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Chapter Text

Loki studied the scanner in his hands. He was pondering his earlier failed attempt to imbue it with detection spells; and how to alter them to make it work. Despite being nowhere near succeeding, he felt rather at peace, as he so often did in Anthony's company and workshop. That was, until he heard his friend's curiously spoken, "You really like daggers, right?"

Loki felt himself involuntarily tense a little. Though he was reasonably sure that he wasn't about to be ridiculed for his weapon of choice - Anthony would jest about a lot of things, but never like that - Loki had been criticized for it so often that even the mere inquiry made him a little defensive.

He looked at his friend, who was watching him and absently toying with a tool. There wasn't anything remotely close to disapproval in his expression, so Loki tried to keep his face and tone neutral as he responded, "I do."

Anthony smiled. "Thought so. ...I was kind of wondering, since I've seen you with a couple different ones: How many pairs do you actually have?"

Well, that was ... a question the answer to which would make abundantly clear just how much Loki liked daggers. Still, he couldn't find it in himself to lie or keep the answer from his curious and clearly interested friend. "137."

The tool stilled in Anthony's hand, its owner staring at Loki in astonishment. After picking up his slightly dropped jaw, Anthony asked an incredulous, "A hundred-?" and broke off to continue his staring. "For real??"

Loki smiled thinly, unsure what to make of the reaction. "Yes."

Anthony blinked, then smiled again. "Holy shit. That's ..." He seemed to search for words for a moment. His lips spread in a grin, and he said, "I kind of wanted to ask if I could look at them but we'd probably still be here tomorrow if I did."

Loki tried to ignore the pang of regret his heart gave at that. He would have liked to show Anthony his daggers. But indeed, it would have taken quite a substantial amount of time.

Anthony looked at him consideringly, and continued, "So for now, I was wondering if you have a couple favourites? If you wanna show me, that is," he finished with a smile.

And Loki found he could only smile back, excited and pleased. "I would." He abandoned the scanner and walked towards Anthony, stopping a short distance from him. With a flick of a wrist, he moved a small quilt from his pocket dimension onto the floor between them, then sat down in front of it, and watched as Anthony did the same.

Now what to show him...

Loki summoned a pair of Vanir daggers and admired their make for a moment before he held them out to his friend, and let him inspect them. Anthony took them carefully, looking down at them with interest. Loki's chest warmed at the sight.

After talking a bit about how long he had had them and what he liked about them, they found their place on the quilt, and were soon - relatively, what was an hour or two after all - joined by a dozen other pairs.

Loki smiled at his friend's apparent fascination with some of them. They different quite a bit in material and make (and the enchantments on them, of course), and he could imagine how other realms' smithing techniques might interest a craftsman unfamiliar with them.

His gaze wandering over the daggers, Anthony asked, "Do you have a favourite pair?"

Loki barely had to consider that, if at all. In an instant he had picked up a certain dagger, and left its other half to rest on the quilt. He drew his seidr into his hands and let it caress the weapon as he held it, warmed by the familiar feeling of its enchantment. "This one. My mother gave them to me." He smiled down at the dagger in his hands, then the one on the quilt.

"Wow ... you're a softie," came the teasing reply.

Loki snapped his eyes up and found Anthony looking at him with a soft grin on his face. The fondness in his expression kept Loki from taking affront at his words, but still he moved the quilt and daggers into his pocket dimension and felt slightly vindicated at the flash of lament on Anthony's face. "I'm not," he told him.

"You so are."

Loki stood and turned his back on Anthony's grin. He wasn't. "No." As he walked back to the table with the scanner, his friend replied, "Yup," making it sound like 'You know you are', and Loki couldn't quite resist his smile. Maybe he was, a little. But so what. He certainly wouldn't give his friend the satisfaction of hearing him admit to it.

Loki had just picked the scanner back up when Anthony said, "Would you ... wanna add another pair to your collection?"

Surprised at the rather hesitant question, Loki turned and looked down at his friend still sitting on the floor. "Once I find another good pair, certainly. 137 would be a rather specific number to consider my collection complete, don't you think?" he asked with a grin.

Anthony grinned back, replying, "True that." After a beat, he added, "Wait a second," then stood and walked over to a cabinet on the wall. He seemed to pull something out, though Loki couldn't see what it was until Anthony turned and walked towards him.

And then Loki found himself unable to stop staring at the bundle of green fabric in Anthony's hands, wondering what it contained.

But what else could it be, if not a pair of daggers?

Anthony stopped in front of him, and Loki tore his gaze away to look up at his face. "For you," Anthony smiled, though he looked a little uncertain even as he moved the bundle a little closer to Loki.

Trying to keep his hands even through the sudden flood of excitement at the thought of Anthony gifting him daggers, Loki reached out and took the bundle, then carefully unwrapped it. The last of the fabric fell away, and Loki was rendered speechless.

Oh.

It was indeed a pair of daggers - a beautiful, finely crafted pair. Though Loki couldn't see the blades as they were hidden in the sheaths, he was certain they would be sharp and strong.

But that wasn't what had stolen his words. And not only that - Loki felt as if his mind had deserted quite a few of its higher functions, all the better to focus on the twin blades in his hands. They were calling to him.

Stunned, he placed the bundle on the table next to him, then grasped one of the daggers and drew it out of its sheath. He only somewhat registered the fine make of the blade, so occupied was he with the feel of it in his hand.

Just then, his second hand felt incredibly empty, and he drew the other dagger too. And then he just ... stared.

Norns, they were … they were his.

His seidr danced along the blades, happy and carefree, and Loki knew that his magic would take hold in them easily. Something in the blades called out to it, to him, as if saying, 'I'm yours.'

Taking a shuddering breath, Loki concentrated, let his seidr sense, and suddenly he felt it. The daggers were full of goodwill and - affection - and all of it for him. Anthony had made them for him, had formed and created them with Loki in mind, and they knew it. They were his.

Loki had never felt anything like it before.

The daggers his mother had gifted him were the closest approximation, with her regard for him obvious in the enchantment she had placed on them. They had felt friendly in his hands, much more so than any other pair of his, regardless of whether he had found them at market stalls or commissioned them himself. Naturally, the latter were a little easier to handle and enchant, since they had been made for Loki; he had asked for their creation and the smiths in question had made them knowing who they were meant for.

But this ...

Now that he knew the feeling of daggers expressly crafted for him, forged with a friend's affection, the memory of any other pair seemed almost (not only almost) empty.

Loki changed his grip on the daggers a few times, pleased by the way the hilts seemed to mold to his palms and fingers. He flicked one upwards, watching the blade spin and slice through the air, before catching it easily. A grin formed on his face as he looked down at them, weighing them in his hands. Their balance was excellent, though he would have expected nothing less from Anthony.

Unable to hold back in his glee, he sent one of them flying, and called it back just before it impacted the wall, right where Loki had aimed it. It returned to him easily, willingly, as if it was returning home. And that was what it felt like, certainly. The daggers felt … right in his hands. Like they belonged.

Giddy and near bursting with restless excitement, he stepped away from the table and into more open space. After a deep breath, he let his centuries of training take over, performing practice manoeuvres; twisting and turning as he sliced and stabbed imagined enemies. And the daggers obeyed him as if they had been his all his life, as if they had come to him a millennium ago and accepted him as their master. They were his.

Loki couldn't contain his happy laugh at the feeling, at the knowledge.

He blinked, remembering Anthony. There was a small twinge of embarrassment in his chest as he turned to his friend, still grinning.

Anthony was watching him with a matching grin, his expression one of pleased excitement. "You like them?", he asked, which Loki found to be a rather ridiculous question.

He loved them.

"I…" Loki began, and then was unsure how to continue. There he stood, with his newest - and likely favourite, now - pair of daggers in his hands, and found himself rather unable to articulate just how much he liked them. They were his, and if anyone tried to take them from him, he would first turn the offender into a sieve and then gleefully slice their stab riddled body to pieces.

Loki stared at his friend, overcome with gratitude and affection at the incredible gift he had received. "They are magnificent", he told him, hoping that his voice had conveyed all of his sincerity and appreciation.

Anthony flushed a little, and his grin spread impossibly wider, making his eyes crinkle. "Of course they are," he replied, ever confident and proud of his own abilities. "I made them."

Loki huffed out a small laugh, and sent his friend an unimpressed look that was likely dampened by the fond smile on his lips. He flexed his fingers a little, feeling their comfortable hold on the daggers' handles. "Thank you," he uttered quietly, and then he could only stare at his friend, a little overwhelmed and rather out of sorts.

Anthony smiled at him, and replied, "I'm glad you like them." He studied Loki for a few moments, then turned away with another smile, his warm gaze lingering just a little before he returned to his work.

Loki could only stand there like a fool, grateful and touched and unsure what to do with himself. He felt as if Anthony was giving him space to regain his composure, and it only increased his gratitude for his friend.

After a few purposefully deep breaths, Loki looked down at the daggers. He raised his hands and, once again, observed them with his seidr. This time, he kept at it longer, wanting to coax out its secrets, to feel Anthony's regard for him more.

And he did.

Norns, it was ... Loki had to sit down. Or - something. He felt a little shaky at the sheer warmth contained inside the blades. They were soaked in it, almost dripping Anthony's affection for him out of them, and was this normal??

Loki had never received a piece of equipment crafted for him by a friend, but even so. This seemed a little ... much. Though that was quite the understatement. It was really ... it was ... a lot.

It made him want to laugh at the thought of him being overwhelmed before. He hadn't been, no. Now, he was. Where he might have been somewhat off balance before, now, he had fully lost it and toppled to the ground; lying there confused and breathless.

Loki wanted to press the daggers to his chest and bask in their warmth, in the fondness weaved into their make.

No, this was ... this couldn't be normal. It couldn't possibly be.

If gifts from craftsmen usually felt like that, mages would be falling over themselves to become friends with them and be graced by their regard. No, this couldn't be it, Loki was sure. A common amount of affection wouldn't suffice for something the likes of what Anthony had done.

It was plain as day, once you looked closely at the daggers. Loki doubted anyone else could sense it - creations usually didn't offer their secrets to anyone but their intended master, if that - but Loki certainly could:

Anthony didn't just appreciate him as a friend or shield-brother. No, he … he really liked Loki.

A grin spread on his face, wide and impossible to be contained. There was a pleased warmth in his chest, and he looked up at Anthony, who was working on something with his back turned to Loki.

Suddenly there was a thought that made his heart skip a beat, and he found himself rather glad that Anthony's eyes weren't on him in that instant. He wasn't sure what his face would have betrayed.

Was it possible ... that Anthony liked him as more than a friend?

That would certainly explain the daggers overflowing with affection. Of course, a friend's platonic regard - love, even - wasn't to be made light of, but this felt a little… it felt like more.

The prospect filled Loki with a blend of emotions: flattered and warmed, somewhat ashamed in case he had thought wrong, most of all astonished.

And a little .... excited?

Of course, it wasn't certain that Anthony felt for him like that. And Loki had never even considered the idea before. But now that he had, he found he ... rather liked the thought?

Once again, he was glad that Anthony was facing another direction. For Loki's expression was currently stuck in what would have looked like a bashful smile, he was sure.

Tony looked up from the holoscreens, surprised at the question Loki had asked apropos of nothing: "What's your favorite time of day?"

He considered the god, who was lounging on the couch with a book in his lap, and looking back at Tony. It was a pretty common sight these days - and nights, with both of their sleep schedules fucked beyond recognition. Sometimes they worked on stuff together, or Loki just hung out in the lab, reading or playing around with his magic. Occasionally he even played fetch with DUM-E, or let U film him while he worked on some spells.

Tony only had to take a moment to think about the question. "Night. When it feels like everyone is sleeping and my lab is the only place there is, and I can just sink into my projects and forget about everything else." He looked to the side, where he found U studying a broken prototype, and smiled at her craning her arm to view it from different angles. "Just me, JARVIS and the bots."

Sometimes Tony just didn't want to deal with anything else. No e-mails, no Avengers PR, no meetings for SI. Just him inventing and doing what he did best: fucking around and making shit happen. And getting snarked at by JARVIS or sprayed by DUM-E was just part of it. Though he could definitely do with less of the latter.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by Loki quietly asking, "Am I intruding?"

His eyes snapped to the god, who was watching him with a carefully neutral expression.

"What? No!" Tony blurted out. More like the opposite: Any amount of time spent with Loki in the same room was a win in Tony's book. Even if they completely ignored each other, or Loki hung around in some animal form of his doing whatever, it was just nice to know that he was there. Loki seemed comfortable in his presence, and often came to him for no reason whatsoever, and Tony really, really liked it.

... though he wasn't sure if he wanted to say that. It was one thing to flirt with Loki and have him completely ignore it - Tony was on the fence about whether Loki was purposely not responding or if he just had no clue - and another thing entirely to basically drop a confession in his lap. The latter had the potential to ruin whatever this was, and Tony really wasn't up for that.

Wanting to reassure his friend though, he continued with a more harmless, "I like having you here. You just ... fit. It's nice." He smiled at Loki, then added, "Just me, JARVIS, the bots and you."

Loki's blank expression seemed to warm a little. "I see." After another look to Tony, he went back to reading his book. And that was that, apparently.

Tony blinked in surprise. Having expected a little more of a reaction, he stared at the god, but eventually went back to what he had done before - for about 10 seconds, which was the point at which he had to look at Loki again, because he just couldn't not. And then he had to stare again, breathless and suddenly warm all over.

Loki was looking down at his book, but his eyes weren't moving. And he was wearing a pleased little smile, just a small thing curling the corners of his lips. It wouldn't have looked like anything special to someone unfamiliar with Loki, but Tony felt his heart melt at the sight of it. It was a pure, honest smile. One that clearly showed Loki's good mood and made Tony feel like he had glimpsed a secret.

So he returned to his screens, leaving Loki his secret smile, while a matching one formed on his own face.

Fuck, Loki was adorable.

Chapter Text

Anthony and him had settled in for a movie on the couch, and as the beginning credits started to play, Loki found his gaze drifting to the side. More specifically, to his friend's chest. He looked at it, wanting to turn into a cat so he could curl up on it and enjoy his friend's warmth.

But he couldn't. The space was taken by the yogurt Anthony was eating, and anyway, Loki felt he probably shouldn't do it too often. For ... reasons. Which surely existed. Loki couldn't quite remember them at the moment, preoccupied as he was with staring at his friend's chest in frustrated longing.

He shook himself, and let his gaze wander up to Anthony's face, where it got stuck once again.

But this time, it was worse.

His eyes were fixed on Anthony's mouth, on his tongue. Licking the spoon, slowly, languidly, caressing it almost, and Loki could only think what else that tongue might-

He wrenched his eyes away to stare unseeingly at the screen, a little mortified.

Ever since Anthony had gifted him the daggers, Loki had been having ... thoughts. About what it would be like to court Anthony. About his lips, and hands, and his -

Loki cut that thought short. He wasn't exactly willing to entertain it with Anthony right next to him, where any effect it had on him - and it would have an effect - would be clearly visible to his friend.

Wanting to distract himself, he asked, "What's your favourite dessert?" without looking away from the screen. He wasn't sure if he was quite ready to.

Anthony let out a musing sound that ordinarily would've been harmless but didn't help Loki in his current state at all. He pressed his lips together, trying to pretend nothing was amiss even as he felt his body's elevated temperature spread up to his face.

A period of silence followed.

Curious about his friend's lack of an answer, Loki finally looked to the side, and was surprised when his eyes locked with Anthony's.

"Ice cream, maybe?", his friend asked rather than answered. He smirked, and continued with a meaningful, "I like a good popsicle." His only half teasing gaze told Loki exactly what he might have meant by that, and it made heat pool low in his gut. And then, without looking away, Anthony slowly licked the spoon; and Loki's eyes darted down to it and away in an instant. But it was too late. He had looked, and Anthony knew that he had looked - had invited it, likely.

Loki felt like his face was flaming. Anthony couldn't possibly have done that not on purpose. It reminded him of the numerous meaningful looks and smirks sent his way which he had simply ignored, because that's what his friend did. Constantly. To anyone. Niceties were spoken with casual ease, flirtation appeared to be second nature to Anthony. It seemed honest enough, but not exactly indicative of a meaningful level of attraction, much less a desire to act on it.

And on that topic, Loki still wasn't sure whether his friend desired him or not. Anthony could, unfortunately, be quite challenging to read. It was a trait (or rather, skill) of his that Loki generally appreciated, though he had to admit it was quite inconvenient in this case.

Regarding his own feelings on the matter, Loki knew by now that were it true, it would flatter and please him more than anything. But still, he didn't know if he would want to … explore it.

Not that he didn't find Anthony attractive, or desirable. Far from it. Anthony was handsome and entertaining, and had a brilliant mind that challenged and delighted Loki. He was kind, understanding, and generous both with his affections and his resources.

And Loki adored him far too much to be able to take this lightly.

If Loki got closer, if he allowed himself this step into new, uncertain territory, he would fall. He knew; was certain of it. And if Anthony wasn't there, wasn't there to fall alongside him and catch him, Loki would eventually hit the ground. Painfully. His heart would burst upon impact, shatter into a million little pieces, and Loki would mourn it, would bitterly regret taking that step.

No, this was ... he couldn't.

Not until he knew more, knew what Anthony really felt for him.

Tony sat perched on one of his workbenches, playing with a rubic's cube. He threw it up in the air and caught it again, repeating the movement as he kept an eye on Loki and listened to him complain.

The god had just arrived back from a two week trip to Asgard, and after showing up in the lab, had promptly begun to unburden his frustrations while pacing and gesticulating angrily. It seemed to mostly be about Thor and his friends, and their idiocy. Tony wasn't sure, but the god might have been full on ranting for more than 10 minutes at this point. Not that he blamed him. Jesus. The trip didn't sound fun at all.

Suddenly Loki stopped, his hands clenched at his sides, and took a deep breath. He seemed to relax at the release of it, standing still for a bit before he casually picked up something on the table in front of him.

Tony stared at his profile, a little surprised at the 180. Had Loki taken an anger management course or something?

"Anthony", the god uttered, still looking at the object in his hands.

Tony stopped fiddling with the cube. He hadn't heard Loki address him like that in quite a while - the length of Loki's trip plus two hours, to be exact - and it was nice to hear it again. "Yeah?"

"Who is your favorite of your shield-siblings?", Loki asked lightly. He still wasn't looking at Tony, and there was something ... off about him. Something that told Tony that the question wasn't nearly as offhanded as Loki probably wanted him to think it was, judging by his calmly controlled, almost absent tone and posture.

Tony asked, "You mean the Avengers?"

Now Loki looked at him. "Yes."

Well, that was easy then. Tony smiled, and without hesitation replied, "You," secretly pretty glad that he hadn't had to consider Rhodey and Pepper. Loki would've had to share first place with them, and despite the truth of it, Tony would've been reluctant to say it. He wanted to make Loki feel good, wanted to tell him how important he was to him. How much Tony liked him. The god could probably use it after a shitty two weeks like that.

Loki looked at him for a moment, then gave a small hum and turned away again, but not fast enough for Tony to miss the smile on his lips. And he wanted to die a little, because it had been so soft and pleased, with a hint of pride like Loki had received a coveted prize; and it made his fucking heart hurt. God, he just wanted to hug Loki and keep hugging him. Forever, if he could.

"Hey", Tony blurted out without meaning to. Loki made a questioning noise, and once again his mouth just moved: "Want a hug?"

Loki turned to look at him, his face neutral again.

"I just thought I…" Tony petered off, and then, because he didn't have a reasonable, functioning brain, just added, "anyway, want one?"

Tony somehow managed to not wince at how much that must have come across as 'I just wanna be close to you, please let me.' Great brain to mouth filter there.

Anyway, the ball was in Loki's court now. Tony definitely wouldn't say anything else and make this more awkward.

After a moment of mutual staring, Loki began to smile. "I do."

Woo!

Feeling unreasonably giddy, Tony put down the cube and walked over to Loki to give him his hug. Tony was grinning, and Loki's smile seemed to deepen as he got closer. It looked fucking fond, which was just unfair.

Tony tried to not make it incredibly obvious that he was very much in love with Loki as he arrived in front of him and enclosed him in his arms. He barely repressed a contended sigh. God, this was nice.

Apparently, Loki thought so too. He had folded his arms around Tony, holding him tightly, and leaned down so their heads were next to each other. After a long exhale, he pretty much slumped against Tony, snuggling into his shoulder with a small, pleased noise, and how could Loki be this fucking adorable?! Just … god. It was too much. Tony's heart.

Loki was a warm weight against him, loose and heavy, almost reminiscent of a blanket - a firm, but very comfortable blanket. He seemed to have no plans to end the hug, which Tony was very much on board with. He smiled and tightened his arms, trying to bring Loki even closer; delighted that the god was letting him - was melting into it, even.

For some reason, Loki had been a little more touchy lately. He had always seemed to be holding back when not in animal form, as if there were some person-to-person boundaries to uphold. (Where in comparison, he had no problems crawling all over Tony as a cat.) But recently, he had initiated more touches, like a hand on Tony's shoulder or back, and let himself relax more when Tony offered a hug or put his arm around him.

Tony wasn't sure what had brought it on, but it felt like Loki was warming up to him. Once again. There had been a similar thing in the beginning of their friendship, which had ended with Loki giving him sincere smiles and starting to hang out in his lab; with teasing banter and Loki using his animal forms to cuddle with Tony. And now Loki was getting cuddly in human - or not so human, really - form, and he was even starting to react to Tony's flirting.

Maybe Tony had a chance.

Maybe.

Sure, Loki wasn't flirting back, but he was at least thinking about Tony now, if his semi frequent flushes were anything to go by. Loki almost seemed flustered, sometimes. (Which was incredibly fucking adorable and Tony didn't know how he managed to survive the sight of it each time.)

Loki didn't seem to dislike it. Although he didn't encourage Tony, he did nothing that would express his displeasure with it - and Loki could be very expressive when he wanted to. Rather, he would react to Tony's flirting attempts, and then either ignore him or stare at him like he wanted to open up his head and look inside. Which was a notion Tony could only relate to. He pretty much had no idea what Loki was thinking - though he might've had a good idea about some of it, going by the god's occasional redfaced squirming. It made Tony want to laugh in delight. And make Loki squirm some more, ideally naked on his sheets, impatient and out of his mind with desire.

He suppressed a sigh, torn between happiness at holding Loki, and absolutely miserable pining because he wanted more.

If only Loki wanted that too.

They were in Loki's rooms, leisurely discussing magic after having finished the planning of a prank on their shield-siblings, when Anthony asked, "What's your favourite spell?"

Loki paused, considering. That was ... difficult to say. Even after pondering it for a while, he wasn't certain if there was a sure favourite of his. "I don't know", he answered honestly. Though, considering convenience... "It might not be the favourite but the spells to summon objects and move things into and out of my pocket dimension are very practical. I wouldn't even want to imagine the hassle of living without them," he finished half in thought.

Anthony snorted. "Same, and I don't even have them," he replied, then sipped at his coffee, a smirk on his face.

Loki looked at him incomprehendingly, then chuckled as his eyes fell on the beverage, which had been made and summoned using his seidr. Certainly, Anthony had benefited from the spells often enough.

Anthony grinned and put the mug down again. After a beat, he curiously asked, "What about your first spell?" He was regarding Loki with open interest, and not for the first time, Loki was a little overcome with gratitude at having a friend like Anthony. Who let Loki be who he was, with all his unusual preferences and interests, and wouldn't even think to criticize him for them. Who accepted him, magic, daggers, shapeshifting and all, and more than that - liked him.

Loki swallowed down the whine forming in his throat. Need and longing filled his chest; made his heart throb. Loki wanted that, wanted a lover, a partner like Anthony. He wanted to burrow into his arms, feel their warmth around him, and never leave. He wanted to be held and loved, and hold and love Anthony in turn. He didn't dare to try, but that didn't mean he didn't want.

Loki looked at his friend, who was looking back at him expectantly. With a start, he remembered that Anthony had asked him a question. Right. Loki's first spell.

He tried to recall it, but didn't quite find a fitting memory. Rather... "It's not really a spell, but the first things I used my seidr on were illusions. Little things I amused myself with - or at least they were little at first." Loki raised his hand, palm up, and created an illusion of a horse galloping in place above it. He let it run and jump over invisible obstacles, shake its neck and whinny as it rose onto its hind legs. It reminded him of the many days of his childhood that he had spent like this, and he smiled in fond remembrance. After looking at Anthony, who was observing the horse and smiling as well, he turned to his illusion again and continued.

"Over time, I learned to make them bigger, and more sophisticated. I wanted to create worlds with my illusions, wanted to form beautiful landscapes, thriving towns." The horse started galloping in place, and around it, a small forest sprung to life. Loki made it spread out to half an arm's length from his palm, stopping short of his own chest. The horse ran through the forest, reaching its edge after a little while. It made its way over a grassy plain, and was soon joined by a few other horses, who ran with it. They ran, and ran, and Loki created the land under their hooves as they passed over it, so fast that it seemed to fly by. Soon, the horses came upon a small village, and rather than slowing down, they stormed into it, frightening the inhabitants walking on the streets. Loki formed little people and made them scramble to get out of the way of the herd. He watched on with a little smirk, joy at the depicted mischief filling his chest. A farmer fell backwards into his market stall, and not far from him, a little child clapped its hands in glee. Soon, the horses stormed out of the village, onto wide plains once more, and Loki let them gradually slow down to a trot, then stop next to a small lake to drink and graze.

A bittersweet sense of longing rose in him as he looked at the illusion. It had been too long since he had felt the grass under his hooves, and the wind in his mane.

Loki let most of the surroundings fade as he enlargened one of the horses a little, and made it sniff at a flower on the ground. Uninterested, it continued on, and stilled when a butterfly landed on its nose. It tried to look at the little thing, head tilting in curiosity, though that didn't improve its view of it in the least. A shake of the head and the butterfly flew off; and the horse watched it flutter around for a few moments before returning its attention to the grass.

Loki let it continue to graze, and looked on with a warm feeling in his chest. Though he was controlling it; held every detail of it in his mind before forming the illusion, it was pleasing to watch nonetheless. He seldom did it these days, and realized that perhaps he had missed it: to play and amuse himself with his illusions simply for the sake of it.

Finished with his demonstration, Loki looked over at his friend, and felt his heart do an odd little thing.

Anthony was looking back at him. He was smiling - so fondly, so softly, that the sight of it made Loki feel like he was being wrapped in the warmest of embraces.

"That was beautiful", Anthony uttered, his voice low, hushed almost. His gaze on Loki was full of admiration and affection, and Loki couldn't suppress his smile, both at the compliment and his friend's expression.

Anthony's smile deepened in turn, making his eyes crinkle and sparkle. Still, they were focused on Loki, and the way Anthony looked at him just then ... that had to be more than friendly affection, right?

Right?

Anthony looked at him as if he wanted to undress him and do things Loki would very much like him to do. And at the same time, as if he wanted to wrap his arms around Loki and hug him; cradle him and keep him warm and never let him go. And really, Loki wouldn't have any objections to that either - none whatsoever.

But he still wasn't sure. Either Anthony was (oh Norns) in love with him - his friend's eyes were far too expressive in that moment, and they seemed to be saying he was, making Loki's heart race with hopeful excitement - or Loki was, in one way or another, perceptually challenged. (...not that these were necessarily mutually exclusive.)

And unfortunately, Loki felt like he couldn't completely trust his mind to not read into it what he wanted to see.

Somewhat frustrated at himself and unable to continue looking at Anthony for fear of drowning in warm pools of affection, Loki averted his eyes and constructed another illusion, pretending to focus on it. When really, his attention was mostly on the conundrum he was faced with. The problem was that he didn't know.

...

Of course, if one didn't know something, there was always the option of direct inquiry. He could simply ask.

... or perhaps he couldn't. Loki didn't feel quite capable of that at the moment - or possibly ever. If he had imagined it all, asking about it would result in one of the most disappointing and embarrassing moments of his life, and he dreaded even the thought of it.

No, Loki wouldn't ask.

Fortunately, there was a possibility that he wouldn't have to, and still get what he wanted.

Somehow, it felt like they had become closer. Like the distance between them was narrowing slowly, and sooner or later something would happen. Maybe Loki would find the courage himself, maybe Anthony would confess (if he did feel like that). Maybe one of them would kiss the other, overcome by the need to be closer still.

If Loki wasn't wrong about Anthony's feelings for him, they would find each other in time. Maybe it could happen faster, but he found himself rather unconcerned.

Loki could wait.

Chapter Text

Tony was reclining on the couch, having slid down enough that his legs were mostly hanging off of it, supported by the soles of his feet on the floor. His eyes were absently fixed on the screen playing the ending credits of the movie they had just watched: a flick featuring shapeshifters, though they definitely hadn't been as diverse or awesome as Loki.

... which made him wonder…

Tony looked over at his friend, who was sitting crosslegged next to him, leaning against the backrest as well.

"What's your favorite form?"

Loki turned his head to look at him, then tilted it a little in thought. "Probably ... this one. With or without glamour, I'm most used to it, and it's very practical."

That did make sense. Though... "I don't know why but I thought it'd be something like - a dragon? You know, something fancy … or weird, maybe. For your pranks," Tony said with a grin.

Loki smirked. "There are some forms I'm rather fond of for that reason. But usually I prefer to stand aside and watch ... as I'm sure you can understand."

Tony chuckled at the meaningful grin the god gave him. Having recorded the results of all of the pranks he had played on the team - sometimes with Loki - he understood that more than well.

"My second favorite form isn't very unusual either," Loki added.

Tony perked up in interest. "What's that?"

Loki looked at him, and then he smiled. The affection in it made Tony's heart stutter, and he was sure his voice would have too, had he tried to speak in that moment. Luckily the god chose to answer without further prompting needed: "This one."

And then, a cat sat in the place Loki had just occupied, staring at Tony.

Tony smiled, and agreed, "That is a good one." And if a good part of that was him enjoying Loki being cuddly as fuck in this form, then so what. Loki didn't have to know.

He watched as Lokitty stood up and stretched languidly, then walked over to him and stepped up on his torso. The god sat down and just looked at Tony, who uttered a soft, "Hey there."

At that, Loki lowered himself and moved his head under Tony's chin, where he rubbed it and pushed it up a little, making the back of Tony's head tilt into the couch cushions.

A grin spread on Tony's face. He brought his hands up, one to support Loki so he wouldn't have to claw into him to avoid sliding off; the other beginning to softly scratch behind his ears and under his chin. Loki leaned into it. Moments after, he was full on purring, and god.

He was too fucking cute.

Tony's chest swelled with a warm, fuzzy feeling, and it was just so much that it made him want to kick his legs, squeeze Loki, scream out loud and possibly destroy something. Deciding that none of that would amuse the cat half lying on him though, he simply continued with the pats and scratches.

Just then, Loki lied down on his side, curling a little so he fit on Tony's chest. Tony tilted his head down so he could look at him (so fucking cute), and moved his hand to scritch him again. Before he could though, Loki turned his head to nuzzle and push into his palm, then came to rest with his face under Tony's hand, purring up a storm.

...

Nope.

Just - no. Tony couldn't. Not in the least. This was cuteness overkill, and he was officially gone. God.

Apparently cats being liquid was contagious, as he felt more like a puddle than an actual human at the moment. Brain empty, heart full - the reverse of the classic Tony Stark experience, he thought with something vaguely resembling a grin - and unable to do anything except stare down at his friend and hold him gently.

...

... Loki, who had said that this was his second favorite form.

And then, after shapeshifting, had gone straight to Tony and curled up on top of him in .5 seconds.

... as if he - as if that was the reason why it was his second favorite.

...

Tony stared at the furry form on his chest, feeling like he had fucked up the math or something. Because Loki didn't - ... what.

But if he hadn't wanted him to draw that conclusion, he would've been a whole lot less blatant about it.

Which meant ... Loki had done it on purpose, couldn't not have. He wanted Tony to know.

...

Fuck.

Tony swallowed, and blinked away the sudden film of tears obscuring his sight. He took purposeful, deep breaths, trying not to be too obvious about it. He so wasn't going to cry with Loki on top of him.

It was a little hard though. He felt like Loki had just squeezed his heart, and it wasn't his fault if the thing that came out was saltwater.

Tony looked down at the ball of fur that was Loki, relaxed and purring and snuggled in, seeming perfectly content. Happy, and at peace. Like he wouldn't want to be anywhere else just now, like this was one of his favorite places to be: Right on top of Tony, warming his scarred chest and damaged heart, and making him feel fucking adored.

Yeah, he so wasn't going to cry.

Tony swallowed again. His insides were one big, fluttery, aching mess, and he was feeling more than a little overwhelmed. God, the things Loki did to him.

He knew Loki liked him a lot - that much had been pretty obvious for a good while now. The god had even started lightly flirting back, and looking at him in a way that made Tony's heart do weird things and lead him to think that Loki's affection for him likely wasn't entirely platonic. So yeah, he knew Loki liked him; saw it in his smiles and laughs and his tendency to seek Tony out whenever he could.

But it had always been understated; fondness in small acts and gestures (and cuddles), rather than big displays, and never anything like this. Loki had basically just told him - though not in as many words - that he adored him, and although Tony had had a good inkling before, had possibly known it on some level, having it confirmed like this still sent him reeling.

More than that, he kind of felt like he had been knocked clean off his feet. And now here he was, floating midair on a warm cloud of bliss, safely anchored by the comforting weight of Lokitty on his chest.

Tony couldn't do anything in that moment except breathe and smile wetly. He felt Loki's affection for him, felt his warmth, and he didn't know how to deal with how happy he was.

It almost hurt.

And it made him want to give back, to reciprocate. To make Loki feel warm and - cherished. Loved.

He wanted to kiss every inch of his skin, both blueberry and vanilla, and shower him in affection. He wanted to soothe away any aches, share every joy.

God, he just wanted ... he just wanted to love Loki.

Loki smiled a little dazedly. He was leaning against the back of the couch, with his head tipped back and supported against it.

Anthony and him had spent a few entertaining hours drinking (appropriate beverages for their respective tolerances - or lack thereof - of course), talking about everything and nothing, and playing a game or two. It had been fun.

Loki had consumed enough over the course of the evening that by now, his whole body was pleasantly warm and relaxed. He closed his eyes, enjoying the sensation, and the way everything just seemed perfectly alright.

He didn't know how much time passed like that, with him breathing deeply and contentedly. From next to him came the regularly repeating small clinks of ice cubes hitting the inside of a glass, swirling in liquid, and it didn't disturb his peace of mind in the least. It was rather relaxing, even.

...

... Anthony had said something.

"What?" Loki asked, staying just like he was. Why would he move when it was perfect.

"What's your favourite?" Anthony said.

...

Had Loki missed part of the question?

He blinked his eyes open to squint at the ceiling. Still not moving. "My favourite what?"

The regular swirl-clinking sounds were disturbed for a moment, as if Anthony had moved his arm. Shrugged? "You tell me."

... whatever that meant.

Loki reluctantly rolled his head to the side, and then his eyes landed very not reluctantly on his friend. His smile widened a little.

Anthony was looking down at the glass in his hand, his expression soft and relaxed. Though he wasn't exactly smiling, something about his eyes made it feel like he was. Warm, content.

Beautiful.

If Anthony had asked about his favourite ... well, that wasn't hard at all.

"You."

Loki smiled at his friend. His favourite. This wonderful creature sitting next to him; who was simply ... simply delightful. Anthony was the best, and Loki liked him the most.

The swirling stopped.

Anthony swallowed, and as his eyes abandoned the glass and turned towards him, Loki momentarily felt an alarming sense of perhaps having said too much. Something he shouldn't have said.

Stupid alcohol.

But before his heart could sink too low, Anthony's eyes had found him, and suddenly Loki felt better. Anthony didn't seem like Loki had said something he shouldn't have. Rather, he looked confused and cautiously hopeful as he took a deep breath. And then croaked out, "What?"

Amusement sparked inside Loki's chest, and he grinned softly. Anthony looked a little wide eyed, and rather inquisitive, but different from the curiosity he would usually show. ...but either way, he was adorable.

Loki adored him.

"You're my favourite," he said, still smiling. How could he not, with Anthony beside him: This man blessed by the Norns with a brilliant mind, cutting wit, startling kindness and ... such heart. A caring, warm heart that Loki coveted. If Anthony would only let him inside, Loki would do his utmost to ensure he would never have to leave.

Aching at the powerful throb his own heart gave at the thought, he blinked and came back to awareness. Anthony was staring at him, features slack, lips parted in evident astonishment.

Was it really so surprising?

Loki looked at him. And he yearned.

Slowly, a smile formed on Anthony's face, growing into a grin. Full, bright and happy. Was this really Anthony's reaction to learning that he was Loki's favourite? If Loki had known, he would have told him much sooner. Anthony looked as if he was glowing, and Loki loved it.

Without averting his eyes from Loki, Anthony moved a little to put down the glass, then narrowed their distance. He sat much closer this time, sideways, facing Loki, making his heart beat faster at their increased closeness. Of course, they had been closer still many times, but something about this felt different. Exciting. Charged.

Loki raised his head up, and moved a little so he was turned towards Anthony. He looked at him expectantly, hoping to soothe the nerves evident in his friend's expression; mirroring the nervous beat of his own heart.

After a moment of hesitation, Anthony asked, "Just to make sure ... you don't mean that platonically, right?" And oh, he could see Anthony trying to keep his expression neutral, to perhaps hide the hope so obvious in his eyes as they darted down to Loki's lips and up again in an instant. It appeared Anthony didn't want to assume; didn't want to hurt him ... but how could Loki not want him in every way possible?

Hoping to reassure Anthony and lighten his tension, Loki raised his brows and meaningfully replied, "I meant that decidedly not platonically." He smirked, but let his expression show his affection alongside his desire. It wouldn't do for Anthony to think he only meant his body.

Anthony forced out a breath and leaned a little closer, but not all the way, and suddenly Loki despised that little bit of distance left between them. It was hateful.

"You want me?" Anthony breathed, all wonder and desire. He reminded Loki of the pulled string of a bow, tension and controlled energy ready to snap; almost thrumming with it. And Loki couldn't breathe, because Anthony's hopeful, slightly fearful eyes said, 'Please tell me you want me.' Waiting, pleading for confirmation - for permission.

Loki felt like he was standing on the cusp of something momentous, something wonderful. He could scarcely believe that his wishes were about to be fulfilled; that he held the key, even - placed into his hands by Anthony himself.

"I want you", he whispered, heart pounding with excitement, beating strong and true. Seldom had any words of his rung as true as these.

Anthony gave him a blinding smile. There was a trembling exhale, and then -

Anthony was kissing him. He was cradling his face, lips moving softly over Loki's own. And it felt - it felt so - Loki couldn't describe it. His hands found Anthony, pulled him closer. His heart was racing in his chest, tripping and stumbling, falling and flying all at the same time. He pressed against Anthony, keening, and suddenly it was so much more.

Anthony tilted his head, asking and gaining entrance in the great span of a single second. If that. Loki didn't know how he had managed to survive this far without Anthony's tongue in his mouth, for it seemed - was essential to his general well-being and happiness. It inspected him; slid along his own in caresses that were filthy and playful in turns. After a little while, Anthony let his tongue retreat, coaxing Loki's to follow along.

...

He had to rectify his earlier thought. Having his tongue in Anthony's mouth was essential to his general well-being and happiness as well. ... or ... something.

Either would do, Loki decided.

Content with that conclusion, he sunk further into the kiss, until Anthony broke their contact and it became neither. Loki snapped his eyes open, eager to pull him back in, and - oh.

This was - lovely as well.

Anthony was grinning at him, and he looked so happy that the sight warmed Loki's entire body. "I'm your favourite," Anthony stated, voice and expression full of elated disbelief. Loki could only grin back. Anthony's joy was infectious.

Anthony's expression softened a little, and he quietly added, "And you want me." He looked at Loki like he still hadn't quite grasped the concept of that, yet was overjoyed all the same.

Loki swallowed. Anthony was sat atop him - somehow he had ended up on Loki's lap, straddling him, with Loki's hands on his hips - and he looked divine. Anthony was a wonder; an incredible mind and a beautiful heart in a magnificent body. He was warmth, and brilliance, and Loki wanted him so much that it hurt.

And so he answered, "Very much." No, that hadn't been accurate. He wanted him much more than 'very much'.

Loki opened his mouth to say exactly that, to tell him that he wanted his body and heart, wanted his lips and banter and anything and everything, but nothing came out. He stared at Anthony, speechless, and could only hope that Anthony could somehow see how much he wanted him.

... or maybe it was better for him not to see. The sheer amount of it felt a little ridiculous. A stab of insecurity went through him at the thought that maybe it was too much? Maybe Anthony -

Calloused thumbs caressed his cheeks, making Loki snap out of his thoughts. Anthony was smiling at him softly, his expression a picture of warm affection. His smile widened a little, apparently noting that Loki's attention was back on him. It crinkled his eyes, and as they narrowed, the adoration in them seemed to condense. So much so that were Loki to fall into them now, he would surely be carried - buoyed, safe, and warm. Which was rather fortunate, as he felt caught in their spell already; unable to extricate himself even had he wanted to. Though he certainly didn't.

"I'm yours, you know," Anthony told him softly, smilingly. With an ease as if that hadn't been a shocking, incredulous thing to say.

Loki could only stare at him, frozen yet heated. The idea of Anthony being his sent his mind spinning, hurtling off into blissful oblivion. He was burning up, insides twisting, heart hammering, and altogether so beside himself that he found himself rather grateful to be sitting already. He might not have made it long on his legs.

An amount of time later that Loki hoped wasn't all too long, he located his dropped jaw and picked it up to rasp out a breathless "You are?"

Anthony's smile grew. He looked gleeful at the reaction, and Loki didn't even stand a chance of conjuring up some form of offense. How could he, when despite it, Anthony's expression had remained so gentle, so ... loving (was it loving? Norns, he wished it was). Loki felt like he was melting.

Anthony came closer again - what a delightful turn of events - and hummed in assent to the question. After a soft, much too short kiss, he drew back again, just a little. Before Loki could complain or make him come back, Anthony whispered a "Yours" against his lips, then pressed his own onto it. Like he was sealing it; imparting a confession and promise both. Loki shuddered as it sank into his skin. He could feel it tingling and warming him as it traveled through his body, sank into his bones. As it was burned into his mind and etched into his heart.

He vaguely registered making some kind of noise, not even aware of the anxious pounding of his heart until Anthony was soothing it with a hum and the caress of a thumb on his cheek. He had changed his hold on Loki, lifted one hand from his face to bring it to the back of his head, cradling it.

Loki's eyes stung at the gentleness in those hands. He deepened their kiss, simply had to. His tongue swept over Anthony's lips, and he imagined he could taste it; taste Anthony saying he was his.

He shuddered again. Norns, it felt so - everything felt so good. The way Anthony was holding him, the way Anthony was kissing him. Pressing against him and into him and warming him all over.

Loki could feel it - Anthony's fondness. And his desire for him. It made him remember the daggers he had been gifted; and how he could so clearly sense what they contained once he had held them in his hands. They had been suffused with warmth, overflowing with affection. Loki had known they were his.

And somehow, in that moment, Loki knew that Anthony was his as well.

Because Anthony made it so.

His affection for Loki was clear in all of his actions; had been for a very long time. And his want was obvious in the way he held Loki, like he was too precious to let go of, like he wanted to keep their lips locked forever.

Anthony was his.

His friend, his favourite.

His beloved.

His to adore, his to share secrets and smiles with, his to accompany in long work sessions and on lazy afternoons.

His to embrace, his to kiss, and - more.

So much more.

It was a gift of a magnitude Loki could scarcely imagine, could barely grasp. His heart was so full, swelled to bursting with gratitude and love; and he held tightly onto Anthony, lest he be swept away.

Loki didn't know if he had ever been this happy. He was so overcome with it that he knew he wouldn't be able to tell Anthony how grateful he was, how much he felt for him - he was so gone that he couldn't even try.

...

And so he didn't.

And simply kissed him instead.