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"Tell me about your past," Loki suddenly requests, quite unexpectedly.
"What?" Tony frowns. Loki can't be serious. Sometimes it feels like he's done nothing over the past three days than talk about himself, in between trying to get details of Loki's life out of him, though that's like pulling teeth mostly. Sure, he left some things out, barely brushed by others, but surely Loki can't expect him to spill his innermost secrets after not even knowing each other for a week.
"About the SGC," Loki elaborates, eyes narrowed. "You have not mentioned them before, but you were not surprised they sent that woman."
Ah. Trying not to grimace, Tony picks at the last bits of pasta on his plate. Pretty much the first thing they had done – after Tony had calmed down from the separation, and Loki from Tony not telling him about how it was hurting him – was go through the baskets and make a fresh meal with the peppers and the pasta and the chicken. Other than food there had been a standard Sentinel-safe hygiene kit including shower gel and washing powder that Tony doesn't think they'll need because so far Loki has seemed fine with Tony's standard, lightly perfumed stuff, and also lube. Lots of lube. Which is thoughtful, but, well. There's no need for it just yet.
"Well?" Loki raises one eyebrow at Tony, who sighs and nods. Clearly he's not getting out of it, but how to sum up decades of history?
"I got tagged as a Guide when I was around four. There was some dinner party and a Guide/Sentinel pair attended – military, which is a different caliber than most other pairings – and the Sentinel pegged me by scent alone." He scowls at the memory. The Sentinel hadn't exactly been nice about it; today he knows that that's just how Sentinels are who have seen a lot of combat but as a child he'd been terrified. "They say it's lucky if you get tagged early because you can be trained better, you're better prepared, but that also means you know for much longer how pointless anything you do might end up being."
Loki frowns. "Pointless? Why?"
This is really not something Tony wants to explain to Loki, but he'll have to at one point anyway, so he might as well now. "Theoretically, Guide and Sentinel are supposed to be a unit. Practically this means they'll try to compromise, but generally one of them has to give their life up, and it usually ends up being the Guide, even more so then than now."
At the incomprehension in Loki's face he scowls, pushes the plate away from himself and crosses his arms. He's still annoyed about all this, probably will always be. "It's because Guides are less important, you see? Yeah, we're good for crowd control, and that makes us valuable assets – especially in the Sentinel's profession. Most Sentinels go military or police by instinct. It's the defendant of the people thing. And in the face of that, well, the teacher or inventor isn't really all that important, right?"
Tony huffs, feeling himself getting more worked up. Taking a deep breath, he makes a concerted effort to calm down and get back on track. "So, well, I didn't really do well with that. That's not the only reason, but it's definitely one of them – why I made sure I'd be too damn valuable to push around. Suffice to say they weren't too happy about that. And then I don't get matched up, despite genetic match-ups becoming more and more common in most countries that have something resembling the SGC. Not in my teens, not in my twenties, and by the time I turn thirty it's pretty obvious my Sentinel's not around anymore, so they change course – I mean before they were vaguely disapproving, and partly supportive, some people are all with the Guide rights movement so there was some political maneuvering, but in general they weren't too cool with what I was obviously doing. I guess they thought I was considering refusing my Sentinel, if I ever got one, which I obviously wasn't but well, there you have it. So I turn thirty, thirty-one, thirty-two, and from that age on my chances of being matched up after all are pretty low statistically speaking, so they start sort of… pitying me, I guess. They were all "oh it's because he's unmatched", and there is some history of Guides, well. Not dealing well without their Sentinels. So they start calling me once a week, inviting me to stupid mixers and unmatched Guide support groups, that sort of thing. Of course I'm not overly happy about that, especially because I can't let somebody else handle their mail or calls – it's the law, I have to take them personally." He shrugs. "Long story short, there is some history, nothing overly dramatic but I'm not overly happy with them."
Loki is frowning thoughtfully. "So it is expected for me to take you with me?"
Spine stiffening, Tony looks up at him. "No. With you they'll probably try to twist it so you'll have to stay here; they'll be insanely curious about you." He narrows his eyes at Loki. "Also, I would not let you."
Mouth twisting bitterly, Loki snorts. "Not to worry, I have no intention of returning h- to Asgard anytime soon. But I will leave eventually, and I will not leave you behind."
The way he says that, as if Tony has no choice in the matter, pisses him off. But he has to acknowledge it's only fair; he can't reasonably expect Loki to stay here forever. "As long as I get advanced warning to prepare, it's not permanent and we come back eventually I'm fine with that."
Loki raises an eyebrow, looking amused, but doesn't call Tony on it. Instead, he glances at the leftover food on Tony's plate and asks, "Do you not intend to finish?"
Tony barely glances at his plate, curling his fingers into his palms. He just really wants to touch Loki right now but even after three days of getting used to it, he still feels silly. He isn't a child who needs to be reassured through physical affection.
"Then I would like to go back to bed," Loki says, and Tony can't interpret his expression at all, doesn't know if Loki can tell what he needs and is doing him a bit of a favor or if it's just something he wants (just as probable, Loki feels incredibly comfortable in the bed that smells only of both of them, Tony knows). Still, he's certainly not going to pretend he isn't fully on board with the idea.
They've been dozing for about an hour, Loki curved around Tony, one leg and arm thrown over him like a cat, when Loki pulls away and sits up a little. Tony, who has been just about to start the meditation breathing he was taught in Guide classes decades ago, waits for a moment but when Loki doesn't do or say anything else he shrugs mentally and starts to breathe in through his mouth and out through his nose.
Exploring the place in his chest that had hurt with their separation is less easy than it sounded like in the instruction manuals; Tony is sure that it's the bond forming between them and according to general advice available to him it should be instinct for him to check on its progress and condition. Instead it takes him a fuckass long time to even pinpoint the exact location where the pain had originated (not organically, psychically, sort of, it's hard to explain) and then all he can tell is that something is there.
By the time he gives up and pulls out of meditation a considerable amount of time must have passed because it's dusky in the room. Tony blinks and yawns and stretches, clenches all the muscles in his body before abruptly going lax, somehow feeling utterly relaxed despite the vague irritation buzzing in him at his incapability.
Loki is watching him when he finally turns his head, half sitting up on one elbow. When their eyes meet he reaches out and trails his fingertips across Tony's cheekbone, looking thoughtful and pensive and sort of quiet. "You are beautiful," he says.
Suddenly Tony is glad for the bad light in the room because he can at least pretend Loki can't see perfectly how he flushes, how a honest to god blush spreads on his cheeks. He doesn't even know what to say, caught completely off-guard – it's the matter-of-factness with which Loki said it, like it's a fact, like that's a normal sort of thing to say.
Luckily Loki doesn't seem to be expecting any sort of reply. He is silent for a moment before continuing, "I consider myself lucky."
Tony ducks his head and as usual when he's out of his comfort zone, his mouth runs away from him. "What, because I'm b- not ugly?" Immediately he winces because it sounds like he's making fun of Loki when he isn't, he's just really uncomfortable because he doesn't know what to do and his usual coping mechanisms of deflection really don't work with Loki.
"No." Loki raises an eyebrow. "You have been quite generous and indulgent of me. You have been considerably more helpful with and tolerant of this than anybody else has been in my whole lifespan, and despite what you seem to think, not everybody has been ignorant." He takes a firm hold of Tony's chin, turns his face so he's facing his Sentinel full on. "Do not believe me stupid or naïve. I have met quite a number of Midgardians, in the past and most recently, and I know that I am blessed that it is you who balances me."
Really, what is Tony supposed to do with such sincerity? He has no fucking idea, so he tries equal sincerity, even if he's definitely more awkward about it. "For what it's worth, I'm glad it's you too. I could've gotten anyone, some sort of douchebag or ignorant half-wit, someone who'd jerk me around or use me for my assets, but you I rather… like. So." By this point his face must be completely red. He ducks his head, embarrassed with all the honesty and talking about feelings.
Loki doesn't say anything, just leans in and brushes his lips across Tony's cheek before shifting into a more comfortable position, half on top of him with his face nestled into Tony's neck.