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The moment is only that: a moment. A handful of fleeting time, golden-warm, as the first rays of sun gleam through the blinds to stripe the bed with light.
Loki's eyes flicker open, still soft and clouded with the remnants of dreams. In this one moment, in this tiny sliver of an instant, he looks calm. Serene. Nothing but peace unmasked on his face. No defences yet raised against the harsh assault of the coming day.
Tony greets him with half a smile. “Morning.”
Slowly, Loki blinks, turning his face into the pillow with a low mmm sound. The frown curving at the corners of his mouth is faint, but it’s there all the same.
The moment is over.
The curtain has come down, shutting out the world and locking all hints of vulnerability somewhere deep inside. Impossible to find. When he finally turns back to meet Tony’s gaze, the window to his soul is glazed with plate steel and razor-wire. “What time is it?” he asks.
Tony’s hand sneaks up to Loki’s neck, fingertips tracing his chin and jaw before trailing down to seek out the tension that gathers in knots along the gentle ridge of his spine. “Early. Just past six. Go back to sleep.”
Another moment. It passes even quicker than the first. One moment in which Loki forgets his walls and masks and lies and defences and allows this little shard of affection. Leans into the touch, just the slightest bit…
Then, with a prickling snarl, he pulls the covers up as a protective shell, shielding his face. And Tony, smiling outright now, rolls over to wrap his arm around the familiar body. His forehead rests against the jutting angle of Loki’s shoulder. The faint musk of sweat and sex still lingers in the blanket.
"Go back to sleep," he murmurs, tightening his hold on Loki’s waist despite the lack of response.
Because I want to watch you wake up again.