Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Loki turned a page of the novel he was reading, yawning into his palm. He blinked to clear a light sheen of moisture from his eyes, then refocused back on his book.

Just then, the bedroom door opened, and out padded a tired looking Tony. His brows furrowed lightly as he squinted around the room. Loki smiled at his endearingly dazed appearance, which was not at all helped by the soft, almost dopey grin Tony decided to beam his way upon discovering him. "Morning," Tony mumbled, a little unclear.

Loki's smile widened. "It's almost noon."

Tony gave a short hum and looked down at himself, then up at Loki again. His hand came up to absently scratch at his side through his band t-shirt. It kind of looked like he was buffering, unsure what to do with himself yet seemingly content to simply keep staring at Loki, eyes soft and a little hazy.

It was simply unreasonable.

Loki wasn’t sure what his face was doing in reaction to Tony being so ... so Tony, but whatever it was, it earned him a smile, as well as Tony starting towards him. He came up behind Loki and leaned over the back of the couch to hug him.

Loki smiled as the warm weight of Tony's arms came to rest around him. He lowered his book to his lap and threaded a hand into Tony's hair, gently carding through its strands. He loved how it felt: soft and smooth, clear of the product Tony usually tamed it into place with. A contented groan rang out as his love tilted into his touch, and Loki felt his chest warm at the sound; at the feel of it where Tony was resting against him. As usual, the audible proof of how much Tony enjoyed their closeness hit him like a gentle punch of air, fanning ever present cinders of affection to a simmering blaze.

He tilted his head back to rest it against Tony's shoulder, closing his eyes and exhaling in content. Simply enjoying the affection offered before Tony would start on his morning routine, or maybe skip the bathroom in favour of coffee – it varied sometimes, depending on how soon he wanted to function properly. He never really did before his first dose of caffeine.

A few breaths passed like that. Then, Tony straightened a little and rubbed the side of his head along Loki's, a gesture seemingly a favourite of his regardless of were or human form. Loki smiled, giving the strands between his fingers a gentle last tug. With that, Tony dropped a kiss on his crown and took his arms back, and Loki watched his love amble towards the bathroom, very much enjoying the view. Just before the door, Tony turned his head, and Loki's eyes drifted up to take in his meaningful grin and wink. He returned the grin, and couldn't help his laugh when Tony slapped his own ass, then blew him a kiss with a playful tilt of his shoulders. Another two steps and a turn, and the door was closing, blocking Tony's wide grin and twinkling, still sleep-softened eyes from view.

The smile on his lips persisting, Loki went back to his novel. Before he knew it, he had sunk between the pages again. So much so that any sensory input other than the words under his eyes barely registered to him, though he was vaguely aware of a few sounds – normal, familiar; not enough to make him divert his focus.

Next he knew, there was the aroma of coffee and the sinking of the couch next to him, followed by a warmth along his upper arm. Loki blinked his way out into the real world and looked to the side, where his gaze fell onto Tony: he had drawn his legs close and curled up around the mug held in his hands. His smile as he gazed down at it was small and soft, and not for the first time Loki felt warm (and if he were perfectly honest, honored) at being among the very few that ever got to see Tony like this: relaxed and unguarded. Open in expression and a little fuzzy around the edges; a stark contrast to the sharp yet charming veneer he wore so often. As well as the near electrifying energy that took hold of him no less often, making him rush off to his workshop to create or destroy – both, in the vast majority of cases.

Though that was far from the only way in which Tony’s hyperactiveness regularly showed itself. It was almost surreal to watch him sit there and quietly sip his coffee. When just the day before, he had for hours made a ruckus in his were form, sprinting around the house and making all sorts of noise at Loki (and it had been at him, that much had been unmistakable). Huskies weren’t quiet animals, and it seemed as if not a day passed without Loki being reminded of it.

...though he supposed he shouldn’t be pointing fingers, his own were form being what it was.

Sensing his gaze, Tony turned his head, and it took only a moment for the question in his eyes to melt into pure fondness. He tilted up his chin. Loki followed the invite and leaned in, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. He drew back slowly, just an inch or two. Warmth lingered in the space between them as his gaze rose up from Tony's mouth.

For a few heartbeats, they just looked at each other. And then Loki simply couldn't help it: As if pulled by an invisible force, he closed their distance again, turning further to place a hand on Tony’s cheek. Just holding on as he savoured his partner’s lips, his breath; the tender, sure way he kissed Loki back.

After what might have been a minute or ten, they parted with matching smiles on their faces. Tony’s widened into a grin, eyes twinkling as he commented, “Someone’s in a good mood.”

Loki grinned lightly and hummed in assent. How could he not be?

Feeling warm and loved and affectionate, he went back in again (all good things come in threes) and carefully rubbed his nose along Tony’s. Tony’s expression gentled and with the hint of colour rising to his cheeks, became one Loki was familiar with – a somewhat rare one, though all the more precious for it: it was happy, loving, and not exactly bashful but so endearingly close to it that Loki’s chest swelled everytime he got to see it. God, how he loved this man.

“Love you too,” Tony said, with his words and gaze alike.

Loki gave another low hum. He knew he was wearing a huge smile, and was probably looking a little out of it as he stared at Tony, half-awed, half-disbelieving, and all loving. His chest felt about ready to burst with the emotions pressing on it from inside. There was gratitude, a near overwhelming amount of joy, and simple wonder. At Tony – for – for even existing. For being like ... like this. Close. Warm. In love with Loki.

It was ... incredible.

Just then, Tony’s face did a little thing, gaze dropping as his head turned away slightly, and Loki was familiar with that as well. Once, Tony had described it to him as ‘fucking annoying, it’s just too much, I mean it’s great don’t get me wrong, it’s the best – fuck, I didn’t mean this is annoying, I meant me, not... us – but I just feel like I’m about to atomize over here and it’s just too much and I won’t look at you and it'd be easier if you didn’t look at me either – you can though, I don’t mean to– like– anyway, but. Stay. I... I’d like it if you – stayed. ...close. .....please.’ Loki wasn’t sure if he'd imagined that last word, given that Tony’s voice at that point had been rather muffled by him speaking it into Loki’s chest. In any case, if Tony needed a little space – if not exactly physically – then Loki was content to provide it.

With a last brush over Tony's skin, he took his hand back, and turned back to his book. As he found his page again, he leaned to the side a little, lightly pressing against Tony’s arm – just to let him know he was here. That it was alright.

He felt Tony pressing back, and with a smile, he started reading once again.

Page after page went by. Loki’s eyes flew over the lines, enraptured by the build-up of what promised to be a thrilling climax – until he was rudely interrupted by a spasm inducing pinch to his side. Holding tighter onto the book, which he had almost just catapulted into the air, he turned to peer at his expectant looking partner. “What?”

Tony’s eyes widened in mock innocence. “What?”

“Tony...”

Slowly, the innocence slid from Tony’s face to reveal a playful, challenging expression. Looking at Tony's grin that was more promise than invitation, Loki knew that reading time was quite over. And though part of him reared its head in excitement, going ‘Play! I want to!’, his side was still smarting from that pinch. And just for that, he’d make Tony wait as long as he could.

He gave him a falsely wide and sweet smile, ‘I know exactly what you meant, and I’m reading now,’ and went back to doing exactly that. This time though, his focus was split between the plot and the bundle of chaotic energy sitting beside him, which made it rather difficult to really manage either one. He had to reread sentences and even entire paragraphs multiple times, so distracted was he by the anticipation of Tony's next move.

When said move was finally made, it was tame enough to actually surprise Loki. All Tony did was lean against him and rub his head on his shoulder, voice part mournful, part enticing as he drew out his name: “Lokiiiiiiiii...”

Loki’s lips twitched, but he was quick to reaffirm his neutral expression. “Hmm?” he asked, making sure to sound noncommittal and not entirely present. He was ‘reading’ after all.

A few moments passed, then Tony sat up again, shifting away from him. Loki only barely managed to keep his gaze steady on his book, a pang of lament in his chest at the lost contact and the thought that maybe Tony didn’t want to play after all. Or worse – that Loki had hurt him by ignoring him. He tried to calm himself, remembering that this hadn’t been the first time and certainly wouldn’t be the last either, of Tony inviting Loki and Loki (after enthusiastic overtures that might border on pestering but were really mostly endearing) letting himself be dragged into it.

...and besides, Tony had pinched him.

Fortunately, it seemed he had only backed off so he could shift into his were form. Loki breathed out a secret sigh of relief when a husky appeared in the corner of his eye – then smiled at the thought that he might as well have sighed into a megaphone. Given his were form's excellent hearing, Tony had certainly heard it – and most likely, he was smelling Loki’s now dissipating worry as well.

...whatever. Since they were here, they might as well go on pretending.

So Loki kept reading (or, more accurately, pretended to) as he waited for the start of Tony’s usual husky antics.

Chapter Text

Loki looked down at the book in his hands, more pretending than actually reading as his eyes swept over line after line. His brain seemed to only register one in a dozen words, and he was likely doing a bad job of pretending nonchalance. No wonder though: He could feel the stare boring into the side of his face, and it made it quite hard indeed to keep his lips from twitching up in amused anticipation.

Soon, a “whoof” came from next to him – as Tony’s plentiful ways of demanding attention went, that had been mild enough to almost pass as polite.

Still, Loki didn’t think he had imagined the note of indignation in it (how dare he pay attention to anything that wasn’t Tony, really), and it made him finally lose the fight against his smile. With a noncommittal hum, he turned the page, gaze never leaving his book.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Tony throw his head back with a yowl, paws pressing into the couch. It was entirely like a 5-year-old stomping his leg. Loki pressed his lips together, semi successfully containing his grin.

No matter his form, Tony seldom let an opportunity to express himself pass. More often than not, however, the husky far outpaced the human in that regard; high energy levels and absurd noise potential coming together to create antics of actually ludicrous proportions. And despite the occasional consequences like ringing ears and bit through sleeves, Loki couldn’t help but adore it; adore Tony being silly and animated and irrationally funny.

Tony looked at him again, apparently waiting for his complaint to sink in. Which it didn’t. Seeming to realize that, he gave an impatient huff and started... well. It couldn't be called talking, per se, but it certainly sounded like it. As if he were trying to communicate with him rather than what he was actually doing – which was making noise purely for the sake of it, Loki was sure.

“Fascinating,” he responded, losing against his grin as well. Still keeping his eyes averted from his noise bundle of a boyfriend.

Just then, a paw gently landed on his chest, and his heart skipped a beat.

Dear god, that was unfair.

Rationally, Loki knew that there was no fundamental difference between Tony touching him with his hand and doing the same with his paw. The shape might be different, but it was still Tony – of course he knew that. However, (logic be damned,) everytime he felt a paw softly – not hesitantly, but only just – alight on his skin, it made him want to die a little. He simply wasn’t built to handle that kind of cuteness.

Without his doing, his head turned to the side. Tony, now sure of his attention and visibly pleased at it, launched into a veritable tale delivered in husky speak. It consisted of a lot of “awahwa”s and “woo”s, and it might have been funny if it hadn’t been so... Loki wasn’t sure what to call it. Tony was facing him with a steadfast look, as if explaining things of great import – all with his paw still resting on Loki’s chest.

There weren’t words for how adorable he was.

Insides melting into a pile of goo, Loki did his best to nod along and interject with little hums and comments like, “No,” “Really?”, “And then what.” Even had he wanted to, he couldn’t have stopped smiling. He supposed they made a funny picture: Tony earnestly giving a lecture of nonsense while Loki sat as his uncomprehending, yet entirely rapt audience. No matter how strange or inane it might look, though, Loki was nothing but happily content, simply listening to his love and watching him enjoy himself.

Finally, Tony stopped ‘talking’ to look at him expectantly, as if asking for his opinion.

“You know I can’t actually understand you like this,” Loki said, grinning.

Tony reared back with an offended look of betrayal, visibly pausing (probably so Loki could appreciate the look – yes, much hurt, such offense) before he returned and snapped at his arm in retaliation.

Loki let out a laugh as he dodged the bite. Tony kept at it though, moving his head to counteract Loki's efforts and playfully snapping his jaws to catch the sleeve clad appendage.

After a couple close calls and a few half protesting, half amused calls of Tony’s name – Loki rather valued this top of his, as well as the number of its holes remaining exactly four – he decided to put a stop to this. Having dropped his long forgotten book in his lap, he caught Tony’s head between his hands, and squeezed just a little. “Tony.”

Immediately, teeth were put away and replaced with a big-eyed look of innocence. He had even dropped his head a bit to further the effect.

Of course, Loki didn't buy it for a second – but that didn’t mean he wasn’t still absolutely weak to the display. Unable to help himself, he leaned over and planted a kiss on the top of Tony’s head. And just like that, Tony was done pretending, chin up and mouth falling open in a happy grin just this side of smug.

He was adorable – and he very well knew it.

“Yes, you’re very cute,” Loki told him with a fond grin.

Eyes sparkling and tail starting a lazy wag, Tony woofed at him.

“And very handsome,” Loki allowed.

He got a smugly pleased look in response (‘Damn right I am’) that lasted for about a second before Tony darted in to quickly lick across his chin, eliciting a chuckle. Apparently not content with that, he pressed closer, lowering his snout so he could push his forehead into Loki, his momentum continuing until he was positively squished against him.

Loki swallowed, a sudden knot in his throat. He carefully wrapped his arms around Tony’s form, fingers burying themselves in soft fur. It was almost bewildering, how a single gesture – more of a headbutt than a cuddle, or rather an endearing cross between the two – could say quite so much. Far removed from words and entirely unneeding of them, it was an act of simple fondness, of trusting familiarity. It was giving and seeking affection both, making Loki smile through the answering swell of fondness in his chest. The sensation was a warm, fuzzy one, aching in its fullness and disarming in the way he had to blink a bit, eyes stinging as he looked down at where Tony’s face was hidden against his chest. Suddenly, it was all a bit much – in a good way.

(So incredibly, wondrously good.)

...

He was not going to tear up because of a headbutt.

...At least, not again. (Damn Tony and his penchant for pressing all of his freaking buttons, the utter... utterly loveable absolute menace, who Loki loved with all of his being, and god damnit.)

He was glad when Tony, in characteristic husky fashion, suddenly decided that calmness did in fact not exist in his dictionary, rubbing the side of his head all over Loki’s chest in a burst of manic energy.

Loki laughed (definitely not wetly in the least) and roughly drew his hands up and down Tony’s sides. The fabric of his top was probably suffering under the enthusiastic attentions but as far as he was concerned, creases were much better than holes. Also– he jerked his chin up just in time to avoid a hit from below, Tony having expanded his area of interest to cover Loki’s neck as well.

Leaning back into the couch, he stilled the flailing furball with a none too gentle grab and chided, more sharply than intended, “Tony.”

Bemused eyes found his and quickly cleared in understanding. Tony stared at him for a moment, then lowered his gaze as he turned to the side and quietly let out a sound. Loki didn’t know if it was an expression of apology or pouting. Perhaps both, he thought as he went back to running his hand over Tony's back to show him he wasn’t holding a grudge. Being decked in the jaw would have been... not great, and he would’ve made his displeasure over it quite clear had it actually happened. But it hadn’t. And truthfully, it was a little funny that Tony’s show of affection had been enthusiastic enough to nearly result in accidental injury – and not only to Loki: He was tempted to ask if Tony had pulled a muscle in his neck with his windmill impersonation, but then decided against it.

If anything, it had been a vertical metronome... on speed.

Loki snorted.

Tony perked up at the sound, head twitching towards him as he shot him a curious look. It turned suspicious when Loki did nothing but grin in return, and after a prolonged beat of stillness with them simply looking at each other, Tony turned away with a noise akin to a grumble. Another moment passed. Then, out of nowhere, he listed to the side to flop down over Loki’s legs, taking the place of the upside down open book, which Loki had managed to save just in time. He was glad for the fact when Tony wriggled in place (that would have definitely creased the pages) and settled fully on his side, apparently deciding that he was comfortable just there: slung over Loki’s lap like some kind of wet noodle, with most of his torso elevated while his head, shoulders and front legs rested on the couch to Loki’s left, and his rump and hind legs took up the space to his right.

A deep breath and a sigh later, he seemed to have settled down, eyes gazing quietly out into the room.

Reasonably sure now that there wouldn’t be any sudden movements (at least in the next few seconds), Loki lowered his free hand to rest it on Tony.

There was a noise of protest.

Surprised, he lifted it again – only to hear the same noise repeated, but louder this time.

It seemed someone was in a sulky mood.

With a fondly indulgent smile, he began lightly petting along Tony’s side. “Are my legs not pillowy enough for you?”

Tony made a noise that was somehow both clearly denial and complaint.

“Hmm. Did I say your name meanly?”

There was a pause. Loki wasn’t sure if he'd just hit the nail on the head or rather delivered Tony a convenient excuse for his dramatics (...not that he needed one). Either way, the answering sound, almost a yowl, was decidedly indignant.

Loki chuckled as he continued caressing the fur under his hand, his book now closed and tucked against him with a finger marking the page. He leaned forward to try and catch Tony's eye – or side-eye, apparently – and teasingly said, “So sorry about that,” unable to keep the grin off his face. Really, this situation was more amusing than anything.

Tony huffed and twisted his head up and away, breaking their eye contact.

Smiling at the endearingly ruffled response, Loki settled back into the couch. After a few gentle caresses from shoulder to flank, which Tony was either ignoring or motionlessly receiving as his rightful due, Loki’s mind began to wander back to the plot he had abandoned. He glanced at his book, then at the furry head facing away from him, considering.

Well, if Tony wasn’t ‘speaking’ to him... might as well.

He got as far as opening the book one-handed and holding it in position to find where he’d stopped reading: As he searched for the line, his book almost flew out of his hand and into his face, courtesy of the (impressively well-aimed) kick delivered by Tony's hind leg.

Holding the novel up and safely out of reach, he stopped the petting to return a smack to the offending appendage. “Really?”

Tony looked at him like he'd just stepped on his tail, and howled his objection.

Loki raised his eyebrows. He certainly wasn’t the one being unreasonable here.

Unknowingly proving the point, Tony let his head fall onto the couch in a way Loki could only describe as theatrical, then proceeded to cry his misgivings out into the room at large. One might think he’d lost a limb, going purely by the sounds he was making.

“Oh, you poor, poor doggie,” Loki drawled.

Of course, that only made it worse (who woulda thunk). With the alarm siren-esque noises crossing into uncomfortably loud territory, Loki found himself unable to resist: He opened the book again and placed it over Tony's head, creating a nice paper tent/tunnel for him to howl into.

The noise came to a sudden stop, as if its source had been shocked into silence. Then, just as suddenly, Tony flung the book off, making it hit the backrest, where it bounced off and – comically – returned to rest against his nape instead. All was still for a moment. Then, Tony craned his neck to eye the book, then Loki with a look of such incredulous offense that Loki simply burst into laughter.

“That’s what you get,” he managed unsteadily, half drowned out by loud complaints and angry howls. Really, how heartless of him to ignore Tony's plight and actually laugh instead. If he could form the words, Tony would've likely gone on a passionate rant about his cruelty and utter heartlessness, though he was doing an admirable job conveying the sentiment regardless.

By now, his vocalizations had risen in pitch and volume enough that Loki would need ear plugs sooner rather than later. In the spirit of damage control, he took his novel and stashed it behind a pillow to his right, then pressed out, “There, there. The bad book is gone now,” voice still uneven with laughter.

Needless to say, that didn’t go over all too well.

Visibly not calmed, Tony continued his performance, unmoved by the pats and placating words Loki tried next. If anything, he was only getting louder, the sounds increasingly piercing and verging on shrill; unfortunately so for Loki’s ears. It was a shame he didn’t have earmuffs. The way Tony was howling and crying up a storm, aiming his noise vent every which way as he yowled his displeasure out to the universe, was so at odds with how the rest of him remained completely relaxed, loose-limbed and casually draped over Loki’s legs, that Loki couldn’t help but find it amusing. Or at least part of him did. The other, much bigger part was less amused, and much more concerned with his continued intact hearing.

His smile having long since faded, Loki raised his voice and tried to reason with Tony – to no avail. Unsurprising, but. Well. He wasn’t even sure Tony had heard him over the racket he was making. That left him with no option but to simply leave the room, if he couldn't make him quiet down a bit.

Finding that he’d rather not leave, he decided to try and get Tony’s attention. As it had already proven effective once today, he went for Tony’s (once again not very stationary) head in a grab, though this time he wrapped his hand around the top, forcing Tony to look at him.

“Are you listening to me? It’s a bit too–” loud, he wanted to say, but was interrupted by Tony no-holds-barred screaming at him.

He could’ve very much done without that.

“Fine,” Loki clipped out, thoroughly fed up with this one-sided verbal pestering. It was high time for some payback. He efficiently heaved Tony off and dumped him on a cushion to the left, where he landed with a surprised yelp. (Cute.)(Alright, yes. Cute. But so what.) A blink or two later, Loki had changed into his were form, wasting no time in falling on top of Tony so he could return the favour – and scream directly in his face.

(Lynx, unlike huskies, weren’t known to be loud animals. But that didn’t mean they couldn't be.

In fact, he knew precious few weres who could compete with one specific aspect of his vocalizations – that being how much, when subjected to the worst of them, one would wish them to stop.)

He settled on top of his annoying, dramatic boyfriend, and produced his best ear-grating amalgamation of scream, hiss and yowl.

Thrown in more ways than one, Tony took a second or two to react properly. Once he did, though, Loki only narrowly avoided being thrown off, unprepared for the vehemence of his thrashing. It was a near miracle he managed to stay on, given his considerately clawless grip on the bundle of energy under him.

Not one to sit in silence... ever, Tony resumed his noise making – though his dislodging efforts didn’t suffer for it in the least. It was actually impressive, how he could flail this effectively while simultaneously threatening deafness with his howls. Loki found himself no match for it (honestly, it would've been difficult even with his claws in play) and let himself roll off the couch.

Landing on his paws, he raised his head to watch out for– and promptly got tackled to the ground. Of course. What followed were a completely undignified few minutes of rolling around, pawing and slapping at each other, and delivering nips whenever possible. (That's not a fucking nip, Tony, I'll show you–)

Twisting on the ground and fending off bites with smacks from his front paws, Loki managed to get his hind legs under Tony. And watched his eyes widen. Bye-bye. He looked on with glee as Tony went flying, letting out a small wheeze under the impact of his landing a good couple feet away.

Loki got up quickly, not wanting to present an opening even in the second that throw had bought him. And it really seemed to be only that: a second. Tony was already springing to his feet, visibly unbothered – looking energized, if anything. Starting towards Loki, he immediately abandoned the movement to drop into a play pose, front legs on the ground and tail wagging wildly. Eyes trained on him, he gave an excited bark.

Oh, dear.

It was that time again.

His chances of getting run over by a hyperactive husky had just increased exponentially. Even knowing that, though, (and perhaps just a little because of it,) Loki felt an answering spark of excitement as he squared up with Tony. Bring it on.

In less than a blink, Tony had jumped to his front left to repeat the pose, then darted to the right at a near sprint. Loki feigned an attack, making him jump back. In classic zoomie behaviour, Tony flashed away only to reverse in a blink, coming straight at him.

It was enough of a surprise that he almost didn’t react in time. Getting by mostly on muscle memory, Loki grabbed Tony mid-tackle and reared up on his hind legs, working with their combined weight to throw him on the ground. He blinked down at what was definitely a grin, his surprise fading quickly. Tony did it regularly enough that he really should have gotten used to it by now, but somehow, the idea that someone found it fun to get thrown on their back by him hadn’t lost its novelty by far.

Again, Tony was on his feet in no time, using the second it had taken Loki to just gawp at him. He playfully snapped his jaws at Loki a few times, almost got a paw to the face, then sprinted off past him.

Loki followed him with his eyes, deciding that he felt too lazy for more than that. Besides, considering Tony’s ability to run circles around him for hours without getting tired or bored, it certainly couldn’t hurt to conserve some of his energy. As Tony got started on just that (back to Loki, bark and pose, around Loki at a distance, around the couch, into the kitchen, back to Loki, bark, past Loki, back to him, pose and fake bite, off again), Loki thought that even that seemed too much. He would strain something if he continued keeping an eye on Tony in his current state of perpetual motion.

Decision made, he stopped turning his head to follow his strung-up boyfriend. And just like that, got run over for the first time that day.

As he rolled on the ground with the perpetrator and fellow victim of the collision, he couldn't help but wonder (for the thousandth or so time) what was actually going on in Tony's head. How he could simply ram into him at full speed, knowing full well that he himself would star as a collision ragdoll alongside Loki... it was odd, to say the least.

...though, Loki had to admit that it was, indeed... kind of fun.

But only kind of.

They came to a stop. Loki let out a growl and bit at Tony, managing to nip him in the half second before he was off again.

...god. Where did he get the energy?

Taking a moment to regain his bearings, Loki got up lazily, then strolled towards the couch to be more out of the way. Tony zoomed past him, their eyes meeting for a moment. Loki shot him a look. ‘I dare you.’

Confident that his message had been received, he lightly jumped onto the couch. Feeling the urge to perch, he continued upwards to settle on one of the armrests, then surveyed the land before him their living room as Tony ran circles and zigzagged around, barking up at Loki in between.

Well. This was much better than being down there in the fray.

He watched Tony as he shot here and there, pleased that he could follow his movements much more easily from up here.

Hmm. This was nice indeed.

Tony stopped for a bit to look up at him, seeming amused. He had once called this Loki’s ‘good, entertaining peasants’ pose, asking if he was sure he wasn’t actually a cat that had somehow become human. Loki figured Tony didn’t have much of a leg to stand on in that regard though, given that all of his legs were constantly busy acting out his hyper dog tendencies.

Tony restarted his one person play, zooming around the room. Loki, meanwhile, found his eyes drawn to a sunlit spot on the carpet.

Hmmm. That looked... nice.

As he contemplated whether he should take the risk or not, knowing that Tony had run through that spot multiple times already, his musings were abruptly cut short. Partway through one of his circles around the couch, Tony had jumped up and into him, catapulting both of them into the cushions. Loki grabbed onto him with his claws and rolled them off, turning just so to let Tony bear the brunt of the fall. With a noise that sounded like half indignation, half ‘this is fun,’ Tony kicked at him with his hind legs, and they separated for a moment, only to return to their squabbling and paw slapping from earlier – a true staple, that.

Ultimately unwilling to let go of that spot he had seen, Loki found a convenient moment to extricate himself. He delivered a friendly smack to Tony’s side, then waved his paw in a way he hoped wasn’t all too rude. A little rude was fine, however. After the last 10 minutes, he didn’t feel the least bit bad about essentially telling Tony to ‘go play by yourself, thank you, or else.' Impatient to get to his toasty piece of carpet cloud, he left it at that. And so what if Tony stumbled over him; it wouldn’t be the first time, and certainly not the last.

Having finally arrived at his destination, he stretched languidly. Enjoying the pleasant ache in his muscles as he bent and arched, paws spread and claws digging into the carpet. Mmmmh. It was good to be alive. Conscious of the modest shape of the lit rectangle, he settled onto his four paws, loafing up to present his side and back to the sun.

So warm.

Squinting in pleasure, he felt a yawn coming on. He indulged it, and somehow felt even more comfortable after. Slowly, slowly, his head lowered, and he was drifting into a nice doze – prequel to a blissful nap.

Just then, something nudged at him.

And again.

And another few times. Reluctantly, Loki slid his eyes open a smidgen.

It was Tony. Of course it was Tony, who else would it be. Could it be.

Not now.

Loki let out an equal parts unmotivated and warning sound. Then, he closed his eyes again.

Ah, peace.

Warm.

Deep breaths in... and out. Loki only vaguely registered his own purring, and had even less mental space for the sounds of sporadic, unhurried movement somewhere else in the room. Somewhere that wasn’t where he was. Mmh.

So nice...

...

Suddenly, an icy bolt of awareness shot through him. Wrong. Too silent; too still.

Sleepiness all but gone, he stayed as he was. Carefully not moving as he slowly opened his eyes and tried to listen and scent for any danger around him. All he could smell was their home, though. Tony.

Ridiculous; he wouldn’t be in danger here. Tony would’ve made a ruckus before anything.

...Tony.

Not making noise.

That was suspicious.

An unpleasant premonition floating up, Loki turned his head. And just in time, too:

Tony was crouching at his 5 o'clock, jaws opened and ready to snap down on Loki’s tail. Caught red-handed, he didn’t even have the decency to look ashamed. All he did was move his gaze to Loki, resulting in a side-eye of pure cheek.

It was a look that said, ‘I’m going to. And what are you going to do about it?’

...was he actually for real?

Meeting his stare evenly, Loki gave a low growl. His claws itched, ready to descend and dig into something. However, he controlled himself and kept them out of the carpet – after all, they’d likely have a better target all too soon.

They stared at each other, tension building in the air.

Just when Loki was ready to twist and deliver a preemptive swipe, those jaws came down. A blue hot zing flared up his spine, delaying him for the split seconds it took Tony to get away.

Not very far, though.

Anger heating his blood, Loki shot after him. There. It hadn’t even been a few steps, and already he had caught up, claws out as he wrestled Tony to the ground.

And the gloves came off.

Bites were for real this time, some of them piercing skin. No tearing. (Never that.) But there was non-pretend aggression; actual intent to hurt, to draw blood. Loki certainly had with his claws, inflicting a good number of non-shallow scratches that Tony would feel for days after.

Still, Tony kept up, giving as good as he got. (...or at least he was trying to. Poor little dog, no claws. Aww.)

There was no remorse at all in the way he dug his fangs into Loki’s shoulder, or straight up slapped his nose (which was unpleasant to say the least). Not a hint of ‘My bad.’ No ‘Sorry I bit your fucking tail.’

And Loki was pissed.

Rage burning in his veins, it didn’t take long after that for him to pin Tony down. Crouching over him, he got his jaws around Tony's throat, growling warningly as his teeth made careful – not to be confused with gentle – contact.

I win.

Triumphant satisfaction swept him. Savouring the welcome high, he stayed as he was, giving Tony a bit of time to let it sink in and gracefully accept defeat. ...not that that would happen.

What was far more likely was Tony complaining loudly, pawing at him or commencing some kind of escape artist wiggle – if not all three at once. But that was common practice, and Loki was prepared.

What he wasn't prepared for was this: nothing.

And then, a quiet, heartstopping whimper that cut his composure in two.

Loki tensed; petrified. Muscles freezing in near terror. As if to make up for it, his mind raced: Shit – of course he wouldn’t be used to that, Tony hadn’t grown up with a group of bite-happy fucks – oh god – going for someone’s throat isn’t normal, it isn’t – did I hurt him – did I scare him – no – please–

After what must've been an eternity, he finally got his body to obey him. Carefully, he removed his jaws, concern and trepidation swirling inside him and making his ears lay back. Bracing himself for – something, he glanced up. And promptly felt as if he had tripped and landed straight on his face.

He was grinning.

Tony was grinning.

Eyes sparkling gleefully, his expression was the embodiment of ‘Gotcha;’ mischievous and smugly pleased.

Oh, thank god.

Loki almost swayed under the wave of relief sweeping through him. Tony was fine. Everything was fine.

Right, he didn’t even smell like it. There wasn’t the slightest bit of fear; not even a hint of discomfort in his scent.

And, with his senses released from their adrenaline blinders, he noticed something else: the swish. The light sound of fur brushing over carpet.

Tony's tail was wagging.

Loki almost wanted to laugh. Partly out of anger, mostly out of relief.

Yet both of those died down quickly, and he was left with a sickening feeling; with the memory, the fear of what could have happened. What if he had actually hurt Tony? Scratches and nips were one thing, and par for the course – unavoidable, almost. He was careful, though. Always.

But what if he hadn't been careful enough?

What if he had overdone it in his anger. What if he had seriously injured Tony, or caused him to fear him?

Discomfort churning in his stomach, he drew back, instinctively making himself small. He hated it. Just the thought was…. no. Gaze dropping to the floor, he curled into himself.

Tony made a confused noise. Loki felt even worse, not wanting to look at him. He turned away, his head lowering further.

There was a moment of stillness. Then, scrambling. In a blink, Tony was standing in front of him, snuffling and softly nudging at him.

Loki rasped out a small noise, and turned away. With a concerned whine, Tony followed, and after a beat, plopped down on the ground to catch his eye. Loki ducked his head, evading his gaze. Ears folded back and heart pulsing disquiet.

Giving another whine, Tony shuffled forward. His head burrowed under Loki’s, continuing until his nose bumped against him. Nuzzling in, he let out a low hum (that definitely sounded apologetic), then simply lay still.

Loki stared down at Tony’s ruff. Discomfort lingering, he nonetheless couldn't help but note the amusing resemblance to someone sticking their head in the sand. After a moment’s hesitation, he sighed and set his chin down. Tony made an approving sound, and seemed to inch even closer.

Fondness welling up inside, Loki lifted his head again. Preempting the grumble that was sure to follow, he instead stuck his nose into Tony’s fur, and breathed in deeply.

The effect was immediate: pervaded by the scent most familiar and dear, his body loosened; lightened. Like a coiled spring unraveling, he felt himself easing up, each inhale draining his tension further. Because it was right there, in his scent:

Tony was alright.

He was impossible, and aggravating, and at times a complete menace, but he was alright.

And that was... good.

It was all that mattered.

Slowly, his heart calmed. From tripping over itself, to stumbling, to pacing with ease, Loki felt it settle in his chest.

And he just breathed Tony in, each inhale bringing assurance and comfort. It was so very... nice. So very good, and right. Tony's scent, and his warmth. His breaths softly flowing through Loki's fur. The simple, magnificent presence of him.

Peacefully, they lay there.

Long moments became minutes, became a lulling, indefinable stretch of time. Calm and content once again, Loki felt his thoughts slowing, his body growing heavier. And soon, he dozed off for a second time.

...

Awareness came slowly. Ears twitching, he took a few deep breaths, then lifted his head to yawn.

What a good nap.

It must’ve lasted quite a while, too, going by the changed light in the–

Oh.

...oh no.

Loki turned his head. Just as he had thought, it had moved. He stared at the place where the rectangle of bliss had been, and cried out mournfully.

His sun spot.

His wonderfully toasty piece of heaven, gone.

(Well, not fully gone – it was across the room and part up the wall – but gone enough.)

It was awful.

Tony twitched and lifted his head. Loki made another sad noise at the chill where Tony's head had been.

Why are you leaving me, too?

More offended than what he himself knew was sensible, he smacked Tony's shoulder and turned away. Laying his head down on his paws, he stared longingly at the lit wall and carpet.

There, but so far away.

And so small on the ground.

Much smaller than before. ...too small, really.

Disgusted with the state of things, he grumbled quietly to himself.

Tony huffed, and Loki eyed him listlessly. Letting out another amused sound, Tony gave him an affectionate nudge. And then he got up and walked. Away.

How dare.

Flaming with indignation, Loki only kept himself from yowling out by the tips of his whiskers. Dear god, he wasn't turning into some moody toddler. There was no way. Tony might have influenced his behaviour somewhat, but certainly not to that extent.

So, like the rational and mature being he was, he lay there and quietly fantasized about his sunny spot.

...of course, he could move.

.........of course he could do that.

...

Before he could work himself up into a state (he was a rational, level-headed and emotionally mature adult), two hands gripped under his front paws. And pulled.

Surprised but on board with being transported – even if the method was dragging – he gave an approving meow.

Tony chuckled. It was unreasonably pleasing to Loki's ears.

“I would've carried you, but you seem very liquid right now,” Tony said, an audible grin in his voice.

Loki meowed in agreement. He did feel very relaxed. And though he was sure Tony was doing it more for his own amusement than out of an inability to carry Loki's loose-limbed body, he didn't mind much at all.

“Long Lokitty,” Tony sing-songed (which proved that point).

...

...alright. It was nice and all how entertaining Tony found the physical reality of his were form (‘How are you so stretchy. You're like a long piece of fur,’ as Loki recalled him saying on one occasion), but there really was no need to lengthen the journey by pulling him around the couch, twice.

At this rate he might as well have moved himself.

Patience wearing thin, he let out an irritated complaint.

There was a hint of a pause in Tony's stride. Continuing without acknowledging it, he said, “Sorry. Got carried away there... my bad.”

Loki meowed, mollified.

This time without delay, they moved towards it. Oh, yes.

Tony deposited him at the edge – why would he do that? Was Loki supposed to– oh. – then scooped him up as he sat down himself. He leaned against the wall, and there was a sound like he was sinking into pillows (how had Loki not noticed Tony putting them there). Half laying down, half sitting, he heaved Loki further up, then wrapped his arms around him.

Oh, this was delightful.

Tony was a genius.

Solid warmth under him, and softly simmering warmth at his back, heating his fur.

A purr starting in his chest, he shifted a bit to settle in, then gazed at Tony lovingly.

“You like that, hmm?” Tony asked, fondness in his voice and smile.

A rhetoric question, if there ever had been one.

Not deigning to answer it, Loki simply continued looking at Tony, squinting in pleasure.

Smile widening, Tony used one of his hands to pat Loki's head, scritching from up top to behind his ears and into his ruff.

Eyes barely more than slits, Loki purred even louder.

And still, Tony's smile deepened. Softened.

He was magnificent. Beautiful.

And, mine.

Elation mixing with pride and possessiveness, Loki leaned forward to rub his head along Tony's jaw.

With a chuckle, Tony indulged him, chin lifting to give Loki more room. Pleased, he took advantage of it readily. He dragged his cheeks, chin and forehead over Tony's skin, thorough as he rasped through his beard and mixed their scents.

Lovely.

Satisfied, he moved back to look at him again.

“All done?” Tony asked, amused.

Loki gave a little nod, purr resonating.

Tony chuckled (Loki really thought he should do that more often. As in, all the time. Constantly, if possible), and started petting him again.

Mmmmh.

Oh, to be a lynx on one's lover's lap.

Amused at himself, Loki went in for another head-against-chin rub, then cuddled closer. He settled down, forehead pressed to the side of Tony's neck. Right where he could scent him; breathe him in.

A warm cloud of contentment spread out from his chest, and into his whole body. Satisfied and happy, he basked in the warmth of it all; in the gently soothing caresses and the steadying weight holding him.

Just when he was about to nod off again, he heard a quiet, “Sorry for earlier.” It sounded entirely genuine, and a bit contrite.

Affection adding to the brimming warmth, he gave a low, acknowledging noise. Then softly nudged Tony’s neck, letting his purring and general posture do the rest of the talking.

It's alright.

“Love you,” Tony whispered, his arms tightening for a long moment. Gently pressing and enveloping him, as if to ever hold him tight; hold him dear.

Loki breathed out a long sigh, allowing himself to drift and doze again. His body unwound even further, trustingly settling into Tony's embrace. Into solid warmth, and comfort. And finally, he fell asleep for the third time, the last thought on his mind the constant in his heart:

Love you, too.