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Admirers were not a common occurrence for Loki. Oh, some elves found him pleasing to look at and admired his magic. He’d even managed a few months with some of them, but he soon grew bored, or they became hurt by the sharper sides of his personality.
Therefore, he had grown used to being disdained by the majority and only occasionally sought after when upon Alfheim.
The Aesir and Vanir, after all, were never so favourable to him. Midgard had been different and he’d had a few liaisons there with pretty humans for a night or two, but it had been pure lust, nothing more.
After his invasion and subsequent battles with the Avengers, he had not expected a human to ever admire him again.
That, it seemed, had been an oversight.
A human did seem to covet him, and, were that not baffling enough, the mortal had decided to do it covertly.
Loki had heard of the phrase ‘secret admirer’ but had found it a ludicrous practice. As how could one hope to achieve the interest of their desired partner if the person did not even know of the interest to begin with?
And yet, there he had stood on the battlefield, staring at a bouquet of flowers that had been tossed into his path. Thor, equally confused, was staring at them too. The battle had briefly halted as they observed the unexpected object. The wrapping was gold, the ribbon green, and the flowers all blooms that were poisonous and some even had magical components.
“Where did such a thing come from?” Thor had enquired.
And Loki, too blatantly confounded had remarked, “You expect me to know?”
“They are for you, are they not, brother?”
Loki had finally snapped from his stupor to glare. “I am not your brother.”
He’d thrown a dagger and the battle had quickly recommenced, but, in the back of his mind, Loki had taken greater note of the many mortals and heroes running through the streets. One of them had to have thrown the bouquet.
And when he’d been forced to retreat in the face of the annoyingly formidable team, he had been tempted to take the flowers with him, but paranoia over a trap or a trick had kept him from seeking them out.
Frankly, Loki had expected it to be a singular occurrence, perhaps even, a taunt in the battle. Only the gifts had not halted. In fact, they had found him during his daily activities which had unnerved him.
He’d taken to wearing illusions when out in public, not wishing to deal with screams or the bombardment of mortal heroes. But, upon visiting the coffee shop he preferred, the server had brought him his usual caramel Frappuccino along with an assortment of his favourite cookies exclaiming, “A gift from your admirer.”
“Whom?” he’d demanded, his voice sharper than he normally offered in his guise.
They’d shrugged and answered, “A few days ago they came in, described you, and paid for these to be given at your next order. Gave a good tip too.”
Loki had frowned and once she’d left, discreetly checked the food for poisons, but they had been harmless. A part of him had wanted to upend them and crush them under his boot, but, a far greater part was wary.
This mortal, whomever they were, knew whom he was both in battle and under illusion. Which also begged the question were they mortal? They were clearly upon Midgard, but a hidden mage was not without possibility.
It still left him taking greater care when he ventured around the city, as well as refreshing the wards upon his home and person.
Despite his best attempts to remain undetected the gifts did still occur. There was no discernible pattern and occurred no more than twice a week. It was occasionally done during battle, and often left in places he visited at times he was not present. The person also took great care to never leave anything on the gifts that could be trackable.
It was infuriating.
It was also, as much as he detested the idea, becoming obvious that magical means would not be a means of locating his… admirer. Therefore, there was an option that he doubted his follower would expect.
He waited until late evening to visit the man, appearing without warning and allowing a brief flare of an alarm before he silenced it. Anthony Stark didn’t look up from his workbench.
“What’s up, America’s Most Wanted?”
“I believe I would be hunted upon more than just your country.”
“Yeah, but Earth’s Most Wanted doesn’t have the same ring.” He finally spun around, pushing goggles up from his eyes to rest in his messy hair. “What brings you to my humble workshop in the dead of night.” He tilted his head. “And looking a little pissy.”
“I am not pissy,” Loki grumbled.
Stark grinned. “Sure thing, Lokes. Now, come on, you know how this relationship works. How am I scratching your back today?”
Loki rolled his eyes, but internally he had to repress a smile. Stark was truly entertaining. He was also, unlike the other heroes, intelligent and conniving. A few years ago, they had both been annoyed and hassled by a corrupted scientist turned mage.
When they had ended up on the same battlefield, Stark had cornered him and suggested a deal. It had still taken him two more attempts before Loki had agreed, but they had maintained a somewhat friendly truce ever since.
The other heroes knew nothing of it (and Loki had thoroughly checked) nor did the varying villains whom popped up on Midgard. Stark liked to gain magical assistance and, loathe as he was to admit it some days, Stark had technical expertise and reach that he could not gain, not even with seidr.
They were still enemies when they fought on the battlefield, but at all other times, they could speak with no fear of attack.
Truthfully, Loki respected the man. He would even go so far as to say, had Stark been but an elf or a human from a century prior, Loki would have bedded, perhaps even courted him. But he doubted the mortal would ever lower his guard quite that far.
It also brought him back to his current annoyance.
“I require your technology,” he flicked his gaze upward briefly, “perhaps the aid of your far-reaching right hand.”
“You’re saying you come all this way, and you aren’t even here for me?” Stark pouted with exaggeration. “Too mean, Lokes.”
This time, Loki let some of his amusement escape, but offered it in a curl of his lips, more reminiscent of a smirk.
“If your servant would but trade you for myself, I would grant him access to worlds far beyond both of your imaginings.”
There was a pause before. “Your attempts, as always, Mr Liesmith, only make one doubt the famed silver of your tongue.”
The A.I.’s dry tone finally made Loki chuckle and he flashed the nearest camera a wry smile.
“And your loyalty, as ever, remains infuriating.”
“Awh,” Stark cooed. “Always like seeing you two get along. Next thing you know, Dum-E will be complaining he missed out.”
Loki had met the man’s various robotic creations the two times he had sought the man and found him in his Malibu home. They were incredible creatures and he was rather fond of them and their enthusiastic curiosity.
“Yes, yes,” Loki muttered, trying to keep his voice stern and annoyed. “Enough of this blather. I do not come here for social niceties, Stark.”
Stark’s amused expression said he didn’t buy it for a moment. However, he did stand and move to a different part of his laboratory.
“Uh huh, sure. So, what are JARVIS and I doing for you today?”
“You are seeking out a spy.”
Stark stilled and turned to him, his good humour disappearing. “A spy?”
Loki waved his hand dismissively. “Not one of Fury’s little pets. Had I wanted them I would have sought them out myself.”
Stark relaxed. The invisible parameters of the deal, after all, were clear. They each had things they would not do or betray.
“So, if not a SHIELD spy, what kind are we looking at?”
Loki hesitated, drawing up short as he tried to devise the best way to explain it without looking foolish.
“Lokes?”
Resisting a sigh, he admitted, “You may recall the item tossed upon the battlefield some months ago?”
“Your flowers, you mean?” Stark questioned, sounding incredibly amused.
“Yes,” Loki grudgingly admitted.
“And weren’t there some chocolates at one point too?”
“Yes, quite,” Loki bit out.
“And I think I recall something that looked a lot like a sex toy-”
Loki let out an exasperated, frustrated breath and Stark beamed at him, looking thoroughly amused with the situation.
“If you are quite through,” he grumbled. “I would rather you start looking for whom it is.”
“What, magic can’t track them down?”
“Unfortunately not,” he grumbled. “This… person is efficient at avoiding tracking spells.”
“You sound annoyingly impressed.”
“I am being hunted; I am not impressed.”
Stark rolled his eyes. “Oh please, you’ve got a secret admirer. It’s hardly a full-frontal assault.”
Loki huffed and crossed his arms. “They are an enemy until proven otherwise.”
“Uh huh,” Stark murmured, beginning to tap on a keyboard. “So, what have you got for me to search them by?”
Loki summoned a piece of parchment and handed it to Stark with a series of dates, places and times.
“You do realise that the battles are going to be tough because you often blow out most of the cameras in the streets?”
“And I am aware you film things from your suit.”
“Trying to get into my tech now, huh?”
“Oh, always, Stark,” he murmured lowly, the words almost a purr.
Stark’s grin pulled wider, but he didn’t respond back as he punched in the details. Loki was a little disappointed but not surprised, their flirtatious banter had existed from the beginning as one additional layer of discussion. But, as much as Stark responded, he would equally lose interest when faced with a problem or his famed ‘science’.
Normally, such a dismissal would be annoying, but Loki knew he was equally inattentive when his seidr or a puzzle took hold.
Deciding to leave Stark to it, he wandered around the lab, examining what had changed since his last visit. The space was rarely tidy and often filled with all manner of items from past battles, cars, household items he had pulled apart, his suit and sometimes objects that Loki could not possibly devise.
However, what abruptly startled him was a green ribbon on gold kraft paper shoved into a corner. Loki plucked it from beneath a piece of oiled machinery. It was clearly the items that had wrapped around his flowers. Stark had obviously salvaged it from the battle to examine.
The flowers were long gone, and Stark had clearly forgotten the items existence and yet, beneath the paper was a tipped over takeaway mug from a coffeeshop. His café. The one where the second gift had come.
And he abruptly felt a thrice damned fool for whom else on this realm had so carefully watched him, so slowly made deals with him to greater understand magic and how to avoid being tracked by it? Whom else would he turn to when his own means failed, therefore inviting a conversation when outright attempts to gain his favour would have been ignored?
He turned and found Stark with his hip against a lab bench, his arms crossed, a grin curving his lips and highlighting his unique facial hair and handsome features.
“You,” Loki accused.
“Only took, what, ten weeks? I had you pinned for six months at least. JARVIS said I was putting too much weight on your paranoia instead of your curiosity. Looks like I owe him five bucks.”
Loki, much like when the bouquet of flowers had first landed, felt completely confused.
“Why?” he demanded.
“Thor mentioned courtship is pretty big up in Godland. You’re hot, I like you, and I figured it would be fun to try it this way, see how long it would take you, or anyone else, to work out it was me.” He shrugged and laughed. “But, you know, I’m not exactly patient or good at the long game. Left enough clues around if you did show up. Wanted to get to this part of it.”
Stark stepped forward after he finished, closing the distance and making Loki feel, for one of the few times in the man’s presence, as if he was cornered. Only, unlike in a battle, he had no desire to lash out or get away. The mortal stopped in front of him, mere inches between them.
“I am your enemy,” Loki murmured, still feeling wrongfooted. “You would dare to court me knowing this?”
“Loki, I started working with and made friends with you despite all of that. You really think it’s going to stop me from wanting more?” He smirked. “You do know me, right? Like fuck I’m letting titles and rulebooks stand in my way.”
And the words did ring true. It was something he had admired about the mortal. It was one more thing he had long acknowledged would make the man an interesting lover and partner. And yet.
“You are foolish, beyond idiotic for this.”
“Sounds a lot like you’re enjoying it though.”
And he was grinning again, so incredibly self-satisfied and smug and he was right but that didn’t mean that Loki was pleased about it.
Yet, rather than argue or leave, he did something else entirely. He extended his hand and grasped the mortal’s shirt, tugging him the last few inches forward. He bent down and captured the man’s mouth in a kiss and, despite what he was sure anyone in the world might believe, Anthony Stark kissed him back with enthusiasm.