga, Loki,” Tony offers his own greeting with a bow of his head and elbows Thor in the ribs. Another futile endeavour. “Your son was showing me around your very lovely, uh, garden,” his partner attempts, somewhat flustered by the whole series of events.
“As lovely as my garden may be, it shouldn’t hold you back from the company of my other son,” Frigga says, blue eyes still dancing in merriment.
Tony’s eyes dart from Frigga’s to his and back again, and Loki knows from the way understanding is lighting his lover’s face, that he’s already figured out where Loki more or less gets his temperament from.
“Well, I’m not going to hold back now that I’ve got your permission,” Tony says, brown eyes overflowing with warmth as he catches Loki’s hand gleefully with his own.
Somewhere along the line, someone should probably tell Tony that he shouldn’t treat Frigga the exact same way he treats Loki, but really, there’s no hurry.
After all, his mother doesn’t quite seem to mind.