Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There’s a beep above his head and Loki looks up from the piles of papers. He hears the closing door’s soft thud, puts down his pen, and slips out the back room of his store to stand behind the counter.

“You’re still open, right? You have that sign in your window.” A man perhaps eight years older than Loki’s 23 pauses in his store. “You’re the only one down the street that’s open and, well, I don’t know where to go."

Even with the dark cloud hanging above Loki’s head he can’t help but notice the evening shopper’s artfully shaped facial hair and his semi-open red shirt. The man wears a large and expensive watch on his left wrist. He's short - maybe more than half a head from Loki, even with that styled brown hair. Loki blinks. And then he blinks again. How strange.

"Feel free," Loki says, and fortunately his voice comes out at a normal pitch. For something to do he glances again at the clock - 9:32 PM - and tries to focus on nothing, nothing at… all.

The short man hovers over the treacherously-piled stuffed bears and nutcrackers and wooden rocking-horses. Loki's toy shop is not neat. Loki's room is neat, and Loki himself immaculately so - but the toy shop is his life and soul. He likes it, that chaos - maybe it even adds character to the little store most only chance upon. The pride of place is given to a shelf displaying all of Loki's handmade toys and knickknacks - an eight-legged horse, a blue jewelled box-

Crash! Loki jerks his head up. Toys topple to the floor. Boxes tip. The shelf cascades - there's a muffled cry - the man - ?

Loki runs over. The man groans under a giant plush dog.

"Are you okay?"

The man swears indistinctly and pulls himself up, then turns to look at the mess.

There's a silence.

"I… can pay for that."

"There's no need, there is no lasting damage. Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine."

"Here - let me clean that up-" Loki grabs a shelf and heaves it upright. "What were you attempting to reach?"

"Oh… um, just - this…"

Loki stops, one hand on a shelf leg and one on the crossbeam.

The man bends and picks up a mini science kit at their feet. "…My dad once gave me one of these. For my sixth birthday. Loved it - used the microscope every day - well, until he gave me a bigger one." He clears his throat. "Thought I lost it, then I walked in here and looked through the shelves and saw…"

Loki tips the shelf upright and hooks his thumbs through the belt of his black skinny jeans. "A personification of your childhood."

The short man lets out a short bark of laughter. He runs a hand through his gelled hair, casting Loki a sidelong glance. "I'm not usually the sentimental type."

Loki avoids his look and starts shelving the toys. "If you carry it to the counter I can apply a 50% discount." He glances up briefly to smile and meets brown eyes. Loki misses a beat. "Christmas discount."

He wonders if the short man can see the shaking in his fingers.

“Thanks,” the man says.

Loki beeps the 50%-off science kit through. The man reaches inside his wallet, and, without a word, stuffs two fifty dollar bills into the tip box. Both of them pretend to not notice it. Loki places the kit into a plastic bag and hands it to the man along with his receipt. Shrugging on his jacket, the man turns to leave. His first step is slow.

Impulsively, Loki touches his arm. “No, wait here a moment.” He dips in the back room and grabs two cups and a bottle of scotch from a drawer. When he returns, the short man has set the plastic bag on the ground.

“From the stain on your collar I assume you drink, but if you’d prefer another beverage I can look for it.” Loki pops open the bottle. The man doesn’t protest, so Loki pours both the man and himself a half-cup. He sets the open bottle between them. The man looks at him.

“It is Christmas Eve and obviously neither of us are at home enjoying our time with our families or loved ones. I don’t know your story, but since we have no other place to be, why not have a drink?”

For a moment the short man stares. And then he tilts his head, regards his cup, and makes a funny motion with his mouth. “Sure, why not?” His eyes dart up to Loki’s face. He subconsciously licks his lips. “Why not.”

Loki grabs his little styrofoam cup and tries to not think about what he’s doing. The last time he drank was years ago, at a party of his brother’s. Loki shudders.

“I haven’t caught your name yet?”

“I’m Tony. Tony Stark.”

“Loki.” He shakes Tony’s hand. (Tony, Tony, such a beautiful name.) His grip is smooth and firm, like a practiced businessman’s. “Come with me into the back room?”

Tony follows Loki through the door. Loki sets down the scotch and drags a chair from the corner, trying to subtly shift the piles of paper on the table.

Tony takes a seat and then a drink. “So, Loki. What’s your story?"

Loki lounges back in his chair. “The last time my family spoke to me I moved out.” Yes, that sentence is good. Simple, succinct, and tart enough the man (probably) won’t ask further. “You?”

Tony takes another drink. “Girlfriend broke up a month ago. And my parents died when I was 21.”

Loki blinks. He can think of nothing better to say than “I am so sorry.” Good job, Loki, of all the things you could’ve replied with-

Tony doesn’t notice; he lets out an inaudible sigh and then: “Well, I’m still alive, aren’t I? Carrying on their legacy and everything. But I’m okay living on my own, and so far I’ve done pretty good.” He drains the cup. “So you live by yourself?”

“I do, yes.” Loki sips. Tony’s face seems to be getting fuzzy already. Ah, excellent. “Well, excluding my cat Jǫrmungandr. He likes to claw, and whenever I feed him he stalks out of the room with raised-tail pride and slinks back to devour it when he thinks I don’t watch.”

Tony gives a cooperative laugh. “Me, I always liked cats. Except they always kind of look at me funny. Tough world.”

Loki smiles with him, and refills his cup. “So what is your occupation during the day?”

“Oh, I do this physics-engineering development thing at one of the big tech companies. Top-secret, hush-hush: can’t have anyone leaking out new designs to the other companies.” Tony knocks back his scotch. “Last year, this software engineer from one of the big companies asked me out to try to get intel.” He laughs. “I dumped that boyfriend pretty fast.”

Loki sits up. “...Boyfriend? So you’re...”

“Yeah, I’m bi. Wide-open field.” Tony takes a long, slow drink.

Loki keeps a straight face. “Really? That’s interesting.” He grabs his cup to steady his hands. “Personally I like to date men, but I have only had a serious boyfriend once, in high school.” Did that sound desperate? Loki hopes that wasn’t desperate. Maybe he can blame it on the alcohol if things don’t proceed as he wants.

“You’ve only had one boyfriend?” Tony may or may not have given him a once-over. “What are people, blind?”

Loki replies with a confident smirk and a raised eyebrow. “I have high standards. You don’t look overly awful yourself.”

“A hard and terrible life I lead.” God, what is he doing?

Loki throws on a casual smile. “At least take me out to dinner first.”

Tony grins and downs the amber drink in one. “What’s open Christmas Eve night?”

“There’s a McDonalds down the street.” Loki studies his face and then finishes his own scotch, grimacing slightly. The liquid burns all the way down. “Open 24/7. I’m lovin’ it.”

Loki grabs his light coat from the hanger next to the door and follows Tony out into the cool night. The harsh streetlights drown out the winking specks of white from high above. The McDonalds is hardly more than a block away. Loki shoves his hands in his coat pockets, and as they walk he can’t help but smile faintly at their height difference.

“What?”

Loki widens his grin. “I could comfortably use your head as an armrest.”

Tony scowls and looks away, but when Loki turns his head he moves in just a little bit closer.

At McDonalds there is exactly one cashier in the building. The acne-ridden teen looks up from his phone and stands tiredly.

“BLT and a medium latte.”

“And a double cheeseburger and a Pepsi, medium?” Loki watches the cashier punch it in.

“To go or to stay?”

Tony draws out his credit card. “Let’s do to stay, and I’m paying for both.”

Loki throws him a glance. “You don’t need to.”

“Too late, Lokes.”

Loki doesn’t know if it’s the scotch or the air or if someone somehow put something in his food five hours ago, but a ridiculous series of images of the attractive short man and he watching cheesy movies, sitting on park benches, walking along lakes and generally going out going out flashes by his eyes.

Ridiculous.

Loki doesn’t do that, Loki doesn’t know how to do that. Loki bitches and ditches, even Odin knows that-

Tony chooses a table that happens to be separated from the view of the counter by a section of wall.

“So, Loki,” he says, the latte at his lips. (Drinks seem to fit naturally in his hand - it was like the square pants to Spongebob. You question when they’re gone.) “You haven’t told me about your family yet.”

And of course it would eventually come back to this; Loki is a fool for thinking otherwise. The man opposite him is obviously a recalcitrant one. “It’s complicated,” he says a trifle coldly.

Tony appears to catch the tone but he’s undaunted - like Loki had predicted he would be. “There’s time.” He sets down his coffee.

Loki is silent for a second. He reaches for his Pepsi. He spends another second taking a drink, and then gently puts it back down. He toys with the straw wrapper. Tony waits.

“My... father, Odin, was the head of the family business. It was everything in the family: his father ran the business before him and his father before him, for generation after generation."

Loki watches Tony lean forward. His brown eyes are intense like Loki is the most fascinating thing in the whole wide world, except Tony’s gaze holds no trace of hostility.

“I... had a brother, Thor: blonde hair, blue eyes, big and fit and popular and everything everyone saw in the perfect family masthead. But Odin always said both of us were born to lead.

“To be brief, one day I was a month from eighteen and fresh out of high school and poised on the edge of officially joining the family business when I found - these adoption papers on Odin’s desk.” Loki’s jaw tightens. “He never once said - It all made sense then - I never even stood a chance - ”

Loki’s fists clench. Tony’s hand moves across the table to cover Loki’s but then there’s a movement and both their eyes travel to the coffee cup falling over as in slow motion, tipping backwards as it hits the edge of the plastic tray with the rapidly-sliding level of the hot brown liquid almost audible in that suspended silence.

The side of the cup makes contact with the table with a soft thud and the thin flimsy lid bursts open, stir-stick skewing slightly as coffee streams out the open maw.

Tony yelps and leaps up. “Shit! Fuck - Hot hot hot hot-”

Loki jumps up and grabs the napkins. He mops the coffee from Tony while trying not to actually touch him with the soaked fabric of his clothes.

“-holy motherfucking shit, oh god I’m sorry Lokes, oh fuck fuck fuck-”

Loki runs to get more napkins.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom to clean up, wait here and I’ll be back-”

He hobbles to the washroom. The cashier has by then noticed the commotion, put away his phone, and dashed over to the table with a rag and a mop. Loki steps out of his way and wipes his hands clean with the last napkin.

Suddenly his phone rings. Who’s calling him at this time?

Loki tosses down the balled-up napkin. “Hello?”

“Loki?” The voice at the other end of the line is all-too-familiar. Loki’s heart sinks.

“Hello, Thor. Thought Odin forbade you from ever communicating with me again?”

There’s a heavy sigh and a brief crackling sound. “How are you, brother?”

“I’m quite well, considering how around a few years ago I was literally living off the streets, my only legal source of income occasional janitorial work! Tell me, how are you, Thor? Is the family business booming under your exceedingly capable hands? On feastdays does the family shake their heads at how anyone could have ever thought a foreigner could’ve sought the crown, and then sing songs of praise of Odin and how great he is?”

“No, Loki, it is not as you think-”

But Loki is now past caring. “If I hadn’t found those adoption papers would Odin ever have told me? No, he only admitted the true reason I never looked the same, talked the same, thought the same when he was finally forced to. He only admitted the real reason he favoured you over me, while we were both his ‘sons’, when he was finally forced to. Even before I knew, the family still treated me as an outsider. Why? Because I am not of Odin’s blood!”

Thor sighs again. “Loki, Mother wishes you back home. She never says it, but I know it.”

“Well, I am sorry, Thor, but even if I am willing to ignore the scorn of the family and Odin I have built a life here. I own a store, I have my own business. Mind yours and Mother will never see us fight.”

“Loki... I am sorry of any hurt to you by our father-”

“He’s not my father!”

There is a pause. “And I am not your brother.”

Loki allows an even longer silence. He closes his eyes briefly, and then exhales. “You are not my brother.”

When Loki hears Thor’s voice again, its tone is neutral. “I called you to wish you a happy Christmas Eve and a merry Christmas. I apologize I couldn’t call sooner; I have had a busy day today.”

Loki answers in an equally neutral voice. “I wish you a merry Christmas and a happy new year as well. Thank you for making time.”

“Farewell, Loki."

“Farewell, Thor.”

Loki hangs up first. He breathes in slowly, and then breathes out.

When he turns around the first things he sees are brown eyes and stained clothes.

And then he runs out the door.

Loki doesn’t make it far. He barrels along the wall of the building until he finds a little corner behind skeleton-finger trees where the streetlight doesn’t fully reach. Loki leans against the rough stone and covers his face with his hands, staring up through the cracks of his fingers at the faint stars above. His eyes are dry; his mouth is dry, too. He doesn’t know if he wants to scream or cry or laugh at the small, small world around him. So Loki does none of these.

He doesn’t know how long he stands there in the cold, looking up at the stars and trying not the think. He only knows that after what feels like forever Tony shows up, with a paper bag saying McDonalds, his Pepsi and his jacket.

“How much did you hear?”

Tony does not reply. He drapes the jacket around Loki’s shivering shoulders and helps him into it.

Loki shrugs into the jacket and takes the Pepsi. He hadn’t realized how cold he is, before. “Thank you.”

“C’mon, let’s walk.”

Loki follows obligingly with Tony’s firm hand on his arm. He has a half-formed thought to shrug it off and insist he go home to his bed and the opened scotch, but a small voice at the back of his mind decides to push that down.

“Where are we going?”

“For a walk.”

Loki and Tony pass under pool after pool of streetlight halos and neon signs. They pass a group of giggling girls and then a suit-clad man, furiously talking on his phone and frantically trying to wave down a taxi. They pass a tall young man and his short blonde friend being thrown out of a bar. The tall man yells something about ‘ash’.

Loki doesn’t know exactly how it happens, but by the time Tony sees a bench and proclaims it satisfactory they are intertwining fingers. They sit and Tony self-consciously draws his hand back. Loki doesn’t comment.

They don’t speak for a second.

Tony buries his face in his hands, sighs loudly, and then reaches inside the pocket of his jacket.

“Blueberry?”

“No thanks.”

“Well, I’m having one.” Tony pops a dried blueberry into his mouth and chews very visibly. He swallows, reseals the packet, and stuffs it back in his jacket.

Loki looks on expressionlessly.

“Look, I don’t really know about you and your family, and I’m not gonna pretend I do and offer you advice, but I am gonna say that I know what it looks like when someone’s in trouble. So here’s what I want to do. Even though I don’t know you that well and you don’t really know me either I’d like to get to. I know you have your own shit going on and you gotta handle that before you move on, but I think you’re a really interesting guy and I don’t want to spend New Year’s Eve drunk and face-down in a bar.”

Loki’s sitting closer to him than is strictly needed. Neither of them move. Loki can hear every breath Tony takes, every time he exhales. He thinks that he can even see himself, silhouetted by streetlight, reflected in Tony’s cornea. It makes the pupils look like twin universes.

Tony has given him a tempting proposition. Granted, the man seems to be better than all the rest, and - well - maybe, just maybe, there is a chance Loki could make the idea work out. At the very least Tony doesn’t look overly homicidal. Or clinically insane. (But of course he has to be, to even think of - of dating him - )

Loki licks his lips. Tony waits for a response.

When Loki next opens his mouth his voice is soft and low. “There’s a delicious Thai restaurant two blocks from my store. Tomorrow evening, 6 o’clock.”

Tony sits back. “It’s settled.” He opens the McDonalds bag, fishing out two burgers. “And here’s your food. Enjoy.”

Loki takes his cheeseburger and sits back too, smiling into the first bite.

Later, they silently mutually agree that Tony walk Loki home. This was also partly due to the fact that Tony’s science kit is still in Loki’s toy store, and also because it is approximately twenty minutes away on foot. Loki lives in the rooms above the store except for, he explains, the bedroom he rents out. Currently it has no tenant because the previous one had decided to move to Denver for reasons unknown.

They exchange phone numbers and contact information outside Loki’s door. He unlocks it and brings out Tony’s science kit in its plastic bag.

“So... bye?”

“...Goodbye, I suppose.”

“I’ll call you.”

There’s a shrill beeping somewhere close by.

Tony raises his right wrist in surprise and presses a button on his watch. The beeping cuts off. Loki can see that the watch reads exactly 12:00 AM.

“It’s Christmas,” Loki says quietly.

Tony looks up. “Merry Christmas, Lokes.”

In that moment, Loki decides to do his second spontaneous thing in this night of spontaneous things. He cups Tony’s chin with a hand, bends down quickly, and kisses Tony. And as Tony stands there blinking for a brief moment, Loki walks the final distance to the door.

Loki reaches for the doorknob, but hesitates. “Actually, Tony...”

“Yeah?”

“I have a favour to ask of you.”

Tony smiles. “Anything.”

“There is an open bottle of scotch in the back room, but I have no one to share it with.” Loki waits, heart in his throat, hoping he hasn’t misjudged.

Tony pauses for a moment. “...Are you sure?”

Loki chose right.

He gives Tony a wicked smile, hangs the keys by the doorknob, turns on his heel and walks into the store, door swinging after.

Tony stares after Loki for a beat.

And then he shrugs and follows, locking the door behind them.

Chapter Text

Loki wakes up slowly, gradually. His bed is warm. A sweet sleepiness steals over his mind, like cookies and warm milk on a snowy winter day. The blankets are soft on the skin of his bare torso, and an unfamiliar hand rests across his chest.

Loki opens his eyes. Muted sunlight shines through the window blinds. The glowing red digits of the alarm clock on his nightstand read 8:26 AM. It’s nearly an hour past his usual waking time, but the strange heaviness is lying upon him smelling like... security.

The warm presence behind him breathes deeply, regularly - up, down. Up, down. It mumbles something indistinct and shifts. The arm across Loki slides loose.

Loki slips out from under the covers. He pads over the carpet and collects all the scattered articles of clothing over the floor and folds them neatly, in little piles next to his closet. He dresses quickly, in green and dark grey, turns back to glance again at the sleeping figure in his bed, and then walks softly out the room. The door closes with a gentle click.

He collects more clothing in a loose trail leading up to the bedroom. Loki passes the untouched scotch whiskey and smiles faintly. He picks up the two empty styrofoam cups still sitting by the bottle he had brought up from the shop’s back room, yesterday night, and sets them down in the living room/dining room next to his kitchen. He drops the two cups into his trash bin and stows the scotch away in a cupboard.

Half an hour passes before Tony walks in, barefoot, with hair rumpled and shirt even less done up that it had been yesterday.

“Merry Christmas.” Loki sets down his mug. “Coffee?”

“Actually that’ll be really great, thanks. Merry Christmas.”

Loki stands up to add coffee beans to the coffee machine. He finds a Grumpy Cat mug from within the depths of his kitchen and hands it to Tony. He walks over to the fridge doors and grabs two pieces of toast, shoving them down in the slots of his toaster.

“Would you prefer eggs or toast? I know how to make an excellent omelette as well.”

“Just toast is fine.”

The voice comes from right behind. Loki freezes. He flinches in the encircling arms, but relaxes when Tony nuzzles at his neck. Loki decides to gingerly lean back into the embrace. It feels strange, that warm body holding him so tight, that hot breath blowing softly past his cheek and those short bristles of a beard grazing the soft skin of his face.

Safety. It’s a new experience.

The arms disappear after a quick moment and Tony goes to retrieve his freshly brewed coffee. Loki watches him add milk from the fridge and sugar. Loki picks up his own coffee from the table, brings it over to the island, and leans next to Tony.

Tony inspects his cup. “Nice mug.”

“I ordered it from Amazon.” Loki’s eyes keep on flickering from Tony’s messy hair to the open shirt to the fingers beating a constant silent tattoo on his thigh. There’s a particular restless drive to Tony that fascinates him - he’s a jet plane, a steam-engine train, a heavy waterfall over beaten rocks. He’s unpredictably predictable.

Loki tips his mug downside-up to catch the last dregs of his coffee. Tony’s brown eyes follow the movement of his Adam’s apple.

Tony raises his eyebrows and blows on his own coffee.

“Hey, Lokes?”

Loki pretends he doesn’t blush - well, maybe he does. (But just a little.) “Yes?”

“You realise that all across this country, families are sitting around and being all reunited and everything. Eggnog, Christmas trees, relatives, that kind of thing. Well,” Tony continues, setting down his coffee, “Now I don’t know if I’m as jealous of all those sons-of-bitches as I was before. You think that’s weird?”

“Not at all,” Loki says, and leans forward and catches Tony’s lips in a kiss. His chin scrapes against the rough short hairs of Tony’s beard.

Loki pulls back gently and watches Tony the fractions of the second before his eyes reopen and his face resettles into that self-confident mask. He has a silly half-smile on.

“Oh, fuck it,” Tony says, before pulling Loki into another kiss. Their lips crush together. He pushes Loki against the counter, threading a hand through Loki’s hair. Loki rests both his hands on Tony’s hips. The other man takes his mouth away and trails hot kisses down Loki’s jawline, then down his neck. Loki hums softly; Tony makes his slow way to the sensitive skin next to the base of his neck. Tony sucks at it before grazing his teeth gently - and then nibbles.

One of Loki’s hands shift up to Tony’s back and the other creeps into his back pocket. Tony is pressing Loki against the island counter, hard, a leg finding its way between Loki’s two. Tony bites down on Loki’s neck. Loki draws in a breath that turns to a little gasp and Tony fists Loki’s hair in one hand, the other clutching his side possessively.

Tony draws his mouth back just a little and Loki chooses the opportunity to recapture Tony’s lips in his. He pulls Tony’s hips in close and Tony makes a small noise. Loki smiles into the kiss. He can feel Tony growl deep in his throat, and Loki takes in a quick breath through his nose and Tony untangles his hand from his hair and leans both his arms on his either side and traps him in.

Tony snakes in tongue past Loki’s teeth. The stubble of his beard scratch Loki's chin, almost a tickle. The kiss deepens. Loki cants up against his thigh. Tony inhales sharply through his nose and presses in closer, unbearably close. Loki lets out a little sound past his teeth, and the other man smirks. Tony bites down on Loki’s bottom lip and Loki slides the hand from his back down to slip in Tony’s other back pocket. Tony’s hips rock softly against Loki’s own. Their breaths are quick and heavy.

Ding.

Loki and Tony freeze.

Loki hears two pieces of toast pop up from their toaster slots.

Tony leans in very close. His pupils are dilated to copper pennies. “Breakfast’s ready,” he whispers in one ear. Loki shivers.

He turns his face and looks into Tony’s eyes. Tony is breathing hard and fast. “Kiss me,” Loki commands softly.

“- oh - god, Lokes-” Tony grabs Loki’s hipbones and crushes Loki’s lips in his. But then, all of a sudden, he pulls away. “You bastard, Loki. You know exactly everything that you're doing. You’re gonna be the death of me, aren’t you?”

Loki arches an eyebrow, perfectly aware that his flushed cheeks destroy the expression completely. “Problem?”

“No, goddammit,” Tony says, and before Loki can execute any retaliatory eyebrow Tony pulls him down again and stifles his smirk with his kiss.