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The rumble of thunder was almost too faint to hear, but Loki’s brain registered the familiar noise out of habit.
“Incoming,” he announced, not bothering to look up from the paperwork spread across the table in front of him. Tony had declared a holiday and dragged Loki to his house to help with preparations, but there were a few loose ends to be addressed before Loki could fully commit himself to any sort of celebration. Aeslin was due at any time; she’d spent the morning at the stables but had texted to let them know she would be there soon.
Tony tucked away his phone. “My first guest!” He went to the window and looked up at the clear blue sky, his mercurial face falling slightly when he saw no clouds.
Loki grinned a little as he ticked a pen down his list. “Trust me. He’s here; just give him a minute.” A thought, and his brows knit. “Wait. We’re not guests?”
“You guys have your own rooms,” Tony replied easily, still peering through the glass. “Means you passed the guest stage a long time ago. I don’t actually know that your brother’s ever been here, so I figure he still counts as a visitor.”
There was a thump on the deck outside, and Stark slid the door open and threw his arms wide in greeting. Thor stepped into the room, smelling of ozone and stardust, and Loki smothered the unwelcome twinge in his stomach at the faint but recognizable scent of the observatory’s magic. He pushed the papers away and stood as Thor clasped Stark’s arm, then raised his face to look at Loki.
“Loki,” Thor said, a wide grin on his face. “It’s good to see you.” He stepped forward, arm going out, and then Thor stopped himself; Loki wondered idly how many times he’d practiced this moment. There was a brief flash of uncertainty on Thor’s face before Loki smiled at him, holding out one hand. Thor took it, pulling him into a hug and clapping him on the back.
“It’s good to be seen,” Loki replied as Thor released him.
“Where is your companion?” his brother asked, his eyes darting around the room with excitement, and Loki shrugged.
“She’ll be here soon enough. Why so eager? Bored with your own mortal already?”
Thor only grinned in response as Stark popped up between the two of them, practically rubbing his hands together as he addressed Thor.
“Did you bring the goods?”
A friendly hand on Stark’s shoulder. “They wait in the observatory; Heimdall will send them on a signal, but we thought perhaps you might not want your dining table indelibly marked by the Bifrost. He shall send them to the spot I landed, and we can fetch them there.”
“No time like now,” Stark said gleefully. “C’mon, Longshanks. Let’s go get some presents.”
Loki glanced back to the table. “I’m still-”
“Shop’s closed, Scrooge,” came the reply as Tony grabbed each brother by a bicep and headed toward the door. “Move out.”
***
The slight irritation Loki felt at the inability to finish his work was quickly dulled by the sight of his brother smashed uncomfortably into the front seat of an electric golf cart. There wasn’t much more room in the back, to be honest, but it was enough to make the whole short trip to the landing pad worthwhile.
Thor gave a signal, and the wind picked up as a beam of light shot to the concrete. Loki closed his eyes for a split second, breathing in as deeply as he dared. He couldn’t feel the magic, but he drank in the light and the sound and the scent of the bridge in the too-brief moment before it vanished again. In its place stood one of the large chests the royal family had used for centuries to transport goods between the realms. This one was older and more battered than most; the edges scorched and worn from countless trips through the cosmos, and Thor’s personal sigils wove through the intricate carvings.
Per Thor’s instructions, it was loaded rapidly onto the second cart, and the tiny caravan made its way back to the main house. Aeslin met them at the door, and Loki’s heart made its familiar, tiny leap when he saw her leaning against the jamb. He walked carefully, carrying one handle of the chest while his brother bore the other side; he smiled as they came closer, trailing the fingers of his free hand subtly across her waist as he went through the wide doorway. Not what he actually wanted to do, not by any stretch, but he was still occasionally reluctant to show more affection than necessary around others. Doubly so in front of Thor, who was sure to report every nuance, every movement back to his mother, filling in details that the Gatekeeper might miss. Loki was under no illusion that he was left unwatched; he could only hope that the moments stolen when they were together would at least be kept to Heimdall’s sight alone. The watcher, though not always friendly, had ever been respectful, and Loki hoped that, even given his behavior at their last meeting, a thousand years of loyalty might be enough to curb Heimdall’s tongue.
He and Thor put the chest carefully down at the edge of the room, and at a word from his brother, the catches released and the lid raised a fraction.
“First,” said Thor, “I bring gifts from the palace kitchens.” He lifted the lid further, a gentle scent escaping, and Loki narrowed his eyes. He hadn’t.
A gentle smirk as Thor extracted a cloth-covered basket, pulling back the napkin to reveal a jumble of pastries, draped in glaze and heavily studded with fruit and nuts. The fragrance was heavenly, and the grin got wider as Thor handed the first to Tony, then one to Aeslin and last of all to Loki. “Your favorite, brother,” was all he said, and Loki took it gingerly, then shook his head.
“You sneaky bastard,” he replied, not even bothering to hide the stupid smile that came to his face. “They’re still warm.”
“Your favorite,” Thor merely repeated, then turned to Tony. “Is your woman here? I thought perhaps she would like one as well.”
“I think she’s downstairs. Can I take one to her? Maybe make like it’s from me? She’s out of truffles again, and the ones she likes are on backorder. Not even I can speed them up; they’re that far behind.”
A chuckle. “As you wish, Stark.” He watched with a bit of affection as Tony took another one, making his way rapidly from the room, and then Thor looked back at Loki and Aeslin with a half-smile.
“She never fails, does she?” Loki said in answer to his unspoken question, unabashedly licking icing from his fingers. “All these centuries, and Ingrid still manages perfection every time.”
“Well,” Thor replied lazily, “how could she not, when I told her who they were for?”
“They.” Loki studied him carefully. “She didn’t.”
Thor pulled another, more tightly wrapped package from further down in the chest and handed it over.
“She did.”
Loki hefted it in his hand experimentally. His grin was only a little wicked. “You can’t think it’s going to be this easy, Thor.”
“I know it’s not going to be that easy,” Thor said with a slight shrug. “But I also thought it couldn’t hurt. They’ll keep well, too. Perhaps for months if you can stand to ration them.”
Loki merely shook his head again, the faint grin lingering at the corners of his lips as he put his treasure on the table.
“And that’s not all I’ve brought,” his brother went on, dipping back into the large, carved box. His voice was a little muffled. “You’ve established your own house, for good or ill, and I would be remiss if I did not hold to the ancient traditions.”
Aeslin gave a bit of a laugh as he put a large box on the table, and Thor responded with a dazzling smile. “A housewarming gift,” she said. “You’ve brought us a housewarming gift?”
“More than that, Kindlesdaughter,” he returned. “A token of celebration; on Asgard, the joining of two houses is an auspicious occasion indeed. It's the least I could do.”
“They’re not exactly joined, Thor.” She shook her head. “Not in the traditional sense.”
Thor shrugged one shoulder as he folded his arms. “Mere details,” he simply said. “Open it.”
Loki ran his fingers across the cloth and raised an eyebrow at Thor as he carefully unwrapped it. The fabric slid through his fingers, warm and soft and glittering. Thor nodded. “From mother’s loom. Fit for a ma-”
“I know what it’s fit for, brother," Loki cut him off smoothly. "Please tell the All-Mother that her gift is much appreciated, and her message duly noted.”
A gentle chuckle. “So I shall.”
The blanket slithered from the top of the box, and Loki and Aeslin stared together. She blinked. “Is that what I think it is?”
“A Goblin’s Teeth set,” Loki said almost reverently, lifting the lid with care as he peeked inside. "You’re joking, Thor. You're joking. Wherever did you get this?”
The answer was quiet. “I had it made.”
Loki’s fingers froze in the act of lifting one of the tiny hourglasses, and he turned toward his brother. “You commissioned this. For us.”
“Aye.” Thor did his best to look nonchalant. “I thought a master such as yourself would recognize Sindri’s work.”
“Sindri,” Loki replied slowly, doing his best to match his brother’s look, “does not take commissions. He hasn’t for a very, very long time.”
“He took this one.”
Loki blinked, harder than he wanted to, and Thor gave him that crooked half-smile. “I only ask one thing in return,” he went on, his voice more formal. “A mere trifle, son of Laufey.”
He steeled himself. “Which is, son of Odin?”
The grin widened again. “A horn of mead, a box of tarts, and a good seat from which to watch her mop the floor with you. Repeatedly.”
Loki laughed, rolling the familiar weight of an hourglass in his hand. It glittered softly in the lights, gleaming silver and inky green. “I think that can be arranged.”