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Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Tony hated these things. The country club setting, the fake smiles, the forced interactions, the strained conversations. Not that he hated socialising, it was not that. Even though he was far from the party animal his dad had been, he liked his fun as much as the next man. But this was hardly a party, in spite of the nibbles and snacks that were passed around in trays by waiters uniformed in white, the free bar, and the goddamn clown making balloon animals for the kiddies. It was a work do, to meet and greet the new recruits to this law firm that prided itself in its familiar atmosphere. And it was just as dire and awful as it had sounded in the e-mail. 

Since he had come as “the plus one,” he was speaking to a lot of "wives". Which was fine with him in theory, especially after several glasses of colourful beverages finished with paper umbrellas, except for how he had been all but kidnapped by a clique who seemed to care only about throwing shade on each other, passing gossip about people he did not know, and complaining about the help. Not much in common with a former NASA engineer, currently freelance inventor with several dozen patents to his name, you see. And goddammit, he could not shake them off. They wanted to make inroads with the new star recruit, didn’t they? If the wonder boy was busy chatting up the bigger fish, they would have to settle for the boy wonder’s wife, Tony.

“Do you and your partner plan on starting a family?” asked the one.

Tony burst out laughing, the improbable photo album appearing clearly in his head.

“God, no,” he said, wiping a tear. It’s not like that, we just like to fuck, he almost said. “I mean, we haven’t discussed it, but we’re not contemplating it right now. He’s just moved back from Europe, we’re still settling.”

He was fast running out of charm. But then, must have been two hours in, he met this Fandral guy. Dashing, enchanting. Tony thought he was making inroads. Then Fandral said,

“Oh, you’re a scientist? You need to meet Jane.”

Introductions were made, and wowie!, thank you, mr. Fandral! For the last hour now, Tony had been chatting away, and getting on like a house on fire, with the most beautiful astrophysicist he had ever set eyes on. By now, they had already traded phone numbers, and they were making vague, yet firm arrangements to meet socially in the future. So he was pretty fucking shattered when she said, “Oh, wait! There’s my husband.” 

Tony had needed a while to take in the whole of that man. He had a face Tony was pretty sure he had seen on several statues in the Vatican museums, a bear’s handshake, and the height and girth to match. The mane of golden hair, casually tied in a loose pony tail that fell over the shoulders of a crisp cream linen suit, with a few stray locks the breeze kept toying with, was just the fucking goddamn cherry. Get rid of the jacket and rip his shirt open, and you have the cover of a Harlequin novel right there. Tony wasn’t sure whether he wanted to fuck him or throw him in a meat grinder.

“Are you one of the new signings?” asked Thor, husky, gruff voice. A bear's voice, of course. 

“No, I’m actually here with my partner,” said Tony.

“Oh, right,” he said. 

Tony sighed. He guessed he would have to introduce them now. Damn.

“Hang on a sec.”

He returned a minute later.

“Here he is. Loki, meet Thor and Jane.”

The two men stood before each other, staring, frozen in shock. Then a smile of pure, unadulterated joy began to dawn on Thor's unfairly handsome face. Loki cut it at the root.

“We’ve met,” he said cooly. He offered his hand. “How are you, Thor.” 

Disappointment dulled the light in Thor's eyes. He managed to retain a smile, but it was weak now, mere politeness. He shook Loki's hand mechanically.

“I’m fine. Good to see you.”

“You knew each other?” said Tony, lamely.

“Yes, we go way back," said Loki. "Practically grew up together. How is your mother.” His tone was unaffected, casual, but he was rolling the champagne in his glass, shifty eyes. Tony read the signs: Loki was tense. Not that anyone but the very chosen, very observant few would ever be able to tell, not with Loki Laufeyson, attorney at law, snake charmer extraordinaire, but if you knew what to look for, there it was.

“She’s well,” said Thor warmly; he seemed pleased that Loki was asking. And then, as if he had just remembered, “This is my wife, Jane.”

“Pleasure,” said Loki, and kissed her hand, eyes fixed on hers, unblinking. Loki did these things; it threw people off, kept them on their toes around him. She giggled nervously. 

“So, you’re the top secret new signing, the one that’s going to win us the Hydra case. I would have never guessed,” said Thor.

“I’m afraid so,” said Loki, toneless. “I didn’t know you worked here. What were the chances. I thought you’d just continue in your father’s firm, you know, take on the family business."

“Balder did,” said Thor. “I… I followed Jane.”

“Oh?” Loki arched an eyebrow and turned his cold, assessing eyes to her.

“I’m an astrophysicist. I go were the tenures take me." Her smile was tight. Loki made her uneasy.

“Astrophysicist,” said Loki, giving Thor an appraising look, as he took a sip of his drink. “Well, I guess conversation isn’t the be and all in a marriage.”

“Loki!” gasped Tony. He forced a chuckle, attempting to pass that observation as a very subtle form of British humour.

Jane acknowledged Tony’s valiant effort with a forced chuckle of her own. 

“So you were good friends, then?” she asked. 

“Tooth and nail,” said Loki, with a joyless, cold, purely social smile. “It was a long time ago.”

“How long?”

“We hadn’t seen each other in… Fifteen years?” ventured Loki. 

“Thirteen years,” said Thor, eyes down on the drink in his hand.

“What happened? You drifted apart?” asked Jane.

“You could say that,” said Loki, a sip of champagne.

Thor seemed uncomfortable, and quite glum.

“How come?” she insisted.

“There was a misunderstanding,” said Loki, still with that cold, reptilian smile. “I misread the signs. I kissed him, he punched me.”

That was one hell of an awkward silence. 

“We were very drunk,” noted Thor, after a minute.

“I wasn’t,” said Loki drily. He finished his glass of champagne in one gulp, with a grimace. He was used to much better stuff. Still with that nonchalant tone, boredom presiding, he turned to his boyfriend. “Tony, get me out of here, will you? Fake a headache, say the contractions have started, whatever. Just take me home.”

Well, that was sudden. Not that Tony could blame him.

“Jane, Thor, it’s been lovely,” he said, as Loki already made his way out. “Will you please excuse us to your bosses?”

“Of course,” said Thor.

“Let’s meet up again, shall we?” said Tony to Jane.

“Sure, I’d love to,” said Jane, kissing his cheek. 

Thor shook hands with him. A bit too tight, if you ask Tony. But he waited until he got to the car to massage his crushed bones and wince.

Loki took the passenger seat of Tony’s sleek convertible. He put on his sunglasses, threw his head back, crossed his long legs, and just looked effortlessly fabulous. 

“So, this is Thor…” said Tony, as he slid the key in.

“Shut up and drive,” said Loki, face towards the sky.

Tony turned the ignition.

Chapter Text

(The past)

“Jesus, Loki! What were you fucking thinking!” snarled Thor, banging the door to his dorm room shut and bolting it.

Loki curled up in the corner of the bed where Thor had just dumped him, arms wrapped around his knees, trying to make himself as small as possible.

“I d-don’t know,” he whispered, sobbing softly.

Thor paced the room, his heart beating so hard, his hands still shaking. Not all the blood on his knuckles was his own.

“You went to a goddamn frat party! That goddamn frat party! Don’t you fucking know those guys? What did you fucking expect was going to happen, eh? What!”

Loki sniffled, his lips trembling. He didn’t have anything but the back of his hand to wipe his nose. He looked every bit the little boy who used to run down the streets after him not so long ago. He even had scrapes on his knees, jeans torn, a little scratch that would scab. Thor remembered the time Loki tried to imitate him and whooshed down the hill on his bicycle without hands. He remembered calling after him, Loki disappearing behind the slope, a shriek of terror, and then the wail of pain when Loki’s shin snapped. Once Thor was sure Loki would live, his own stomach heaving as he tried not to look at the bulge of the bone pushing up the skin, he’d been alternatingly cuddling him and shouting at him for half an hour, while they waited for their parents to come and take him to the hospital. How Loki had cowered from Thor’s panicked wrath then, as he was doing now. He softened up.

“Seriously, Loki, what the fuck did you think you were doing?”

“Brad’s been flirting with me all week…” he said, between sniffles. “We had a coffee date the other day, it was nice… I thought he’d just…”

Rage swelled up in Thor's chest again.

“Brad is a fucking psychopath! Don’t you fucking know that by now?”

Loki’s face scrunched up again with a fresh fit of crying. He hid behind his hands, his shoulders shaking. Thor took a deep breath. He sat down on the bed next to him, and put his hand on Loki's neck, petting gently.

“Do you… do you need to go to hospital?” he asked, stroking Loki’s hair. The position he had found him in… Then again, there had been such a mess when he had started to shout and charged. There had been guys scrambling in all directions. By the time he had got to Loki, he already had his clothes back on, mostly. Thor just had no fucking idea what had happened.

Loki shook his head. “You got there in time."

Thor exhaled in relief.

“And Brad? Uh… Do you need… tests or something?”

“He used a condom. He said god knows where that faggot mouth has been,” said Loki bitterly.

Thor’s blood was boiling again.

“I’m going to fucking kill him,” he growled. 

How Loki looked up at him then, like Thor was the fucking sunrise. Thor didn't know what to do with that. He looked away.

“Loki, I need you to fucking… I just can’t be everywhere all the time, I can’t always be around to get them off your back. What if I hadn’t made it on time? What if Fandral had not managed to find me? There were, like, fifteen of those motherfuckers there. God fucking knows what…” His stomach turned, just imagining it. “Jesus, Loki. Why don’t you…tone it down a little? I mean, do you have to be so fucking obvious?”

“Obvious?” Loki squinted at him, his voice cold.

“Don’t you know what those assholes are saying? They think you’ll just give it up to them because you’re…”

“A flaming homosexual,” cut Loki, articulating carefully, sarcastic. Odin’s words. 

Thor cursed. He heard himself, what he had just said.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean... I'm sorry." He looked at Loki. What a picture. Tears streaming down his cheeks, puffy eyes, that bruise on his cheekbone, the fucking fingerprints on his neck. He really was going to fucking break every single fucking bone in Brad’s body.

“It’s stopped bleeding,” said Loki absently, touching his split lip.

“Promise you’ll never get near any of those bastards again. And don’t let them catch you alone. Stay around people, don’t walk around at night, at least for a while. Please. And no more fucking frat parties, no more fucking frat boys. Just… stick to the Arts majors.”

Loki laughed, it sounded hollow. Too frazzled for real humour.

“Jocks are more my type.” He raised his eyes slowly to Thor, those long eyelashes. 

Thor looked away. He cringed in the heavy silence that followed. They never used to be uncomfortable with each other, ever.

“What I don’t fucking get,” said Loki after a moment, “is why are you friends with them, if you dislike them so much.”

“Shit, I’m not their friend,” said Thor. “I put up with them. Don’t you know how this works? These guys will be running the law firms and the big businesses in a few years, you have to cultivate them. We can’t all opt for the Jamieson Scholarship, you know.”

Loki did understand, actually, better than he wished. He had been ready to put Thor through the grinder. He bet he could make him cry in shame and guilt if he applied himself. He knew Thor’s buttons, switches, and levers like the palm of his hand.

But it wouldn’t be very nice, would it. Thor had just rescued him from something not even Loki believed he deserved. But more than anything, Loki was an opportunist, and here was an opportunity. He put on that sweet smile Thor had never been able to resist. His puffy face and eyes, the split lip, and the bruises on his face took off some of the shine, but they might actually be working in his favour.

“Did you just blow all your chances in this town to save little old me?” he said, batting his eyelashes, in an exaggerated mockery of flirtation.

“Probably,” scoffed Thor, but returned the smile, after a heartbeat. And what a smile it was. Loki feasted his eyes on it for a spell, until Thor looked away and harrumphed.

Loki changed the tone of his voice. “How will I ever repay you,” he purred.

Thor was wringing his hands, refusing to meet his stare now.

“Don't be stupid. You know I’d do anything for you,” he muttered. "You're like a brother to me."

“Anything?” teased Loki, ignoring the last part.

Thor's jaw clenched as he gritted his teeth. He suddenly sprung up to his feet. 

“Fucking hell, Loki,” he grumbled, striding away. He was furious. He slammed the door behind him when he left.

Loki flinched. He banged the back of his head against the wall. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Chapter Text

Monday morning. Thor had really hoped they had dealt with all the bullshit at the goddamn country club, but apparently that had only been a meet and greet, and the real thing started now. There were speeches. First Fury, then Coulson, they welcomed the new acquisitions and expressed their hopes for the future or something along those lines. Then Natasha Romanov, Bruce Banner, and Sam Wilson spoke a few words to introduce themselves. The new specialist interns, James Barnes and Wanda Maximoff, were merely required to wave. Through it all, Thor was only half listening. Loki's presence was a powerful distraction. Thirteen fucking years...

He looked sharp as a razor in that suit, so grown up. Thor couldn't help turning his mind to the boy in skinny jeans and big oversized hand-me-down hoodies he had once known, and wondering if he was still hiding there somewhere, under that sleek black three-piece, obviously made to measure, and surely worth as much as Thor’s whole fucking wardrobe. It was just so strange.

Now finally, saving the best for last, it was Loki's turn to take the stage. He said a few words to acknowledge the warm welcome they had all been offered, and then he got down to business. 

“I realise this firm is banking an awful lot on this case. And I know I have a reputation for taking up lost causes, but let me tell you all, if I really believed they were lost, I would not bother.” (Scattered chuckles.) “Now, I want to make something very clear: I’m not here to replace anyone. This is still Mr. Odinson’s case." He turned to him for a second. “He knows this process and this firm inside out, he knows the workings, strengths, and weaknesses of the team, and he has people’s skills that are well beyond my reach, to which I must and will defer, especially when it comes to dealing with the clients. He practically has ‘trustworthy’ printed on his forehead,” (laughter) “whereas I… well, I’m sure you get the gist,” (more laughter. Loki had this comedic tempo thing down pat.) “So, Mr. Odinson is still the leader of this quest. I’m just here to provide the… magic.” A playful, wolfish smirk. “One more thing. I don’t play nice, because they won't be playing nice. They’ll try to stretch and twist the law to breaking point. Well, I can also do that, and I can do it better. We’ll beat them at their own game." He looked here and there, straight into people's eyes. "We're going to have to be bold and think outside the box, and I'm going to need your trust. Trust me, and we'll win this case."

Thor looked around, the team was enthralled. Even Natasha and Bruce, who struck him as pretty unfazable individuals; even Nick Fury; they all looked spellbound. Silver tongue indeed. 

It was his turn to speak. Jesus.

He stood up, aware of every creak of the chairs, and every cough and every sigh. He said a few words of welcome. Loki’s name rolled easily enough off his tongue — he had been afraid it would catch. He knew that he never spoke better or more eloquently than when he spoke from the heart, so he decided to be candid.

“I’m not ashamed to admit that this case has overwhelmed the resources of this firm. And by that I mean myself. When we took it up, nobody realised its proportions or its complexity - least of all, the clients. With the tangled web of transnational subsidiaries and interstate administrations, their different levels of involvement, and more and more affected people crawling out of the woodwork, we were out of our depth. But the clients believed in us. They turned down bigger firms who only began to court them when Hydra dangled a settlement fee in front of them, but they decided instead to continue to put their trust in us, in our promise that we would fight for them with all we had, and take this to the end. Now it is our turn to deliver on that promise. At my request, in the last few years we enrolled the remarkable talents of Sif, Fandral, Volstagg, and Hogun, to reinforce the team, but as Hydra became aware of the implications if we succeeded and started to pull out the heavy artillery, it soon became clear that we would be needing a bigger boat. Now, with Mr. Banner as our new environmental law expert, Miss Romanov with her vast knowledge of international law, Mr. Wilson, who fought Hydra on the Potter’s Bay case and won, our new volunteer interns — Wanda, James, and the rest of you —, and Mr. Laufeyson, of course, I feel luck is on our side again.” He had a sip of water. He had the attention of the room. He spoke again. “We spend our days working in minor, petty affairs, defending the mean against the meaner. But this, this is the kind of case most of us dreamed that we would one day be pleading, perhaps the kind of case that made us want to study law. This case matters. We’re here to do more than win, we’re here to protect the livelihoods of hundreds of people, to protect the piece of land they want to thrive on and preserve for their children, against the greed of a bully who’d burn and salt the ground for a petty dime. We’ll get Hydra out of those lands for good, we’ll get them to clean what they’ve soiled, and to pay for the damage they’ve already caused. Thank you.”

Everybody clapped. Nice. When he raised his eyes, he found Loki staring, unblinking. Thor looked away.

The meeting dissolved. There would be a break and then the meetings would start. They had to discuss, agree, and organise, they had to lay down the strategy and the first steps.

Before the formalities, Loki addressed the interns, a group of law students and environmental activists who would be offering support, especially with the hoards of paperwork they anticipated Hydra would be trying to smother them in. He was urging them to work their arses off, “like they were actually being paid something,” with his personal guarantee that the rewards would be worth it. People would take out of that vague promise what they wished - to some it would mean money, to others, references, favour, support of some kind; faced with Loki's impish grin, only a few must have been thinking of the environment or the cause of justice.

At the end of his address, Loki declared that, even though he was a lone wolf, given the sheer size of the work involved, he’d be needing a personal assistant.

“Barnes, what do you think,” he said, turning to the specialist intern, handpicked by Romanoff.

It took the boy by surprise. He was clearly flattered by Loki’s attention.

“Yeah, sure. It will be an honour.”

“Oh, it will be a lot more than that,” said Loki, grinning, staring intensely. “In my office. I’ll brief you on what I’ll be needing from you straight away.” He strutted out. He never looked back. He had no doubt whatsoever that Bucky would follow. And he did.

Thor had witnessed the whole thing while pretending not to pay attention. He was now in a hellish mood.

Although he was standing in a room full of people, it felt strangely empty now that Loki wasn't there, like half the crowd had left. Well. He had forgotten how intense it could get when Loki was around. It was the way he stared, the way he talked, but there was something else more mysterious too, like the way he could make you feel his pull even as he ignored you. You relaxed at your own risk around him, and if you were talking to him, you better be on your guard, because he always was, always, his words and gestures calculated to have you dancing to his tune.

Sif, Fandral, Volstagg, Hogun, and a couple more people were by the vending machine, gossiping. Thor said 'hey' and waited his turn for a coffee. 

Of fucking course, they were talking about Loki. 

“He completely turned the Thanos case on its head,” Volstagg was saying. “The FBI thought they had it in the sack, and halfway through the appeal, in comes Mr. Laufeyson, esquire, and turns white into black, and black into white. He pulverised them."

“The man has no morals,” said Hogun. “He’d defend Ted Bundy, Al Capone, and the damn Koch Brothers if the price was right.”

“It’s not the price,” said Fandral. “If it interests him, he takes it. If it doesn’t, they can promise him the moon, and he will pass. I mean, only last year he turned down Steele and Bilco. He took Badlands instead, pro bono. And won.”

“So, you still have a crush on him,” said Sif.

“I’ve always respected his abilities and his drive, and I still do,” protested Fandral. “There’s a difference.”

“Respect for the man who pretty much got Thanos out of jail where he belonged?” said Sif, with disgust.

“Even Thanos has a right to legal defense,” said Thor. “The FBI will have to build a better case next time. Loki simply found the flaws in what they had, and exposed them.” His blood was boiling. Defending Loki was an ingrained reflex, or an instinct, since they were kids. Clearly, old habits die hard. He walked away before he said anything else. 

To be fair, his stress baseline was pretty high up already, it didn't take that much to tip him over the edge. Fact was, he had lived and worked under a lot of constant, increasing pressure over this case for years now. When he said in his speech that they were overwhelmed, he was understating the state of affairs. He had been desperate for help for a long, long time.

Still, it wasn't all fireworks and champagne when the rumours started about Shield reaching out to some high-profile new people to bring in. It caused an upheaval among the staff. Everybody expected a power shift, and Thor had to hear the heartfelt commiserations of those who thought he had basically been demoted. And for all the help he knew he needed, Thor had been raised to be an alpha dog. He would welcome the help and he would have a smile on his face when he did it, but he would be clenching his teeth. At least to begin with. Anyway, any chance he had, he insisted to anyone who would listen that this was not a pissing contest; that this was about real people, three endangered species, and a whole ecosystem (those were Jane’s words, by the way), that he would welcome anything that would help win the case. And he meant it.

But when he said he would welcome anything, it had never crossed his mind that one of these international experts would be Loki. 

Loki. Thor had kept up with his career, of course. Anyone in the legal world did, whether they liked it or not. He had started to make himself a reputation soon enough, while still in London, where he moved after the second year of the pre-law track he was on, as per the terms of his scholarship, and stayed there, to start building up his career and making a name for himself. And what a name. Child prodigy, unpredictable, mischievous, outrageous enfant terrible, he soon had the British bar holding on to their wigs. Already a celebrity of sorts in the European legal establishment, he returned home only to take on cherry-picked cases with an international profile. His presence in courtrooms had been described as “enchanting” and “beguiling,” and his craftsmanship with words and argumentation “arresting” and “mind-bending.” He always displayed a deep, almost arcane knowledge of whatever field of law he decided to tackle. He was infamous for driving judges around the bend with his utterly original reading of the precedents, which he was able to argue and defend until Their poor Honours couldn’t even remember their own honourable names. They called him Trickster, Loki Silvertongue, and many other things not so kind.

Thor had kept up with his career with special interest, of course. Although he didn't always support his causes, he enjoyed his tricks more than he probably should. You just had to admire the artistry. 

Then there was Loki’s private life, of course, if "private" was even applicable in his case. He lived like a rock star from the seventies. Out and proud, and infamously promiscuous, he had gotten celebrities and even European royalty into trouble. -Wonder how Tony Stark fitted into this. Was that Loki settling down?

Thor drank up his coffee and crushed the cup before he threw it in the trashcan.

“Thor,” Sif stopped him in the corridor. “Are you alright?”

He feared more words of solidarity over how much it sucked to have had the case taken off him, which is how is still felt, in spite of Loki’s reassurances.

“Yes, and you?” he diverted.

“Must be a big shock to see Loki again."

Well, it wasn’t what he feared then, it was worse.

“Yes,” he admitted. He laughed about it, trying to take off some heat. “I could have used some warning. And some time to get used to the idea. What are you going to do.”

“Do you think it will be a problem?” she said. “You two never did reconcile, did you?”

“We didn’t. But he seemed pretty unaffected. It was a long time ago.”

“You guys were so close.”

“Sif, what are you trying to do to me?” He forced another laugh. “We’ll… we’ll be fine. We’re professionals, aren’t we?”

In front of Loki’s office, because it would not do to postpone this any longer. There would have to be a hundred meetings between them from now on. There was only one way they were going to get easier. Might as well just start now.

Knock knock. The door slid open one sliver.

“Loki?” He pushed in.

Barnes with his arse on the desk, his back to the door.

“Yes?” Loki poked his head, his mouth blushed and his lips swollen from sucking Bucky’s cock.

Thor’s stomach swooped.

“Fuck.” He closed the door and ran away.

About five minutes later, a knock on his door. It was Loki, still looking pretty fucking debauched. Had he even fucking washed his face after he'd...?

“It’s polite to wait for permission before letting oneself into someone else’s office,” he said, nonchalantly.

“You didn’t even shut the fucking door.” Thor was so indignant he struggled to talk.

“Bucky forgot. I think he was a little nervous.” A crocodile grin.

He didn't give a shit. He wasn't ashamed, he wasn't embarrassed, he wasn't one fucking bit concerned. Meanwhile, Thor was seeing red.

“This is a fucking harassment suit waiting to happen! Are you out of your goddamn mind?”

“Is that your first thought when you walk into something like that? Harassment suits?” He shook his head, condescending.

“He’s an intern, you’re his boss,” growled Thor. “You’re fucking out of line! Fury and Coulson won’t stand for this.”

“Are you going to tell on me? Run to mommy and daddy?”

“Fuck you, Loki,” he hissed.

Loki grinned. He was unruffled and pretty fucking amused.

“Your concern touches me, Thor, but don’t worry so much. I am covered.”

“Are you?”

“Oh, yes. It’s in my contract."

“What is?”

“That I do what I want.” He smirked with all the fun he was having with this. “And now, if you’ll excuse me, Bucky was finished, but I wasn’t. See you later, Thor.”

This time he did shut the door.

First meeting of the day, sitting straight in front of Loki across the table. Some crucial strategy regarding the functions and components of the different teams were being discussed, and all Thor could think of, all he could see in his mind, was Loki’s mouth, gleaming with spit, his lips puffed up and red, that glint in his eyes when he looked up and saw it was Thor.

It felt like a very fucking long meeting indeed. Whenever Loki looked at him, there was a hint of a smirk there. As if he could read Thor's thoughts. Jesus. Thor clenched his fists, looked away, and tried to fucking focus on the task.

We're professionals. Aren't we? 

Chapter Text

“I’m sorry I shouted,” said Thor after a few deep breaths, to his very, very angry, very indignant wife. That temper of his. It had lost him more arguments than he cared to count. “But I’ve had a very tough day. I don’t feel like going out tonight. I wish you had consulted me first.”

“I did! You said it was fine! You weren’t listening? Again?”

Aw, fuck. He pinched his eyes shut and sighed, defeated.

“I’ll go for a shower."

Dinner at Tony’s. Great. The fucking cherry on the shit cake that had been Thor’s week. Hurricane Loki had come bursting in, shaking foundations, pulling windows and doors out of their hinges, scattering debris all over the fucking place.

Thursday. He summoned everybody up and announced they would be taking this to arbitration. Unease on Fury and Coulson’s side.

“But, the precedents…”

They were not in their favour. The judges in that part of the country always seemed to defer to the employers. "Jobs, jobs, jobs" first and foremost, even if the malpractice of said employers was fucking murdering their employees and their families.

“The clients won’t go for it,” said Thor. “They have always imagined we'd be pleading this in front of a jury. And they'll shit their pants when they hear there's no appeal, pardon my French.”

“Hydra won’t go for it,” said Romanoff.

“The offer will come from Hydra,” said Loki, the fierce green of his eyes like Saint Elmo’s fire, “precisely because of the precedents, once the rumours start.”

“Rumours?” said Coulson.

“Now that we have our volunteers, we're going to put them to work. We’re going to create the impression that we’re in for the long run. We’ll be preparing as if we’re expecting a long campaign. I want attention and external pressure: every local and state environmental group hearing about this, every kid on social media spreading the word like wildfire. I want online petitions to launch and letters sent to garner support from all over the country. I also want solidarity groups and funds set up by the clients, to assist those who are struggling and might be more tempted to push for a settlement. I’m also going to buy a house in the area, and I recommend Mr. Banner and Miss Romanoff do the same. I want Hydra to think we are willing to push this for as long as the appeal process lasts, and that we’re going to raise hell each and every one of those years. I want them desperate to get this settled down once and for all.”

“And the clients?” said Coulson. “We need over seventy percent to agree in order to go to arbitration, and the remaining thirty percent is going to be a potential source of trouble until the last minute.”

Loki was grinning.

“Mr. Odinson, the man of the people, is our secret weapon here. I am sure he can show the clients the advantages of getting a final result in six to eight months after the trial, rather than fourteen years, like TWA or Tower Hills. They trust him.”

That was over three hundred people, two-hundred-odd families, and a hell of a lot of lone wolves lost in the goddamn hills. Thor was glowering at Loki, who was returning an almost imperceptible smirk. The bastard.

Grudgingly, Thor admitted that it might actually be not a bad course of action.

“What about precedents?” he said.

“What about them?” said Loki. “I'm going to be pleading the case, aren't I?”

Thor just had to smile. The nerve.

They voted to go with Loki's plan. That meant a stupid amount of work to start mounting up the pressure Loki wanted. Thor was not sure they had the muscle to pull it off, but Loki seemed convinced. He could be very persuasive, and he had turned into a surprisingly motivating team leader. He did his rounds between the volunteers every day, speaking to each individually, giving speeches about the environment and being the change you want to be in the world. Unbelievable.

For Thor, it was a neverending string of phone calls. He had to talk to local politicians, to activist groups, with the fucking press even. And whenever he emerged from his office, Loki was there somewhere, around. It was ever so strange. Just bumping into him by the vending machine, in the corridor, in the meeting room. Like it was nothing, no big deal. After such a long time.

Loki, who had been his lost cause, his ghost, his white whale. He had thought so much about what it would be like to see him again, what it would feel like. And now here he was, down the fucking aisle, nodding at him in passing on his way somewhere two doors down. A fucking anticlimax, to be fair.

At meetings, he got distracted just staring at him. The new sharpness of his features, every last remnant of softness gone. The lines marking his expressions, a scar in his jawline that was not there before. It was Loki, but in so many ways, this was not his Loki. His Loki didn't wear tailor-made suits and real silk ties. His Loki was softer and he wasn't so sure of himself. And he would not act with complete indifference towards him, he would not look right through him. He would never treat him exactly as if he was… nobody, or just anybody, as if the first twenty years of their lives had never happened.

Thor knew it was an act. He knew Loki was punishing him. There were unresolved issues between them and Loki had found just the way to collect his debt. But he was so very good at it. It could make one doubt.

Everything was coming back to him, the happy days, the not-so-happy ones. That awful, awful last night. The thousand little things Thor would like to change, words spoken that he wished he could take back, the times he should have spoken up and didn’t. Okay, he had been a kid, he didn't have a clue. Maybe he should cut himself some slack. But it was not his own forgiveness he was after, it was not his forgiveness that would set things right. 

Anyway, forgiveness seemed a pretty remote possibility when he could not get so much as a sincere smile from Loki. A glint of recognition would be nice, a sign that the past was not something Thor had hallucinated all by himself. Some attention. Thor had taken it for granted back in the day. He had taken so much for granted. It never once crossed his mind that he could lose him, lose him completely and for good. Hell, he was not sure it had sunk in yet, to this fucking day, because he kept searching Loki’s face, hoping.

_____________

Tony’s place was a swanky, pretty amazing house in the style that was the vanguard of modern architecture and design in the 1950s and still retained a kind of aggressively optimistic, cutting-edge feel to it. With its almost brutalist, sweeping horizontal lines, all that glass and concrete, and the vast swathes of colour on the flat, smooth walls, that building was so classy, it would never age. It suited them, Tony and Loki. Thor climbed every step to the porch with a ball of lead in his stomach. He so did not want to be here.

The door opened. A woman with long blonde hair gave them a broad smile, with dimples. The Odinsons looked at each other. Thor mentally checked the address Tony had written in the email.

“You must be Thor and Jane,” said the woman. “I’m Ginny. Or call me Pepper.” She offered her hand and leaned to give each a kiss on the cheek.

“Hey, you’re here!” Tony Stark appeared from inside the house. “Please, come on in.”

Thor and Jane did come in, but now would be the time when they made comments about the house or the deco or the nice smell coming from the kitchen, and instead they were silently baffled.

“Uh, Tony…” said Pepper, with a little smile. “I think they were expecting someone else."

“Oh, right,” said Tony, and laughed. “Yeah. You were expecting Loki. Nah, he’s not coming.”

Well, that was a relief at least. But now Thor was even more confused if anything. It must have been pretty obvious from his face. Tony smiled. 

“See, we have this arrangement,” he explained. “A bit unorthodox, but it works for us. Pepper is my girlfriend, and Loki is my boyfriend.”

Jane and Thor forced a smile that said, “That’s not one bit shocking at all."

“So you’re… what’s the word, polyamory?” ventured Jane, over dinner.

“If you need to put a tag on it,” said Tony, “I guess that one might do.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t get it,” said Thor, making Jane flinch. Going on ten years and she hadn't yet gotten used to his directness.

“It’s simpler than it looks. See, the usual arrangement just would not work for us. Pepper travels a lot, and I travel a lot, and Loki doesn’t even live on the same continent…”

“…And I do not want to have to cope with Tony all by myself,” laughed Pepper.

“...And though Loki is horrified by anything that sounds like a commitment, he needs an anchor sometimes. And I couldn't live without either of them in my life,” Tony showed teeth, a purposely cheesy grin; Pepper rolled her eyes.

“So we all get what we need,” concluded Pepper, “and we manage pretty well.”

“Right,” said Thor, though he was still struggling with the whole notion. And pissed, for some reason. 

Okay, he might be a bit fucking jealous, alright? They looked so sunny and so happy with their free, healthy, successful… whatever the hell it was. Maybe he resented a little his life in that run-of-the-mill box of mainstream monogamy.

“Well, each to their own,” said Thor.

“Yeah,” said Jane, big smile. “I’m not sure I could do it, but, yeah…”

“Oh, girl, if I was you, I wouldn’t share him either.” Pepper winked.

“I heard that,” said Tony.

After dinner, Pepper took Jane upstairs, to show her the mural they had talked about over dessert. While Tony was sorting out the kitchen, Thor gravitated to a long, glazed gallery, with a row of pedestals exhibiting a strange collection of mechanisms.

Tony joined him after a while.

“I made those,” he said. “They’re prototypes of some of my patents. The ones that can be made into prototypes, that is.”

“They’re… impressive,” tried Thor. “I’m not sure I can appreciate them fully, but I find them beautiful just the same.”

“Thank you very much, thank you.” Tony bowed his head.

Thor had this odd, uneasy feeling around Tony. Here was a total stranger who knew a wealth of details about Thor’s own life. He felt invaded. It was not fair, of course — he had shared whatever he had felt like sharing with his wife after all. But god only knows what Loki had revealed to the man next to him. Tony was staring like Loki had fucking told him all.

“So, you’re Thor,” said Tony after some time. Some icebreaker of a line.

Thor squinted, suspicious.

“What does Loki say about me?” he asked. 

Tony sipped his drink.

“Lots of things,” he said. “It’s a bit strange with Loki, isn’t it? He walls up and holes in and doesn’t share one single thing about himself for ages, and then one day, the dam cracks, and his whole life comes pouring through, and it’s pretty unstoppable, and a bit overwhelming.”

Did he? Loki had never done this with him. They had never talked that much. Not about thoughts and feelings anyway. About things they liked, sure, and things they wanted, things they dreamed of, perhaps. As for the rest... hell, they had grown up together. They had no secrets for each other. They communicated with looks, inside jokes, common references. It was their code.

Guess he'd be lying if he said they kept no secrets. Loki had kept his feelings for Thor to himself until he physically couldn't. And Thor had pretended he didn't notice for as long as he could as well. There had never been a plain and honest chat. And yeah, sure, there were other things. Thor didn't tell him about many of his hookups. He felt intuitively that Loki didn't need to know, or that he would rather not know. Loki did the opposite. He remembered that time he had returned from summer camp, and Loki told him “I did it…” 

Anyway, Tony had not answered his question. The fucker. Was he trying to protect Loki’s confidence by keeping secrets from Thor about… what, Thor’s own fucking life? 

“You were everything to him,” said Tony, abruptly. “His north south east and west, his working week and his Sunday rest, his noon, his midnight, his-…”

 “Yes, I fucking get it,” cut Thor, strained. “He meant the world to me too." Why did he feel the need to defend himself with this person he had just met?

“How was he, as a child?” asked Tony.

Thor turned to assess him. Stark’s big eyes were always bright and expressive, but now they positively dazzled.

He was bitter and tempted to say, I don’t know, I don’t think I ever really knew him. But that was bullshit, wasn’t it?

“He was trouble,” he said in the end. He was smiling. “He was clever. He was fun.” The smile on Tony's face kept him going. “He was curious and inquisitive, he liked to stick his nose everywhere. He liked to be by himself. He took things personally. He was so serious, and so quiet, until he wasn’t, and then… Nobody has ever made me laugh as hard."

“So he hasn’t changed one bit, then."

"Hasn't he." Thor kinda doubted it, but what a comforting thought, somehow. "He liked animals more than people. He wanted to be a veterinarian when he was little, but once we rescued a cat that had got its paw caught in a trap and had torn himself off it to escape, and Loki couldn’t pick it up, because it kept making him sick. I did it, and the little shit wouldn't talk to me for a week. The cat wouldn't have made it if it had been down to Loki. It would have bled out right there, so why the hell was Loki so mad at me? I didn't get it for a long time.”

Tony's listening face invited confidence and trust. Were those huge, almost childish eyes what made Loki pour his soul out to him? 

The things Loki must have told him, the version of him he must have painted. Thor shuddered to think.

“He was in a rush to grow up," he said. "He was very precocious in many ways. He was always one step ahead of me. Or ten. And he could not forgive a wrong. Turns out, still can't.”

Tony stared at him as if Thor should be reading his mind.

“You broke his heart,” he said.

“Yeah. Well. I never meant to." And he walked away.

When he left without a fucking word, he broke mine.

Chapter Text

(The past)

“No way, no. I’m not playing,” said Thor, who had been game just a second ago. That was before he realised Loki was going to play too.

“Aw, man, that’s not cool,” said Fandral. 

The atmosphere had turned tense and awkward.

“Hey, it’s not because he's…” Thor turned to him. “Loki, it’s not because….”

“It’s ok. I get it,” said Loki weakly. His smile had fallen, he was courageously and pathetically attempting to force it back on again.

It was common knowledge that Loki had a crush on Thor, and that it made Thor very fucking nervous. But Sif also had a crush on him, not publicly acknowledged, yet very obvious. And Sif was ok to play but Loki wasn’t? Explain that, you bigoted shit-head — that was the unspoken, yet clear challenge he was getting from the half-circle of faces around him.

“Goddammit, it's not because... Fucking hell, he’s like my brother!”

All the eyes turned to Loki, poor guy. Loki looked now like the very picture of courage and dignity in the face of the cruelty of men. He was really good at it.

“Come on, dude, it’s just kissing,” said Darcy. “What’s the big deal?”

“Guys, it’s fine,” said Loki, big tragic eyes, stoical tone. “It’s ok. I won’t play.”

He did play, of course. And so did Thor.

Spin the bottle. A round of tricks, a round of never have I ever, and a kissing round, (or as many as it took, they expected to be quite happy by then). Tricks round: Anyone who could not match the trick had to drink. Loki was a wizard at card games, so drinks all around. Thor could balance a baseball bat on his thumb, spin it in the air, and catch it (mixed results). Sif could wrestle anyone to the ground, including Thor - and Thor could overpower anyone, but Loki, he mysteriously could not hold down long enough for it to count. Amora could spread her legs open to 180º, and as it turns out, so could Loki. Darcy was world-class at limbo, that was a fun round. Fandral could walk on his hands (or he did before he lost at so many rounds of this game). They were all laughing and having a great time.

Thor didn’t enjoy the truths round. Never have I ever kissed a boy cost him some wolf calls, a massive fluster, and it put him in a very bad mood. He avoided looking at Loki, but he could sense his eyes on him, leaving a fucking burn mark on the side of his skull. Yeah, yeah, I know, give me a fucking break...

The kissing round was unnerving. It got increasingly heated. Pecks soon graduated to tongues. Amora kissed Darcy, Darcy kissed Loki, Loki kissed Amora, Amora kissed Fandral, Fandral kissed Sif, Sif kissed Thor, Thor kissed Darcy, Darcy kissed Sif, Sif kissed Fandral again. When Fandral kissed Loki, he made a show of it, for the ladies’ viewing pleasure; Thor tried not to look at it, his expression sour; Sif elbowed him soundly in the gut. “Get over it”, she said.

Loki’s turn. And absolutely, of course, sure enough: the bottle stopped pointing at Thor. Cold sweat, dry mouth. Loki shrugged innocently, with a cute little smile, and began to crawl on all fours towards him. Thor was trembling, his heart pounding hard and fast. He started to feel sick. 

Loki was two feet away. Thor was going to puke. He got up and ran.

“Thor, don’t be such a dick…” Sif tried to grab his arm. No chance.

“Oh, man…” said Fandral.

They all turned to Loki, who looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him. Everybody was cringing in solidarity.

“These fucking jocks, I swear…” Darcy was saying, “They’ll literally fuck a dead pig’s mouth to get into a frat, but they can’t fucking…”

Loki stood up and went after Thor.

“He’s not worth it, dude,” said Darcy behind him. Loki ignored her. 

He caught up with him halfway down the hall.

“Thor, wait.” 

Thor slowed down.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, unable to look Loki in the eye. “I don’t fucking know what happened there. I panicked. I’m sorry.”

Loki gave them both some time. 

“I’m not really your brother, you know?” he said after a while, with a little smile. Thor tried to return it, didn’t do a great job of it. It was hard to talk with that knot in his throat. The fact that he didn't fucking know what he was thinking, let alone feeling, didn't help either. 

“It’s not because… It’s not because of that, ok? It’s not because you’re gay. I don’t care that you’re gay, you know that.”

“But you care about people thinking that you are,” said Loki.

Thor rubbed his eyes hard. They were stinging like motherfuckers. 

“I don’t know,” he said. Which Loki would take as a yes, but Thor himself actually did not fucking know where the fucking lack of oxygen was really coming from.

“Why do you care so much what people think?” said Loki.

“It’s easy for you,” he choked out. “You’ve always…”

“Oh, yes, it’s always been easy for me,” cut Loki. “People knew what I was before even I knew. I learned all the nasty words before I even found out that non-nasty ones also existed. I had to ask my dad what a faggot was, and he slapped my face. Somebody wrote ‘cocksucker’ on my locker, and I was the one sent to talk to the principal, remember? Yes, it’s always been easier for me, because I never could hide. I never had a choice.”

Loki’s tone had not been anywhere near as harsh as Thor deserved; he had spoken calmly, matter-of-factly. Thor was trying to work out how to make an apology. Loki interrupted him.

“But always, there you were, always…” Loki’s eyes sought his, so warm, the love in there reaching out without disguising or modulating or hiding. “When I got called names, you would stand by my side and tell them, ‘If you call him that, you’re calling me that’. When they started saying you were my boyfriend, you'd say, ’So what?’ When I started to skip gym class, because those jerks were giving me a bad time in the changing room, you asked to be moved from football to baseball, so you could be with me. You lost all that year, and the football guys said it was because we were fucking, but you never even bothered denying it, you just flipped them and ignored them. When it got so bad I didn’t want to go back to school, you stood right by me so that everyone would know you had my back, so that I wouldn’t be afraid, and god, I remember how you stared all the older guys down, one by one. You were so fucking brave, so ballsy, so selfless. You were my hero, Thor…” Loki’s eyes were full of fire. His voice turned even softer now, “And what about that time you wanted to practice grown-up kissing, and I said, ‘But we’re boys’, and you said, ‘Mom says two boys can kiss too and it’s alright’? We were only twelve…What’s happened, Thor? What has changed so much?”

It sounded as if Loki already knew the answer, but Thor honest to god fucking didn't. What had changed so much? What? 

“You’re my best friend in the world,” he said, his voice straining. 

“What more than that,” said Loki. His stare took no prisoners. Thor could not hold it.

Loki put his arms around him, a gentle embrace. Thor returned the hug, hesitant, stiff, heart pounding. This was not their usual brand of hug.

“What are you so afraid of,” whispered Loki. His breath tickled Thor’s ear. Thor gulped and pushed Loki away, as kindly as he was able to, as if it was nothing but a friendly hug that had run full course.

“I drank too much,” he said. “I’m going to bed.”

Loki let him go. Thor felt his eyes on him as he walked away, burning the back of his neck. Made him walk faster.

___________

(The present)

Thor shut himself inside his office with a slam. He was panting. Because of the run and because of the fright. He had been walking past Loki’s closed door and heard a rustle of clothes. Then a muffled “nnn”. It went right into his reptilian brain, and straight down to his groin. Then, instead of walking right on, he had leaned closer. Could not fucking help it. The rustle became somewhat more defined: vigorous brushing of clothes, a slight “squeak, squeak, squeak”, like some heavy piece of furniture was being pushed rhythmically, legs dragging on the floor. Like, say, a desk. Then, a strained, aching whisper, “Ah, fuck…” 

There was a noise down the hall. That was when Thor ran. If anyone caught him listening, he would fucking die.

Getting his breath back in his office, his pulse still pounding. But... those sounds. He could not get them out of his head. It put images in his brain. His heart was hammering mercilessly against his ribs.

As the fright calmed down, up came the anger. Sounds and images. Why the fuck was he so fucking angry? Because this was a place of work, and this were working hours, and how fucking dare they do... that in the middle of the fucking day where anyone could hear them, and how unprofessional, how untoward, how...

Jealous is what you are, said a voice inside.

Which only fucking angered him more.

He knew about himself. He figured it out eventually. He had learned that what stirred inside when he crossed paths with an attractive man was desire, pure and simple, nothing more and nothing less. But he had already been with Jane when he finally accepted this, so it was an abstract notion. He did not have to do anything about it. When he began to work for Shield, some four years ago, he knew what to call the crush he quickly developed for Steve. There was a strong, mutual connection, and some harmless flirting too, now and then. But there was no harm in it, not really. They were both married and honourable. Or trying to be. Nobody meant to act on it. The temptation was more an idea than an impulse. There was no danger. He had felt in control at all times.

But that was four years ago. Four years ago, he had been perfectly happy. New wife, new town, new job, exciting new perspectives.

A lot can happen in a marriage in four years.

It was not that he didn’t love his wife anymore, or that he was miserable. If it had been so clear-cut, he would have done something about it, right? There were better days and worse days, and there were plenty of boring, inconsequential days. They had jobs, they had evenings, they had weekends, and that was what adult life was like, and they should be grateful because theirs was a good one. Kids sort of dangled vaguely on the horizon. Jane, always so sensible, had put back having them until she felt secure in her job. While she held short tenures that could uproot her and take her across the country at the drop of a hat, it was not a good idea to add babies to the mix. When she had taken her current position, with an indefinite contract, she said perhaps now it was the time, but they hadn’t done anything about it yet. Thor had returned her hug and her smile, and thought he would feel more excited when it was for real. At that moment, he had felt nothing.

He had a strange thought. That he had felt more in the past few weeks than in the whole of the previous year. He was not happy by any means, but he was being constantly pushed and pulled and jostled by different emotions, stress, anxiety, anger, but also excitement, anticipation, and yes, jealousy, and lust. He was a fucking mess, and he was very fucking confused, and angry, but god, at least he felt alive. It was a scary thought.

Chapter Text

“Ladies and gentlemen, please,” Loki raised his voice to call attention and make himself heard above the excited rumpus in the office. When there was silence, he carried on. “I am sure you have all heard the rumours by now. It is my pleasure to announce that they are, indeed, true. Hydra has offered us to go to arbitration this morning.” 

Euphoria erupted in the room, applause, whistles, cheering. Loki allowed it for a few moments, with a wide, impish grin, those wolfish eyes. Then he gestured again for silence.

“I must commend you all on your hard work. Volunteers and interns, you have raised awareness, you have created pressure, you have given Hydra hell. This is your doing. Congratulations.” He led in applause. “Unfortunately, this is only the first battle. We still have many months of hard work ahead if we are to win the war. Our next step will have to be, of course, to bring this offer to each and every one of our clients, and persuade them to go for it. And whereas I’m sure that one word and one smile from Mr. Odinson will gain us a lot of ground, I’m afraid that, by itself, it won’t get the job done. So, I don’t know what you’ve got planned, but as for me, I intend to take a well-earned rest this weekend, before we set out on the road to get those three hundred signatures and make this case watertight. If you’ll join me for a drink, I’m buying. What say you?”

“The town hall meetings will not be too bad, and I'm sure we'll get most of our signatures there, but there are always people who can’t make it,” Volstagg was saying, as he wiped some beer foam off his mustache.

“And then there's the lone wolves. Those hills are full of them,” said Sif. “It was hard enough to get them on board with the collective claim in the first place. The pioneer mindset just doesn’t do collective very well, and they mistrust it on principle… A jury of their peers is one thing, but to ask them to put all their eggs in what they perceive as the undue authority of state officials...”

Thor nodded now and again, but he was only just pretending to pay attention. His mind and his eyes kept straying to the door to the restroom. Sif had noticed. Thor pretended he hadn't so that he did not have to address the stern disapproval on her face.

The merry Shield party had taken over the bar. Loki had eased the bartender’s panic with a quick flash of his gold card. After the first rush for drinks and a few short speeches punctuated by cheering and toasting, little groups had formed here and there. For a short while, Thor had duly walked around patting backs and showing his team-leading face, but soon enough he had holed up with Sif, Fandral, Hogun, and Volstagg in that corner. He had had, again, one hell of a week.

Out of the corner of an eye, he had observed Loki's evolution around the bar. He stopped to talk to people, look each of them in the eye, astonishing and flattering them by remembering their names and noting their singular efforts. Thor was able to see in every intern, junior associate, and volunteer’s eye, just how effective Loki’s snake-charming skills were. It did not come naturally to the boy Thor had once known, this kind of social interaction. To Thor, it was like breathing, but the Loki he had known used to prefer his own company, barely tolerated small groups, and large crowds unnerved him. He had obviously learned to conceal his distaste to navigate those shark-smile-infested waters, and while his attention would be insincere, superficial, passing, and self-serving, it still got the job done. He was making every intern feel valuable, every volunteer appreciated, and in the process garnering another loyal minion that would now be breaking their backs even harder, to earn another minute of Loki's attention. 

Earlier this evening, Loki had led them all in a toast to Thor, full of words of praise for his skills, his leadership, his commitment, and his hard work. He had been friendly, courteous, generous, and respectful to him as boss and leader. Which was Loki’s stance towards him in general, an impenetrable veneer of detached professional deference. It was doing Thor's head in. He wanted to shake Loki for a fucking reaction, prick him to check if any fucking blood ran in those cold blue veins. Because while Loki remained cool as a goddamn iceberg, Thor’s crust was fucking trembling and cracking like a fucking volcano. 

Loki and Bucky. They were getting so brazen. There were lingering gazes during meetings, unsubtle body-rubbing in narrow spaces. Thor had walked into them making out heatedly by the vending machine. He kept hearing them fucking in Loki’s office. And it was driving him up the fucking wall. 

And tonight, after doing his rounds, Loki had leaned into Bucky, whispered a couple of words in his ear, and strutted to the restrooms without even bothering to check if Bucky was coming. After a couple of minutes, after being not-so-subtly back-patted and hair-ruffled by his group, Bucky followed. He looked smug.

And now, out of some unspoken agreement, people were keeping out of the restrooms. Thor had not checked the clock, but maybe he should have, because it felt like it had been an hour. Meanwhile, Sif kept throwing him looks he was trying to ignore. The lewd gestures from Bucky’s group and the muffled wolf-calling were getting on his nerves. His skin was crawling with the need to bash somebody’s face in.

The restroom door opened. Bucky appeared, cheeks glowing, looking even cockier and more pleased with himself than when he had gone in. His group raised their drinks in cheer. When Bucky rejoined them, somebody put a beer in his hand and some more shoulder-patting occurred. They obviously thought it was a great score that he was doing the boss.

Loki, meanwhile, had yet to appear. Led by something blind and brainless, Thor got up.

Sif latched onto his wrist.

“Thor!”

He shook her off.

In the restrooms, Loki was touching up his hair. There was a fresh love bite on the creamy skin of his throat. His suit was all rumpled.

“Attorney,” he said. 

Thor approached in silence. Loki threw him a quick look out of the corner of an eye and smirked. The fucker. He knew. He knew, and he was fucking loving it. 

“I know what you’re doing, you know,” Thor said, between his teeth. "I know what you're playing at."

Loki made a big show of looking around and at himself. 

“Well, it’s not rocket science,” he said. “Or should I say, astrophysics.”

A nasty smirk from Thor.

“And what am I playing at, according to you,” said Loki, while he nonchalantly fixed the collar of his shirt.

“Do you need me to say it?”

A staring contest followed, heavy with meaning. Then, a derisive snort from Loki.

“After all this time, you still think my whole world revolves around you,” he said.

“I’m as amazed as you are,” said Thor, sarcastic.

“My dear, I realise how unfathomable this may be to your ego, but has it crossed your mind that I may be fucking Bucky simply because I feel like it?”

“I remember having this same conversation once, a long time ago. Remember? Dear old Fandral.”

Loki paled with outrage. He was shocked that Thor would even dare to bring that up.

“Well, if I’m playing a game, I can gladly say I’m winning. Look at you.” 

Thor scoffed.

“Tell me, Thor, why are you so concerned about whom I fuck?” he said, mellifluous. Leading question, no right answers.

“I’m concerned about your little games making a joke out of this case. I’m concerned about how you’ve appropriated a very valuable asset in this campaign for your own personal enjoyment, to the detriment of his career and our case. I’m concerned about the disruption you’re creating in my firm, affecting discipline and work ethic. And I’m very fucking concerned about the fucking rope you’re giving Hydra to hang us all with.”

Loki stared at him for a long time, with a faint grin.

“Still the same hypocrite,” he said. “And still a coward.” 

Thor clenched his fist.

“Coward?”

“Do you believe your own shit yourself?” said Loki. “Who do you think you’re fooling, Thor.”

“What?” Thor’s heart was pumping hard, cold sweat on his forehead.

Loki kept on staring, that fucking knowing smile.

“I’m fucking married, Loki.” He said it as if that killed the discussion.

Loki snorted.

“And yet, here you are.”

Thor’s heart pummelling in his chest.

“Are you trying to think of a smart comeback?” said Loki, returning his attention to his collar. “Because I don’t have all night.”

“Fuck you," growled Thor.

“Oh dear. No wonder you had to come to me for help.”

That hit Thor right where it hurt. He charged. Grabbed Loki’s neck with both hands and pushed him against the wall. Loki oomphed, air crushed out of him. His eyes, locked on Thor's, so bright, triumphant, almost manic. Only a couple of inches between their faces and their bodies. Breathing hard.

“Are you going to punch me, or kiss me?”

“You fucking wish,” hissed Thor.

Loki grabbed Thor’s crotch. Found him half hard. Thor let go as if burned. He backed away, in a panic.

Loki’s eyes feverish, that fucking evil smile.

“Same old, same old,” he said. He tugged at his shirt to tidy it up, fixed his hair. He didn’t even look at Thor as he brushed past him.

“They were right about you,” said Thor.

Two steps behind him, Loki stopped.

“I always told them, ‘No guys, you’re wrong about him, you don’t know him like I do. He’s not this manipulative, self-centred, envious, mean little shit with no fucking morals or scruples and no fucking common decency you all say he is. With me, he’s different.’ You know what they told me? ‘He’s playing you, man, he’s playing you to get what he wants. He’ll turn on you sooner or later. Keep away from him, he’s bad news, he's poison.’ They were right.”

After a moment, Loki walked out, without a sound.

It took Thor a while to be able to get out there. This was by far the ugliest thing he had ever told anyone. Just like that punch many years ago was the ugliest thing he had done. And it was always Loki.

When he finally got out there, Loki was gone, and Sif was staring at him severely, as if she'd heard.

________________

Phone. 'Answer call'.

“Stark.” 

“It’s me.” Loki’s voice. 

Tony smiled at nobody. “Hello, pet.”

“Is she there?”

“Nope.”

“Can I come?”

“‘Course.”

“Thirty minutes.” He hung up.

“Want to fuck?” said Loki, the second Tony opened the door. He didn’t look horny, he looked frazzled.

“Sure,” said Tony, amiably, stepping aside to let Loki in — no hello hugs or kisses in general with Loki, and certainly not in this state. “Why don’t you get your breath back first?” 

See, it was like this. They had talked about this before, and Loki agreed and said he understood, but he obviously had not interiorised it yet. He believed he owed Tony the use of his body or something, to repay him for the companionship, affection, and respite Tony offered freely, which Loki felt he could not match or return. Over the course of the evening, Tony would be explaining again that he enjoyed Loki’s company, with or without the use of his body, and Loki would listen (and disagree in silence, surely). And unless Loki's whole attitude changed into something Tony could interpret as horniness, there would be no fucking in that house tonight. But for now, it was wiser to just play along or he was bound to perceive Tony’s words as an attack and a rejection. Timing is crucial, in these matters.

Oh yes, Tony had become almost an amateur psychologist since he had decided to pursue a relationship with this broken, suffering, grumpy boy. Most of his insights came from Pepper. In Tony’s mind, as far as wrangling high-maintenance, complicated dark-haired geniuses went, what was sauce for the goose was sauce for the gander. Likewise, deriving from this very same realm of thought, Tony did wonder whether his own insufficiencies as a human being hurt Pepper as badly as Loki’s insufficiencies at times hurt him.

____

Loki disappeared into their bedroom to get himself out of his suit and into his scruffs. There were two master bedrooms in that house, one for Tony with Pepper, and another for Tony with Loki, each with a private bathroom, to keep things neat and tidy. Tony must favour one or the other when neither Pepper nor Loki were staying. Which one was it? Did it mean anything? Just one of those thoughts.

He returned to the living room to find Tony on the couch, fiddling with his phone. Loki curled up by his side, head on his lap. Tony petted his hair and Loki closed his eyes. 

“Want to talk about it?” said Tony after a while.

“No.”

Tony kept petting his hair. Every stroke made Loki softer. Weaker. Loki should have stopped him immediately. In no fucking time, he had a knot in his throat and it was taking him a huge effort not to cry like a stupid child.

“Some people,” he choked out, “no matter what, will always find the words that really cut. They go around blundering into everything else but, with you, bang, straight where it hurts the worst. They just have that fucking gift.”

Tony didn’t say anything. He was used to Loki being cryptical, concealing his thoughts and feelings behind vague remarks he had to decode. And guess what, he had the key to Loki’s code. He had once managed to poke him deep enough to get it out of him. It had been that argument that had almost broken up the relationship but had instead ended up cementing it to what it was today.

It started tamely enough, that argument. They were talking about being promiscuous and frivolous and carefree, and Tony had offered his views that it was just the armour they put on to protect themselves, and that often people like them were those who felt the most, and loved deepest. Loki didn't like to hear that one little bit. He didn't want it for Tony, and he didn't want it for himself. 

Not me, he said, I’m incapable of love.

Don’t be ridiculous, pet, Tony had said. I know you.

Bad answer.

No, you don’t. There’s nothing here, nothing! People either bore me or entertain me, and that’s all! I have nothing to give you!

Tony, of course, wouldn't have bought anything like that in a million years. He had insisted that Loki was wrong. So there was crying and screaming, name-calling, and door slamming. The more Tony argued with him, the worse Loki felt. And suddenly it burst out, all the shit Loki never talked about with anyone. How empty and ugly he felt, what a sack of useless hot air he was, why the fuck did he bother existing. Et cetera.

It had ended with Loki in Tony's arms, squeezed in a cast-iron hug. Eventually, Loki stopped thrashing. He cried for a very long time.

And after that meltdown, even though all his instincts were screaming at him never to pick up the phone again if it was Tony calling, somehow, for some reason, Loki picked up the phone. The on-and-off fuck-buddying whenever Tony was in town became something else after that.

“I’m fucking an intern,” said Loki after a long time. 

“What’s his name."

“Bucky.”

“Is he nice?”

“He’s hot as hell.”

Petting, petting.

"Thanks for telling me."

“Well, that's the deal, isn't it? We tell each other these things. Something about trust and respect.”

Tony's hand felt good.

“Is he the cause of…?” he asked.

“No,” cut Loki.

“Will you tell me what’s eating you?”

“No.” Too harsh. “Not tonight.”

“Alright,” said Tony. “Can I do anything?”

“You already are.”

Petting, petting.

“I love you, Loki.”

“Don’t,” he said, a choked whisper.

“Alright,” muttered Tony, as he kept petting.

Chapter Text

(The past)

“He… he what?” said Loki.

“Yeah, they’re dating. Hadn’t you heard? They hooked up at the Murder Mystery Club party last weekend.” Oh, Amora had a viciously cruel streak. She was relishing being the one to serve Loki the news. Her nose for competition was a true egalitarian, see? It made no distinction between genders. She had wanted another go with Thor since they had hooked up the very first month at college.

Loki was struggling to not break down in tears, and struggling even more to not let it show.

“I can’t believe Thor hasn’t told you. You guys are like, siamese, aren’t you?”

If looks could rip bitches to shreds. She was enjoying this. And Loki was too affected for smart comebacks. He did not run, in what probably was a vain attempt at retaining a modicum of dignity. Useless at that point, judging from Amora’s expression, cruel and smug, telling him he was transparent and devastated and it showed.

In his room, Loki gave free rein to an outpour of deep fat sobs. As in, he couldn't stop them.

Thor was supposed to be coming to study at eight. Loki needed the time he had left to try to pull himself together. Like, every minute of it. He was furious. And below that, he was shocked. He could not fucking comprehend it. And the humiliation too. The devastation. How cruel can you get, how callous?

For months, things had been going so well. After that fateful spin the bottle party, Loki felt he was making inroads. At first, Thor had been wary, but be it because of guilt or a sense of duty, he had made himself reach out to Loki. He had found him in his corner, receptive but in a carefully constructed non-threatening stance. Loki had been patient, he had been tactful, and he had been cunning. He had kept his distance, physically speaking, but had tried to get nearer to Thor in every other way. Not pushing, not demanding, not insinuating. He was just there, by his side. It was a torment in many ways, but it had its rewards. Thor seemed so happy. When Thor was happy, he got sexy, flirty, and touchy-feely. How Loki had missed that side of him.

As for Loki, he kept chaste. No fucking around, his heart and his focus set and constant. And no pride-parading around campus either. He had been actively assimilating himself to something he thought Thor would be able to deal with. Someone he wouldn't mind being seen with.

And then, when he felt on more solid ground, Loki had dared to push just a tiny bit harder, prolonging eye contact, letting the silences stretch, sitting a bit closer. He would only move one inch at a time, and retreat if he sensed resistance. He had been doing pretty fucking great, if he may say so himself. He wanted to lead Thor into a sensation of security and renewed familiarity, getting him acclimatised to this new place Loki was trying to get them to. And he had been so fucking sure it was a place Thor wanted to go to as well, so fucking sure. Like, he knew it.

Last Friday. Study night, but they got distracted looking at old photos on Loki’s laptop, which Loki had been casually browsing when Thor walked in. They had gone out for dinner, and they had been laughing together and talking all evening, talking, talking, talking, like they used to do as teens. They had been reminiscing, sweet nostalgia of the golden summers of more innocent days easing them into a melancholy mental space, making them both yearn for things long past, which for Loki was just the ticket. Yes, those days were gone, but hey!, here they both were, side by side, like they used to! How awesome! They lay down side by side on the green, under the stars, with a thermos concealing a strong Long Island tea. It had been fucking wonderful. At one point, Loki had held Thor’s hand. Thor’s breath had cut, but he didn't snatch his hand or swat Loki's away or anything. It had been a good thirty glorious seconds before he pretended to need to scratch his arm. He then crossed his arms under his head. But Loki had kept on thinking only of those beautiful thirty seconds.

He wished the night would never end, but Thor walked him to his dorm room not long after that. There had been a lingering stare at the door. Loki’s heart had almost stopped. He had been absolutely sure that Thor was going to kiss him. He had smiled instead and said goodnight, but for Loki, it had all but happened, and he was fucking in, and next time, next time… He had thrown himself on his bed with a smile from ear to ear, and his heart beating wildly, and he just wanted to fucking dance and sing and dance some more… 

And then, on Saturday, Thor could not come because he was going to this party at the Murder Mystery Club, to which he forgot to ask Loki if he wanted to come, or perhaps he had not asked because he knew Loki didn’t like this kind of parties, but no worries, it was fine, Loki was busy anyway. And on Sunday Thor couldn’t hang out either, because he was revising for the Trade mid-term, which was ages from now, but Thor didn’t want a repeat of last semester’s debacle, and he had promised his parents he was going to try harder this time, and this was just as good a day to start as any. And then on Monday… and on Tuesday… 

And it was Friday again, study night, and Thor was twenty minutes late, and Loki’s chest was swelling and caving painfully, and he was going to fucking start crying again.

“Hey,” that gruff voice, finally. Thor walked in and left his satchel bag by Loki’s bed. He sat down and fiddled with his phone. 

Loki made a titanic effort to pull himself together. He was pushing with all his might to produce a casual “hey”. He wanted to be above this, he wanted to be cool and detached. He had his fucking pride, Thor did not need to see all the pain he was in. But he was failing. He could not fucking overcome the soul-crushing heartbreak.

Meanwhile, Thor was pretending he had not noticed the strange atmosphere in the room, so very fucking different from the last time they had seen each other, and that meant one thing and one thing only, that he was fucking guilty as charged, your honour, and Loki wanted him to fucking fry for it.

“How is Sif,” said Loki, icy.

“She’s fine,” said Thor. Just like that. Just like fucking that, just like nothing. Bastard.

Loki let the silence stretch to awkward, past uncomfortable, right into fucking painful. And Thor was so, so fucking guilty, he didn't even try to do anything about it.

“You couldn’t even tell me?” said Loki at last.

“Tell you what.”

Loki snorted. Thor met his eyes in passing for a second - meek, shifty. You bastard!

“I hope you’re very fucking happy together,” hissed Loki. Hopefully the whisper would cover the choke in his voice, but honestly who the fuck fucking cared at this point.

“Oh, come on. Don’t be such a…” huffed Thor. “We hooked up, big deal! Do you tell me about every guy you fuck?”

Goddammit, his lips were fucking trembling. He had almost managed to retain some dignity, but now he was going to cry. Like a baby. Fuck!

“How can you…!” Loki’s voice broke. “…Like it’s nothing!” He was now officially bawling.

Thor looked harassed.

“Jesus, Loki. We just… there was a party, we got a bit happy, and it happened.”

Loki looked up, with a glimmer of hope.

“You’re… not dating?”

Instead of an answer, Thor rubbed his face tiredly. And whatever was left of Loki’s heart sunk, hit the floor, and shattered.

“We’re just… you know,” said Thor. “We’re not… not-dating, I don’t know.”

"'I don't know'," repeated Loki, bitterly. "'I don't know'?!"

Thor threw him a dark look. But what kind of a half-assed chicken-shit answer was that? Why the fuck was he in love with this jerkwad? What the hell did he even see in him?

“Get out,” he said. “Get the fuck out.”

“What?” 

Oh, there was so much Loki could have said. Screamed, even. But right now he did not have enough clarity of mind to fucking sort it out into fucking sentences. That Thor had the fucking nerve to pretend he did not know why Loki was so upset was just the fucking cherry. Did he really think Loki was completely blind and stupid or something? Did Thor think he could pull off pretending to be totally oblivious? No, no, no, Loki had not been imagining things, alright?, and Thor was not going to make him believe that he had. And he was not going to fucking get away with pretending not to understand why Loki was so fucking hurt and furious.

“I said get out!” screamed Loki, his voice betraying him and coming out as a screech, like a fucking girl. “Go away! Leave!” he yelled, and then he felt a sob, and then the rest of it, an entire fucking Biblical deluge.

He slammed the door in Thor’s face and cried.

He managed to spend the whole weekend shut up in his room, with a throbbing, merciless migraine. 

By Monday, he had a new plan.

“Oh, my god, Loki... oh, fuck… god, yes... fuck, fuuuuck...” 

Fandral’s hand was digging in his scalp. His cock nudged the back of Loki's mouth. He hated the taste of latex, even strawberry-flavoured latex. Fandral’s body seized, his claw on Loki’s hair tightened. He sucked him all through the jerks and gasps of his orgasm.

Fandral collapsed on his back on the bed, making contented noises. He passed Loki the water after he had taken a sip himself, but he wiped the rim of the bottle first, how thoughtful. 

Loki got on his feet, dusting his knees.

“Man, that was… whoa,” sighed Fandral blissfully. A weird silence. “Want me to…?” He gestured to Loki’s middle. “I mean, I pay what I owe,” he grinned.

“Be still my beating hard,” jabbed Loki. 

“No, I mean it. I haven’t done it before but…”

“Don’t bother,” said Loki, as he picked up his things.

“Oh, you're leaving?”

“Yup.”

“Right. Ok.” Fandral was duly disappointed, but he bounced back like a rubber ball. “Well, see you later, maybe?”

Loki gave him a long, mysterious stare, and left. 

Thor finally walked in on them the third time. They were making out in Fandral’s bed, in various states of undress, legs tangled, Fandral’s hands in Loki’s pants, his tongue halfway down Loki’s throat. He broke it up to twist his head and look at Thor, who was frozen at the door.

“Hey, man,” said Fandral, a puffy-lipped smile. “Do you mind?”

Thor obviously did, by the looks of him. Score. He left without a word. 

He would have to come back eventually. It was his room too after all. So Loki was going to stay put until then. 

They smoked and talked and went at it again a couple of times. Fandral wanted to fuck him, Loki said no fucking way. Hand-jobs, blow-jobs, frottage, that kind of thing, fine. Anything beyond that, forget it. (Loki reasoned to himself that penetrative sex required a kind of trust and technique one did not acquire in casual relationships, so he was going to wait until he was in something serious with someone. And that was not saving himself, ok?, it was simply being clever.)

Sure enough, around midnight, Thor returned. Fandral rushed to throw the quilt on them to protect their modesty, but Thor probably got an eyeful anyway. He looked positively murderous.

“Can you take it somewhere else?” he grumbled. "I want to sleep." 

Fandral shrugged.

“What do you think?” he said to Loki.

“Nah, I’m done,” he said.

He stood up, bare-assed, and made sure to have his back to Thor when he picked up his jeans from the floor. It was one of his best assets, pun not intended.

He kissed Fandral goodbye on the mouth and took his time about it.

“See you tomorrow?” he said sweetly.

“Sure, babe,” said Fandral. He slapped Loki's ass.

Thor witnessed all of that with his jaw and his fists clenched tight. It was fucking beautiful.

Chapter Text

(The present)

“Hello! Are you there?” said Jane.

Thor snapped out of his thoughts. He smiled faintly.

“Sorry, I spaced out. What were you saying?”

Jane wanted his opinion on something about the garden. Thor did not really care. He nodded, made noises. Didn’t fool her. At one point, she stood up with a sigh and kissed his head. 

“Perhaps when you can be bothered.” She said it quite sweetly but didn't try to hide the long-distance weariness in her voice.

“Sorry, honey,” said Thor. “It’s this arbitration thing. Lots of legwork and knocking on doors. I’m dreading it already.”

When she left, he instantly spaced out again, like flicking a switch. He was thinking about Loki, of course. Of the things he had told to him in that bar. Couldn't get it out of his mind.

Yeah, Thor had been thinking, Loki was two-faced, Thor had not needed anyone at school to warn him about it. He had always known, and he knew both faces well. On the one hand, there was the lonely, awkward, sensitive kid who had had to learn to toughen up, sharpen his wits and his tongue to fight for his pride and his self-esteem, and stand up to his bullies the only way he could; the kid who had learned very early on that nice guys finish last, that he would not be getting far playing by rules that put him at a disadvantage, written by people, and for people, who fitted in more comfortably than him. That kid could be malicious, resentful, ruthless, and cruel. He hoarded offences, and did not forgive easily, and he certainly did not forget. If you got to him once, better learn to look over your shoulder, because he’d get his own back sooner or later. To those who would say that turning the other cheek was more dignified and more defensible, Thor would have replied that we all do what we can, and this is what Loki did. Thor did not like this face, but he understood it had its purpose and its value, and he respected it.  

But then there was another face to Loki, his friend, his brother. His friend was mischievous, not devious. He minded his own business, he didn't wish any harm to anyone who didn't hurt him first, and he was kind to people who were kind to him. He was loyal to those who had earned his loyalty, devoted even. He was brave and gutsy and, for all his talk, he was attracted to the good in others and strived to earn the respect and love of those he thought worthier than himself. He was fun and clever and full of spark and hunger, and Thor had loved this kid with all his heart, and knew he had been adored and treasured in return. It had filled him with pride once, to know that this lonesome, self-sufficient, misanthropic creature loved him best of all. 

All the shit that had gone down between them should never have happened. They were supposed to have been together forever. How many times had they sworn to these exact words in their rock behind the fields of Thor’s house, from where you could see for miles. Christ, Thor had fucking missed him so very fucking much. He thought he knew, but he had not realised how huge the space Loki occupied in his heart and in his life really was until he had vacated it, and Thor had had to live for thirteen fucking years with that hole inside.

He was a better person than this. He was man enough to own up to his mistakes and try to make amends. Just because he wasn’t sure how to go about it was not reason enough not to try.

On Monday morning, he dressed as if gearing up for battle, a solid frown of determination as he tightened up the knot of his tie. When he got to the office, he gave himself exactly ten minutes. Then he checked Bucky’s workplace to make sure Loki was alone and knocked on his door.

“Come in.” 

Loki was at his laptop. He gave him a quick glance. His expression didn’t alter. 

“Yes?” he urged when Thor didn’t talk. He was such a cold fish, it was already getting on his nerves.

Thor was trying. It was hard. And Loki’s eyes fucking burned.

“Loki, I… I owe you an apology. Well, I owe you more than that, I…”

“Au contraire,” cut Loki, his tone light and fresh, “I owe you an apology. I was wrong, you have the killer instinct after all. You can indeed plead a case, tear your adversary apart, and leave him bleeding. Congratulations.”

“I didn’t mean it,” he muttered. 

“Attorney, these are not words one can just take back,” said Loki, mocking a severe tone. Was everything a joke to him? No, idiot, he’s deflecting. He’s protecting himself.

“I know. It’s inexcusable,” said Thor. “But you must know by now this… this has been hard for me. I mean, s-seeing you again, like this. You know me, you know how I am. I do things and I say things right from the gut, and then, when the blood cools down and the brain goes back online, I… But that’s not an excuse. I wanted to get under your skin, and-and that’s the most unforgivable thing of all. I’m- I’m sorry.”

Loki didn’t reply for some time.

“Well, good work,” he said, in a whisper. “You got what you wanted.”

There was another long, uneasy silence. That was a staggering admission on Loki's part.

“All I can say is, I’m awfully sorry. What I said, I… it was absolutely inexcusable. If my guilt and my suffering are any consolation to you… Well, know that I’m suffering.”

Loki looked up at him with a frown, as if he could not decide whether or not Thor's pain helped at all. It wasn't a look of kindness or forgiveness, but it was the closest he had seen yet to a sincere emotion from Loki yet.

He was pretty fucking affected himself. He hesitated between hitting the metal while it was hot, trying to get a word from him, and giving Loki the courtesy of some space to digest it. You don't get to ask anything from him, you jerk.

“I’ll leave you alone.” Thor let himself out.

____

(The past)

That was one hell of an ugly, confusing, miserable month, after their fight. Loki made sure of it, by rubbing Thor’s nose in his newfound appreciation of Fandral every chance he got. It got tense as fuck in their dorm room. Thor tried to keep away, and not let out one word of what he really felt about it all, because who knew what more might come out along with it. They still argued a couple of times anyway. Fandral yelled at him why didn't he mind his own fucking business, that he was acting as if Loki belonged to him. And yeah, that shut Thor up, alright.

He had this sour feeling in his gut, like heartburn. So that was how being a fucking appalling human being felt like. He wasn’t speaking to Loki, and some-fucking-how, he was dating Sif, which he had never intended to do in the first place. Because as hot as she was, he saw her as a friend, and she saw him as more than that, and he should have fucking kept it in his pants. He was guilty as sin of leading her on and if he was completely honest with himself, (which was hard, because that was not the kind of person he wanted to be), of using her. 

It was just. That night with Loki. They had such a fucking beautiful, perfect time together, and there had been that moment, just a second, at Loki's door. Just a second. Felt like they were about to kiss. Like this is where it was going. Like that was the right thing to do at the time. And what the hell was that all about, because he was not gay, and Loki was his best friend, like hell that was the right thing to do, what the fuck? And he knew, okay? He knew what Loki felt. Thor knew he needed to keep things clear and clean, but it was just so hard. Because Loki kept pushing it and pushing it, and Thor felt so fucking guilty all the time, and so confused, and like, ten paces behind all the time, and he never got a moment to pause and breathe and think. Think what to do, how to do it. God, was he leading him on by just being nice to him? Spending time with him? Fucking walking him to his room and hovering by the door like he was waiting for something? Of course he was giving off mixed signals, Thor had no fucking idea what he was doing! And to be completely frank, he was not trying anywhere near hard enough, or sincerely enough, to work it out. He hid his head in the sand and waited for things to work themselves out. The last thing he wanted was to hurt his best friend, but he just seemed to have a real knack for it.

Going to that fucking Murder Mystery Club party had been a mistake. At the time, though, he thought it would get his mind off things. He had been avoiding Loki all through that day, and he was feeling like shit about it. He needed a fucking break. The beer had been flowing, he was bored, and Sif looked so fucking good in that tank top, her small tits, her nipples in high def under the lycra, no fucking bra. She had noticed how he was looking at her and met his stare, fearless, challenging. It was such a turn-on. And it was just... clear, crystal clear. No doubts, no questions, no confusion. He wanted to fuck her. Simple. Straightforward. God, it was such a relief.

They played pool, she not-so-accidentally brushed her tight, hard ass against his crotch. Not enough beers later to use that as an extenuating circumstance, they were on an armchair in a dark-ish room where another two couples were making out. Sif on his lap, and Thor with both hands on her ass and hers between his legs. He could hear the other people going at it, it was so fucking hot. 

They slept in her room. When they woke up, Thor did not have the guts to tell her it had been a huge mistake. They fucked again instead. And so it was. He now had a fucking girlfriend.

It was all so fucking appalling, and Thor felt like such a shit. He kept putting off breaking up with her, because, god, it basically meant admitting to his friend what a disgusting asshole and a coward he was, and it was tough. And meanwhile, there was Loki of course. He couldn’t look at himself in the mirror, let alone face Loki. What was he going to tell him? What in the fucking hell would make this right?  Fucking hell, Thor did not want to be the guy that did these things, he didn’t, and fuck, Loki would be so hurt. A better man would own up to his mistakes and face the consequences. Thor just let the days pass, hoping perhaps he’d wake up one morning to discover that he had miraculously grown a spine. 

But anyway, before that could happen, Loki started to fuck Fandral, so Thor guessed he would not be needing a spine after all. Because sure enough, he might be a dick, and he dropped himself in all sorts of messes in the heat of the moment, but Loki’s blood ran cold, and what he was doing was deliberate. And callous. And very fucking mean. Well, Thor did say at times he would dread being on the receiving end of Loki’s hatred. He had been right. Loki in a vengeful mood was a fucking sociopath, stopping at nothing to hurt others as bad as he was hurting. We fucking deserve each other, Thor laughed bitterly to himself. Because on top of everything else, at the end of the day, he missed his best friend.

That stupid train wreck of a situation, in which they co-existed as two haphazard, ill-begotten couples within a larger group of friends, competing over who could act less bothered, only got worse and worse. The standstill between the two of them got more and more tense. It was going to blow out sooner rather than later.

So Thor walked in one too many times on Fandral and Loki (seriously, too much of a coincidence was an understatement), and some serious yelling occurred. Thor told Loki to get the fuck out of there, and shouted at Fandral that Loki was only fucking him to get back at Thor. Loki had shouted back, “You always think everything is about you!". Thor replied, “who do you think you’re kidding!” Then Loki hissed, “Almost as bad as fucking Sif the very next day after we…” And the color drained from Thor's face. “We what? The hell are you talking about?” he shouted. “Don’t give me that shit!” screamed Loki, “How stupid do you think I am!”. Then Thor shouted, "You're fucking delirious!" and it went on like that for a bit. He really thought Loki was going to tear his eyes out at several moments.

The lovely scene broke up when people came to see what was going on. Nobody won that round. Darcy took Loki away, possibly to put him under an ice-cold shower to shock the rage out of him. 

He broke up with Sif the next day. What Thor had believed to be beyond repair turned out not to be in the end. After a prudent length of time for things to cool down and the worst of the wounds to scab, and after a full confession and a sincere acknowledgment of his sins (not including the Loki situation, because no, Thor still did not know what the fuck was that about), god knows why, Sif forgave him.

He had some bridges to mend with Fandral too. The gentle old soul told him there was nothing to forgive, that he wasn’t one to judge, and that god knew he had committed his fair share of imbecilities in his life. He also said he felt a bit sorry for Loki, and that broke Thor's heart.

The band of friends sort of regrouped for the finals, Loki included. He was a fucking machine and a great asset in any study group. Added to Fandral’s strange feeling of responsibility towards him (Loki had this way of getting under people’s skins), had eased his way back in. 

Thor had been secretly glad of it. He had kept a safe distance at first, but he would sit one spot closer to Loki in the study room every day. 

Loki was proud, and he was headstrong. In different circumstances, he might very well have kept his recalcitrant distance for months, but the end of the summer term was approaching, and so was his move to England in the summer. They were on a countdown. They were going to run out of time. That worked wonders on Loki’s stubbornness. They began to say hello and goodbye, and after a while, how are you. Silences between them became less uncomfortable. Thor began to feel reasonably confident that they would be able to patch it up.

The night it had all finally gone to hell for good began pretty well, actually. It was a little Friday evening party, not many people, not too loud, not too wild. A bit of pool, darts, tame drinking games. The music was nice. Everybody needed to disconnect after working hard all week, but they needed to get back to work tomorrow, so they were taking it easy.

Thor had hung out in silence next to Loki for a while, watching other people play pool. They were both quiet, waiting for the other one to break the ice. At some point, Loki left the pool room to go and sit on one of the couches, where it was quieter.

Thor watched him walk away and told himself he needed to get a move on. He went to fetch himself a beer, pumped it up with two shots of tequila for courage, and returned with another beer for Loki. Loki took it with a muted thanks. 

“Can I sit here?” asked Thor.

Loki shifted to one side to make some room for him, although there had been plenty of room before. They drank in silence for some time. Thor tried to think of an opening. Perhaps he was waiting for the tequila to kick in.

“Do you… Have you found a place in London yet?” 

“I have a couple of leads,” said Loki.

Already the longest conversation they had had in weeks.

“Can I do anything to help you out?”

“Are you that desperate to get rid of me?” jabbed Loki.

Ok, ouch.

“I just want to help you, dickhead."

Silence. Fuck. Had he gone to far? Were they not yet in dickhead territory? He checked Loki’s face. Thank fuck, he was smiling faintly. 

“I’ll be fine,” he said. "But thanks."

Okay. What to say now. Nothing useful came to mind, nothing seemed right. He was not fucking good at this.

Actually, he was overthinking this, for sure. Don’t try to be clever, dude, you don't get to Loki with clever. You get there by barging in with your heart in your hand. So Thor downed half his beer in one long gulp, burped, and went for it.

“I’m so fucking miserable, Loki. I miss you so much.”

He saw that, that passing, aching flinch in Loki’s brow. He had one foot in the door.

“Don't you miss me?” he pressed him. "Aren't you fed up with this?"

Big, fat tears started rolling down Loki’s face.

“Oh, man,” Thor said. He was such a dude like that, tears totally discombobulated him. He put one hand on that shaking shoulder. “Loki, hey…” he said softly. 

Oh, fuck it. He threw his arms around him. People were looking now. Thor tried to block them out as he rocked him and hushed him, shh, shh, don’t cry. 

Loki’s sobs quieted down. He wiggled away to fish for a tissue in his jacket. He sniffled and blew his nose. Thor hesitated before he put one hand on his shoulder again. He tried rubbing gently. He was so fucking stiff.

“I miss the way things used to be,” said Thor. His tongue was looser from all that tequila, at last. “Don’t you?”

Loki sniffled. He shrugged.

“Why can’t it be like it used to be?” insisted Thor.

“Because we’re not ten anymore,” said Loki. And he took several deep breaths and had to push himself for such a tiny whisper. “I need more.”

Thor’s stomach flipped.

Damn. It had been spoken. It was out. What now.

“I know." He rubbed his eyes like he had a headache. What he really wanted was to bury his head under the cushions of that coach like a fucking ostrich. And to top it all off, he was so goddamn sad. Fuck. “I just… I can’t give you what you want.”

“But you want to,” Loki was fucking relentless.

Thor huffed in frustration. Loki was staring at him with green fire in his eyes. His faith was unshakeable. Why the hell was he so convinced, for fucks sakes?

“We can’t go back to the way it was, but it can be better…”

“Loki…” Thor was pleading. Don't make me say it out loud. But he'd backed him into a corner. He sighed deeply. “I’m… I’m not gay.”

“I know that, asshole.”

“What?”

“You’re bi."

Thor frowned, baffled.

“What?”

Loki smiled at him as if Thor was the slowest puppy in the litter. He closed his eyes and kissed him. 

And every single fucking hair in Thor’s body stood on end, the flash of tongue made his insides do a thing that left him without air to breathe, and how dare Loki just help himself to something like that, and it hit him like a thunderbolt of lightning that they were in a room full of people, Loki, for fuck’s sakes!

He shoved Loki off, heart pounding, hands shaking, and punched him. 

Loki’s face, god. Shock, heartbreak. He was pressing one hand to his mouth where Thor’s closed fist had hit him.

“Oh my god, Loki…” he reached for him. 

Loki swatted his hand away, and stomped out, tears streaming down, eyes front to avoid the looks he was getting. He was profoundly humiliated, and devastated.

Thor sat there like a fucking idiot, trying to get at least some of his shit together. Finally, he ran.

In front of Loki’s dorm room, Thor could hear him crying through the closed door.

“Loki… Loki, please, let me in… Loki…” 

He knocked, then he banged, then he shook the handle, then he banged again.

“Loki! I know you’re in there! Let me in, please!”

Fucking nothing. He started crying too.

“Loki, please… Please… I’m sorry. Please, Loki…”

He tried and tried. He begged and knocked and yelled and whispered, but apart from Loki’s sobbing, which eventually stopped, he never heard a sound from him.

People were poking their heads out all down the aisle. There were some shouts. “Cut it off, man!” “Do you know what time it is?” “People are trying to sleep!”

“Loki… please, Loki, let me in. I’m so sorry. Loki…”

“Dude, he doesn’t want to talk to you right now,” said the next-door neighbour, in his pyjamas. “Just give him some space.”

“Hey, this is none of your business, back off,” said Thor.

“None of my business? It’s 1 a.m., you’ve been at it for half an hour, knock it off!”

Thor was not in his most reasonable mood, and the shoving was uncalled for. When the guy returned the shove, he flipped. 

Campus security dragged him away kicking and screaming. There were threats of calling the police. 

The next morning, after sleeping it off, he tried to phone Loki, but there was no answer. He left messages, sent texts, called again. He went to his room, but he wasn’t there. He started calling people. By evening, he heard he had been holing up with Darcy’s big sister in town. Darcy wouldn’t tell him where that was, but she said she would pass on Thor’s messages.

Thor tried to be reasonable, not panic, wait for Loki to cool down. He kept his head down and worked hard.

When Loki had not returned after one week, he realised things were seriously wrong. After much chasing and prodding, Darcy told him Loki had gone home. When he called him there, his father wouldn’t put him on the phone. He would have to return for his finals, Thor thought. He waited.

If Loki came back for his exams, if he sat them somewhere else, or if he never fucking took them, Thor never found out. When he went home after his own exams and he knocked on Loki’s door, Loki's big brother told him that Loki was already in England. Thor asked for a phone number or an address. He never got them. He kept sending e-mails to the couple of accounts he knew Loki had to his name. He never got a reply. He never saw him again. 

_____

(The present)

Loki was a good liar, and his best client was himself. He was self-congratulating right now on the success of his strategy. So yes, true, on Friday evening he had failed to get back at Thor; he had walked out of that restroom without a comeback, and giving off evident signals of distress. And that was a humiliation. But clearly it had all been for the best. The opportunist in him could turn most situations to his own advantage. Thor looked haggard and tired today, he had evidently not slept much that weekend, and he had a sour gesture in his mouth as if he had a bitter pill permanently lodged under his tongue. So, sure, having the last word had its rewards, but Loki’s most piercing jab could not have done the amount of damage Thor’s own guilt and remorse had caused. Yes, Loki could congratulate himself. They did say that revenge is a dish best served cold. 

It just never tasted as sweet as he hoped, and it was far, far from filling. Indeed, there must not be much nourishment in the thought of Thor suffering, because Loki had felt empty and starved for fucking years.  

Chapter Text

Loki shut himself in his office, fuming in silence. With the door closed, he paced and raged. That fucking meeting. He could not fucking say openly no, I don’t fucking do town halls, because as much as he liked to proclaim that he did what he wanted, he was actually a professional with his eyes set on a long, prosperous career. Liked it or not, he had bosses, and if the bosses very kindly, very eagerly, very insistently urged him to accompany Thor on this town hall meeting, “I don’t fucking want to” just wasn’t going to reflect very well on him. So he exhaled loudly, cursed inwardly, and agreed. And now he was fucking furious. 

Huffing and pacing were not doing much for him. He pulsed the intercom.

“Barnes, in here.”

Bucky was already undoing his tie as he came in. He barged into him and pressed him against the wall. He was such a damn good kisser, Loki couldn’t get enough. One of the reasons why he hadn’t taken him home yet, a matter of self-discipline. It was bad enough how often he was doing him in the office. The boy had become a very, very bad habit, and if he ever took him home, Bucky was going to stay until the morning, he was clingy like that. Loki was a fucking softie after a good orgasm, and Bucky didn’t do any other kind. Bet he looked fucking scrumptious with a bedhead, especially of the fucking-all-night variety. And before you fucking realise, you have a fucking boyfriend, and no, just, absolutely not.

After a thorough groping, Bucky was busy with Loki’s pants. He licked his fingers wet, slipped his hand around his ass, and he was…

“Stop that."

“Oh, come on…” Bucky whispered and stroked his tongue on his ear, as he continued to stroke and squeeze and grope his ass.

“No. Turn around.” 

“Aw, come on, Loki, pretty please…” Kissing him. (God, he was good…) “Let me, please…”

“Turn around,” said Loki, dodging his mouth. Bucky tried for his neck. He was rubbing his hard-on against Loki's crotch like a dog.

“Just this once, please…” he whispered. “Your ass is incredible, since the moment I saw you I…”

“Turn. The fuck. Around.” hissed Loki, “or get the hell out of my office.”

Bucky pulled apart. Finally.

“Ok, ok…” He turned his back to him, hands flat on the desk. He muttered over his shoulder, “Jesus, Loki…”

Loki lubed up, rolled on the condom, bent Bucky low on the desk until his front rested on the surface, kicked his legs further apart. He lined up and pushed in rough. Bucky sucked in a sharp breath. Loki grabbed a handful of hair.

“Do you like this?” hissed Loki, thrusting, thrusting, well-aimed, controlled friction.

“Fuck, yeah…” Bucky was holding on to the desk for dear life.

“Do you want it to stop?”

“No, god, no…”

“Then you do. What I fucking. Tell you!” he punctuated his words with hard shoves.

“Oh god…” Bucky pressed his forehead on the desk. “God…”

He fucked him hard and rough, until Bucky's ass cheeks were blushing pink from the repeated slaps of flesh on flesh. He smacked his butt a few times, just for spice, and the noises he got from him, sweet merciful Zeus… He made it last. He had some serious self-control if he could say so himself, but in the workplace, he usually had it short and sweet. Or short and rough. This time, he dragged it out and didn’t let Bucky touch himself, for being such a pushy, indisciplined brat.

He was a dream, make no mistake, but Loki’s ass was sacred, an exclusive privilege for just a few. Just a few, being Tony. He took it out on Bucky when the thought hit him that, after all this time, he was still saving himself.

He left his office door open the rest of the afternoon, to let Bucky feel his stare whenever he got up or sat down and winced. The look he got from him was pure fucking sin.

Then there was the added edge of crossing eyes with Thor. He had probably heard them, and if he hadn't, he must have seen Bucky going in or out of his office looking indecently ravished and worked it out all by his little self.

They had not talked again since their heartfelt tête-a-tête. About personal matters, that is. Their professional interactions, however, seemed softer. Loki was aware that his veneer of cool indifference had cracked, and that Thor had seen it crack. And now he probably thought… what? That Loki was not beyond hope, that he could be brought back into the light side, by virtue of the enduring power of his love? Thor's version of a penitent look were those unbearable puppy eyes, always had been. I mean, if it works, why change it. So what was he expecting now? What did he want from him? To recover their fucking friendship, such as it had been? ("Why can't things be the way they used to be", unbelievable!) Did he want to hear Loki say he forgave him? What did he want, what? Because hovering near Loki's office like that, following Bucky with his eyes like he wanted to commit some major crime or another, and those goddamn puppy eyes, none of that screamed renewed friendship to Loki.

But did Thor even know he was doing it? Did he see himself, did he notice? God knows he had a history of spreading mixed signals around. Had he found out what he wanted yet? Had he figured it out at last, what he was, what was happening? Or was he still running around with his head in his ass mumbling “not gay, not gay”?

Ah, Loki fucking hated him at times, with everything he got. Like right now. Because after all these years, he was still sitting there struggling to thing about anything else but that bastard. 

Worse. He saw him walk by and he still needed his fucking salts. He had fucking hot waves watching him play with an innocent pen in his hands, or when he threw his head back to drink, that neck, god fuck, and when that pile of outrageous muscles insinuated under those tailored shirts. He needed to lock up his knees and take a deep breath and hold on to his fucking bearings because, around Thor, all he wanted was to fucking get on all fours and present. Thor still fucking owned him. He didn’t even have to try. Loki not-so-not-seriously was beginning to think that only killing him would set him free. Christ. And now his fucking bosses were politely demanding he went on a fucking road trip with him. Oh, joy. He wondered how the gay scene was in West Buttfuck, but anyway, he’d be packing toys.

_____________________

(Next Saturday)

Thor began his speech from the podium but he didn’t stay there long. He was soon walking around on the stage, body language smooth and engaging. And soon after that, he had climbed down the stage and was walking the aisles, looking people in the eye, on their level, smiling and letting his hands and his whole body explain in golden, warm, radiant sunrays, just what a fucking great idea it was to go to arbitration. He was magnificent, a glorious, heroic captain on the prow of this righteous ship of Good and Justice, only the sea breeze missing to comb back his golden locks. The looks on people’s faces were pure awe. Loki had to try hard not to join them.

After Thor had dazzled and beguiled the presents, there was a round of Q&A. That was Loki’s job. Some people had clearly done their homework and had some very specific questions. No problem whatsoever, Loki knew this case inside out by now, he was intimately familiar with all the pertinent legislation, past and present, had swathes of data in his head he could call on easily and with authority, and to finish it up, he knew each and every individual in the room that evening by name and face. So he may not earn their love and adoration, as Thor did so effortlessly, but he earned their respect and their goodwill. Between the two of them, they succeeded in instilling in them all the feeling that they were in good, capable hands.

Thor was impressed with Loki too. It came through his face without conceit or reserve. What a prince, what a gentleman. Lesser creatures would be resenting Loki for pretty much taking the case away from their hands, but not Thor. When he said all he wanted was to win this for the clients and get some justice done, he actually fucking meant it. Damn, his heart was still bigger than a fucking house. At least the rest of him was on a par to be able to lodge it. 

To be held down by a body like this. What it must feel like to be her? She was so lithe and tiny, did he fuck her against the wall a lot? Did he lift her up and down like a doll with those ridiculous arms when she was riding his cock? Did he ever fuck her in the ass, on all fours? Did he go hard, or did he treat her gently, because she was so slim, so breakable? Jesus fuck, he should have brought Bucky along.

After the Q&A, there were homemade pies, cakes, sandwiches, and lemonade. They mingled, they answered more questions, they went again over any points that were unclear. A long queue spontaneously formed to fill in the agreement forms. They still had not had time to count them when they shut down shop at around 11 a.m., but they were optimistic about the number of signatures they had obtained. Then again, even if every attendee tonight had signed, that still only represented about one-third of the total. So, there would have to be more meetings, yay, and very likely an extended door-to-door tour. It had always been the downside to this plan. If only he could persuade Fury that Thor and his affable cronies were more than enough for that job, that Loki's time would be put to better use elsewhere. Somehow he guessed Fury would be unyielding on that point as well.

They were tired and quiet on the drive back to the motel. Just the two of them in the car. Loki pulled down the window to let the cool breeze help keep him awake. He kept catching Thor’s eyes in the rearview mirror, so now he was trying not to look. It was hard, though.

“You did not misread the signs, you know,” said Thor, out of the blue. “You did not misunderstand anything, back then.”

Holy fucking shit, right now? Just like that? All power to front deflector shields, activate lizard mode. And just in case his eyes betrayed him, he turned his face to the window.

“I know,” was all he said.

“I was a mess. I didn’t understand what…”

“I have not asked for an explanation,” cut Loki.

“But I would still like to…”

“Tough shit,” he cut again, “because I don’t want to hear it.”

There was a tense, brief silence.

“Loki, I…”

“If it’s going to make you feel any better, why would I be interested in hearing it?” 

That made Thor shut up alright, with a gasp. Loki smirked in triumph. Yeah, Odinson. Never you forget who it is you’re dealing with.

Thor did not attempt any more talk. Loki said goodnight at the motel lounge once he got his keys, and Thor did not reply.

It was later that night, alone in his hard bed, with pancake-flat pillows and scratchy linens, when the thought occurred to Loki that there was a sweeter form of vengeance after all, one he himself could actually get something from. He was thinking that Thor wanted him, that much was clear. He was thinking about Thor's hot-head and the stupid things he did when his cock took over the wheel. He was thinking about Thor's tendency to torment himself with guilt and remorse. He thought there was an innocent wife in the mix that Thor loved and surely wished no harm to. He thought that sweet wife had had nearly a decade of Thor’s love and company, whereas he… Ah, wouldn’t it be awful if something was to happen…

Chapter Text

The drive back home, Loki decided, was as good a time as any to get this particular show on the road, The Seduction and Demolishment of Thor Odinson. The idle thought had occurred that Thor had not seen him in casual clothes since they were in college so, instead of the suit, Loki put on jeans and a t-shirt. And indeed, he spied he spied with his little eye the double and triple take Thor took when he met him by the car.

Once inside, Loki pushed the backrest and the seat as far back as it would go. He spread his long legs in front of him, put his brown-booted feet on the console, raised his arms over his head, and turned his face just so, to let the breeze do nice things to his hair, which today he wore up in a loose bun, and throw the shapes of his neck and collarbones into stark relief. His jeans had a low rise, the t-shirt was fitted. With his arms up, his underbelly would show. Thor kept his eyes resolutely on the road as if he was alone in the cabin. They set out without a word.

After a while, Loki pretended to have fallen asleep. He burrowed lazily in the seat, made an ambiguous noise of content, between an exhale and a purr. He wanted Thor to have his fill of watching him undeterred. Indeed, when he opened his eyes once, he caught Thor jerking his head away abruptly. Smooth as a fucking brick. He was always awful at sneaking.

Loki closed his eyes again, snuggled up in his seat, and dozed off for real, with a smirk.

Loki was not one to hang about just being pretty and waiting for things to come to him. In the office, from the very next day onwards, the game became another. From desirable object, he turned into desiring subject. Not that he had to try. All he needed to do was drop the act. He had been feigning indifference and pretending to see right through Thor since he had started working at Shield. Well, none of that, not anymore. It started with long, intense looks. It didn't take much more to throw Thor into disarray, bless him.

When they crossed paths in the hallways, Loki checked him out head to toe. Simple and direct. Thor kept his eyes forward as if he did not see him. When Thor was talking, be it in the presence of other people or with just the two of them, Loki stared at his mouth, his hands, straight into his eyes, his crotch. Thor lost his entire train of thought, flustered, stuttered. And did nothing. It bordered on sexual harassment in the workplace, but Thor bravely pretended nothing was going on. Maybe he thought that if he ignored it, it would go away. Hah.

Well, it wouldn't. In fact, it was going to get worse. Loki meant to push it until Thor was forced to acknowledge it.

He took to having all their one-to-one meetings in their private offices, behind closed doors. Instead of the chair, he sat on the desk, on whatever side Thor was sitting. And he stared. At Thor’s hands if he was gesticulating, his face, his hair, his body. Thor soon felt nobody was listening (though Loki was listening; he could multitask) and it totally threw him off. He forgot what he was saying and tripped on his words. It was delightful, and so much fun, but Loki was not altogether sure it was leading anywhere.

In spite of his mercurial character, when he was duly motivated, Loki did not quit. And since subtle wasn’t cutting it, he would have to throw it right at Thor’s face.

He timed it well. He knew Thor’s habits in detail by now. He knew when he would be passing in front of Loki’s office on his way back from lunch. He left the door one foot open.

“Are you not going to shut it?” said Bucky.

“Do you want this or not?” Loki snapped.

Bucky was on his front over the desk, his feet on the floor spread apart, where Loki had put them, pants around his ankles. Loki sat on his chair and started to eat him out.

He had given himself enough latitude. By the time Thor walked past, he had Bucky sobbing.

“Yeah… Loki… god… oh god, please… oh yeah… oh god…”

Thor’s face. His eyes nearly popped out of his orbits. He was frozen for a moment that felt like an eternity. Long enough for Loki to lift his gaze from the task at hand, lock in on Thor’s eyes, and smirked, as the pointed tip of his tongue dipped into Bucky’s arse, that he was keeping open with the tip of one finger. 

He almost expected Thor to barge in and try to murder them both. He looked more than ready for it. He didn’t. He stomped away.

Sweet, sweet triumph. Loki licked his lips, wiped his mouth.

“What is it?” asked Bucky, flushed and dazed. He had been so deep into it, he hadn’t even noticed Thor.

“Get up,” said Loki. “Face me.” 

Flustered and breathing hard, Bucky took his accustomed position, leaning on the desk for Loki to suck him. He knew he was not to move or put one single finger on Loki at any time, so he held fast to the desk, knuckles white. He was sobbing as he came in Loki’s clever mouth.

After dealing with the condom, Loki ordered Bucky to his knees by the desk. He fondled his hair almost tenderly as Bucky sucked him and came quietly, restrained, digging his nails into Bucky's scalp.

Oh, Thor’s eyes when they met in the team meeting that evening. He was so distracted, Coulson asked him in front of everybody if he was alright. All attention was on him now, poor dear, the whole team witnessing what an absolute mess he was. Made him touchier and snappier. Oh, he was such a beautiful, crumbling disaster zone. Loki wished he had done this sooner.

They were the last people on their floor that evening. All the interns and administrative staff had finished for the day. Loki stayed late pretty often. Thor had a set deadline that he usually stuck to. Must be the time he was expected home. Adorable.

But today he was cutting it close. He had unfinished business, Loki ventured, smug. He heard him smash and stomp in his office for some time. Then he heard a bang, perhaps a briefcase being slammed in rage on a desktop, and then brisk steps approaching. Here we go. Loki awaited with the blood-lusty excitement of a killer dog as they lower the bag of rats into the pen.

Thor’s nostrils were flaring. He couldn’t get his words out, which made him very, very self-conscious, just standing there gaping like a stuttering moron. Aw.

“Listen, Loki…” he started, “I know you are given a wide berth in this place, and… if Coulson and Fury tolerate it, it’s really not down to me what goes down in, in your office but…” Shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Stuck again. He had gotten to the hard part. 

Loki observed him, still as a lizard. He refused to help. He tilted his head, predatory.

“Could you please at least just… shut the door?” said Thor, a huffy, indignant whisper. Oh, he was so, so uncomfortable. Loki almost felt pity for him. Almost.

“I thought you would enjoy it,” said Loki.

Thor's frown was sincerely baffled, as well as outraged.

“Why the fuck would I enjoy it?”

“Well, you're always loitering. You’ve heard us often enough,” said Loki. “I thought you’d like to see.”

Now his bafflement was not as sincere, and his indignation overacted. He was too flustered, cheeks red hot.

“Alright, Loki. I don’t know what you think you’re doing but…”

“You know perfectly well what I’m doing,” cut Loki. He left him some time to wonder and to fear the response. “I’m trying to get you to fuck me.” He said it very slowly, savouring the words as he spoke them, letting them fill his mouth.

“Are you out of your goddamn mind?” Thor gasped.

Loki smirked, and smirked, and smirked some more. I see you, he was saying. I know and you know.

Thor snorted theatrically. He was going for righteous scorn. 

“I have a wife,” he declared grandly. 

Now Loki snorted. Don't be ridiculous. Did Thor honestly believe that a stupid gold ring would keep Loki away from him, or better yet, keep him away from Loki?

“And yet, you can’t get the idea out of your mind,” whispered Loki. “That I want you, that you can have me, all the ways in which you want to have me…”

Another furious huff from Thor, always deflecting with anger while his face gave it all away, pink and burning.

“Oh, you hate me so much right now,” purred Loki.

Thor stared at him with actual fucking pain.

“I despise you,” he said. “I hate what you're doing. Hate who you've become.”

Loki clenched his teeth. He wouldn't admit that this one had hit flesh under torture.

Don't let him drive you off course. He got up and approached him, eyes fixed.

“And yet you still want me.” A velvety whisper. “You can’t help yourself. And god, it pisses you off!” He laughed. “Look at you, trembling with it, with all the things you’d like to do to me right here, right now…”

“Shut up!” barked Thor, taking one step back. A few years back, he would have pushed him back and Loki would be now on the floor on his ass.

“Yes, you wish you could shut me up,” purred Loki, eyes boring into Thor's, merciless. “You wish you could gag me, or twist my neck until I choked… Or stuff your cock in my mouth and force it deep down my throat…”

Thor's eyes went wide. Horrified, sure, and something else too. A vein was throbbing in his neck.

“Have you imagined me like this, Thor? On my knees, choking on you, when you’re doing her? How deep can she take it, Thor?”

Thor lurched forward. He crowded him against the wall, fists clenched in threat.

“Don’t you fucking talk about my wife,” a warning growl. Still in control, but this close to losing it.

And he had just handed her to Loki on a platter.

“Have you ever grabbed her hair and fucked her mouth until she gags, like you want to do with me?” he whispered, almost sweetly.

Thor put both his hands around Loki's neck and pushed him against the wall. But he did not squeeze hard enough to shut him up.

“I’m playing with fire, huh?” His throat was burning, but he was still able to talk, still able to hiss. “I have no idea where I’m getting myself into, do I? Would you like to show me, teach me a lesson? Have you ever used all your strength on anyone? No, you’re always gentle, I bet, and so careful… They’re breakable, they’re sweet and precious. But me? Who cares if I bleed.”

“Loki!” roared Thor right in his face, one inch away.

“I would have it coming, wouldn’t I?” Hissing. “Can't say I had not asked for it… Oh yes, I’m fucking asking for it. To be forced down on my knees as you choke me with your cock, and then hold me down and fuck me as you’ve never dared to fuck anyone before, like the beast you are, no restrains…”

Thor smashed his fist into the wall and it cracked.

Loki was so scared and turned on he struggled to think.

“Yes, that’s it…” Trembling. “That’s what I’m talking about…”

Thor had his fist up, ready to strike again, knuckles bloody. He was panting too, eyes wide. Fury. Fear.

“Why don’t you,” whispered Loki, heart beating madly. “Do it.” Strike him, fuck him - not even Loki knew what he was asking for right now.

The bloodlust had cooled down. Thor let go of his neck, put his fist down.

“That’s not who I am,” he said. But his expression said he wasn’t as sure about that as he had been ten minutes ago, and that this fucking terrified him.

Loki leaned on the wall. He chuckled without humour. Came out raspy.

“I have a gift for bringing up the worst in people,” he said, rubbing his throat.

The fucking compassion in Thor’s eyes all of a sudden, the godawful fucking tenderness still there. It was unbearable. It burned Loki like acid. Don't fucking pity me, goddammit.

“It wasn’t always so,” said Thor.

“You were fucking blind!" he screamed. "You didn’t want to see it. This is who I really am!”

Thor shook his head, all rage drained from his face, only an immense sorrow remaining.

“No. I knew you well. You were the best part of me."

"I was your charity project, your fucking pet!"

Thor shook his head, too brokenhearted to talk.

"You were my friend. My brother.”

Oh, he fucking hated him so much now.

“I’m not your brother,” hissed Loki, “I never was.”

Thor's eyes had filled with tears. Loki's eyes too, how the fuck had that even happened. Loki should have had his clothes torn off him by now, and he should have been impaled on top of his desk being fucked dry, not…

Goddammit, Thor. He didn't know. Didn't know what it was. To grow up having to stare every day in the face of the very incarnation of everything he was not, what he would never be able to become, simply because he had not been fucking born the right way, trailing after it and running around its fucking feet like a goddamn dog. Yearning for it and craving for it and desiring it, and being kept at arm’s length, while girls who were fucking nothing to Thor took, again and again, the place that should have been his, that Thor claimed it was his, oblivious of the knife he sunk in Loki's heart with every word of love and every gesture of affection and then twisted it, every time he called him brother.

Thor lurched for him again (Loki flinched back in fear), hooked one hand around his neck, pulled him close, kissed Loki’s forehead, hard. And ran away as if from a house on fire.

Loki stood there, gaping like an idiot, frozen in shock.

Chapter Text

Loki had many hours to lick his wounds. He wasn't going to sleep a wink that night. It was a bad idea to just lie there thinking. Feeling. None of that. Better do some scheming.

He was thinking it was possible to break Thor. All he had to do was make him just the right kind of angry. He knew the way to go about it now. It should be easy to hone his words and actions, aim carefully, and time it right. Thor would lose control, and Loki would end up being violently fucked over the desk as he had planned. It was possible. In the art of manipulating people, with patience and care to sow the seeds, and a level head to wait for a window of opportunity, almost everything was.

However. Wouldn't it be interesting, wouldn't it be fun, if Thor came to him of his free will? If he was presented with a choice when his mind was clear? No overpowering heat rush, no loss of control, no basis for a plea of temporary insanity. If he did it with premeditation, oh, he’d never fucking recover from that, would he?

He had an idea. It was a very tall bet, one that could pay off or finish this. His head was telling him to sit on it and mature this a bit longer, perhaps even wait for a less risky strategy to strike.

His gut was telling him it was time.

In the office the next day, he left an envelope on Thor’s desk. 

“Tomorrow, lunch break,” he said. “You’ll have this one chance.”

Baffled, Thor stared at him, at the envelope, and back at him. He’d understand soon enough. 

The die was cast.

_____________

Thor opened the envelope and a plastic card fell into the palm of his hand, then a calling card for a hotel with a room number scribbled on the back in Loki’s handwriting. What the hell…?

It could not be. It just… It could not be. Loki could not possibly think he’d… Did he really think Thor would just…? It was so fucking absurd. It was ridiculous. Loki had completely lost his fucking mind. He was insane if he believed that Thor would… 

What. The. Fuck.

Alright. He had to get up right this fucking minute, slap that fucking envelope back on Loki’s desk, and make it very very loud and clear once and for all that he would never in his fucking life, ever… 

He was still sitting in his chair, frozen in place.

Thor didn’t have any meetings that day. He was spared being called on his permanent residence for the day in Cloud 9, but he had nothing to distract him from his goddamn thoughts either. 

Lunchtime he spent on his usual bench in the park. It was usually empty at that hour. By that time, astonishment had given way to outrage. That Loki could think even for one minute that he would do something like that! Did he truly believe that he would just deliberately and with a cold head walk into a room and…? - His stomach flipped. The scene appeared in his mind. A hotel room, a tidy, well-made bed, and Loki there too, both looking at each other, knowing what they were there for, what was going to happen… 

The afternoon passed in a kind of fever, the plastic room key burning in the inside pocket of his jacket. He took it home with him.

Jane threw both arms around his neck to kiss him when she arrived that evening. She was still hyped up from her day, excited about the visiting professor from Sweden. She nattered on about new ideas he was bringing into the mix of her current work. Thor's attention was painfully focused on her every move as she hung up her jacket next to his. She was chatting away, not even looking, but his throat was dry. She had never once in her life dipped in his pockets, that he knew of, but suddenly, every gesture she did towards the fucking coat rack made his pulse ramp up.

“The thing with Erik is that he doesn't have time to spare for holy cows and the scientific establishment. He’s completely open-minded, almost like a child. There is no idea he’s not willing to entertain. He's such an invigorating presence, and so refreshing, because usually…”

He listened, he did. He tried. It was an effort.

He got home last night with crusted blood on the knuckles of his right hand. She was shocked. He hadn't prepared anything, no excuse. Told her the truth: got frustrated and hit a wall. As if that explained it. As she tended gently to the worst of the damage, she asked what could possibly have frustrated him to that extreme. He hesitated and stuttered, and in the end, he just said, “Loki.” Again, as if that explained anything at all.

Did it? Was she thinking of professional squabbles, tactic disagreements, fights for hegemony, that sort of thing? She could have kept poking at it. She was perfectly entitled to a decent explanation. But she could identify a touchy issue when she saw one, and mercifully let it go.

He hadn’t told one single lie, and yet he felt like he was betraying her already.

Because it was late, they had leftovers in front of the TV. It saved Thor from having to keep the caring, supportive husband act up over the dinner table, where his lack of concentration and his silence would have been a lot more conspicuous. Make no mistake, he was caring and supportive, or he tried, but tonight he didn't have it in him.

She cuddled up against him, remote in her hand. They settled for a late-night talk show. She was warm, her shoulders jerking under his arm as she laughed, flesh soft and bones sharp, her skin so smooth, her weight familiar, her smell.

Thor wasn’t laughing. He wasn't following the show at all. His mind was miles away.

“Are you alright?” she said at one point. “You’re quiet.”

He kissed her head, (that perfume was too sweet). 

“Tired.” 

He knew that this would not satisfy her. He had been relying on it all too often these last few months, but that was all he had. Still, she didn't push it. She was always making allowances for his temper, his grumpy outbursts, his sullen silences. That didn't mean she was happy with them. In the past, he had tried to make it up to her. Be at his sweetest, try to express at least a few of the thoughts he struggled to share. He wasn't trying as hard these days. If she let him off the hook, he just swam away, relieved. It wasn't fair, he knew. And it was a very bad idea too. But what is a man to do - he was exhausted.

They snuggled up in bed and kissed for a few moments. She was horny, clearly. She pressed and rubbed against him. His body was responding, but he wasn’t, not really. He kissed her back but with warmth, not heat. She must have chalked it up to his tiredness, and after some more slow, gentle kisses, she gave up and curled up on her side, her back turned to him. In a few minutes, her breathing was paused and quiet. Sleep of the just.

Thor’s breath was short and strained. He was turned on. Tired or not, a few days ago, they would have made love. Tonight, though. He couldn't do it with all those thoughts in his mind. Loki with his tongue up Bucky’s ass. College, Loki's head between Fandral's thighs, raven black hair all messed up. Turning to look at him, eyes like green blades cutting right through, seeing him. And licking his lips like the cat who got the cream. Fandral was as close as it got to doing it to Thor. He was doing it to him, in a way.

Further back in time. Mom and Dad in the house, the two of them on the couch in the den, jerking off side by side, with a stupid fucking cushion between them. They had been playing video games the first time, their scantly-clad characters with highly pixellated muscles and curves fighting each other, sounds of effort - virile grunts, feminine squeals (Loki usually chose girl characters).

Thor was so fucking horny all the time. He had to keep sneaking away to do something about it. He could do that now. Done it before. Bathroom was right there. It only took two fucking minutes, really. He'd go first, and a few minutes later, Loki. So stupid. Couch was much nicer. It's not like they didn't know what they were up to in there, right? And what's the fucking harm? Listen, this is ridiculous. Let's just rub one off quickly and keep playing.

Oh, the expression on Loki's face. He was burning red, couldn't look Thor in the eye.

Thor laughed it off. What? It's not weird. Lots of kids do it.

Do what? - Loki never asked in those days, never pushed it. Didn't pressure. Don't make Thor say it. Don't make him think about it. Why would he? Why risk it? They were going in the direction he wanted to go anyway. Sure, Thor, let's pretend there's nothing to it. Physiological needs, right? Teenage hormones. Nothing more. Let's not make it weird.

Still, Thor kept his eyes closed during, just in case Loki didn't. It would be weird to, like, stare at Loki while they. That would be... Yeah. No. And no fantasies or anything either. Nothing on his mind. Just get it out of the way quickly. Focus on the task at hand.

Except that Loki was right there and Thor could never focus so tightly that he could not fucking hear every little noise Loki made. Every change in his breath. Every time he spat on the palm of his hand. The slick wet noises. The dull thump as he slammed down. How hard he was trying to hold back any other sounds. Every time he slipped, those small, weak, choked moans. Couldn't help it, huh? Yeah, neither could Thor, not all the time. He did think... yeah, he was totally aware Loki wasn't missing a beat of what he was up to, and it was... A bit embarrassing, sure, but also, just, so fucking hot. Real live porn, that's all it was. Right? At that age, you get horny watching dogs fuck. Had nothing to do with Loki. You just make do. He was his best friend in the world. He'd gladly give him a fucking kidney if it was ever needed. This was nothing. This was...

He'd hear Loki strain to keep quiet more and more as he got close. In the quiet, the slap and slick of fists on cocks seemed to get louder. It was impossible not to fucking visualise. Loki's pale hands, his long fingers. Every fucking chip on the black paint of his nails.

In the heat of it, sometimes Thor had almost asked him, almost suggested... We could trade hands. Like, why not? He would have found the words to make it not weird. He would have even found the way in his mind. A friendly hand. Big fucking deal. Feels better when it's someone else, nothing more to it. Shit, jerking off barely counts as sex. Other kids do it. Some kids. We could... we could just...

He would try to pace himself so that they would come together because it did feel weird if he finished first. So weird to hear Loki come when his head was clear. Like Loki was making him hear it. Like he wanted him to.

Felt weird too to drag it out, have to say. Felt weird to think of synchronising. Like they were doing it together. But that was not what they were doing, right? Not what this was about.

If he felt Loki was taking too long, that he was not just trying to get it out of the way fast enough, Thor got moody. Didn't wait. Stomped to the bathroom to get clean, clattering around, making noise, and fucking wait there in a huff until he could be reasonably sure that Loki would be finished. He'd probably remain in a huff for a good while.

The fuck is wrong with you now?, Loki would ask. Good fucking question, that. But since they never once talked about it. That would have been a lil weird.

He tried not to think about what they did in the den when he was by himself. He tried to box it up and put it out of sight as something they did because they could, because they were that close. Best friends. Soulmates. They could have synchronised orgasms sitting one cushion apart while the game was on pause and it didn't have to mean a thing. It just didn't.

So he'd never ask for Loki's hand or. Or anything else. None of the things that Thor sometimes... In the extreme heat of the moment... Better just keep their hands off altogether. Keep it simple. Don't complicate things, don't make this into something it isn't. Because it wasn't that. Girls were girls and Loki was Loki. It just. It just wasn't. It wasn't like that.

Thor was in a world of multilayered shit right now, but at least he didn't have to keep up the fucking mental acrobatics anymore. When he found himself struggling to keep his eyes off Loki sleeping next to him in the car on the trip back from the town hall meeting, at least he didn't have to make up a reason why.

He was still lovely. He'd looked so much like the kid he once was. The one he'd grown up with. Thor remembered many long drives to and from college, home for the holidays. Just the two of them. No Amora and no Fandral and no Darcy chatting and bustling and dragging them both here and there to this or that other party, and no guy giving Loki the eye and taking him away, while Thor grabbed just any girl’s ass and drank too much and shoved it in with nowhere near enough consideration, only making sure not to call any names during the deed, because he was bound to fuck it up. More than ever, in those days, girls were girls and Loki was Loki. He had a name, they pretty much didn't, not really. It was that brutal.

God, it was so fucking obvious looking back on it now. Isn't hindsight great. Thor had all the fucking symptoms: he yearned for Loki’s company obsessively, and missed him with a passion; he was possessive of him to a disproportionate degree for someone who was just a friend; he thrived under Loki’s attention and adoration and took for granted everyone else's. He hugged and kissed him way too fucking much, and it was never enough. But hadn’t it always been like this, since they were kids, since Thor could remember? He just thought it was… well, the way it always was, for them and for everyone who had a best friend in the world, a soulmate, a brother. How was he supposed to know? 

What the hell did Loki want from him? What did he want them to be? Did he want it to be like with all his jocks? Like Thor's girls? That's not what they fucking were! They were something else! They were so much more! - Then Loki would push it, poke him and prod him and ask for more and more from him, and Thor would get that bad taste in his mouth, like when they were jerking off in the den and Loki wanted to drag it out.

I'm not your brother. I never was.

Goddammit, Loki, yes you are.

"You'll have this one chance."

Oh, and he meant it. Thor was positively sure that they could never come back from this if he missed this appointment tomorrow. There was no getting over the humiliation and the hurt of one more rejection. He would get his revenge on Thor in other ways, make no mistake about that, but that particular avenue would be shut forever.

Therefore, all Thor had to do was keep his fucking sanity until after lunch break tomorrow, and the problem would resolve itself. It seemed easy. It seemed doable. The horrible things Loki had told him, how disgusting he had been to Jane. All that ugliness in his eyes when he looked at him, when he spat poison at him; the cruel smirk when he hit flesh. The fuck was supposed to be desirable about that?

But then he remembered Loki’s face after Thor kissed his forehead. How he'd flinched from him at first because he was expecting to be hurt instead. He was a starving little boy in pain, same as he always was. He wanted things he could not have and it hurt and he wanted everybody else to hurt for it, because why fucking shouldn't they. Fuck, why didn't they. How did they do it, why the hell was he the only one aching so bad that it made everything evil and ugly? How the hell did he make it stop? He still had no idea. All those fucking years, all he'd done was hurt.

And so much of it had come from Thor's hand. Oh, the look on Loki’s face after he punched him that awful night. That should never have happened. His Thor would never have done something like that, not to him. Thor was many things, his tormentor among them, but he was not supposed to be one of those people, one of them. It was unthinkable, and yet it was, it had just happened. Someone who trusts so rarely and with so much caution, because it was the only thing he could do to try to feel safe, and yet he could not fathom the enormity of that betrayal, not from Thor. He had nothing left to hold on to. He'd had so little to begin with.

How many times had Thor gone back to that night, how many times had the scene replayed in his head. All those years, while Loki was still lost to him. When he got to the part where Loki kissed him, even in his dream, he allowed for shock, for nerves, but this time, Thor kissed him back. He ignored the looks of the people around them, his own apprehension, his prejudice, his vertigo, he ignored everything but his friend’s touch. He understood this was what had always been between them, and he didn't have to fear it anymore. He could do this. He knew it to be true and right. He imagined cradling Loki’s face gently, Loki's arms clinging to him desperately. He luxuriated in the thought of Loki's joy, his relief, his triumph, all the good things that he could have given him, all the good things he could have made him feel. Yes, my brother. My soulmate. My one. And in his dream, they got together, and they stayed together, and they were happy together, to this day, the way it was fucking meant to be.

The years had not done much to kill the fantasy. Jane did. Mostly. For a good while. It did return sometimes, more like a memory than a real fantasy, something he had wished for once. It wasn't real and it never was - and it never would be, so there was no harm in dreaming. That's what he told himself. And made a deal with her in his head - you can have all of me, but not this. This, I am keeping. He didn't owe this to anyone, not even his wife. Perhaps not even Loki. 

It was so fucking wrong, what had happened. So colossally unfortunate, so disproportionately out of tune with what they had been, what they might have been. And was he supposed to... what, shrug and move on? Be realistic? Resign himself? What's done is done? The past is past? Because it so did not feel like it was in the past right now. It was present and alive right here, inside. Here. It was burning him. Sure as hell didn't feel done.

It had not been some natural disaster either. It had not been an unlucky chance. Thor did this to the two of them. He did. It was a fuck up. It was never meant to go like this. It was never meant to end like this.

One chance. One chance. One chance. On and on it went like a fucking mantra, until the words became meaningless sounds. One chance. One chance. One chance. 

They saw this movie once with Jane. This woman cheated on her husband, in the end all was forgiven.

One chance one chance one chance…

That woman in the film. She had been away from home, extreme life-or-death situation kind of thing. With the way the story was set up, her falling into another guy's arms had seemed pretty much inevitable, and totally understandable too. The ending was bittersweet, a kind of “we’ll always have Paris” scenario, the lover gallantly and selflessly renouncing his claim, packing her back to her husband, who understood and forgave, and the hero walking away into the sunset alone.

Total bullshit, if you asked Thor. He thought the husband was a pushover, and so was the wife, for that matter, bouncing from man to man and in the end just going where she was told. It seemed pretty simple to him. This is so unfair. She should have ended up alone. Jane didn't like it much more than he did, but she wasn't so ready with her judgment. Life was long and complicated, she said. Sometimes people fuck up, and it wasn’t the end of the world. She said, romantic relationships are many things, but where is it written that they have to be fair.

Pushover, he told her. They both laughed.

Not the end of the world.

What that woman in the film very much did not do was walk with callous premeditation and a perfectly cool head into a hotel room, with the explicit intention of committing adultery. That was unforgivable. That, Jane would not understand. That was pure, cold, cruel betrayal on an entirely different level. And right now, it seemed a situation so far removed from everything Thor believed in, all that he stood for, he could not believe that Loki seriously thought that he would do it. Did he really expect that he would or was it some mindgame meant to drive Thor crazy, or what?

One chance one chance one chance…

If only he had not punched Loki that night. Why did he fucking have to do that. Thor wasn't ready, that night was going to shit anyway, but if he hadn't done that, they might have survived to see another day. And then another, and another. Perhaps Loki would have stayed in his life, and in time, Thor would have fucking come around to the truth about himself, as he had now, and he would have been able to… My brother. My soulmate. The love of my life.

What if instead of pushing him off the edge when he had him dangling there, over the void, Thor had managed to hold on to him.  Who would Loki be today if Thor had managed to love him fully, openly, the way it should have been. 

Loki, you fucking idiot. Thor didn’t want to make him bleed, he didn’t want to choke him with his cock. He wanted to hold him close, and go back to that night, and return that goddamn kiss.

One chance. One chance to fuck it all up, or to make it right, and right now he didn’t even know which was which.

Chapter Text

He got up without having slept a wink. Jane touched his forehead with her lips, told him he looked awful, that perhaps he should call in sick. 

He should, yes, of course. Stay home, let this fateful day go by unmarked and untold. He did feel like shit after all. The devil on his shoulder told him “don’t let him think you’re afraid of him”, but he spoke in Loki's voice. The angel on his other shoulder was quiet, but looked like him.

He walked cautiously into the building and down the hall to his office, as if he was treading on a treacherous terrain. He told himself to cut it short, that he was multiplying the chances of bumping into Loki like that, but it was like wading through treacle. He should go home, now. 

He did make it to his office safely. He sat on his chair, unseeing the space around him, and the key card in his pocket felt heavy as lead.

On his way back from a short meeting in Fury’s office, he spotted Loki for the first time that day. He was standing up but leaning close to Bucky, who was sitting at his desk. It looked like genuine work, but the way Bucky was smiling, and how close Loki’s mouth was to his ear, reminded Thor that Loki had no qualms about mixing business with pleasure.

Loki shot his eyes up to him. If he had smirked, or leered, or done anything suggestive in any way, Thor would have felt a satisfying rush of revulsion to barricade behind. But Loki’s eyes were wide and curious, and there was a note of tension in his face, breaking through the mask, those tightened lips, and if there was anything but true, sincere interrogation in those eyes, Thor didn't see it.

He stumbled into the restroom. Checked it was empty, locked himself up in a stall. Trembling, he undid the zipper. He had an ear out for any noise outside, it wasn't easy to make himself hard. He jerked off rough, teeth clenched to hold in his sounds. He cupped one hand around the head of his cock to catch the spunk, terrified of stains. Shuddering, heart pounding in terror, he tried to catch his breath in total silence. He was terrified of being caught, terrified of why he'd done this, terrified because it hadn't done a thing.

*

The room was empty when he arrived. His hands were shaking. Loki wasn't there, and Thor could still run, but he didn't. Just like he had not called in sick today, just like he had not turned back when he was crossing the three streets he had to walk to get there. He didn't run when the guy at reception gave him a passing look and returned to scrolling on his phone after Thor signed the register (he used a false name, he spared no sleaziness ). He didn't run when he found himself standing in front of the door to the room, and even when he had dropped the key and had to pick it up, sense had not returned to him and he had not fled. He slotted the card in again, this time with more care. No matter what happened now, he had gotten this far, he was already guilty, and he knew it.

He startled when the door opened. Loki walked in, saw him there, and smirked. It made Thor want to punch his face in, that look. It was not even victory, it was the morbid delight of contemplating the utter defeat of your opponent. Not pleased that you won, but that they lost.

They both just stood there for a moment. Nothing was said. Thor was there, so was he. Nothing more to say.

Loki loosened his tie, hung up his jacket, started to unbutton his shirt. Thor watched him with his stomach lurching.

“You better get on with it,” said Loki, a velvety mutter. “We don’t have much time.”

He hung the shirt neatly on a hanger in the tiny closet. Shoes and socks, and finally his pants. He dropped them and hung them too. And he was naked. He turned to Thor.

“I really must insist. You don’t want to parade around the office with dry spunk all over your suit.” Or explain to your wife how it got there. Loki thought it but didn't say it. The moment was delicate, the wrong word might tip Thor over in the wrong direction.

“This is a mistake,” said Thor. His voice was shaky.

“Of course it is,” said Loki, softly. "What did you expect? Did you imagine us falling in each other’s arms in a whirl of passion? This is not a movie, Thor.”

The scorn, the nonchalance. As if it was nothing. As if it didn't matter.

“How can you be so…” said Thor with disgust.

Loki glared at him, daring him.

“…So cold,” said Thor.

“Does this look cold to you?” replied Loki, firm on his feet, stroking himself.

Thor's body was responding, even if his eyes were shy.

“How long have you known about yourself, Thor?” said Loki, taking one step closer. “I’m just asking because, well,” a sideways smirk. “Have you ever been with a man?”

Loki’s tone did not make Thor feel compelled to share at all. He had come here to fuck him, and that was acceptable, but apparently he drew the line at telling Loki about his goddamn personal life. Nothing made sense anymore.

“In that case, you must have questions,” said Loki, guessing correctly. “And perhaps a wishlist…”

That purr. Thor simultaneously wanted to slap his face and… A vein in his crotch was throbbing, pulsing hot.

“What would you like to do?" said Loki, taking another step closer, still stroking himself. He was fully hard now. "What things would you like to do to me? Have you thought about it when you jerk off in the shower? When you hear me fuck Bucky? When you’re fucking your wife?”

That never failed. Thor was on him, pushing him against the wall, hands around his neck. Thor's eyes were searing hot, full of hatred. Not all of it was aimed at Loki. He had him there, their bodies pressed together chest to foot. Thor was gloriously hard against Loki's bare skin. He was also in torment, loathing himself for this, all of it. Loki couldn't help but smirk with cruelty. Taste it, damn you.

“What would you have me do to you?” countered Thor in a menacing hiss. “How many times have you imagined this, Loki? Pining for me all those years, watching me take girl after girl after girl to my bed? Did you jerk off picturing yourself in their place, legs spread open, calling my name? When you sucked Fandral, did it help to think it was my cock? All those frat boys you so generously serviced, and all you really wanted was…”

Loki roared and thrashed and tried to shove him off. Thor pushed his body between Loki’s legs. Loki’s nails were digging in his hair and Thor wasn't even trying to get rid of him. Loki was grinning madly now. Yes, that’s it, let your cock take charge, I’ll be laughing when it’s done, whereas you…

Some silent agreement happened between them. This was going to happen. They both started undoing Thor’s clothes, panting with lust. When the shirt opened Loki’s eyes widened. Thor’s heart fell to pieces; he looked like a little boy at the doors of Disneyland, oh my god, this is real, this is happening… He didn't know whether to laugh or cry. He went to kiss him. Loki turned his face away. Oh no you fucking don't. Loki thrashed and squirmed to kind of fight him off without really trying. No, he wasn't trying, he was just making it hard for them both. Fine. Thor grabbed his wrists to pry Loki's nails away from his scalp. He pinned his hands over his head, and kissed him. 

Loki’s fury evaporated. He went limp. Thor let go of his wrists because he wanted to touch him. Stroke him. Hold his face like a fucking ancient relic. He'd been desperate to do this. He worked Loki's lips slowly, with something like reverence. The kiss he had owed him all these years.

Loki had stopped fucking breathing. Their goddamn lips were pressed together. Thor’s tongue was in his mouth. They were kissing against the wall of that shitty hotel. He raked deep into Thor’s scalp again and returned the kiss. It got messy and dirty fast. Thor let go of his jaw to hold Loki’s thighs around his waist, and pushed the bulge of his hard cock against him. They were kissing fiercely now, Thor rutting against him, squeezing the air out of him with his hunger and his strength. 

Loki peeled the shirt off him, Thor tugged and pulled impatiently to get rid of his sleeves. He had to give Loki some air when he went for his fly. Meanwhile, Thor's mouth moved to Loki's neck, hot and wet and bristly with that beard. It was fucking insane. Thor wanted him. Thor wanted him. Loki was pinned to the wall getting a beard rash all over his neck because Thor fucking wanted him. For real. A lot. It was not a fantasy, not an abstract premise in a scheme; it was a flesh and blood reality he could see and smell and very much feel. He was almost high with the rush. 

Thor was sinking to his knees kissing, licking, and sucking all the way down, chest, nipples, stomach. From the stomach directly to Loki's pubes, his cock. He was nuzzling against it, tasting tentatively, letting Loki's cock brush his face, his lips. Playing chicken with himself. Could he do it? Did he dare? Loki was up there about to have a heart attack wondering.

Thor closed his eyes and took him in his mouth. Loki’s whole body seized. He stared down in disbelief. It seemed impossible, but it was happening. Thor was blowing him. He ran his lips along the shaft, ran his tongue over the ridges and shapes of it, sucked the head. Didn't feel like he was servicing Loki or pleasuring him so much as just feeling him, tasting him. Finding out if he liked it. Well, do you? Meanwhile, Loki was grabbing onto Thor's shoulders tight, his knees going weak under this fucking torment.

Thor looked up to stare at Loki’s face. His expression was blissful. Then he went and fucking hugged him, arms around his legs, forehead resting against Loki’s body, then his cheek. He was squeezing tight, the sound out of him not lust or even excitement, just… content, joy.

Absolutely not. None of this. Loki shoved him off and got free.

“You’re fucking useless at this,” he said, hissing to disguise the strain in his voice.

He rummaged in his briefcase and got condoms and lube out, threw them carelessly on the bedside table. He tried for matter-of-fact and business-like. He would have liked a moment for himself, but that would show he was affected.

“I’d like to do you," he said, "but I don’t have the time or the patience, so we’ll have to make do this time.” And got on the bed, on hands and knees. Hopefully, it wouldn't show much that he was shivering.

Thor took in the fucking tableau, that white, elegant body, long thighs, rock-hard ass, the nubs of his back, the hint of ribs through the lean muscles of his back, those shoulders. His ink black hair messed up by Thor’s own hand. And all of it, his if he wanted it.

“Well? Get on with it,” said Loki. There had been a quiver in his voice. 

Thor went over. Yes, he wanted it. He wanted it all, from head to toe and everything in between. His hands were shaking. He had no problems with the condom, but the lube was more complicated. He knew to lube himself, not others. Were you supposed to rub it in, or…?

“Oh, for fucks sakes,” Loki grumbled. He snatched the tube off Thor’s hands, impatient, and did the honours. Thor looked on with a dry throat. This was so fucking clinical…

Loki adopted position again.

"Come the fuck on."

The thought crossed Thor’s mind that he could still walk away from this.

But he did not want to. God, he did not want to. He stood behind Loki. He stroked the palm of his hand down Loki’s back, the reliefs of his body so new under his fingers. Loki flinched, maybe ticklish, maybe surly.

“Don’t I need to prepare you or something?” he said. “Won’t I hurt you? 

“I’m ready,” said Loki, firmly looking ahead, voice even more pinched. “Just do it.”

He had prepared himself that morning, he had been preparing himself all fucking day. He had been preparing himself for years, all his fucking life.

The blunt, cold head of Thor's cock nudged at Loki's ass, but he wasn't rushing it. He caressed his hair, he kissed his back. Loki’s stomach plunged through the fucking floor.

“Stop that!” he snarled. He twisted to shove Thor's hand away. His fingers were clawed, ready to scratch his fucking face if he dared kiss his back once more. But Thor caught his wrist, and he could not fucking shake him off. “Let go of me!” he hissed, turning around, fighting to get free, aiming for the eyes.

“Stop, Loki,” whispered Thor, both of Loki’s wrists in his grip now, leaning in, and lying on top of him. He had Loki imprisoned beneath his body. He kissed him again while he pinned Loki’s arms either side, and without even fucking realising, Loki had spread his legs to receive him. It only took a couple of hip rolls. The head of Thor’s cock found the spot. Thor let go of one wrist to help himself in, but Loki did not try to claw his eyes out again. He was holding his breath as Thor inched himself inside, their mouths touching, their foreheads touching, breathing the same air.

Thor had sunk to the hilt. He was still and heavy on top of him, fully sheathed in Loki’s body, breathing hard. Loki had clearly lost his mind and was caressing his hair.

Then Thor looked at him frowning. He was concerned.

“I’m alright,” muttered Loki. He grabbed Thor's ass with both hands. "Come on."

Thor still thought about it for one second, as if he'd forgotten what to do. He pulled out a bit and pushed back in, carefully.

"I'm bored. Come on!" Loki was urging him with his hips.

Thor finally got with the program. He started moving like Loki always dreamed he'd be able to move. He was strong and fit and horny. And beautiful. And sweet. His huffy breathing as he plowed him was the hottest fucking thing in the world.

Loki clung on with arms and legs, bit that massive gorgeous fucking arm beside him to quiet the moaning. Thor hissed and fucked harder.

“Fuck, I won’t last,” Thor whispered. “God, Loki…”

Thor was getting wrapped in it, picking up the pace, going harder. Loki didn’t want to fucking ask for anything or give one single fucking instruction. He just wanted to be taken, filled, fucking ruined. He lost himself in Thor's strength, his passion, his desire, his pleasure, the sounds they were making together. He wanted it the way Thor wanted it. He wanted to know what it was, how. He had always wanted to know.

He looked at Thor’s face. It was getting more and more tense as sensation spiked up and effort got more intense. Thor wanted to kiss him and Loki let him, even though he did not want to miss one twitch, one frown, one single expression on Thor's face.

The last fucking bit was colossal. Thor was so fucking powerful. He did not lose control. He fucked him with urgency, not frenzy. Which was scorching hot for some reason. He came with his face buried in Loki’s neck, muffling his manly groans and grunts against his skin.

He looked dozy when he started to get up and away from him. Loki hooked his ankles around the small of his back.

“Stay.”

He took himself in hand and jerked off. He didn't want to rush it. He had Thor's dick inside him, Thor's eyes staring at him, he was in no fucking hurry. But he was close, and Thor was kissing him with his eyes closed now, and when he moved Loki could feel it inside, and there was no fucking helping it, he was done in three minutes flat, shivering like a newborn puppy in Thor's warm, massive arms.

Loki made a weak, half-hearted attempt at dodging him when Thor went to kiss him again, just to feel again Thor’s big hands on his face, fixing him in place, grounding him, making him be still and take it.

Thor collapsed on top of him at this point, panting. He got smeared in Loki’s come but did not seem to care. He stayed there until his cock softened and slipped out. Loki was staring at the ceiling, the paint so smooth; after a while his eyes were deceived and it was like staring into a colourless void.

It seemed like a long time had passed before Thor rolled off him, and lay on his back next to him. Loki wondered, was that his usual side of the bed? Did he always stay inside like that with her? 

They lay there in silence. There was only their breathing, progressively returning to normal. 

Now it was when Loki was going to gloat: He was going to remind Thor of the wonderful wife he had betrayed over the piece of cruel mean shit that was his humble servant. He never uttered a word.

He did get up eventually, because he was feeling a growing need to curl up into Thor’s arms. In the bathroom, he quickly rinsed his chest, cock, pubes, ass. No soap. He didn't want to smell of citrus and jasmine right now. He wanted to smell of what they'd just done. What he had just done, with Thor.

He stared at the mirror and was stunned. His lips were an absolute mess, and his hair, but what about his fucking eyes? Had he cried? He looked vacant, shell-shocked.

He put his clothes back on without turning his face once towards the bed and left without saying goodbye. He didn't think he could manage.

Thor never returned to the office that afternoon. Loki could still smell him in his hands.

Chapter Text

Thor stayed there for a long time after Loki left. Before the fact, he had expected the crush of guilt to fall on him immediately like a hammer. He had pictured himself weeping inconsolably with remorse, and banging his head against the wall or something to punish himself. Well, he wasn't curled up with regret at the crime he had committed, he wasn't choking up with guilt. He wasn't crying, not even a little. Instead, he touched his lips, smelled his hands, touched his limp cock, and thought of Loki.

His companion, his brother, his best friend in the world. How fucking beautiful he was taking off his clothes, hanging them neatly. Aw, Loki... And how fucking hot standing there stark bollock naked, cock in hand, daring him. Even spitting his venom, trying to work him up, piss him off, so that he could get his punishment and his vindication at the same time. Oh, the games you play. There was nobody like him. No-one.

Loki, Loki… Fucking him had felt completely different from the usual. Yes, he had done girls that way, even his wife a handful of times, but this was Loki. Thor had panicked for a moment when he pushed in and Loki started to cry, thinking he was hurting him. But then he realised it wasn’t that, and fuck. When Loki opened up, he opened up all the way to the marrow of his bones, down to his beating heart, and that was what Thor was seeing as he fucked into him. He was seeing his friend and he was seeing himself and he was seeing what it was to be together at last after thirty fucking years. Who fucks like that. Who else. And maybe it hadn't been neither one's most technically proficient effort, or the most successful, but fuck, it had been something else.

This had been important, it had mattered. He closed his eyes and touched his lips, tender, abused, and for the life of him, at that moment, he could not feel the wrong in what they had done.

He delayed walking into the shower. He was almost scared to look in the mirror. Had he expected he would look different, changed? A big fat scarlet letter on his head? No, It was still his face, and he was still himself. Little Devil on his shoulder with Loki’s voice was cackling in cruel triumph. Little Angel still had puffy eyes from crying, a faraway look that held so much. And he meant to hold it away from Thor as long as possible.

Under the jet of hot water, the scratches on his neck and shoulders stung where Loki’s nails had lifted and broken the skin. That was the first time it sunk in. He had cheated on his wife — on Jane, say her name, you coward. He had cheated, and now he needed to wash methodically, and scrub hard, and be thorough, and think of a way to explain the things he could not wash away. He would have to cover his tracks to hide his crime. Unless he meant to confess straight away. Did he mean to?

He examined himself naked in the full-body mirror on the closet door. His scalp was sore from Loki’s vicious yanks, but any damage there would be hidden by his hair. His mouth was a mess but it was already coming down. He couldn’t find anything except the undeniable scratches he had already noticed. Those were nail scratches, no fucking doubt about it. They were a problem. Was that intentional? Was it part of Loki’s plan? 

Truth is, he had not thought about this anywhere near as much as he should have. What was behind Loki’s sudden urge to take him to bed, when he had been acting indifferent before? He knew Loki still wanted him, he knew it was genuine lust driving him, at least in part. Thor may have been wilfully blind long ago, and may have tried to ignore and purposely misinterpret the signs Loki was sending, but at least now he could look at things in the face. Yes, Loki wanted him. So he had wanted to fuck him. Now he'd fucked him. Success.

But Loki’s plans always had other plans inside. He never took one step without considering the whole array of potential benefits that might result (complementary or incompatible, but still classifiable as acceptable and desirable). So when Thor had been contemplating what to do with that fucking hotel key in his pocket, even through the muddle in his head, the pulse between what he ought to do and what he wanted to do, he should really have thought a little bit more about what the fuck was Loki up to. Besides the obvious.

Thor had basically put his whole life in Loki’s hands this afternoon. He had given him, someone who hated him and had many reasons, and certainly the temperament, to want to see him destroyed, everything he needed to do just that. And Thor would make it so easy too. Loki didn't even need the printed hotel receipts, he didn't need the CCTV footage, he didn't need to bother to somehow record what they'd done. All he had to do was go to Jane with the story. Because Loki knew him well enough to figure out that if Jane turned to Thor and asked directly, “Is this true?”, Thor would not be able to look her in the eye and deny it.

Or so he had believed, before today. Then again, three days ago Thor would have bet his life that he would never cheat on his wife. Never. You almost had to admire this about Loki. He swanned in and turned everything and everyone on their heads. Everybody dancing to whatever tune he was playing. It was diabolical. ...And a little bit sexy, actually. To Thor anyway. Oh well, that had not changed either. He still enjoyed Loki's mischievous side, the way he could not just leave things be, how he would always feel the need to jump in and stir the shit, just to see what happened. Even if he ended up in the fricking center of it.

But this had nothing to do with being bored, did it? It had nothing to do with having fun. The stakes were high, and it had cost Loki something, maybe even more than he had been willing to invest. He had not been in control and Thor had not danced to his tune and Loki had walked out of that room affected. Was that truly new, however? Loki had always operated under the push and pull of a complicated tangle of emotions. He was very good at tactics, and even better at sailing with the wind. He planned and strategised but then he didn't let that get in the way of the dictate of his guts, strong-headedness, and pride; his self-destructive tendencies, even. It was the same kind of impulse that had him standing up to the older kids calling him names and keep throwing jabs at them as they beat him up. With a strong enough motivation, Loki would set fire to a fucking building and sacrifice his own escape route to make sure it burnt to the ground.

So what now? Were the Odinsons going to receive a visitor bringing very ugly news? Were there other ways for Loki to use this? At work, somehow? Was Thor supposed to watch his back from now on? Was that what Loki had planned? Or had they just made love because they wanted to, because it was due, because it was time, in spite of whatever the hell Loki had originally planned? 

There were two sides to Loki. The Loki who fought the world with whatever weapons he could lay his hands on, and then there was his friend. Maybe Thor was deceiving himself, but he believed that the person he had made love with this afternoon was his Loki. The Loki he had known and loved, the one whose heart he had broken. He was not lost for good, Thor had found him. And it had not been a dream. He had touched him. He had kissed him.

As he put his clothes on, he detected a faint whiff of Loki’s scent. His heart jumped. And then he realised that, even if Jane felt it, even if she had it in front of her eyes alongside the goddamn scratches, she would not suspect. Because she wasn’t like that. And because she had no reason to suspect anything, because Thor was not supposed to be like that either. They trusted each other, they had always been honest with each other, they respected each other. They had something good together, something decent and strong. Something, Thor was sure, many people yearned for all their lives and never found. 

He had this thought right there and then that, if he told her what had happened, if he offered his full confession and repent, she would understand and, perhaps not straight away, because she was cautious and she wouldn’t rush into such an important decision without maturing it first, but after some time to really consider the implications, she would forgive him. They could survive this, he really thought they could. Even if he acknowledged how deliberately he had planned and executed this betrayal. She would listen to his motives, even the ones many people would consider unacceptable; she would weigh in his past history with Loki, she would look at him as a human being with lights and shadows, she would contemplate his qualities alongside his flaws, she would listen to her heart too, as well as her brain, and if Thor knew her a little, she would forgive him. 

Their relationship would not be the same, of course. To begin with, he would be out to her as bisexual, which he was sure would not be a problem to her, but it wasn't of no consequence either. He wasn’t exactly sure why he had not told her. The subject had never really come up. He had been very close when he had that crush on Steve, when she would joke that Thor sounded like he was a little bit in love with him. He had joked too, and waited to see if the conversation went there, but it hadn’t. And because the crush on Steve was not so insignificant that he wasn’t a bit weary of bringing it up to his wife, he had waited for a better occasion. It had never come up.

With more calculation than he liked in something that affected Jane and him, he thought that the fact that he had cheated on her with a man was a pretty big, pretty flashy aspect in this situation, and that it would distract, if you will, from the worst of his crime. It would play in his favour. And with that thought, he was as certain as he could be that, if he sat down with Jane that evening and opened his heart to her, he could get away with it.

But that was only good this one time. And when Thor said he was sorry, he had to mean it.

It also meant that he could never do this again.

He could not go back to the office. He called in sick. And fuck what Loki thought about it.

Once at home, however, he did not know what to do with himself. He put his suit in the dry cleaning pile, the rest of his clothes in the washing machine, mixed in with others. He didn’t think he could focus on the case, so he did some chores. No amount of toilet scrubbing could make up for what he had done, but still. 

He had another shower then, because cleaning windows was sweaty work, not because he had begun to worry again that she might be able to smell Loki on his body. He cooked dinner, something spicy, because they both loved curry, not for any paranoid reason, like disguising whatever phantom scent of come or latex or another body’s flesh might still be on his hands, in his mouth.

And then he sat down to watch TV, and got himself more and more worked up, because she would be getting home any minute now, and he had still not decided what he was going to do. Soon enough, he was feeling sick, this time for real. The smell of food was turning his stomach, and he had a very vicious headache, probably from the tension. He took a pill and went to bed. He was too agitated to sleep, of course, and having nothing but darkness and silence around him didn’t do anything to help him get out of his own thoughts. But he still stayed there, because he… Damn, he could not admit to it, because it implied something he was much too weak and cowardly right now to accept, but he could not face her tonight. He did not want to.

He heard her arrive. Her car in the parkway, her keys in the lock, her usual “Hey sexy, I’m home!”, the rustle of clothes from taking off some layers, putting down handbag and car keys, the creaking on the parquet flooring. He was attuned to each and every little noise, he could map out her movements based on them, in detail. Her light treads up the stairs, the smooth slide of their bedroom door. He stiffened up, breath withheld, tense to just below snapping point. She sat down next to him on the bed, a press of lips on his shoulder. She didn’t make any comments on the fact that he was in bed with a t-shirt, even though he always slept in the nude. Why would she.

“Do you need anything?” she whispered. She had deduced, of course, that whatever he had been coming down with that morning had finally landed.

“I took a pill,” he said. 

She stroked his hair, kissed his shoulder again.

“Rest,” she said. And left quietly.

His breathing became laboured then, as he tried to muffle the sobs. The tears began to fall down anyway.

In the morning, she would ask about the plasters on his neck and shoulders, and exclaim ‘oh my god, are these scratch marks?’ He would say ‘I got bitten by something I don’t know when, it itched so badly, I scratched until I bled, yes I disinfected it and put plasters on the worst of it’. And she would believe him, not because it was a particularly good lie, or that he had delivered it very well, but because she had no reason to doubt him.

Thor felt a chasm between them growing deeper by the minute. He would lie, and every time she believed him, that would be another nail in the coffin of their marriage. If Loki wanted to destroy them, he had already succeeded. 

 _____________

He looked at it in terms of processing evidence. Thor was on his body —fingerprints, skin cells, saliva—, under his nails —skin cells and blood; in his mouth they would find Thor’s saliva; if they combed well, blonde pubic hair would be found among his own. The scent was gone from Loki’s hands, but there were other more lasting reminders: he felt Thor when he walked and when he sat down. He was not so much sore as he was tender, because he had prepared himself thoroughly (he had worn a plug all morning), and because Thor had been almost insultingly gentle and careful. To begin with anyway. But Loki just wasn’t used to it, that’s all.

The first thing Loki did when he landed in London the first time (well, not literally the first, but pretty close), was go get himself fucked. He found a club, found a guy, went to the guy’s place, and got buggered. They had both been pretty drunk, the guy was never told it was Loki’s first time (and even if he had, the guy had not struck Loki as the nurturing kind), and so, in short, it had been awful. During it, and certainly after. He had not been able to sit down without wincing for a week (and it had been a lot longer before his ass had stopped bothering him altogether), he'd shat blood, and it had put him off bottoming for a decade. And still, to this day, he would tell himself he absolutely did not regret it. It had been Loki’s own particular up yours to years and years of romantic notions and sappy fantasies involving Thor. Whatever happened now, Thor would not be his first. His fucking loss, he would say, as he wondered if his ass would ever stop fucking hurting.

Many years later, Tony appeared, Tony and his toys. Being in a stable (sort of) relationship means diversifying, among many other things — like trust, intimacy, and a growing experience of the other person’s body, and that other person’s growing experience of your own —, so eventually he had been happy to let Tony play wherever he felt like, and Tony happened to really, really like Loki’s ass. Since then, Loki had been beating himself over those ten precious years of potential rimming enjoyment he had wasted, because that single fucked-up encounter had him barring his every subsequent lover from ever getting anywhere near. 

Tony’s fingers had introduced him to the delights of the prostate, and from that to wanting toys in there, there’s a very short step. And because Loki was nothing if not greedy, those toys got bigger and bigger, and eventually he just… well, he had commanded Tony to just go ahead and fuck him already, although Tony had probably heard it as the nervous little beg it really was. Tony had been exquisitely gentle, and still managed to make it sexy. Loki demanded that he go harder, and Tony laughed close to his ear and muttered “easy there, cowboy, maybe next time.”

It had felt pretty fucking serious for both of them, and Loki was still weary of, shall we say, letting Tony in, and he did not do it often. Which was counterproductive, really, because when he finally did, Tony made a big deal of it (which it was, and fucking hell, did it fucking have to be? So annoying!) and took extra pains to comfort him, to the point of coddling. And Loki had a complicated relationship with being coddled. On the one hand, he treated it as his due, and there would be some serious words, and probably shouting, if he didn’t get it. On the other hand, it suffocated him and it got on his nerves, and yes, shouting may also occur when he did get it. Seriously, the question of why Tony put up with his shit was a matter of very little consequence in comparison to the question how.

In any case, Loki usually bottomed from the top. He could retain control like this, he had a clear vision of Tony’s face as he rode him, which was about as hot as when he was fucking him, and it put some air between them, because doing it any other way could easily become too much.

He had never said in his head “I am going to make Thor fuck me”. If he had, perfectly solid, practical reasons that were not sentimental in the least could have been supplied to explain why he had gone into that room with that deliberate, yet unconfessed intention in mind. Reasons: That penetration had to feature somewhere to make this really count (hadn’t Loki heard it enough in his day, when he chased around self-proclaimed straight jocks, all from the Bill Clinton school of plausible deniability, that blow-jobs and hand-jobs didn’t count. Lord have mercy). That being the penetrative partner would come naturally to Thor, whereas bottoming would demand a considerable mental leap that Loki wasn’t sure could be made to happen in the short half an hour they would have to do this. And even if it could, even if Thor was desperate to get buggered, Loki wanted Thor to enjoy this, he wanted the memory of this to be as pleasurable and affecting as possible, and first time bottoming, even with time, mutual trust, affection, and a nice, relaxed atmosphere, all conditions that would not be available to them, was rarely that nice. So for their first time, in summary, the most sensible course of action was for Loki to bottom. Right? Who could argue with this reasoning? But he would get on all fours for it. He’d get Thor to fuck him like a bitch. There wouldn’t be a lot of contact, so Loki’s mind would be clear and detached, and the whiff of humiliation, stemming from the potentially demeaning associations of that position, would remind Loki of what this was all about. He was going to get it hard and dirty like he wanted. For the plan to really work, that is.

But the fucker had to ruin everything, as he always did. Count of Thor Odinson to derail the most carefully set-out plan. 

How many times have you imagined this, Loki? Pining for me all those years, watching me take girl after girl after girl to my bed? Did you jerk off picturing yourself in their place, legs spread open, calling my name? Damn him. Ah, Loki had loved him there and then, as he said that, as Thor looked at him with contempt and anger, his voice thick with lust. He bet nobody else got to see that face of him, only Loki, nobody else. Was that what Thor himself had imagined? Was that why Loki had ended up on his back, legs spread open, their bodies touching pretty much everywhere, sharing every breath and every moan? Fucking missionary, like a virgin bride and groom on their fucking wedding night?

Shit, Loki had really believed he was going to get pretty much brutalised today. He expected Thor would be so angry, so disgusted at himself, and hating Loki fiercely for having pushed him to do this, he’d be lucky not to get punched again at some point. It was going to be a symphony of rage, self-loathing, and contempt. That face he showed nobody else, the beast he didn't want to know he was, the Thor only Loki knew, that's what was going to come out to play today. It would be fucking beautiful.

And oh, he was fucking drooling to see the look on Thor’s face when his brain cleared and he was faced with the damages. Just imagine the poor man overwhelmed by his passions, surrounded by the things he'd done that could not be undone. He’d be clinging to Loki’s knees, crying and begging forgiveness, but unable to forgive himself. Then he’d go home, and he would not be able to look at his wife in the eye for the rest of their fucking days without remembering the beast he was. And no fucking amount of chest-beating and hair-pulling would ever make up for the self-loathing he’d be forever left with. That had been the fucking plan. And instead, that bastard…

Loki wondered, did Thor realise this was going to happen again, or did he believe it had been the one time? Before today, Loki’s views on that had been changing. Duly and cleverly allowing for the unexpected, he told himself he reserved judgement until after the event. Would it be worse for Thor if it happened just once, or if it became a regular occurrence? What would hurt more? It would depend on how that first time went. Loki had been carefully keeping his own wishes out of the equation, as if they really did not matter (although of course they always did, and how). 

Well, that too had changed. Yes, Loki had a slight problem with identifying, acknowledging, and admitting to his own needs, and he was hopeless at expressing them out loud, but he was not so self-delusional that he could not tell when he wanted something badly. He might cloak it and disguise it as something colder and more calculating than it was, but at the end of the day, he felt a raw, all-consuming hunger to be with Thor again, and Loki was no stoic. He was not in the business of denying himself what he wanted. That is, if he even could. That hunger, hot and throbbing and intoxicating, animalistic and primal, was the kind of madness that led people to jump off bridges after their loved ones, or run into burning buildings to rescue their pets, ignoring every call to reason and the pull of their self-preservation instincts, and run to meet their doom with manic glee. 

Chapter Text

Loki had been mulling it for a couple of days now, as he traded long stares with Thor across the office, electricity making his hair stand on end when they were together at a meeting. What had happened was in the air between them, dense and hot and pulsing, like a fever. 

Since they fucked last Thursday, they had yet to say one word to each other that wasn't strictly about work. They were both tense, both waiting, Loki wasn’t sure what for. Was it a game, a challenge, who would blink first, who would crack first? Or were they both simply unsure where the other one was at, waiting for a sign, or a nod, or an invitation? He sensed hunger in Thor. He believed that, whatever it was Thor was feeling about what they had done, be it guilt or remorse or self-loathing or none of the above (and Loki was certainly struggling to figure it out), he was there for more. All Loki had to do was give an open sign, and Thor would come. Of that, he was sure.

So they were waiting for him, then. It was Loki who was hesitating. He himself wasn’t sure where he stood. When he found himself in a generous mood, he called this an exercise in delayed gratification. If he was in a less forgiving frame of mind, he called himself a coward. But he had his reasons to be wary, didn’t he? Every time he had, shall we say, engaged Thor in combat, Thor had turned the situation around, and the contest had ended on Thor’s terms. Loki sensed he was losing the upper hand in their pulse, inch by inch. 

He had given too much already. He had to reel this back, straighten it up, reign Thor in, show him who’s boss. Because Loki had him by the balls, didn’t Thor realise that? Did Thor think that Loki wouldn’t go to his wife with this? Did he really believe that the secret was safe with Loki? Was he such a trusting idiot? Or did he consider himself such a prize that he believed this was one bridge Loki was never going to burn, so that the door for more fooling around would stay open?

Well, to be fair, Thor may have a point that Loki wasn’t ready yet to give him up. He wanted to squeeze everything he could out of this… whatever it was they had got themselves into, before he left him to the dogs. But it had to be on Loki’s terms. 

So he analysed their first time together, why had it gone so wrong, why it had been a setback for him and not a triumph, and how to steer it back to where it best served his aims. He concluded that it had not been cheap enough, not dirty enough. Not that Loki could have done much about it, even in hindsight — the hotel room was paramount to make the premeditation aspect of the plan happen—, but it had been much too clean. Take the bed out of the equation, and the sordidness quotient instantly rises to more acceptable levels. Thor needed to be shown the ugliness of what they were doing. He had to have it thrown at his face, have his nose rubbed in it. 

So what other places where there? One of their offices? The atmosphere had definitely become loaded whenever they had found themselves alone together behind closed doors. But then Loki would picture Thor lifting him in his arms and sweeping everything off the desk as he kissed him passionately, and some shirt ripping and whatnot, or fucking against the wall, fused in a tight embrace, and it just looked like a scene from a cheesy movie. This was not going to aid Loki’s cause. 

So, not an office. That left them with the restrooms, of course. The restrooms on their side of this floor had lower traffic than those closer to the admin staff area. At this time of the day, and on a Friday, they would be deserted. There were always the cleaners, and some people who worked late, so the risk was always there, but it was assumable. Besides, it would add some spice.

Loki finished up in his office and strutted down the hall. He slowed down by Thor’s door and sent a sultry stare his way. Thor looked unfairly fucking hot in those reading glasses, and that bun that was coming loose in golden, messy locks. Loki may have slowed down a bit more than he had intended, and it was just possible that his lids had fluttered, and his lips parted, and he hoped Thor had not heard it, but his breathing had caught. 

Today. Tonight. Right now. Now.

Thor was holding his stare, unblinking. Loki let it linger for another moment. 

He resumed his way along the corridor. After a moment, he heard a rustle and looked over his shoulder, with the corner of an eye. He saw Thor standing outside the door of his office, silently watching. Loki’s stomach flipped. 

With his breathing strained and his pulse already ramping up, and with one last look, this time bold and raw and straight in the eye, he walked into the restroom. 

Empty. Clean — small firm, familiar; employees that cared. He put his briefcase on the baby changer, after checking it was clean (why wouldn’t it be, no babies on that floor). And he dared look in the mirror. That fucking blush on his cheeks made him look fifteen. He wished he could wipe it out. And his breathing, goddammit, his heartbeat, have some fucking dignity, Laufeyson…

The door. There he was. No glasses now, no jacket. He didn’t even check the room. He charged. He grabbed Loki’s face and kissed him hard enough to bruise. Loki heard himself whimper. Get a grip, boy. He clenched at Thor’s shirt to back them both into a stall, half-stumbling. Thor’s groan echoed somewhere deep down in Loki’s fucking crotch. 

The stall seemed even smaller with two grown-ass men inside it. Claustrophobic. They squeezed and twisted to get the door closed, Thor’s hand on his crotch, groping mercilessly, his mouth still feasting on Loki’s lips and tongue. Loki’s head was fucking light. He kept forgetting he was supposed to be keeping it quiet. Thor’s hands on his ass, pushing his hard-on against him, his whole body pressing between Loki’s thighs. He was trying to lift Loki around his waist. That was not going to happen. So Loki pushed and squirmed until Thor got the message and moved back, to see what Loki wanted. Loki shoved him against the wall and sank to his knees. There was a flicker of worry about that floor and his suit, but it was nothing but that, a flicker. 

Thor was looking down at him with a tense expression as Loki undid his button and flies and pushed the pants down to Thor’s ankles. Thor was fully fucking hard already.  And so fucking beautiful, for a second all Loki could do was look. His desire to touch and taste shook him out of it. Thor sucked in a strained breath when Loki’s tongue poked out. He hadn’t even touched him yet. Now he licked. Thor’s jaw dropped silently. Loki applied himself, just his tongue for now, eyes on Thor. The muffled sounds, the quiet gasps, Loki was enjoying himself much too much tormenting him. Focus. He was on a mission here: to show Thor that whatever his wife could do, Loki could fucking do better.

Thor’s big hands in his hair, gently stroking and petting. Why don’t you tell him to keep them to himself, said a prissy voice inside. He didn’t. He took Thor’s cock inside his mouth, hollowed his cheeks around it. Thor’s hands seized, his fingers sunk in his scalp. Loki began to bob his head at a constant pace, a bit deeper each time, swallowing when he felt the first nudges against the back of his mouth. Can she do that, Thor? He took him deeper, deeper, Thor’s breathing huffy and shuddery, until Loki’s nose buried in his pubes. That whimper that Thor could not refrain when Loki bobbed his head and swallowed. Thor’s hands were strong, raking deep in his hair, but they were not guiding or coaxing, the gentleman. Has she trained you to do that, Thor? Is she not into having her mouth fucked?

“Oh, fuck… Loki…” a choked-up whisper.

Loki was fucking throbbing in his pants. He wanted to jerk off as he did Thor, but he didn’t want a lapful of come (perhaps the suit was not totally ruined). He applied his hands to the task, one on the shaft, the other either on his balls or on his rock-hard ass, tightening his lips around Thor’s cock, bobbing his head fast, fast, faster, swallowing him deep again.

“Ah… ah… oh god, god… Loki, I’m…” Thor applied some gentle pressure to push him away. Loki grabbed his ass and stayed put, but with his mouth now, not his throat. He wanted to taste this. Jacking with one hand, lips strong around the shaft, sucking, sucking… Come on, give it to me, come on… 

That groan, Jesus. Thor seized up and spunk filled Loki’s mouth, hot, salty, bitter spurts. Did you think it would taste sweet, then, you big sap? Oh, but it does… 

He kept on sucking and licking gently until no more came, until Thor was shuddering and pushed him away. Thor was panting, that dazed expression made him look dopey, childish even. Is that how he looks when he wakes up, Loki’s treacherous mind supplied, and then rounded it with some unwanted memories of lazy Sunday afternoons, and naps on the couch in the den.

Loki licked his puffy, tender lips and wiped the spit away. He was quite hazy himself, but he was also very fucking randy. He got to his feet. With his back to Thor, he got his own cock out through the flies, spat on his hand, and proceeded to make himself come as fast as he fucking could. If the moment he closed his eyes he began to think of that fucking couch where they used to jack side by side as they both pretended not to be looking at each other, it was none of Thor’s goddamned business.

He felt him then, behind him, slowly encircling his waist with his arms, his mouth on Loki’s neck, pressing gentle kisses there, getting progressively more heated. Then one hand on his, first accompanying his own, then taking its place. Loki’s breathing began to shudder. Thor undid Loki’s pants and let them drop, lifted Loki’s shirt and his own, and pressed their bodies together. Loki braced himself on the wall and let it happen, tilting his head just a bit to the side for Thor’s mouth. And Thor wasn’t teasing him or taking it too slow, but he wasn’t rushing it either. He felt so hot, so hot, his hand on him just fucking perfect. He’d press the palm on Loki’s mouth for him to lick wet when it was running dry. Loki had his forehead on the tile, the only cold point in the whole fucking universe right now, until Thor made him lean on him, rest his head on Thor’s shoulder, and twist his neck for his kiss. 

And they were kissing when Loki’s gasps became more urgent; he opened his eyes to find Thor’s own eyes boring on his, he closed them again when Thor sped up and deepened the kiss. Loki came sobbing, shuddering against Thor’s body, leaning against his warmth.

He propped himself on the wall again, panting, vaguely aware that he had been had again. A sour, self-deprecating chuckle. You sappy, pathetic, spineless sucker.

Thor began to kiss the back of his neck so, so sweetly, and all Loki wanted was to tilt his head for more. He pushed him off with all his strength instead. Thor’s face as he hit the wall, stunned at first, hurt. He might have banged his head. He was rubbing it. 

Loki had to reach around Thor for some tissue to wipe himself and the goddamned wall, but that didn’t mean he had to look at him. He crumpled the filthy tissue, flushed it, put his pants back on, tucked his shirt in, and dusted his knees, still acting as if he was alone in that stall. But there was no way out of that confined space if that blond Viking bear blocking the door did not cooperate.

“Move,” he said, looking up at him for the first time. 

Thor scoffed. His expression was bitter as hell. He pressed against the wall, to make room for Loki to open the door and squeeze out of the stall.

Outside, Loki washed his hands and mouth, no rush, keeping his cool. He picked up his things and walked out. There was a slight tremor in his hands which he hoped that Thor had not noticed. He had been standing by the door of the stall (second from last, Loki would never fucking forget that, if he knew himself a little), pants on again, eyes on Loki through the mirror. I see you, they were saying. You can run, but you can’t hide. 

So run he did. Though not literally.

*

Thor slipped the tips of his fingers inside his mouth. His breathing was still short, but it was excitement more than anything. And irritation as well, frustration. This fucking dance around each other they were doing. Loki had always played hide and seek with his thoughts and his feelings (specially his feelings), until he himself would lose patience with Thor’s stupidity and hurled them at him like so many rock-stuffed snowballs. But they were not kids anymore. Thor was not great on patience himself, never had been. And he was growing sick of games. Because Thor wasn't fucking playing. He may not be clear on anything else, but at least he was clear on this — that whatever the fuck they were doing, it was not for shits and giggles. It mattered to him, and it mattered to Loki. Who did he think he was kidding? He needed to grow some balls and face reality. Reality being, that they were both tumbling down a seriously deep and messed-up rabbit hole, together.

He scoffed again, this time at himself. Because Thor might not be the most perceptive button in the box, but the irony of his own thoughts wasn’t lost on him. Things would have been so much different if Thor had heeded this very advice years ago. If this was karma, well, he would have to endure it, and try to persevere through it.

Then again, if karma was real, Thor was in so much shit for his next life, so much shit.

Things at home were… Well, they were perfectly fucking normal. As far as he could tell, Jane hadn’t noticed a thing. He was almost disappointed when he didn’t get to use all those little lies he had been carefully spinning to explain away the million things that were doing his head in. 

He checked himself in the mirror, tried to straighten his clothes up a bit, tidied his hair and remade the bun. His lips. He turned the cold water on to refresh his mouth and make that thoroughly-kissed blush come down, but as he was going to put his hand under the tap, he hesitated. He closed his eyes and smelled his hand, licked it to taste Loki’s salt one more time before he had to rinse it off. Jesus, he was so fucked. What was he going to do.

Sometimes on a Friday he’d stop to buy some flowers. No reason. Or that it made Jane smile, reason enough. Without thinking, he pulled up by the small flower shop. But as he went to pick a bunch (she liked yellow, and she loved freesias. “They smell so nice, and they stay fresh for so long!” Practical girl), he felt a tumble in his stomach, a sour taste in his mouth. Suddenly, this felt fucking awful, the kind of cheap shit a guilty adulterous husband would do to make amends in his mean, selfish mind for his betrayal, for taking advantage of his wife’s trust and goodwill. And no matter how much he told himself that he had done this a million times, and that he had never meant anything by it beyond a small token of affection, that taste remained in his mouth, that acidic uneasiness inside that felt like heartburn. 

He went home without the flowers. 

She was already home when he walked in. Fuck. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down to kiss him, and he stiffened up, heart pounding, holding his breath without realising, mentally going over a checklist of tell-tale signs he might be carrying on his body and clothes. She pulled apart and started talking about Erik Selvig again, about the planned trip to London to meet some headliners in her field within a couple of months. As far as she was concerned, there was nothing amiss.

She returned to cooking dinner, chattering away, Thor following after. He tried to pay attention, but all he could think was that he smelled of Loki, that he tasted of Loki, that there was Loki’s spit on his cock and pubes. He should really have a shower. But how would he explain that? Goddammit, what a fucking stupid idea this had been. (Well, no, not stupid: fucking brilliant, if your name was Loki, and the idea had been yours in the first place. What a weekend Thor would now have. So much for relaxed quality time with his wife.)

He did slip away after some time, to change into his scruffs, and took the chance for at least a quick, localised wash, with soap this time. They often had sex on Friday evenings, he could not risk leaving any traces. He couldn’t help checking the door every two seconds. As if she had ever in her life walked in the toilet without knocking first. But he was so on edge. 

As he nervously rubbed a towel on to dry his pubes, he had a flash of Loki with his cock all the way down his throat, and his underbelly clenched with the phantom memory of that fucking epic orgasm he had given him. Jesus fucking christ. A deep, hot pulse inside. He swallowed on dry. He hadn’t been this turned on since he could not remember when. Actually, he was pretty sure he hadn’t been this turned on in his whole fucking life. He was beginning to think he was hormonal. The mere thought of Loki made him hard. He had unwanted boners at work all through the day, like a horny teenager. And no matter how guilty and disgusting he felt at times, shit, it was so exciting, and so much fucking fun. Ah, Loki was a naughty, naughty boy, and Thor was his willing, devoted puppet.

As he skipped down the stairs, he felt his legs still wobbly from the constant stress he had been in since he had got home. He almost laughed at himself. You're really not a natural at this, are you? (Little Devil Loki on his shoulder: oh, but you're learning.)

*

“Loki, darling!”

“Miss Potts,” said Loki, trying to compensate for his lack of enthusiasm with a smile. “Always a sight for sore eyes.”

He leaned to kiss her cheek. She kissed his in turn.

“I should have called first,” said Loki. “I was under the impression you were still in New York. I don’t want to impose.”

“Don’t be silly,” she said, clutching his arm. “Come on in.”

He crossed the threshold, but didn’t go any further. Tony poked his head from the kitchen.

“Is that the honeyed voice of the light of my life?” He approached, drying his hands. “Indeed it is! Look what the cat brought in, my other favourite person in the world. Somebody loves me up there today.”

Loki accepted the quick, warm peck. 

“Staying for dinner?” asked Pepper.

“Oh, yeah, stay!” said Tony, excited as a schoolboy. “I’m cooking.”

“You never cook me dinner,” grumbled Loki, pretending to be annoyed.

“Who can be bothered with dinner when I know who’s for dessert,” purred Tony, with a quick nuzzle into Loki’s neck.

"Where does that leave me?" darted Pepper, also pretending to be annoyed.

"Dammit," laughed Tony, actually alarmed. He murmured to himself, "Learn to keep your mouth shut." And to Loki, “But do stay.”

Loki checked with Pepper with a look.

“Please,” she said. “He has absolutely no grasp of rice portions. We’re swimming in it.”

“Very well, then,” said Loki, with a half-hearted smile. “My pleasure.”

He was very quiet all through dinner, picking distractedly at his spinach and mushroom risotto. Pepper and Tony were talking shop, the place in New York, the company, the half a dozen pending patents. Whatever. He wasn’t listening. His head was somewhere else.

“Eat your greens,” said Tony then, nudging him gently with an elbow, “or you don’t get any sweets.”

Loki didn’t even crack a smile, although he tried.

Tony sent an interrogating look towards Pepper. She shrugged, disarmed.

“Is that intern of yours giving you a rough time?” Tony asked.

Loki huffed in irritation.

“He has nothing to do with… with anything,” he snapped. “Lay off me.” He got up with his plate and made for the kitchen.

“Loki, sweetheart…” said Tony.

Pepper mouthed silently, “don’t push him.”

____

“What’s wrong with him?” whispered Tony to his girlfriend. 

She shrugged. 

“He’s your boyfriend, not mine…”

Tony sighed, rustled his hair vigorously for mental clarity. Which totally worked. One day he would science it.

“Can you talk to him?” he begged, big puppy eyes.

“Beg your pardon?” she replied, succeeding in choking with her wine in what had to be the cutest, most perfectly polite, and most utterly enchanting little hiccup.

“You’re so much better at this kind of thing than I am,” he insisted. Then a toothy grin. “Please…”

She replied with that deeply unimpressed expression that she used so often when Tony was around. Was that a no, then? Definite nope? No way? Not even a tiny one? Okay, okay, alright… 

“But when it’s time to pick up the pieces, remember I gave you this chance,” he mumbled petulantly as he followed Loki to the kitchen.

Once in there, his humour pretty much dried out. Loki looked… well, he looked a fucking pity, withdrawn somewhere that hurt. Tony approached him, slowly, because Loki’s infamous unpredictability was not something to trifle with. Tony did love that retro 1950’s Atom Era design crockery after all, and he would like to still own a complete set at the end of this conversation. He stood at arm’s length.

“Hey,” he said. 

“Hey,” said Loki.

A silence ensued, in which Tony did not have a clue how to proceed.

“Can I stay?” said Loki suddenly. 

Tony could swear Loki’s eyes grew physically larger upon demand. Nobody could say no to those, not that Tony had a reason to turn him down anyway. Still, he was quietly surprised that Loki asked, but better not make a big deal out of this. He might scare his precious surly kitten away.

“‘Course,” he said, getting close enough to tug a stray lock out of Loki’s face. “Mi casa es su casa.” A bright smile, perhaps slightly overdone, hopefully still sincere enough, and loving.

Loki helped tidy up the table and the kitchen like a good boy, and sat on the couch next to Tony, soft jazz in the background. He looked very far away. Pepper tried to include him in the conversation. She asked him about the case. That subject seemed to bring his mind back into sharp focus. 

“It seems like a bit of a waste to send your top people up and down the mountains doing PR work,” she said. “It would make more sense to have you and… Thor, was it?, working on the legal side of the case, while actual PR experts take charge of handling the clients.”

Loki sighed with resignation. 

“It’s a small firm. They’re familiar, everybody knows everybody. It’s one of the main reasons why the clients stuck with them. They’re honest and see the clients face to face. And Thor is really good with people. Anyway, we do work the legal side. We do the PR on weekends.” Another miserable sigh. 

“Next weekend, isn’t it?” said Tony.

“Yup. Road trip, yay,” said Loki, toneless. If anything, a bit funereal.

Tony fluffed his hair. Loki didn’t bat him away or reacted much at all. It was a bit disturbing, actually.

When Tony walked into the room, Loki was in nothing but a pair of thin knitted lounge pants, getting ready for bed. Damn. Not many things made Tony hard on sight anymore, and certainly not that much. He approached. Loki turned to face him in all his pale, elegant glory.

“May I keep you company tonight?” said Tony.

Loki’s expression was still glum.

“I don’t know. May you?” he said.

Loki had a complicated relationship with Tony having a relationship with Pepper. On the one hand, without Pepper, Loki would not be here. Too much. (And too little for Tony. A person could starve trying to get emotional nourishment from this aloof, remote creature.) And Loki liked Pepper as a person. He respected her. If he had to be somebody's rival (which is how he saw this on some levels), might as well be the rival of such a gorgeous, classy, accomplished woman, someone who Loki at his most arrogant and haughtiest could perceive as a worthy opponent. On the other hand… Well, Loki was an insecure, jealous, possessive little boy, with low self-esteem and a deeply ingrained fear of abandonment (Pepper’s diagnose, Pepper’s words); he didn’t like to share, and he couldn’t help being wary and resentful for it. And on his less generous days, that resentment extended to Pepper personally. Miss Perfection, he would call her, and not in a nice way. And he would feel worthless next to her, unable to compete, and probably even ponder dumping Tony before he dumped him for the monument of virtue that was Miss Potts. Oh well. Nobody ever said it would be easy, but they had managed so far, for the most part.

Tony smiled, took another step closer.

“If it’s fine with you it’s fine with her,” he said.

“Then it’s fine with me,” said Loki, after meditating his answer. Or perhaps after making himself hold back from throwing some snark at his boyfriend. “But I don’t want to talk,” he warned. 

He had not sounded particularly flirty or suggestive, but it was not like Tony needed an opening to do his advances. He smiled, and closed the distance between them. He pressed a lingering kiss on Loki’s neck, right under his ear (he had to stand on tip-toes).

“No talking then,” he whispered. Then a quick frown, and he pulled back.

“What?” said Loki.

“Your intern smells good,” he said.

Loki tensed up.

“What?”

“Your hair. I don’t know who that is, but he smells good.”

Loki frowned, his eyes widening in alarm, suddenly distraught. He touched his hair. His eyes got wet with anger.

“Fuck!” he said in a sharp whisper, stomping to the bathroom. 

The shower started to run. Tony, completely baffled and not just a bit concerned by now, cautiously followed him in. He leaned by the door as Loki stripped and stepped under that lovely rainwater-effect shower head he had asked for (and Tony had lovingly provided), rubbing soap furiously and insistently into his hair and body. 

He came out looking rosy. And avoiding Tony’s eyes as he towelled dry, that too. Tony awaited silently, trying to keep a light, untroubled air about him, which at times had a cooling effect on Loki’s mood. (Except when it finished the job of driving him up the wall, that is, in which case there would be some very loud screaming to the tune of “do you ever take anything fucking seriously?”)

Loki finished drying. He threw the towel on the floor with an angry huff.

“Can you fuck me?” he said, short, bordering on snappy, and not really looking at him.

Tony raised his eyebrows. 

“Whatever you want, my dear,” he said, because the day might come when Tony would be mature enough to turn down such and offer, if it was made in such frame of mind, to have a serious look at what the underlying issues might be, but today was not that day.

When Loki rolled them over so that Tony was on top, he almost, almost fucking stopped the action to ask what the hell was going on tonight. But then Loki wiggled his hips to help Tony’s cock find the right spot, and he angled himself, arching his back, to help it in, looking breathtakingly beautiful in the process. He wrapped his legs around Tony’s hips, crushing them together tight, and out the window went the last shreds of Tony’s rational mind. 

“Does she ever get jealous?” said Loki in a whisper. 

They had both recovered their breaths, but were not quite ready to turn off the light and go to sleep. Tony was playing with Loki’s fingers, splayed on his chest. He didn’t feel like treading on eggshells so much, tonight, as treading on fucking landmines.

“…Do you?” he said, after a while.

Loki took another while to himself before he answered.

“All the time,” he said, eyes low. “But I guess it… it makes it less… I mean it makes it more…”

“Less suffocating,” supplied Tony. “More tolerable.”

“Yeah.” 

“I thought that," said Tony. His fingertips continued to trace the bones of Loki’s hands. How he loved them.

“My blow-jobs are better, though,” said Loki then. 

Tony chuckled.

“They’re world-class, indeed,” he said.

“And my ass is a lot tighter,” said Loki.

Tony laughed again.

“My darling dear, you have buns of steel,” he said.

And now Loki laughed. Not with much mirth, but at least with some humour.

“What,” said Tony.

“You,” Loki laughed some more, that honey-caramel-and-roasted-coffee-bean sexy laughter of his. “How very diplomatic.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” said Tony, grinning. 

Loki’s smile then fell somewhat, his eyes dimmer. Tony wanted to gather him in his arms and lullaby him to sleep, and he might just do that, in a minute.

“Stop staring at me like that,” mumbled Loki, eyes low again.

“Like what.”

“You know like what.”

“Like I’m in love with you,” said Tony.

“Basically,” said Loki.

“Sorry, no, can’t do,” said Tony.

A scrunch in Loki’s frown. Then tears swelled in his eyes.

“Loki, hey…” whispered Tony, reaching to stroke his hair.

“You’re so fucking stupid,” said Loki, poisonous, sitting up, rubbing his eyes.

Tony frowned.

“Excuse me?”

“What do you get from this, honestly, what?” snapped Loki. “If you’re into pain and humiliation, there are fucking clubs for this. And they can do ‘safe’ and ‘sane’, which I definitely can’t. Because this is fucking sick!”

“What is?”

“You!” barked Loki. “Saying you… you love me! Why the hell would you, why?”

Tony counted to five. This was no jealous fit, this was something else. He mentally opened up his metaphorical Doctor’s case, filled with the tools and resources he did his best to learn from Pepper. Alrighty, then. Validation? Reassurance? By all means try not to say, “oh no, not this shit again.”

“I love you because you’re an extraordinary individual, full of fire and hunger and beauty. I love you because…”

“Full of beauty?” A scoff so sour it put lemons to shame. “You have no fucking idea! The shit in here,” he batted his chest, “in here,” stabbed one long, elegant finger into his temple. “The things I do. If that is what you love, you need some fucking therapy!” He was crying now, self-hatred and contempt competing in a kind of emotional wet-t-shirt contest. Contempt had the flashiest, roundest arguments for now, but self-hatred always caught up. 

“Ok,” said Tony, sitting up as well, trying to sound stern, “you know when you told me to tell you off when you were getting too obnoxious? Well, off.”

Loki scoffed, went to get out of bed. Tony grabbed his arm.

“Fucking let go of me,” hissed Loki, yanking his arm, crying a little river by now. He walked away, so much drama in those long, naked strides. He slammed the door of the bathroom behind him. And went on to whine and bawl and sob like a little boy.

Tony ruffled his hair, and felt the pulse on his wrist. Whoa. 

Okay. Right. Pepper could not possibly be asleep. But even if she was, surely she’d realise this was a situation that required a… well, she may not be a professional, but with all the field practice she had had, her honorary degree should be in the post any day now.

But yeah, no. His boyfriend, not hers. Whereas Pepper liked Loki (in small doses), enjoyed his company (occasionally), and definitely had a soft spot for him, which made her look on Loki with kinder eyes than almost anyone else alive, apart from Tony himself, of course, she had made her point that she did not wish to find herself enmeshed in Tony’s dealings with Loki any more than she had to. She had not said it in so many words, but her assessment of the situation would probably be more in line with Loki’s own than Tony’s —  that it was not a great idea. Although she would use different words and elaborate more. 

It’s not like Tony was completely impervious to Loki’s, shall we say, moods, and that he didn’t get sick of tantrums, but hell, he fucking loved him, ok? And yeah, true, there was the other thing as well, which was the bit that really had Pepper worried: that Tony could not fucking deal with the thought of Loki all by himself, left to his own devices and without real human contact in that messed-up head of his. Loki needed him, and while Tony had shirked from anything that smelled remotely like true responsibility all his life, unsure as he was that he was even fit to be trusted with anyone’s emotional comfort, he seemed to be unable to wash his hands from Loki. And he resented the allegation that this was nothing but cock logic, alright? (Besides, his cock was a lot smarter than they gave it credit for, thank you very much.)

Tony got up from bed and walked to the bathroom door. A tongue of light painted the floor outside. And Loki’s whines had ceased. There were still sobs, but they weren’t as urgent.

“Baby, can I come in?” he said, softly.

“No,” came Loki’s voice, cutting. Then in a gentler tone. “Give me a minute.”

“Ok.”

Tony retreated back to bed, and gave Loki his minute. Then he gave him five. He was starting to get antsy, when he heard flushing, then a running tap, and finally the door opened. Loki’s hair, still damp from the shower, was now matted and soaked from splashing his face. His eyelashes, when he got closer, were all clustered in cute spikes. He quietly slipped under the sheets, curled on his side with his back to Tony, and switched off his lamp.

“Sorry,” he said, after a while. 

Tony had a sip of water, switched off his lamp, and laid down next to him. 

“Sorry,” whispered Loki again, after some time.

“It’s ok,” whispered Tony in reply. He petted his hair. Usually, Loki liked that a lot. He didn’t shake him off, which Tony took as a good sign. “You had not had one of these in a while,” he said, very very softly. “Where did it come from?”

A long silence.

“I only want to help,” insisted Tony.

“Please,” said Loki, barely a breath, “not now.”

“Ok,” said Tony. 

He sensed a growing stiffness in Loki’s shoulders. He had had enough of petting. Tony withdrew his hand and turned on his back, hands woven over his stomach. A deep sigh. What the fuck was going on.

Chapter Text

The jeep pulled in at the car park of the Holiday Inn with a rustle of crushed gravel. Thor killed the engine. Loki by his side unbuckled his seatbelt and stretched his back. It had been a long day. Why did it seem to Thor that every goddamn window in that place was winking at him, reading his fucking thoughts.Their eyes met in the rearview mirror. It was almost time.

The rest of the gang were already in the lounge, and they must have arrived a while ago, judging from how settled they appeared, two rounds of empty soda bottles on the table. 

“Where the hell were you?” said Sif the moment she saw them walk into the small bar. “We were about to call rescue service!”

Thor collapsed on the couch between Hogun and Volstagg, sprawling, ass on the edge of the seat. Loki sat elegantly on the free armchair and crossed his legs, mud caked on the soles and sides of his hundred-dollars-worth handmade oxford shoes. Tired, sure, and rather worse for wear, but princely nonetheless.

“Well, we would have finished earlier if only this oaf here could read a map,” said Loki. He stole Fandral’s tonic water and kept it until he hit bottom. He returned it without a look. Fandral took it, his eyebrows arched, but otherwise unfazed.

“This oaf here might have been able to read the map better if he wasn’t trying to fucking drive and prepare for the next client visit as well, at the same time,” snapped Thor. He wasn’t really angry though. “As for your Royal Highness, we’ll never know how well he can read a map, since he’d rather just lounge on the passenger’s seat and nap.”

“Nap? Are you fucking joking? With you less than two feet away gutting the poor Rolling Stones at the top of your lungs?” said Loki. “And I told you to fucking leave the strategising to me.”

“I would have loved to, if only you’d fucking tell me what you were planning to do before we knocked on the goddamn door.”

“I told you to follow my lead.”

“Why couldn’t you just fucking explain what you had in mind?”

“Because you’re an open book, you’d give it all away the moment we rang the bell,” said Loki. “Trust me, improvising is your thing.”

Thor rolled his eyes, and was about to argue, when he noticed the looks on their friends’ faces. Loki had noticed too.

“It’s like taking a trip back in time,” said Fandral, to no one in particular.

“Isn’t it just,” said Sif, drily.

“So how did you guys do?” said Thor, hoping to push the focus away from Loki and him and their old-married-couple routine. “Rate of success?”

“It cost us sweat, blood and tea, plenty cups of it, but we got all of ours,” said Volstagg. “Five measly signatures.”

“You too?” said Fandral, sounding exhausted. “Really, what is it with these people? Why does everyone feel the need to make you stay for tea and cake? We’ll be here till Christmas at this rate.” 

“It’s not the cake I object to,” said Volstagg. “It’s the going over the same press cuts for the case again and again and again that gets old very quickly. And then the family albums come out… ‘Here, look at the valley before Hydra came in. And this is uncle Freddie. And this is poor Aunt Martha, remember her, dear?’ On and on and on…”

“We’re a small firm…” shrugged Thor. “They sort of expect the family treatment. It’s a big selling point with Shield.”

“How did you guys fare with the whacks?” asked Sif to Thor.

“We got all of our signatures,” said Thor, “but it wasn’t easy. They really don’t like visitors up in those hills…”

“It’s almost as if they lived in a log cabin in the woods, hours away from the nearest human being, for an actual reason,” ironised Loki. His eyes were closed, his head leaning on his backrest as if settling down to sleep.

“We were met at gunpoint, what, three times?” said Thor.

“And what about the killer bear-dogs?” added Loki. “Is there a deranged misanthropic mountaineer starter pack I’m not aware of?

Thor laughed. With his eyes still closed, Loki smiled ever so faintly.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t have minded some pie instead,” said Thor. “We were offered chewing tobacco and chicory coffee. It felt like we had stepped into a John Ford movie at one point.”

“So you must be hungry, then,” said Volstagg, seizing the opportunity. “I saw a joint down the street that looked clean.”

“I swear, my friend, you never cease to amaze me,” said Fandral. “I can’t fit anything in after being stuffed with pie all day.”

“I have a quick metabolism,” said Volstagg, completely untroubled.

“Let’s go, then,” said Thor.

“You guys go ahead,” said Loki, pulling himself up stiffly, with heavy limbs. “I’ll pass. I just want a shower. I’m tired and filthy.”

“Need a hand?” offered Fandral, with a grin. “A back rub, maybe?”

Loki returned one raised, unimpressed eyebrow and a sarcastic look.

“Does that line actually work for you?” he said.

“It’s not the line, darling, it’s the delivery,” winked Fandral.

Thor caught that synchronised eye-roll from both Sif and Loki. The one thing they always had in common: ugh, Fandral. It brought a smile to his face. Like old times indeed.

“Not tonight, my dear,” said Loki, toying with his room key. “And I see you haven’t resolved your problems with basic anatomy. What you’d like to rub for me is still not called the back.”

Fandral chuckled, sparkles of unabashed delight in his eyes. Thor cleared his throat.

“So what will you do for food, Loki?” he said.

“There must be some form of room service in this place,” he said, still toying with his room key, attached to a big wooden tag, the numbers on clear display. “Or I’m sure I can charm a sandwich and a cup of tea from the concierge.”

“I bet you can charm his grandma’s pearls out of him,” beamed Fandral, “if you set your mind to it.”

Loki threw him a glower.

“You have me mistaken for Cleopatra of the Fucking Nile, my dear. I do not eat pearls. Anyway, guys, see you tomorrow.”

“6 a.m.” said Thor.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” said Loki, strutting away.

Thor’s eyes lingered. So did Fandral’s, for that matter.

“Like a trip back in time indeed,” said Sif, and that made Thor at least snap out of it.

Nobody seemed willing to move.

“I’m knocked out,” said Thor.

“Could have been worse,” said Volstagg. “Half the work was done, really. He did a good job,” said Volstagg, “Loki did. The way he set this up. I mean, when he assigned each client to each team. He did some psychological profiling, didn’t he?”

“Yeah,” said Hogun, “Our team got families of a certain age and older couples, Fandral and Sif got younger couples and younger single people…”

“And we got the crazy ones,” laughed Thor. “What does that say about Loki and me…”

“Did you notice how Loki organised the teams?” said Fandral. “He paired a more outgoing person with one that’s…”

He got a pointed glare from Sif. Fandral beamed sweetly.

“You’re a killer in the courtroom, darling,” he told his team partner, “but I would argue that charming pioneer housewives is more my forte. Then again, I may be a bit more wobbly on the technical details than you are. So yes, Loki took into account the strengths and weaknesses of each person here, and paired us to create a complete human being with each team.”

“And what exactly is my weakness, pray?” said Volstagg.

“I’m sure Loki was thinking of our dear Hogun’s ascetic ways, rather,” smiled Fandral. “To compensate for your appetites. He surely wanted to avoid unleashing a plague of locusts unto those houses.”

“Look, here, mate…” Volstagg was going to reply, in good humour.

“Your team didn’t get any housewives, did you, Thor?” cut in Sif.

“I wish,” he said. “Our burly mountaineers may have been a bit less burly then.”

“So if you were not there to charm the housewife, why was Loki so adamant that you and him were in the same team?”

Thor stared at her in silence for a breath. Was he being paranoid? Because that smile looked forced to him, and that tone felt loaded with intention.

“We took the guys susceptible to be flattered and softened up when they were approached by the leaders of the defence team,” he said, dropping the humour now. “Loki thought this type would only take the bosses’ word for it about the arbitration. And I think he was completely right.”

Sif was meeting his stare, unblinking.

“So clever,” she said. “He plays us all like pieces on a chessboard.”

“It’s what a good leader does,” argued Thor. “Putting each person in the optimum position to serve the goals of the team.”

“So defensive,” noted Sif.

“So aggressive,” countered Thor, determined not to lose the staring contest.

“So hungry,” said Volstagg, and his belly rumbled loudly, to help make his point. “Shall we?”

Dinner seemed to loosen everybody up. The atmosphere was light and untroubled again, the banter easy and relaxed. They walked back to the motel, the chilly wind of autumn in the mountains cutting their cheeks.

“So you had a good day, then?, you and Loki,” said Sif, out of the blue. “You looked… friendly.”

The other three were a few steps ahead. He almost called them up. Save me.

“We’ve always had fun together,” said Thor, cautious.

“Is it all forgiven, then?” 

Her directness startled him.

“We haven’t really talked about it.”

“Oh.”

“What does that mean.”

“Nothing.”

They walked in silence for half a block.

“How is Jane?” she asked.

If her question was loaded, he could hardly show that he had noticed without giving himself away. 

“She’s good,” he said, trying for casual. “She’s going on a work trip to New Mexico next week. She’s so excited lately, ever since this new researcher joined her department.”

“Which researcher?”

“Erik Selvig, a visiting professor from Sweden.”

“Sweden?” she said. “Tall, blond, blue eyes?”

He laughed.

“He’s definitely tall. Clear eyes, but I haven’t really taken notice of the colour. And his hair may have been blond, once upon a time.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. More of a father figure, kind of. Or a crazy uncle, the way she talks about him.”

“I see,” she laughed.

They walked in silence a bit more.

“You know, I was not surprised when Loki asked to have his own room for this trip,” she said. “But I didn’t expect it from you.”

Thor walked on, without comment.

“I would have guessed you would have shared with Fandral,” she added. “It’s not like you to pull rank like that.”

“I enjoy having my own space,” he snapped. “We’re not in college anymore, are we?”

“Touchy,” she noted.

“Well, you keep…” he cut himself. Anything he could think of to finish that sentence dropped him into a place there was no escaping from, not without some serious talk, or worsening whatever suspicions he feared she may have. “If you have something on your mind, why don’t you just say it?” 

“Nothing’s on my mind, Thor,” she said. “Chill.”

They walked on. 

“I just struggle with this whole thing,” she said. “Loki doesn’t just forgive and forget, and he’s acting so… tame. I wish I knew what he’s up to.”

Thor carried on in silence. He stole a glance at her from the corner of his eye. What did she know? What did she suspect?

“Loki plays people,” she said, a minute later. “I’m afraid he may be playing you.”

“I can look after myself, Sif,” he said.

She didn’t reply.

They walked in silence the rest of the way, until they met with the rest in the lounge, waiting for their keys.

“Right, we should probably hit the sack,” Thor said. “We have a long day ahead tomorrow.”

His heart was pumping hard as he walked past Loki’s door.

*

In any other situation, Loki would be snoring merrily away by now. They had set out at stupid o’clock that morning, spent all day cooped up in that goddamn jeep up and down nightmarish mountain and woodland trails. His back was knackered, to the point he was almost regretting turning down that back rub Fandral was offering. Yes, had this been any other day, any other time, he would have taken a bath, a pill, and gone to sleep.

A shower, he had had. Not particularly long, since it appeared that up here in wild country, even in the spearhead of civilisation that was this town, hot water was in short supply. He had then gone through his usual nightly beauty routine, thoroughly blown dry his hair as if about to appear in court, and finally he had sprawled naked on that tough, inhospitable bed, with some papers from the case. He had a while to wait yet, if Thor and the rest had gone out for dinner.

His eyes were getting heavy, so he turned to something a bit more active: a cup of tea, and some naked shoe polishing. They were sure needing it. Was mud the only state of matter for the soil in these parts? And he had just stuffed his suit in its cover without even looking at the state of it. He did not fucking want to know what those treks up and down woodland paths had done to his silk-and-cashmere blend suit pants. Because Thor had chosen to try and fit in, in those worn blue jeans and ugly red plaid, but believe you him, Loki in plaid didn’t blend in at all. Better just come as himself, rather than offend those crazy bumpkins by pretending to be one of them, and give himself away the moment he opened his mouth, with that posh British accent he had never managed to shake off, probably because it suited him. At least, when they met him and didn’t like him, they would not need to waste any time wondering why. That was a good basis for a solid professional relationship: open mutual distaste.

Once he was done with his shoes, he laid on the bed again and opened his book. Well, his eReader. But his mind kept straying. He would squirm on the bed, panting ever so slightly, fire under his skin. Scratchy linen, chest heaving, pulse racing, crotch throbbing, his every sense on edge. He was so fucking horny. 

It had been a long couple of weeks setting up this trip, during which they had managed to get consistently cock blocked to an almost suspicious degree. And they both knew what they were in for, oh yes they did. Loki had smirked to himself when he had heard Thor ask his assistant to get him a single room. Then Loki had noticed him eavesdropping as he gently explained to a very disappointed Bucky why he was leaving him behind. “You’re too much of a distraction, my dear. And I’m going to need all the sleep I can get.” That long, unblinking stare Thor had thrown him, Jeez. 

Now, Loki had known it would be a long day since the moment Thor climbed into the minivan in an intolerably good mood, at five frigging thirty in the morning. Loki? Not a morning person. He had dozed for the first hour and a half, while the rest of the group chatted and sang, for the love of god, like fucking school kids on a camping trip. Then they had arrived at the jeep rental place, and they had split into three teams. And at least now he would not be getting jostled by Volstagg when he didn’t laugh at the jokes, flirted at by Fandral, and thank god, no more dark looks from Sif for… well, just for existing, probably. He was left with putting up with Thor in a “go get’em!” kind of attitude which, for Loki, was entirely the wrong approach to life, let alone this day. 

So, the arguing and the bickering, he had anticipated. There had been plenty of it, triggered by pretty much anything.

“This shit isn’t working,” Thor was mumbling, back wheels stuck in a mud trap, the 4x4 traction refusing to kick in.

“Whatever you’re trying to do, I suggest you do it faster. We’re sinking.”

“Shut up, Loki.”

“Don’t smash it, push it. Gently.”

“I am pushing gently, it’s not working!”

And of course Loki had not tried to help with finding their way in that woodland maze — he knew Thor well, and by god, he hadn’t changed one bit. He was such a dude when he got behind a wheel, never asking for directions, never taking advice, and second-guessing every single fucking indication from his co-pilot. Been there, done that, not fucking bothering again, thank you very much.

So that had all fitted in the realm of the expected, reflected upon, prepared for. But as always, Thor would blind-side him and attack from the flank Loki had not thought to cover: the fucking reminiscing.

They were tired by then, dragging their exhausted asses from Burly Mountaineer of the Day number 5, not too far now from number 6. Loki had a headache, so no music and no singing either, praise be the Lord. He was feeling dozy.

“This place reminds me so much of that trip to that Medieval Fair, remember?" said Thor then, out of the blue. "The one with the Wiccan con.”

Loki half opened his eyes.

“I very much doubt they call it a con,” was all he said.

“That was a cool weekend,” said Thor after a moment.

“We obviously have a different understanding of the word cool.”

“Meaning?”

“It was shit. You took off on me with that… high priestess of the mother earth fuckery, the one with tits as big as her head and a fucking pixie tattooed on them, and the purple hair with those stupid white streaks.”

“Oh god, I had forgotten about her…” said Thor, a warm smile that then turned guilty. “What-… what did you do?”

“I was adopted by a covenant. We sacrificed a goat, danced around the fire and saw Goodie Proctor with the devil. And we ate s’mores.”

Thor laughed, but then his brow crumpled with remorse.

“Yeah. Shit. I-I’m sorry about that.”

“You standing me up I was used to, and I could live with. It’s when you came back saying, ‘you have to understand, Loki, those tits…’ like I was your bro," he said that word with distaste. "That really took the fucking biscuit.”

Thor did not know what to say for a while.

“I was such a shit to you back then,” he tried.

A careful pause.

“Not always," admitted Loki. And he added, with a sigh, "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times." The tone was sarcastic, but the spirit of it wasn’t, not really.

A silence, pretty damn heavy with the past.

“Do you ever miss those days?” Thor asked.

“Do you?”

“You know I do.”

Loki was capable of great calculation, but he was a victim of his impulses just like the next man. 

“Sometimes,” he said. “It was fun, with you. You were the only one who got my humour.” (Should he? Yeah, fuck it.) “Me. You got me. You were the only person in the world who really liked me. Then again, you were the only person in the world I really liked. Apart from your mom, I guess.”

Thor had needed a few minutes to process that.

“I more than liked you, you know,” he said, eventually.

Don’t answer that.

“I had a long hard look at myself after you left,” said Thor. “I started to see things differently. I wish… I wish you had given me more time.”

That heavy ball of lead in Loki’s stomach.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” he had said.

“Why not.”

“Because what’s the fucking point.”

He had put on his earbuds, leaned back and shut his eyes.

They had dropped the reminiscing after that. But there had been a change in the air, a certain softness had seeped in. Thor had caught him staring several times — his hands on the wheel, a boy-man’s hands, unchanged from those in his memories. His thighs, those hard knees, and how it felt having them pushing Loki’s thighs apart. His face. His goddamn fucking perfect golden face, the midday sun that warmed up some, those who are thriving, but in the scorched dry, desert state Loki found himself in, it burned. And he had caught Thor staring too, and his fucking heart would jump every time, goddammit. He liked to think himself a man of the world, a man of wealth and taste, someone with a certain measure of self-possession and chill other people seemed to find magnetic and desirable. But this stupid bear hunk, even in stupid ratty jeans and stupid fucking red and black plaid, never failed to make him lose the plot with just one smile. It wasn’t even fair.

And here he was now, short of fucking breath, half hard, writhing on the bed, waiting. Considering even whether he should jerk off now, because what a fucking embarrassment it would be if he came after five fucking minutes like a goddamn teenager. 

Then again, if he was fucked in this state of extreme horniness, did he get to come untouched?

He turned out the big light, only the bedside table lamp remained, warmer, more atmospheric. (By all means, go for atmospheric rather than I’m feeling a bit shy.) He pulled up his knees and got himself some lube from the bottle he had by the bed. He closed his eyes and pushed one finger in. Soon enough, two. The thought occurred that there were many men on both sides of the Atlantic who would gasp, unbelieving, at the news that unyielding top Loki Laufeyson was fucking panting on a bed right now, yearning for some guy’s cock, desperate to feel it inside him. Frigging Thor, always turning everything on its head. God, how he wanted it…

He rolled on his front and slowly humped the pillow, fingers still in, stretching gently. If Thor didn’t come soon, all he would find was a burn mark on the cheap, messy linens. It was that bad, his thirst.

*

Thor’s hands, resting on his knees, were shaking. He had changed clothes and had a quick shower. He didn’t want to stink for this. And he had been sitting on the bed, watching the minutes go by slower than treacle. And in the meantime, his heart, Jesus, he could see his chest pumping with it. 

Ok, it was time. He had to go now, he couldn’t wait any longer. He got up, clenched his fists tight to try and still the shaking. He was terrified he would meet someone on the corridor, or that he’d be heard. Sif. He was terrified of Sif. He had not managed to come up with one single believable explanation of what he might be doing up and down the corridors freshly showered at this time of night. To be perfectly honest, he thought this was insanely risky and that he should not do it. But god, he needed it. He needed it so badly, he hadn’t thought of anything else for fucking days now. 

Hallway deserted, all quiet. The inn was practically empty. He doubted there was a proper high season for this place anyway, but if there was, this could not be it. He spotted only a couple of other guests in the lounge when they left for dinner, an elderly couple. In short, they would have to be very fucking quiet, because if they were overheard, they would not be able to fucking blame the noises on anyone else.

He really hoped he had got the room number right. He knocked.

A low, silken voice he’d know anytime, anywhere, “Come in.”

The door was not locked. Loki was lying on his side on the bed, stark naked, doing something on his tablet. He put it away on the bedside table, eyes fixed on him. Thor locked the door and started to shed his clothes, clumsy with rush, getting very fucking frustrated with the goddamn buttons and downright angry with those fucking boots. He half stumbled over to the bed, feeling stupid, and yet Loki’s expression was aching with anticipation. He just fucking lurched on Loki, desperate for his mouth. He was overwhelmed by the sudden heat of Loki’s skin against his, their cocks pulsing and hardening, crushed between their bodies. Loki’s lips were pliant, and just as hungered. That soft little sound he made as he took his kiss. This time, Loki was holding nothing back.

He soon felt him writhing under his weight, trying to dislodge him. Thor let Loki push him off and roll him onto his back, and gasped with lust as he realised what Loki intended. He had straddled Thor’s hips, eyes heavy and glazed with lust, a pained twist in his expression. On his knees, he rolled the condom on Thor’s cock and slicked it with lube, and now he was taking position to take it in. He did not want Thor’s help — he swatted his hand away when he went to hold himself up for him. Tense face, Loki lined him up, and bore down, a jolt of sensation as Thor felt himself penetrating him, Loki taking him in at a painfully slow pace, clamped hard on him, so fucking tight, burning. They were both panting when his ass met Thor’s crotch. And Thor was struggling to remember ever having seen anything hotter and more beautiful than that. He went to touch Loki’s cock, which hadn’t flagged at all. Again, Loki swatted him away. 

And then, he fucking moved. It was a shift of the hips, more a change of pressure than friction, but god, what it did to Loki’s face. Thor reached up to tug the hair behind his ears, so that he could see him. Loki allowed it, and Thor left his hands there as Loki pushed himself up and bore down again. In spite of the overwhelming sensation, with a degree of very fucking enticing frustration, because Loki’s rhythm was irregular and slow and not quite… — but god, fuck, so tight—, it was seeing Loki fucking himself on him, and what that did to his expressions, what had Thor fucking drooling. 

When Loki established a rhythm and really started to bounce, Thor let out a long, breathy groan, his eyes closing, and then snapping open again, when Loki’s hand weighed on his mouth to shush him. Loki leaned back, hands on his own ankles, and the change of angle must be doing something really nice to him, because he was having to bite his lip hard not to moan. After a while he got upright again, bouncing frantically, whimpering, losing pace and rhythm as he exhausted himself. And Thor just could not fucking stand it anymore. He needed it the way he needed it. He pushed him backwards to flip them over. Loki allowed it, but he rolled  to get on his hands and knees. Thor gripped his hips tight and fucked in, thrusting hard and fast, as he was dying to do, their flesh slapping.

Have you ever used all your strength on anyone.

Loki’s strained breathing was coming out in sobs, his hushed down, muffled moans as whimpers. He turned his head to see, that face was pure fucking sin. He collapsed on his front, butt in the air, taking it. With every thrust now, there was a desperate, aching whimper. Thor's own breathing sounded so fucking loud in the quiet room, the wet noises of their fucking. 

Loki clutched the sheets and bit the pillows, and his back tensed up and he groaned, coming on the sheets beneath him. Thor was too fucking close to do anything but carry on, feeling the whole thing unfold in Loki’s body, from the tensing and clenching, past the shuddering, to the mellowing, boneless softening he was thrusting into now, making him crazy with the friction. He wanted him up. He roughly gripped Loki’s shoulder and pulled until Loki was back up on his hands. Thor got hold of his shoulders then, slamming him back against his cock, hard. He bent over as he came, to bite his neck. Loki hissed, then moaned softly. Thor kissed the bite as he ground his hips, milking it for all it had.

*

When Loki returned from the bathroom, with an unmistakeable stiffness in his step, Thor was flat on his back, eyes unfocused somewhere on the ceiling. For once, Loki didn’t even try. He just stared at the animal glory of that body, which he bet had god and all his angels fucking high-fiveing themselves several times a day.

“Did I hurt you?” came that gruff voice that had been doing things to him since the day it fucking dropped.

“Hurt is not the right word” said Loki. “Anyway, I’m not complaining.”

He sat beside him. It was his bed after all. He didn’t lie down, however. He suspected Thor would fucking spoon him, or worse, and he felt fucking helpless right now to reject him. He took a sip of water from the bottle, to do something.

“One word,” said Thor at his back.

Loki half turned.

“What?”

“You left without one fucking word,” said Thor, his eyes still purposely lost in the cracks on the ceiling. He opened his mouth to say more but nothing came out. He shut it down again, a bitter tight line, annoyed that he was choking with emotion and couldn’t get his words out.

“Which word would that be?” said Loki after a moment.

“What?” 

“Which one word would have made it all right? Which magical word would that be?”

Thor was frowning, puzzled. Loki turned away again. Yes, he was being obtuse on purpose. Of course he knew what Thor meant. Did Thor know what Loki meant? No, he didn’t. He would have to spell it out for him, didn’t he? An array of possible replies spread before him, and he still went for the goddamn truth.

“It would not have been just one word, if I’d opened the door that night, if I had picked up the phone the next day, if I had agreed to sit down with you the day after. You would have wanted to talk. You would have wanted to explain. And then you would have wanted to hear me say that I forgave you. You would have wanted me to say that we were ok. And after that, you would have hugged me, and you would have told me how much you loved me, and how important I was in your life, and probably even call me your brother or some such shit. And I would have eaten it up and drunk it down as well, like I always fucking did. Because I lived for your fucking crumbs. I was that desperate.”

He turned to Thor again. He found him with his eyes shut, brow wrinkled in pain.

“And then you would have come to see me in London. You would have wanted me to take you out and show you around, and wherever we’d go, you’d find an English girl you just had to talk to. You’d arrive at all hours in the night in my flat, half drunk, after fucking them. We’d sleep chastely side by side in the same bed, and you would tell me about all the fun we were having together. And then, when you went back to the States, you would have texted and called, and after putting the phone down, I would have re-read every line and gone over every bit of conversation again and again, searching for any ambiguous sentence that could be interpreted as proof that you reciprocated my feelings. And I would not have to look much, they were there, piling up. You flirted like nobody’s business. You kept me at arm’s length, but you made sure I didn’t stray. And you’d send me photos too. Selfies I’d moon over, group shots with your mates I didn’t give a shit about, except for that pretty girl in the corner there, whose name you weren’t telling me. I’d rack my brains and torment myself wondering if she was your latest fuck, and how long would it last, agonising over whether this was the one, the one that got to keep you.”

Loki finished the bottle in one long gulp and sent it flying carelessly to the other end of the room. It landed quietly on the carpet.

“And then one day, you'd tell me ‘I want you to meet my fiancée’. And on fucking stag night, after all the other jerks had passed out, I’d still be there, and you’d be half drunk and all touchy-feely, and you’d tell me again how I was the most important person in your life, apart from her, and how I’d always have a special place in your heart, and you’d give me that fucking look, and hug me and kiss me, and it would feel so fucking real, I’d be able to live on it for months. And you would have asked me to be your best man at your wedding. And I would have fucking done it, too.” A bitter scoff. “I can almost see myself, watching from a corner as you and Jane take the first dance. I would have wasted away waiting for you, Thor. I’d still be waiting for you today.”

When he turned, Thor was fucking crying.

“I saw it clear as day, as you were trying to knock my door down, that night. I could never fucking see you again. You thought I was punishing you, right? Just one of Loki’s things, one of his diva temper tantrums gone way too far. I wasn’t punishing you, Thor. I was doing what I thought I had to do to get me a fucking chance at getting over you. And how well that worked out for me, right?"

The silence that followed stretched for a long, painful time. Loki himself broke it.

“You need to go.”

Thor sniffled. He sat up, sluggishly dragged himself on to his feet. Loki kept his eyes on him as he put his clothes back on. He thought himself so brave, holding his stare when their eyes met. 

Thor walked over, grabbed his face, and kissed his mouth, a lingering, strong press of lips that asked for nothing while giving everything, and still managed to take it all.

Exits Thor, in silence.

Loki touched his lips, his eyes still closed under a deep frown. He burrowed into a bed that was still warm and smelled like Thor.

In his experience, they never leave their wives. So who cared that Loki was in love, bait hook and sinker, right? It didn’t mean a thing, it made no fucking difference at all.

(Yes, boy, you keep telling yourself that.)

Chapter Text

“What really happened with Loki?” said Jane out of the blue, busy drying the pots Thor had just finished scrubbing.

Thor startled, adrenaline spiking. His hand around the handle of the kettle he was holding under a running tap began to shake.

“Wh-what?”

“When he said he misread the signs, what did he mean exactly?” she said. She wasn’t even looking at him.

Thor’s heart was hammering. He needed a moment to let his breathing slow down. He blessed the noise of the running water, covering for him.

She had tried to bring up the subject a couple of times, but never with a specific question like that. He found he did not know how to avoid giving an answer. More than that, he found he fucking shouldn’t. Didn’t she deserve this much, at least?

“He meant…” he gulped. “We were best friends, and really close, always had been, since we were kids. I wasn’t able to return his feelings the way he wanted. And I was an immature jerk who did not know how to handle the situation, so I did string him along. Like, a lot.”

“How?”

Fucking hell.

“I… I guess I never addressed the subject with honesty. Or with clarity. I never sat down with him and told him the-the way things stood. I just dodged the subject and… I knew how he felt about me. He knew that I knew. I tried not to see it. I didn’t know how to deal with it. I was kind of caught between a rock and a hard place, you see. I couldn't win. It seemed cruel to push him away, but I guess it was also cruel to... to not push him away, and keep feeding his hopes. And you know how I am, I’m demonstrative, right?”

“A big cuddly bear,” she said, smiling to the pot she was drying.

“So I simply wasn’t able to just… cut him off, I guess. But it was also selfishness on my part. I didn’t want to cut him off either. I liked being around him. I-I loved him. I guess I just buried my head in the sand and hoped things would magically go back to something more simple.” He sighed. Loki may not want to hear it, but Thor still wanted to hear himself say it. He found himself feeling gratitude for the chance to talk about it, how was that. “I should have been braver. I should have just faced it, and make a decision. I still don’t know what I would have done about it all, but I should not have pretended it wasn’t there, just wishing it to go away. But I was so afraid of how things would change if we got things out in the open. I was afraid I would lose him. And in the end, I lost him anyway.”

She was looking at him now, a compassionate look on her face.

“You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself,” she said. “You were very young.”

“I was old enough to know people have fucking feelings,” he grumbled, sourly. He did not want her making excuses for him about this.

In this place of sincerity and trust they were right now, his heart pumping, he almost felt he could…

“And I…”

She was staring at him openly, attentive, undemanding.

“I loved him so much,” he said. “I mean… I wasn’t sure… Even myself, I wasn’t sure…”

He could not say it. He might have been able to with Steve. But now? How the fuck could he come out to her and not…? She nodded thoughtfully. Yes? Yes what?

“It’s a confusing age, isn’t it?” she said, as she rinsed the sink. “You discover new things about yourself all the time, feelings are so strong. I remember. It’s hard sometimes to tell the difference between a passionate friendship and a crush. And knowing you a bit, you must have been the randiest teenager…”

He laughed, in spite of the lump of lead in his stomach. He took the chance she had unwittingly offered, and backed like a coward from taking the last step.

“I’m pretty sure I was hard more often than I was soft,” he said. He was now very much ready for a change to a lighter conversation. “I don’t know how I got enough blood running through my brain to graduate, I swear.”

She laughed, a purry, sexy sound. Hm.

“Have you talked with him about this?” she asked.

A vision crossed his mind, Loki’s naked back next to him on the bed, as he poured his soul out last Sunday night in that motel room. Stabbing his heart again and again and again in that monotone, absent voice. That weight on his chest, burning in his throat. Jesus fuck. Did he look half as guilty and thrown off as he felt?

“He doesn’t want to hear me,” he said, “but he has spoken his piece.”

She had a tiny frown on her, compassionate and thoughtful.

“It must have been very painful for him.”

“Lots of resentment,” he said. “And humiliation as well. The whole thing unfolded pretty much in front of everyone. Not just the-the punch, but… You know, people knew he had a crush on me and…” He rubbed his eyes. “It was like a fucking soap, at one point, people waiting for the next fucking episode. Made me feel like… I don’t know. I’ve sometimes thought things would have been different if it had been just the two of us. All that added pressure just… You know. We’re both proud as well. We don’t do the losing face thing very gracefully. That complicates things. Saying sorry, you know.”

“Tell me about it,” she grinned.

He gave her a sheepish grin.

“I’m sure it was tough on both of you. Nobody likes being rejected, but doing the rejecting doesn’t feel nice either.”

“The second bit I get, but how do you even know about the first bit? I can’t believe anyone ever rejected you,” he said, and ran her eyes all over her. (Could we please, please, please, change the subject now.)

“Smoothie,” she said, with a cute smirk. “You’d be amazed by how little interest most guys have in a mousy, flat-as-a-surfboard brunette in hand-me-down man clothes who’s way too much into physics.”

“I can’t get that inside my head,” he said, a cheeky, flirty grin. “I’ve seen your yearbook photos, babe, you’ve always been a stunner. I mean, I bet that, if we had met in kindergarden, I would have been that idiot pulling your ponytails to get you to notice me.”

A cute little pout to keep her smile at bay, her eyes so bright. “You would have been that kindergarden idiot with a bloody nose, then,” she said.

“Yeah, well, and those ponytails wouldn’t have lasted long anyway, not with Loki around. Ask Sif about his problems with sharing.”

She gave her a pointed stare then. Whoops. And they had been climbing out of that conversational pit so nicely.

“Did you string her along as well?” she said.

He exhaled. Really? Now?

“I did worse than that,” he said. That puppy look he gave her then, begging her to let him off the hook, it may have been manipulative, but it came from the fucking heart.

“What a heartbreaker,” she said. “Well, I guess it can’t be helped, when one looks like that.”

He gave her a small, tired smile.

“You’re very understanding with my fuck-ups,” he said.

“You’re very understanding with mine.”

“What fuck-ups.”

She smiled that radiant smile of hers. God, but she was gorgeous.

“Must be a good feeling, in spite of it all, to have Loki back,” she said. “A second chance.”

He closed his eyes to the absolute fucking mess of emotions raging inside him right now, a sudden overpowering burst of affection for her surging over all the others.

“It is,” he said.

She was drying her hands now. He walked up to her and hugged her from the back. She let out a soft hum.

“I love you,” he whispered by the shell of her ear. She was so tiny, compared to…

She offered her neck, closing her eyes. He pushed her hair away to knead it deeply with his mouth. His hands moved from around her waist to her breasts, rolling them gently through her shirt (one of his old ones), letting his palm rub the nipples, not his thumbs, the way she preferred. She sighed, a catch in her breath. He was getting hard. He ground his groin against her ass, making himself harder. Sliding one hand down to her crotch, she anchored it between her thighs, putting pressure on and massaging gently.

“Baby…” she sighed, as he began to unbutton her jeans, “right here?”

“Why not?” he mumbled against the skin of her throat.

“No reason,” she chuckled.

She braced herself on the worktop as he pushed her jeans down and his own. He bent her over and fucked her from behind.

The moment he closed his eyes, visions flooded his mind of fucking Loki in the back seat of the jeep last Sunday. It felt wrong on so many levels, but how could he fucking stop now, and he… he didn’t want to.

Sunday morning, meeting Loki in the lounge with the rest of the group, Thor didn’t know what to say to him, or how to look at him, even. Loki didn’t make it easier for him either, cold and cutting and in an overall very bad mood. Sif and the rest did not fail to notice the sudden change between them from the previous evening. Nobody made any comments, and Thor wasn’t sure that was a good thing, but at the time he had just been grateful.

They barely crossed a word all day, Loki and him, except in front of the clients. Time was running out on them. Soon they would have to head back, return the jeeps and get into the minivan to drive back into town, and god knows when they would have again the chance to be alone together. Thor didn’t know where they stood, and he didn’t want to leave it like that. They needed to talk.
After seeing the last client, on the drive to the jeep rental place, Thor tried for miles to gear himself up to speak. But in the end, it had been down to Loki.

“Stop there,” he had said, all of a sudden.

Thor saw the lay-by he was pointing at. The moment the car stopped, Loki was all over him, kissing him ferociously, working at his zip.

“Loki… we can’t…” he tried, as his mouth got nipped, bitten and ravaged, “not right here… they’ll see us…”

“Then where?” Loki had breathed, panting.

Thor drove further up the path, deeper into the woods, took a curve. The area was quite scenic, but he hoped it was not too popular with hikers on a Sunday evening at this time of the year. Loki had jumped to the back seat before Thor even pulled the break. On his back, hips up, he had kicked off his shoes and he was squirming out of his pants. When Thor scrambled over to the back seat, he landed directly between his open legs. Rutting hard against each other, Thor had claimed his mouth, very fucking aware he did not know when he would taste it again, if ever.

“In the briefcase,” Loki had said, a whimpery mumble. “Come on, come on, come on,” he had urged, as Thor put the condom on and lubed up as fast as he could.

Loki had winced when Thor penetrated him.

“Are you sore?” Thor had asked.

“Just fuck me, fuck me…” Loki had begged, eyes closed tight.

It had been frenzied, and artless, and very fucking quick, in spite of the uncomfortable setting. Loki’s noises so needy, so desperate, hands over his head to stop himself from being crushed against the door of the jeep with Thor’s thrusts. And when Thor heard himself, he sounded like he was in pain. He did not want it to be over. Loki slithered one hand between their bodies to jack himself.

After they both came, Thor had crumbled over him, face on Loki’s neck, panting, Loki’s own rushed breathing close to his ear. He wanted to stay there. Why couldn’t they just fucking stay there.

“You need to change your shirt,” said Loki absently, after a moment, his breathing still agitated and short, Thor’s weight crushing his chest. “And don’t let her do your laundry.”

“I’ve been thinking,” said Jane, snuggled up against him on the couch, an old re-run of Law and Order on the TV, “that trip to Stockholm University in December. We should take a few extra days, go together, make it a holiday. Spend New Year’s Eve in Scandinavia. Maybe go see the northern lights?”

“It will depend on where we are with the case, I guess,” he said. “The date for the hearing is set for the end of February. We may be insanely busy by that time.”

“We shall see, then,” she said. “But it would be nice, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes, lovely. Good idea,” he said, his mind elsewhere.

February, that’s when it all ended, for better or for worse. After the hearing, Loki would not have a reason to stay. Thor didn’t even know how to begin to feel about that.

Chapter Text

Thor parked his car two blocks away from the house, around a corner. As he made his way on foot up the street, he began to feel stupid. It was a perfectly reasonable hour of the afternoon for a social call. There was nothing suspicious about it, and he needed to fucking chill. 

The house was a concrete and glass, ultramodern building, with one of those low-maintenance gardens at the front, gravel and sand, bamboo and conifers. The windows on the front façade were very tall and very narrow, inches wide, like embrasures. The place looked forbidding, unassailable. 

He took a deep breath before daring to ring the bell. He really didn’t know how his showing up here would go down. It took long enough before he heard noises inside and the door began to swing open, heavy like the gates of a medieval castle, that he almost had time to change his mind, turn around and run.

“What are you doing here?” said Loki, in yoga style house clothes, loose, classy, hair up in a messy bun. Thor couldn’t help the once-over. He looked fucking stunning.

He swallowed dry.

“Jane is out of town for a few days,” he said.

“I see,” said Loki, pinning him down with an incisive stare, which Thor could not stand for long.

Loki walked back inside, leaving the door open behind him. Thor followed him in.

The place was a vast, open-plan, unfurnished single space.

“Do you mind if I finish this,” said Loki, heading for what Thor recognised as the kitchen, only because of the big island where Loki had his laptop and several stacks of folders and documents neatly arranged in piles. It was the only working surface to be seen in the whole room. “There’s an espresso machine over there,” he said, gesturing to what to Thor looked like a bare wall.

“Thanks. I’m fine.”

Loki perched on a bar stool, and Thor found himself standing in the middle of the room like an idiot. He didn’t know what to do with himself, there wasn’t even a couch for him to sit on. Nothing but two more bar stools close to Loki, also stacked up with papers. The room was so empty and so quiet, Loki’s typing produced a faint echo. How did he live like this?

So he paced. The place looked uninhabited. No furniture, no curtains, no plants, no art on the walls, nothing. An empty shell of polished marble, concrete and glass. On the far corner, what must count as the bedroom, with a futon mattress on the floor, a clothes rack, everything neatly packed up in a cover, and an open, long-stay travel case that seemed to fill in for a chest of drawers. The only thing offering a reprieve to the eye was the vast, sweeping window all across the back façade, opening to a secluded, narrow but lush garden, a wall of green bamboo and hardy palm trees over a patchwork of wild grasses. 

“Where’s the furniture?” asked Thor.

“Why bother,” said Loki absently from the other end of the room. “It’s not like I’ll be staying here long.” There was nothing in his tone for Thor to get a glimpse of Loki’s feelings on the subject.

There wasn’t a TV anywhere, but there was a very decent sound system on the floor, and Loki’s iPod on top of it. He picked it up and had a look. Probably constituted prying, but it was something to do.

“Oh my fucking god,” he gasped, with a broad smile, as he scrolled down.

“What the fuck are you doing?” A screech when the bar stool’s legs slid on the marble, Loki’s bare feet padding closer.

“I can’t fucking believe this!” laughed Thor, scrolling, scrolling. Among lots of classical pieces and some obscure bands Thor did not know, every now and again, sticking out like a sore thumb, this and that other silly pop song they used to laugh at as kids! “Oh my god, there’s even the Backstreet Boys!”

“Give me that.” Loki stood in front of him, one hand on his hip, the other stretched in front of him, palm upwards, waiting. He looked so damn serious, and so damned hot. 

Thor smiled, cocky, the devil in his eye.

“Make me.”

Loki looked thunderous, outraged, his nostrils flaring.

“I’m not fucking playing, Thor. I said, give me that.”

Thor lifted the iPod above his head, and kept right on grinning.

“What are you, ten?” said Loki.

Thor smirked, and sang, “Quit playing games with my heart, my heart…”

Loki charged, reaching up, those two fucking inches too short. He sunk his nails in Thor’s arm, but Thor only backed away, laughing, until he hit the wall. Thor’s smarmy grin was working Loki up to a killing rage. His face was inches away. Thor let him get the iPod just as he wrapped around him for a kiss. Loki squirmed and twisted in his arms, even as he returned the kiss. When Thor released him, Loki strutted away in a huff, neck and face undeniably flustered.

“Asshole,” he heard him grumble.

Thor was still smiling, he couldn’t help himself. He remembered listening to those songs together at fifteen. Actually, it would go like this: Loki would come to him and say hey, you have to listen to this crap, and he would lend him one of his earbuds. They would take the piss at the cheesy lyrics and the tacky music, sing along to the chorus. And their heads would be close together, staring at each other, smiling, complicit, mouthing the stupid words. Quit playing games with my heart…

Oh.

Oh.

He turned to Loki, perched on the stool, his back to Thor, totally oblivious of the thunderbolt of sudden realisation that had just hit him. What Thor had felt last weekend, as Loki opened his heart in that motel room, was coming back to him. He wanted to fucking hug him. There was no way Loki would let him, would he? He sighed. 

“Does Tony ever come here?” he asked.

“No. I prefer his house.” Loki turned to him. “You’ve been there, haven’t you?” his tone of voice had changed. Softer, mellow. Suspiciously so.

“Yeah.”

“Did he show you the playroom?” 

“The playroom?”

Loki smirked, green eyes blazing.

“Have you ever fucked on a leather swing, Thor?”

Thor huffed, irritation covering the discomfort that had seized him.

“Spare me, please.”

Loki’s grin turned even wider, even cockier.

“You don’t like to think about Tony and me together?”

“Of course not.”

Loki laughed, a hollow cackle without one shred of humour.

“How can you breathe through the hypocrisy,” he mused, as he turned his attention back to the laptop.

“Are you still fucking Bucky?” asked Thor.

“Are you still fucking your wife?” replied Loki, without even looking.

Thor scoffed. “It would be a bit suspicious if I suddenly stopped, wouldn’t it?”

“Exactly.”

“You can’t compare my eight year relationship with Jane with your weeks old office fling with Bucky,” he said, derisive.

“You want me to stop fucking Bucky? Is that what you're saying?” Dangerously mellow again.

“I can’t ask you that.”

“You’re completely fucking right, for once,” said Loki, now with mounting aggression. “What I do with Bucky is none of your fucking business. And if you so much as give him one single dirty look because of this, I fucking swear to you…”

Thor exhaled tiredly, raising his hands in surrender.

“Listen, I’ll just shut up completely, ok? I’ll shut up.” He sighed. “I didn’t come here to fight.”

Loki speared him with intent, cold eyes.

“No, you came here to fuck.”

Thor reeled from that replica as if from a slap.

“I didn’t… Not-… I didn’t come just-just for that,” he stuttered, possibly flushing.

“Oh, really,” said Loki, toneless, clearly unimpressed.

“No,” said Thor. “Ok? Can’t I just… want to spend some time with you?”

“So you don’t want to fuck,” challenged Loki.

Thor mouthed like a fish out of water, busted.

“Is-is that what I said? Jesus, Loki. Do you fucking enjoy winding me up?”

“Very much.”

“Why do you have to be so fucking confrontational? Can’t you just drop the act for a while?”

“The act?”

“Yeah, the act! This whole… attitude. Pretending you hate me when we both know what you really feel is-…”

“You don’t have a fucking clue how I feel,” cut Loki.

“Of course not,” said Thor, sarcastic, “because I’m a fucking imbecile, ain’t I?”

“I don’t know what your problem is,” countered Loki, “but you did manage to be completely fucking blind and deaf for ten fucking years to my fucking feelings, so you tell me…”

“Do you really need to bring this up now?” 

“Oh, right,” said Loki, sarcasm dripping sweet poison, “should I just forget about it then? What’s past is past? Would it make it easier for you? I would hate to make you uncomfortable…”

“Fucking hell, Loki,” he snapped, beginning to lose his rag, “all I fucking want is-…”

“I don’t give a flying fuck what you want!” yelled Loki. “We had nothing but what you wanted for twenty fucking years!”

Thor was backed up in his corner, being pounded to the fucking mat.

“I can’t do anything to change that!” he tried, a bit too loud maybe. “I can’t go back to the past and make different choices, can I? The only thing I can do is-…”

“So that’s what this is, then?” cut Loki, in a vicious hiss. “You’re making it up to me, is that it? What am I, your pity fuck?”

“Is that what I said?” yelled Thor, at the end of his tether. “You keep twisting my meaning! You know that’s not what this is!”

Oh, the look on Loki’s face now, it reminded Thor of a scorpion rearing its tail to better sink its sting.

“Oh yes, I know what this is,” he said sweetly. “You’re scratching a fucking itch, isn’t it? So fucking scratch it then.” His tone got heated, angry. “What are you waiting for, what’s all this fucking chatter about? Stop fucking pretending! You haven’t come here to talk, so come over here and get on with it already!” He was standing there, chin up, arms hanging by his sides, fists clenching.

Thor was boiling with spite, ready to grab Loki by the scruff of his neck, rip his clothes off, throw him on that fucking mattress, and… 

…And that was what Loki wanted, wasn’t it? He was baiting him, again. Oh, it would be so much easier… 

He took a deep breath, then another, and then another one, for good measure. When he spoke next, he sounded calm and collected.

“That’s not what this is,” he said. “And I won’t let you turn it into that.”

There was a flicker of a frown on Loki’s face. He was astonished. Astonished that Thor had seen through his shit, and managed to avoid being dragged down to that level. And after that astonishment, he looked very angry, and very fucking scared.

“Then get the fuck out of here,” said Loki, turning away from him.

“Fine,” Thor snapped, exasperate. “Is that what you want? Fine. I’ll fuck off then. Fuck you.”

Thor stomped to the door and got as far as putting one hand on the knob. 

He exhaled, exhausted. Don’t play his game, man. In Loki’s game, everybody loses.

“Ask me to stay,” Thor said.

He got silence for an answer. 

“Ask me to stay,” he insisted, “or I’m fucking leaving right now.”

More silence. He waited. And waited. And waited. He huffed furiously, and turned the knob.

“Fine, if that's what you want,” he said.

The door was swinging.

A weak mutter, then.

“Thor.”

Thor held his breath.

“Yes,” he said.

A long, long delay.

“Stay.”

______

“Just do it,” said Loki.

“Pardon me?”

“What you’re thinking. Do it.”

They were sitting on the futon, empty take-away boxes by the bed, and a radio music show on, since there was no TV, to relieve the current lack of conversation. Thor had insisted. Silence in that house sounded so fucking empty and heavy. 

The air between them had been thawing steadily. They had talked about the case for a bit, that had been safe. They had talked about Thor’s parents and the people back home. The sun had set. Any regular social call should have ended hours ago.

And Thor’s heart had been pumping harder and faster, stealing quick peeks at Loki, his eyes drawn to how the whisper of fabric clung here and draped there. And remembering their earlier argument, and hesitating about how it would be received if he did make an advance.

“It’s fine, Thor,” said Loki, reading his thoughts. “I’m not going to throw it to your face. Tonight.”

“That’s very encouraging.”

Loki chuckled softly. It sounded like sunshine and honey to Thor. It made him smile.

He slowly leaned to the side to kiss Loki’s neck. Very, very slowly. No rush. Loki tilted his head to allow better access, let his lids droop. Thor put one hand on Loki’s thigh, let it run up the sensitive inner flesh, higher, higher, as he kept kissing the delicate throat. Loki’s breathing became shallower. He was very still, head back against the wall. Thor's kisses climbed up Loki’s jaw to his mouth. He brushed it with his lips, a gentle caress with his tongue. He was not in a hurry. He pulled at Loki’s top, and Loki put his arms up, docile, to help Thor take it off. Thor took time to look at him, really look at him, for fucking once. Loki was looking back, eyes wide open.

Without hurrying, Thor returned to that neck that called to him. Goosebumps blossomed on the pale skin as he brushed lightly on it, breathed on it, breathed it in. He followed down his throat, passed the chest, to the nipples. Nipping the one between his lips, slight flicks of the tongue, and a sharp exhale from Loki, his hands weaving in Thor’s hair, heat trickling through Thor’s scalp, down his back, making him groan. He couldn’t help but compare, how different it felt, the hard flat muscle, the dusting of hair. He explored it, he pulled gently at the dark trail that thickened right where the waist of those thin knit pants began. 

Thor nudged him to lay him down on his back, kneeled between Loki's thighs, and stared at him again, Loki spread beneath him, open and welcoming. He palmed him through the clothes, felt and watched as Loki’s erection rose, tenting the slight fabric, thumbed the head through the material. He dragged the pants down, and watched him there exposed, completely naked, fully hard. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he muttered, almost to himself. 

“Take your clothes off,” said Loki, mutedly.

Thor obeyed, aware of Loki’s eyes on him. He stood there to be watched, Loki’s desire resonating deep within, hot, exhilarating. 

“Come over here,” said Loki. 

Thor laid on top of him, but they soon rolled on their sides, tangling their legs. What a thing it was, to be allowed to kiss him like that, languorously, lazily even, hours stretching before them, full of promise. The only urgency was set by their lust, growing impatient with just the crumbs from the banquet table before it, when it had been starving for days. They pressed against each other, grinding their hips together, their kisses becoming more fierce. Loki rolled them over to get on top. He took his fill himself from Thor’s body, with eyes and hands and mouth. He slid lower and lower, Thor’s breath withheld with anticipation, but Loki slid past his groin to nuzzle and suck his balls, his hands kneading the inside of his thighs. 

“Please…” begged Thor, stroking himself, milking the pre-come pearling at the top.

Loki’s hand pushed Thor’s away, his tongue left a strip from base to head. Thor gasped. A few more lazy licks along the shaft, teasing. Thor was holding his breath again, his eyes locked on Loki’s, waiting. Loki sucked in the head, gently.

“Ah, fuuuck…” groaned Thor, throwing his head back, spreading his thighs. 

With one hand fisted around the shaft, stroking, and the other massaging his balls, Loki applied his mouth. Thor alternated between arching his neck with closed eyes, and watching Loki’s mouth around his cock. He would meet Loki’s eyes then, his torrid, heavy-lidded gaze, and feel a stab of heat in his groin. 

He was very much undone, but Loki kept him on a simmer, changing and slowing down whenever it was starting to really build up, dragging it out. Thor thought this had the makings of a fucking colossal orgasm. Or an incredibly frustrating one.

At one point, Thor jolted up from a closed-eye revery with a flash of cold. Loki had lubed his cock. He was stroking him now, while his mouth sucked his balls. Thor closed his eyes again. Loki’s tongue descended further, as he pushed Thor's knees up and apart. 

“Lift,” he said. And slid a pillow under his hips. 

Before Thor asked, Loki’s tongue had begun to brush on his perineum, closer and closer to…

“Ah,” Thor sighed, eyes closing out of their own accord, when the gentle, wet, hot touch of Loki’s tongue flicked on his ass. “God…” 

He held his knees up, opening himself even more. His cock was throbbing.

“First time?” asked Loki.

Thor nodded, eyes closed. Long, hot laps alternating with pressure from the hardened tip of Loki’s tongue. Loki’s mouth in the cleft of his ass, rubbing his lips on it, pushing. Quick, gentle flicks, and the tip of one finger spreading him just a bit, enough to slide the tip of his tongue in, turning him into a shuddery, whimpery mess.

“God… oh my god… Loki…”

He was even going to complain when Loki’s mouth returned to his cock, but just then, he felt Loki’s finger slide in.

“Hey…!” He tensed up.

Loki pierced him with his eyes. Thor’s mouth was open, hesitating, and Loki was doing something inside him now. Something really fucking nice.

“Want me to stop?” he asked, the bastard.

Thor shook his head.

“No, you don’t want this, or no, don’t stop?” asked Loki, still doing that thing.

“Don’t-don’t stop,” said Thor. 

So he didn’t. He took Thor’s cock in his mouth again, still measuring his touches to keep them just above teasing, and way below climax road, and continued to rub his prostate. He had Thor writhing and moaning and whimpering, such an extended, tortuous exercise. Thor’s mind was god knows where when he felt the second finger slide in.

“Oh, god…” moaned Thor.

Loki was teasing with his tongue underneath the head of his cock, as he fucked in and out with both fingers. Thor was panting, moaning. The third finger burned a bit, but Thor was so fucking horny by now. He was rolling his hips, clenching around them, as Loki sucked the head of his cock.

“Do you like this?” asked Loki, fucking slowly with three well-lubricated fingers.

Thor nodded, flushed and sweaty and very fucking desperately, painfully aroused.

Loki gave him a long, loaded stare, his fingers never stopping.

“Do you want it?” he asked.

Thor’s mind was hot porridge right now, but he knew what Loki was asking. His hips kept pumping up mindlessly. 

Yes, he fucking did.

He nodded.

“Yeah?” asked Loki.

“Y-yeah,” he said.

Loki pulled his fingers out, wiped them on the sheets. He stood on his knees. He was very fucking hard. He looked huge. He rolled the condom on, slicked himself up with lube. Thor’s chest was heaving now, his heart pumping, his eyes following Loki’s every move. Loki got between his thighs, made him put his knees up. 

“Look at me,” he said. He had propped himself on one arm, and he was lining himself up with the other. 

Thor’s eyes had been fixed on what was going on between his legs. Now he looked up, their gazes connected. Loki lined up the head, and as he pumped Thor’s cock, he gently pushed in. Thor sucked in a breath, grimaced, his erection flagging. The head was in, it felt fucking huge, and so many shades of wrong. It burned. Loki was still, his breathing shuddery, his hand still pumping Thor’s cock. His eyes were intent on Thor’s face. He came down for a kiss, his hips shifted slightly, his cocked inched in. A bit out, a bit further in. A bit out, a bit further in, as he jacked him. His ass felt very weird, hot and throbbing, fuller and fuller in a way that made Thor think of needing a shit rather than sex, and all of that, crashing with conflicting sensations still coming from his crotch. Loki stood still while he jerked him off, patiently waiting until Thor was hard again, that quick thumb on the head. His self-control struck Thor as nothing short of admirable. Loki pushed in again, and his eyes closed lazily, with a sharp gasp. He was all in. Inside him. He looked in heaven. Thor knew how that felt. He still wasn’t sure how he felt. The fullness was the weirdest fucking thing. 

“Is it going to hurt?” asked Thor. 

Loki opened his eyes, his breathing strained, shallow. He shook his head no. 

“Ok,” said Thor. “Move.”

“Keep touching your cock,” said Loki.

Thor did, with Loki propped on his stretched arms above him, filling him, the burn subsiding as he kept still, his eyes fixed on Thor's face, calibrating his arousal from his expressions. Thor began to feel pleasure and need building up again. Loki shifted inside him, barely. That sensation, alongside the other sensation from jerking off, it was kind of confusing or contradictory but also…

Loki pulled out, just a bit, and slid in again, snaking his back. The burn reappeared, but now it felt different, and there was more just beneath it. Or around it, it was hard to tell. Loki began to move in and out, still very slowly, and the burn became an edge to the heat surging within. 

“Ah, fuuuck…” Thor moaned, as the two sensations added to each other in a way that was un-fucking-believable.

Loki’s breathing was laboured and pained, but he still retained control, which Thor was not sure he would have managed himself. He began to fuck in longer strokes, establishing a rhythm. On the way in, he was slamming a bit harder now, and Thor’s cock would tug and throb in his hand. It still burnt, but it was not uncomfortable, it didn’t feel wrong, it was maddening, it had him fucking panting. The noises, Jesus fuck, it was so fucking wet. Loki picked up the pace, Thor rocked underneath him, the friction so fucking good. He was being fucked now, good and proper, what a strange thought. He heard himself moaning, breathy, aching sounds.

“Loki…”

The fire in Loki’s eyes, it was almost fucking scary. Shorter thrusts now, pushing the air out of Thor in sharp huffs. They were both close. 

“Touch yourself,” muttered Loki, "make yourself come." He was so fucking good at this, goddamn.

Thor managed all of three strokes, just three, and he was coming, long and hard, with a broken cry, made to stutter with the vigorous movements of Loki’s body against him. Thor rode his orgasm all along a long crest down to this blissful glow, with the feeling of Loki sliding in and out of him.

Loki was fucking harder. The sensation of fullness and friction was no longer building up to anything, but it was still very fucking nice. And being jostled and swayed by Loki’s pretty intense, forceful fucking now, watching his face tensing up more and more as he began to come, his fierce panting fleshing out into low, hot moans, that was hot as everliving hell. 

“Thor… god, Thor…”

The last sudden, jerky thrusts had Thor’s heart racing, every jolt another spurt of come inside him. Loki let his head hang low now, as he ground his hips, and Thor didn’t know how to fucking feel right now, especially when the thought crossed his mind that he wished Loki was not wearing a condom. 

Loki stayed inside for a bit, eyes closed, face unhinged, recuperating from the intensity of it. 

After he had pulled out, very slowly and gently, for Thor it was the weirdest fucking thing.

 His ass was throbbing. Not hurting, but hot and throbbing, a strange tingle. He watched Loki in all his white, slender glory walk to the bathroom and back, and collapse next to him, his breathing still slightly agitated. He handed him a hot wet towel. Thor wiped himself, hesitated before he wiped between his thighs.  

“Are you ok?” asked Loki. Which caught Thor completely by surprise.

“Yeah,” he said. “Feels weird.”

“Did I hurt you?”

“No.”

“Did you enjoy it?”

Thor flushed, heat creeping up his neck and cheeks.

“Good,” said Loki. He handed him a water bottle.

For a long while, nobody spoke.

“When did you first realise?” asked Thor. “I mean, that what you felt for me was… That it wasn’t just…”

“I don’t think I can remember. I think I always knew.”

Thor turned on his side, brushed the hair away from Loki’s face. Loki demurely lowered his eyes. 

“I only really knew after you left,” said Thor. “And even then, I sort of… I thought you were my exception. I didn’t really believe in bisexuality. I thought… I don’t fucking know what I thought. I was very ignorant. It took a while before I… shit, before I stopped being in denial and faced the facts. Years.”

“Are you always so chatty after sex,” said Loki, quite softly.

Thor laughed, and kissed him, and wrapped one arm and one leg around him.

“You’re a fucking cuddler too. Jackpot,” grumbled Loki. But he didn’t push him off. And when Thor kissed him again, he kissed him back.

And if Loki had any thoughts about Thor spooning him when they settled down to sleep, he didn’t say.

Chapter Text

(The past)

Fall. Misty. Piles of bright yellow leaves on the street, debris from the storm last night. Thor’s eyes have a greyish hue today. Strands of golden hair poking out of the hood of his sweat. He’s puffing white clouds. He’s so fucking handsome it’s unreal.

“So what’s the big deal with tits, anyway,” asked Loki, hands deep in the pockets of his own hoodie, eyes front. 

“What’s the big deal?”

“Yeah. They all have them. What’s with the craze, I don’t get it. And if you tell me ‘you wouldn’t understand’, I’m going to kick your ass.”

The question didn’t come from thin air. Some pics had been floating around of this actress who’d been caught topless, and a few issues of the magazine, rather worse for wear at the moment, were being passed around in school. 

“There’s nothing to understand, really,” said Thor. “What can I say, they’re nice, they’re pretty. I don’t have them. I like them.” A few steps later, he elaborated a little more. “I mean, yeah, they all have them, but they’re all different, you see? No two pairs are the same. And it’s a bit like Christmas, I mean, like getting a present. You can roughly sort of guess from the wrapping what you’re going to get, but, you know, the actual thing always surprises you. And once you’ve seen a girl’s tits, you can’t unsee them. It’s sexy.”

After a few more steps.

“Do you have preferences? Big, small…” asked Loki.

“Naw, I like them all. Big, small, round, pointy… They’re tits. They’re all good.” After a moment. “Do you have preferences?”

“For tits?” 

“No, for-for dicks.”

“Absolutely,” said Loki. “I’m very demanding.”

“Right. And what-… I mean, what do you like?”

“Is that you trying to show interest in my hobbies or…?”

Thor laughed. “No, I’m curious.”

“Alright, you asked for it,” grinned Loki. “So, they have to be thick, that’s basic. No monster-cocks, please, but nice and thick. Yeah?”

Thor rubbed his eyes, with a wary frown. What had he got himself into. “Yeah.”

“And long. Not horse-long, just, you know, long enough. But cut or uncut, I don’t mind.”

“Right, thick and long,” said Thor, laughing, still quite red on the cheeks, and not just from the cold. “I-I guess they must feel good, right? When they’re, you know, inside.”

“I thought we were just talking aesthetics,” said Loki.

Thor laughed again. Then he had a thought, and Loki all but saw it flashing across his face.

“But, wouldn’t thin cocks be better, at least to begin with? I mean, doesn’t it hurt?”

Loki shrugged. “I know as much as you.”

“Oh. But… You said you’d already…”

Loki gave him two unimpressed eyebrows. “I have a dick too, you know?”

“Oh, right!” said Thor, “So, you did the…”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, right. Right, I see.”

“Typical,” said Loki. “Is that how you imagine me, then? As the girl?”

Thor flustered massively. Well, if he wasn’t before, he was surely imagining it now.

“I had not thought about it, ok?” he protested. “I don’t go around imagining you… Anything.”

Loki didn’t reply. They walked in silence a while longer.

“You never told me who it was,” said Thor.

“And I’m not going to tell you now.”

“Why not?”

“Because he’s older, and you would get protective and shit. No point.”

Thor took a moment to reflect upon that.

“How much older?” he said.

Loki laughed. “See?” He laughed some more. “College.”

“College? That’s statutory rape!”

“I’m not going to report it. Are you?”

“Guess not,” Thor grudgingly accepted. “What’s wrong with sixteen-year-olds, though?”

“Experience. Kids our age don’t have a clue. And I include myself. I mean, it’s all fine for a mutual wank or sucking or whatever, but when it’s about sticking things into things, I’ve read enough to know that you have to know what you’re doing, if you don’t want to rip anything, let alone make it nice.” A few more steps. “And I just liked him. He knew his way around, you know? Smooth. I was taking notes.”

Thor chuckled, because he’d better. He looked rattled.

“You could probably benefit from dating an older girl too, you know?” mused Loki. “Even with self-lubricating holes, it’s not as easy as just…”

“Fucking hell, Loki,” laughed Thor. “Well, get me an older girl, and I’ll be happy to… Hey, don’t change the subject though.”

“I’m not.”

“Did he treat you right?”

Loki couldn’t help the little smile. Such a Thor thing to ask.

“Yes. He was, you know, happy to hold my hand through things, if you get my meaning. We did lots of stuff. I learned a lot. …You look semaphore red.”

Thor laughed. “Sorry.”

“Doesn’t bother me.”

A pause.

“Did you enjoy it?” asked Thor.

“What do you think?”

“Have you seen him again?”

“Nope.”

“Do you want to?”

“Nah. Too complicated. Too much work.”

“How did you meet him?”

“You’re grilling me to try and figure out who he is, aren’t you?”

“Am not,” said Thor, but he wasn’t even trying.

Loki laughed, gave him a shove.

“Maybe I’ll tell you one day. When you’re older.”

__________

(The present)

Thor pulled back, coughing.

“How do you fucking do it?” 

“Years of practice my dear,” said Loki, stroking the golden head between his legs.

“There must be a way, a technique or something,” insisted Thor, one lazy hand around Loki’s shaft.

“I can tell you the theory,” condescended Loki, “but it’s not going to do you much good.”

“Try.”

“Get it inside in slow increments, get used to it, and when it hits the back of your mouth, swallow.”

Thor sucked him again. Loki tried to keep his eyes open for it. Too quick for you, baby… He bit his lip as Thor bobbed his head down and tried, eyes closed, concentrating. He quickly pulled back again, spluttering and coughing.

Loki laughed, petting him.

“Damn,” grumbled Thor.

“Please, leave it. Just suck me…”

Thor’s heavy-lidded, intent blue eyes bore on his as his mouth came down on him again. Loki jolted with the sensation, writhing on the bed, humming happily. He was resting on a couple of pillows, to have a better view. And what a view it was, the stuff of his fucking dreams. A dream he had treasured for years, then reneged on it, burnt it, scattered its ashes across the ocean, and now here it was again, in the fucking flesh. Thor’s lips around him, his cheeks hollowed, the pull of his mouth, and the vast expanse of his body, his buttocks poking up as he humped the mattress… 

He had woken up with the feel of Thor’s warmth all along his back, his breathing on his neck. He had only stirred a bit, twisted to look around, and that was enough to wake Thor up, that dozy smile he had given him, fucking hell. Kissing. Thor’s sleepy groan as he got hard against him, rutting mindlessly. And after some lazy, gentle making out, Thor had begun to slither down his body, kissing everything he saw, until he had settled between Loki’s thighs for a slow, unhurried morning blow-job. Loki owed somebody somewhere for this. When had this become his life…

Thor had picked up the pace, jacking him in counterstroke. Loki let out a long moan.

“Not so bad, then?” mumbled Thor.

“Use your tongue…” begged Loki, desperate to come. “Ahhh, god fuuuuck… Finger me, finger me…”

Thor used just spit (then again, the whole area was fucking soaked) and two fingers and fucked him, the same way he probably would with a girl. 

“Thor…" he whimpered, "I’m about to…”

“It’s ok,” said Thor, and took him in again.

Loki arched his back, rigid, a long, deep groan, and Thor got a mouth full of come, and still finger-fucked him through it, until Loki’s shivers stopped. 

Loki slowly came down from it, to the sight of Thor Odinson wiping his come from the corner of his lip, with a rather scientific frown. Loki almost wanted to laugh. How was this his fucking life, really.

After Loki reciprocated, leaving Thor flat, spread-eagled, mumbling something about never in his life getting a blow-job like this, they had a drink and burrowed under the quilt, side by side. Loki’s mind was streaming pleasantly, without a care. 

“Who was your first?” asked Thor.

“Pardon?” 

“Who was your first. You never told me.”

“Why do you want to know?”

“I don’t know. It’s sort of… I’ve thought about it. Through the years, you know.”

Loki considered the risks.

“My first what, exactly.”

“You know, your first.”

“My first orgasm with somebody else, or…?”

“The first time you fucked, you know what I’m asking,” said Thor, a bit snappy. “Wait, who was your first-first?”

“Jake Wilkes.”

“You’re joking.”

“Nope.”

“When? How? Where?” babbled Thor.

Loki laughed.

“It was Jake Wilkes, in the changing rooms, with his hand, more or less every Tuesdays and Thursdays for a couple of months.”

“How-how old were you?”

“Fourteen.”

“Fucking hell. I thought Jake was straight as a beanpole.”

“Well, at fourteen, he liked to play with dicks as much as the next guy.”

“I had done nothing at fourteen.”

“Yes you had.”

“What do you mean?”

“You had made out with, what, three girls? You had made out with me. We had jerked off together.”

“Ok, then, let’s say I had not had any orgasms that were not by my own hand.”

“Fair enough. I guess girls are just harder to come by at that age. It’s a lot bigger for them, isn’t it? They get a lot of pressure. No wonder they feel they have to wait. So unless you get an older girl…”

“I guess. You’re changing the subject.”

Loki laughed. He turned to Thor for a long, scrutinising look, pursing his mouth in thought. And he made a decision.

“It was Ed Dolan.”

“What?” snapped Thor. “You told me it was a college kid!”

“And you didn’t believe me, that’s why you kept asking.”

“I thought you were fucking bragging! How would you have met a college boy back then? I thought it was someone in our year!”

“Well, there you go then. I wasn’t bragging. If I’d told you it was the coach’s assistant, you would have killed him.”

“Of course I would have killed him! The fucking paedo!”

“Hey, calm down. It was a long time ago. And he was twenty-four, it’s not like he was a dirty old man or something.”

“You were sixteen!”

“I seduced him, ok? I went after him.”

“So what if you did? He should have never… He was old enough to know better!”

“Oh, for fucks sakes, Thor, chill! At sixteen, if you had managed to get Mrs. Packer into bed, would you have called her a paedo?”

“That doesn’t make it right.”

“Oh, please. I got what I wanted. He was a perfect gentleman. No harm done.”

“What if he does it again?”

“Oh, for the love of fuck, Thor, cut the guy some slack… It took me months to wear him down! If anyone was grooming anyone here, it was me. And he asked me like seven hundred times if I was alright, if I had changed my mind, if I wanted to stop, if I wanted to leave… He was so not a paedo, believe me.”

“He statch raped a minor, what do you call that.”

“We will never agree on this, so can we drop the subject now,” sighed Loki, rubbing his temples, very much regretting he ever opened his big mouth.

Thor also needed a moment to reel himself back. But when he did…

“Why him?” he asked.

“Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

Loki stared at him, unbelieving. Did he really need to spell it out?

“Because he was your fucking twin, Thor,” he said. “I could close my eyes and pretend it was you… Or you in a few years time, anyway. Well, he wishes. At his age you looked way hotter.”

Thor was thankfully speechless. Loki relished the silence.

“So, you wanted to fuck me, back then?” asked Thor.

Loki meditated again. Whether to say, whether to dodge, whether to ask for a break. A sigh.

“No, actually, I wanted you to fuck me,” he admitted. Because why not, dammit. “Although I remember thinking… I mean, I heard girls talk. I thought maybe you would hurt me.”

“I would have tried not to,” said Thor, in a mutter.

“I’m sure about it.”

“What did girls say about me?”

“All sorts.”

“Like…?”

“Do you remember Lorelei? She was talking to Sif once, they were a bit drunk. She was saying you were the right stud for a pounding, but for anything more sensual, or for… variety, it was barking up the wrong tree.”

Thor blushed painfully. “Right.” He cleared his throat. “Hell, with Lorelei I must have been… what? Seventeen? What did I know.”

“They’d be delighted with how far you’ve come.”

Thor laughed. “Is that a pun.”

Loki laughed too.

“Long, stable partners teach you a lot, don’t they,” he said after a moment. 

Thor tensed up by his side. “What do you usually do on a Sunday?” he asked.

“Work,” said Loki.

“And apart from that?”

“I run.”

“We could do that.” said Thor.

“What, you and me, out in the open?”

Thor shrugged. “Why not? There's no harm in running...”

So they did go for a run, wrapped up in warm clothes and hoodies. They were well into the season, the cold was biting.

There was a park nearby. Once around the lake left them panting and satisfyingly strained, muscles hot and prickling. When they were stretching in silence, a few more runners passed them by, including several same-sex couples - people so unmistakably married - who fucking nodded at them, acknowledging them as… what, another couple?

They made their way back at a strolling pace, steam in their breaths.

“I had never been to this part of town before,” said Thor.

“You live on the other side of the strip, don’t you? The suburbs. With the families.”

Thor hummed in assent.

“Is that the plan then?” poked Loki, just because. "Kids, a dog, all of that?"

Thor was currently fascinated with the quality of the gravel under his feet. He wouldn’t lift his stare from it. Loki sighed. He took pity on him, and dropped the subject. 

They walked in companionable, relaxed silence all the way back to the house. And once there, without having to discuss it, suggest it or consult it, they slipped into the shower together. They soaped each other up, began to make out and rub dicks, and then Thor closed one big hand around them both, kissing and half-drowning as they moaned.

And when Loki was drying his hair, while Thor brushed his teeth next to him, he caught them both in the mirror and just… 

“What?” said Thor, mouthful of toothpaste, noticing Loki's sudden stillness, his expression, alarmed, shaken up.

Loki put down the hairdryer and walked out, mumbling something about making lunch. 

He needed a fucking minute to himself. A fucking minute to not think how nice and domestic all that fucking morning had been, and his complete and utter shock when he realised how easily he could get used to it.

*

Thor found him already in his scruffs, wrapped in a thick, fluffy robe, pouring over his papers, just as he had found him the day before. Only this time there were two steaming mugs of tea and two sandwiches on the island as well. 

“I borrowed this,” said Thor, meaning the knit pants. Still shirtless, because his hair was dripping, a towel over his shoulders. “Is it ok?”

Loki looked up from his work and did a double take. 

“Sure,” he said. 

Thor refrained a smug grin, but he enjoyed the effect he had caused. He risked Loki’s wrath by freeing one of the bar stools from its load of papers and putting them on the counter. He took a seat next to him to eat.

“So, what are you doing?” he said, fishing the crumbs of that really gorgeous bread with a wet fingertip. He had been having a superficial look at what was around him. It was all people’s files there, not even clients. At first sight, Thor couldn’t figure out what connected them.

“Looking for the clencher,” said Loki.

“The what?”

“The case clencher. The Perry Mason moment.”

“We have a strong case already, what do you mean? Somebody to break down on the stand and cry ‘I did it’?”

Loki sighed, and condescended to enlighten him.

“As you well noted early on, the precedents are against us in this case. Hydra have been around since before World War 2, they have their tentacles in everything. It’s not enough having a strong case. When I step inside that courtroom, I want the case won.”

“And how exactly are you going to do that.”

“An incontestable piece of evidence. I want to prove the conspiracy, in black and white. After such a long time, Hydra must have known what they were doing was affecting people. The first studies were in the seventies, for christ’s sakes!”

“They were inconclusive.”

“But there have to be internal documents, their own studies, a measly memo, something, anything that proves that they knew, and conspired to keep it from the public.”

“Well, that may be so, but it’s not like they’re going to just hand it to us. Whatever could be obtained through the regular channels, we already have.”

A sparkle in Loki’s eye. “What about the less regular channels.”

“Such as.”

“An insider. A whistleblower.”

“They would have stepped up by now, wouldn’t they?”

“They may need some encouragement.”

“We tried,” said Thor. “We contacted several dozens former employees. There were a few that would have been happy to help, but they had nothing. And the others were scared of breaking their confidentiality agreements.”

“How about current employees,” said Loki, a glint in his eye.

Thor scratched his beard, deliberating.

“Hydra is the biggest employer in the area. Hell, it’s pretty much the only one. Some families have worked there for generations, many have never known anything else. We know this claim could be thousands strong, because almost everyone here is affected somehow, but people are afraid… But yes, we tried that too.”

Loki cocked an eyebrow, impressed.

“Yes, I remembered Lausanne,” said Thor.

Loki smiled warmly, and so did Thor. A course project they worked on together very successfully in freshman year, the dynamic duo. Nice memories.

“There’s no trace in the case file,” Loki noted.

“Well, there wouldn’t be,” said Thor. “And it was a big waste of time anyway.”

“You didn’t try all five thousand employees, did you? You must have filtered them.”

“I’m not stupid,” said Thor, defensive. “It still took us months. We didn’t have the volunteers yet. And it didn’t take years because most people just shut their doors in our faces after two words. Saves time at least. ”

Loki chuckled. “What criteria did you use?” 

Thor rubbed his beard again, trying to remember.

“We looked for people with potential environmental concerns, or who had shown signs of activism or involvement in politics. Then we looked for people with weak ties to the community, people with nothing to lose… There were other filters.”

“How about people who have already lost to Hydra?”

“Like?”

Loki pushed a folder his way. Thor had a look.

“The Andrews? I remember them. Lived here all their lives, middle-aged, two kids, low level of studies… I can’t see how can they risk it.”

“Admin, both of them. With access. And they lost a child to leukemia.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“For which there is an extremely high chance Hydra’s wrongdoing is to blame.”

“Can’t exactly prove that, not on our budget.”

“But it’s highly probable.” Loki’s eyes were fixed on Thor. “They are not in the collective claim, but they were at the town hall meeting.”

“Yeah, they were. I talked to them a long time ago,” said Thor, “when the cat first got out of the bag and people were approaching us to join the claim. They were very scared of the repercussions for the claimants, and reasonably so, because Hydra have already started to make life very difficult for a lot of people. The Andrews still have two kids. If they lose this job, their chances of finding another one are very slim.”

“Hydra killed their son,” said Loki.

Thor stared intently back, unbelieving.

“And you want to guilt-trip a mourning couple into spying for us? Is that what you’re telling me?”

Loki returned the stare, unblinking. 

“Haven’t they suffered enough?” said Thor.

“They are taking money from the people who killed their son. You tell me.”

“What choice do they have! I bet it’s fucking killing them already!”

“Which makes them just ripe for the taking.”

“Is that all you think about? They have two kids who depend on them!”

“That’s not my concern. My concern is the case. And the Andrews have access to just the kind of thing that could win it for our clients.”

Thor was huffing, too fucking shocked to keep arguing.

“I’m-I’m uncomfortable with this,” is all he said, when he got some voice back.

“Good job it’s not your call, then,” replied Loki.

Oh. 

“I’m still in charge,” Thor said.

Loki laughed, quite sweetly. “Oh, darling. No, no you’re not.”

Thor’s nails were digging hard in his palms, heart beating hard with restrained anger. Not a pissing contest, not a pissing contest, not a pissing contest… He spoke through gritted teeth. 

“We’re not going to fucking torment and pressure these people into risking their livelihoods and that of their kids, certainly not on the vague hope that this will… what, produce a piece of paper saying ‘We did it’, which probably doesn’t even exist.”

Loki returned the glare.

“There are about three hundred people and a whole ecosystem hanging in the balance, here,” he said. “Are you really going to just leave it up to chance?”

“Chance? I thought we were counting on your magic,” countered Thor, with a drop of poison.

Loki scoffed. 

“There are many, many fantastic lawyers out there,” said Loki, “and Shield came all the way to England to fetch me. Because you didn’t want just any old shyster, you wanted me, the thing I do, right? Well then, this is what I do. This is my magic. I do what I have to do to make sure I fucking win. And if that means putting a couple of people under some pressure, so be it.”

“Have you no compassion?”

“Oh for the love of god, Odinson,” groaned Loki, out of patience. “We are going against a company that has consistently and without show of remorse poisoned the waters and the grounds of a whole county for decades, causing its inhabitants, men, women and children, all sorts of deadly diseases. There have been three attempts to get them to court, which never took off the ground because of external pressures — that is, Hydra scared the shit out of any potential claimants, while twisting the neck and crushing to the ground whatever politician they couldn’t buy. If we fail this time, your clients will probably be left out in the cold, and it’s going to be another generation before they can try again. Imagine how many more will get sick and die by then. And you’re telling me to back off from a chance to obtain the key to Hydra’s undoing, just because two people have fucking suffered enough, is that it?”

Thor mouthed like a fish out of water, out of words or counterarguments to refute Loki’s hard, cold logic. All he knew was his gut, and this was just plain wrong.

“If you’re so concerned about the Andrews,” added Loki, “set up a fucking charity in their name when this is done, and make sure all your clients donate to them some of their punitive damage payments. But we’re going to approach them, and this is it. It’s my final call.”

Thor was going to keep arguing, not a clue what the fuck he would say, but then his phone began to ring, and all thought flew from his mind, replaced by a cold sweat of terror. There was only a handful of people who’d be calling him on this number on a Sunday afternoon.

He ran to his jeans, still strewn on the floor by the bed from last night, and fumbled frantically in the pockets. Saw the name on the display. Gulped on dry.

“Hey, honey,” he said. He didn’t sound anywhere remotely normal to his own ear, but Jane didn’t seem to notice.

“Hey! Where were you! I keep calling you!” She sounded excited, cheerful, not one bit suspicious or pissed off.

“Y-yeah, I’ve been in the garden a lot,” he lied through his teeth. “And I’m-I’m at Loki’s right now. Working.”

“Oh, right,” she said. And didn’t make one single comment of surprise or mistrust before she was off, updating him on all her latest travel plans for the day and when she’d be arriving. 

Thor’s heart was thumping too fucking hard, he was only half listening.

Then he felt the caress of a fresh puff of air by his ear, sending shivers down his spine. Turned to find Loki right behind him, bright green eyes, playful. He turned his back to him. Focus, focus. Jane’s voice, her words rushed, distorted — she was outside, must be breezy, sound of traffic —, and then, lips on his neck, warm. A surge of hot blood pooling in Thor’s groin, the non-committal noises he was making to show Jane he was following turning into an oomph. Loki’s half-hard cock pressed against his butt. Thor squirmed away in silence, with a warning glare. Loki stood before him, grinning. Thor rubbed his eyes to stop seeing for a moment, and focus on Jane’s words. So he did not see that Loki had got silently down on his knees in front of him, and he only fucking got the message after the fact of how Loki, in one swift move, had Thor’s pants under his balls, and Thor’s semi inside his mouth. Thor folded.

“Shit!” He shoved Loki off, stepped back. “I’m going to have to call you back.” He hung up and tossed the phone on the bed in a rage. “What the fuck are you playing at!” he shouted.

Still on his knees, Loki massaged his neck, where Thor’s push might have been too forceful. He was glaring at Thor, his own knit pants tented.

“You have nothing to say?” challenged Thor. He was still short of breath from the rush of panic.

“You’re not going home with that boner, are you?” said Loki finally, in a purr. “Tick fucking tock, Thor, get it while you can. She’s not on the phone now…”

Thor was speechless, pale with outrage and fear and guilt. And shock. What the fuck was Loki…? 

Oh, Thor knew that face, he knew that attitude. Hadn’t he seen it enough? Loki was jealous, plain and simple. Thor was going home to his wife today, whereas Loki…

Tick tock. 

Thor huffed heavily, rubbing his face hard, exhausted. This was fucking awful. Fucking awful. It was beyond him, what was the right thing to do at this fucking point.

He just kneeled down with him and hugged him. He heard Loki gasp, either in protest or in shock, who knows. He hugged tighter. He knew it there and then, he saw it clear as day, I love you. He couldn’t fucking say it. Not like this. He kissed him instead, with more warmth than heat, but it soon turned, under the push and pull of Loki’s hunger. Loki’s hands dragged Thor’s pants down, then his own, and kissing each other’s lips to a throbbing mess, Thor half-carried him, half-crawled over to the bed, where the lube was. 

“Harder… harder…” Loki was begging, butt up in the air, clutching the sheets. “Fuck me... harder… Make me feel you…”

Thor saw fucking white when he came.

They had been spooning in silence for a long time, watching the light outside fading to white, then darkening to this blueish twilight.

“When is she back,” asked Loki.

“Tonight.”

“You need to go.”

“I know.” 

He didn’t move a finger for a long time. He closed his eyes and breathed in deep, for courage.

“Loki…”

“Don’t,” he cut. He extricated himself from Thor’s grip, covered up in his robe, and walked away. “You need a shower,” he said without turning. “You stink of me.”

Chapter Text

Thor in bed reading, his mind elsewhere. 

“You look unfairly sexy with those reading glasses, you know,” she said, back from her nightly ablutions in the bathroom in her cute pyjamas. 

He smiled, looked up, gave her a quick once-over.

“Well, I’m not the one who makes a Peanuts pj’s look like naughty lingerie.”

She beamed, delighted. Slipped into bed as he put his book away and turned out his lamp. She cuddled up to him in the dark. 

“Want to hear something exciting?” she said.

“Always.”

“I’m late on my period.”

Blank, frozen stiff. Quiet.

“I thought you were on the pill.”

“Yes, but, remember that cough I had a few weeks ago? One of the side effects of the antibiotics, apparently… It’s a very slim chance, really. Statistically insignificant. It’s probably a false alarm.”

Mouth dry, pretty sure his whole fucking life had just passed before his eyes.

“You don’t sound very excited,” she noted, humour covering something else in her tone.

Breathe.

“Sorry, honey, I’m… You caught me out cold. It-it doesn’t feel real, somehow.”

“It probably isn’t. We’ll have to wait and see.”

Could she hear his fucking heartbeat.

“Would it be so bad, if it was?” she said. “I thought you wanted to have a baby.”

He gulped.

“I… no. It wouldn’t be bad at all. I’m just… I wasn’t expecting it. You know, right now.”

She didn’t reply.

After a while, she turned her back to him, and settled down to sleep. He remained there, on his back, stunned.

The last couple of years had not been a honeymoon in this little family of his. They seemed out of tune somehow. It was the stress from the case, the sheer physical and mental exhaustion it put him through, but it wasn’t just that. He was restless. Had been for ever. It had nothing to do with her. It was life. 

She was happy with her job, more than happy. She was unendingly enthusiastic, she looked forwards to it, she took it home, it fulfilled her. His job didn’t do the same for him. He experienced his own job rather as a commitment, an obligation that sat ill with him if he didn’t give it his all, but never rewarded him as her job rewarder her, not even in the best of times. So much of his time and energy went into something that did not satisfy him. There were many pockets of emptiness and dissatisfaction in his life that neither his marriage nor his job could fill. He was constantly plagued by the feeling that there had to be more to life than this, and it drained him. He wanted something else. He wanted more. Didn’t know what. Couldn’t name it, couldn’t put his finger on it. He could manage to go through many days and weeks without thinking about it, his nose deep down in the work, but it was at times like this, sleepless in bed, when it came back to him.

They had been talking about having kids for a long time, without really stopping to think about it. It was simply how he had always seen himself. He liked kids. His wife liked kids. It seemed a given, a matter of pure inertia, the next logical step in their relationship, that they would one day have them. But she had made it clear from the first time they discussed it, and it had made perfect sense to him, that they would wait until the right time. That was, a long-term tenure for her, in a place they both liked, and was amenable to raising children in, conditions that were met at the beginning of this year, when she had signed her indefinite contract with the university. But once all that had happened, he had not pushed it, and neither had she. In hindsight, was it a sign of the rockier times ahead. 

Neither had brought it up. That they weren’t up there right now, that things weren’t perfect, that they were out of synch. He was a bit more short-tempered than he used to, a bit more absent. She was a bit more weary, her impatience with his moods a bit closer to the surface. They had turned a blind eye on it, both of them, perhaps thinking it was just the natural way of things. They had been together for a long time, things changed between people. If he questioned himself about it, Thor just answered the case, the case, the case. He wondered what did she tell herself. Did she blame him. Did she have reasons of her own that she wasn't telling him. 

They should have talked about this earlier, shouldn’t they?  Before everything became a million times more complicated. Before Loki arrived.

It probably wouldn’t be anything, right?, this baby scare. What were the fucking chances. Did the universe hate him that much. 

…Yeah, ok, maybe he had had it coming.

He thought of his mother, what would his mother say if she knew about the mess her eldest son had managed to get himself in, how disappointed and horrified she would feel. On second thoughts, removing Thor's own guilt from it for a moment, she’d probably cuff his head for making her such an unsympathetic, cruel figure in his mind, wielding the sword of justice over his neck, ready to condemn him. That was not Frigga at all. No, she would not disown him, but she would certainly tell him that he needed to sort himself out, stop fucking hovering around waiting for a miracle to get him out of this. She would tell him he needed to be braver.

What are you fucking doing, man. What are you doing.

All his adult life, he had always seen a clear path ahead. He had always known where he was going. Sure, he had stumbled along, he had fucked up, like everyone does, but at least he could tell right from wrong. 

Until now.

For the first time in his life, he didn’t know what was the right thing to do. There was no getting out of this without hurting people whom he couldn’t fucking stand the thought of hurting, to whom he wished to do nothing but good.

He knew what he was supposed to do, sure he did. That one was easy. He had to break up with Loki, confess to Jane, finish the fucking case. And if Jane saw fit to forgive him, count his fucking blessings, kiss the ground she treaded on, and never see Loki again. 

But his fucking gut didn’t agree with that at all. It was cringing, choking him. Pushing Loki away from him? Being without Loki? It was unimaginable. 

He tried to rationalise. Examine what was happening with Loki under a cold, hard fluorescent light. Forget about the past, about settling old accounts, forget about it all. What was left? The sex? The lust? Was that his cock clouding his judgement, was that it? Was he simply fucking addicted to the rush? It was not like they had a loving relationship with lots of support and companionship and friendship, was it? 

Oh, but they could have it. They could. Last weekend. Last fucking weekend at Loki’s house. He had felt at home in a way that was very fucking scary. If circumstances were different, if it was just the two of them, without the guilt, without the secrecy, would it fucking work? And was that what he wanted? Was that even what Loki wanted?

Was it all a mirage? Was it just Thor projecting their past onto the present? They had once fitted together like fucking yin and yang. Give them a breather, and they still did. They had once been everything to one another. They had had their own little world. And it was a good world, the best. Thor had never felt closer to anyone, he had never felt again as connected - that someone saw him for what he was, all that he was, all that he could be, even, and couldn't get enough of it. And being around Loki, then and now, was so goddamn exciting. Thor was never bored. There weren't any feelings of emptiness with Loki, no feeling of unease, of a life not fully lived, of days going by without point or purpose. It was intense. It was transcendent, even, in a very animal, primal, unphilosophical kind of way. Like a goddamn Bacchic furore. It was fun.

Fun. Listen to yourself, man. You’re thirty-four years old. You have a wife, a job, a goddamn mortgage. As you should. So adult life is boring? Well, what did you expect? Of course it had been fun with Loki, you were kids! You’re delirious, man. It’s not Loki you want, it’s this goddamn fantasy.

What he had with Jane, that was real. It was good. It was turning in bed at night and always finding someone who loved him, and cared for him, and treated him right. So, it was not exactly a roller-coaster ride, so what? It was stable, strong, reliable.

And Loki was... fireworks. Loki was fire and light, beautiful, a rush, but you can’t hold it, you can’t fucking build on it, you can't put your hands close to it for warmth. Right? Could you? What was Loki? Loki was Thor’s stupid ass refusing to grow up, and Thor was a spoilt, greedy, cruel brat, who took everything he had for granted, while he languished over what he couldn’t have.

Break up with Loki. Confess to Jane. Never see Loki again. Never have Loki again. Lose Loki again, for good.

“Hey, are you alright?” Jane mumbled dozily, turning in bed. He had woken her up when he slipped back under the covers. 

“Yes, I’m fine,” he said, whispering so that she couldn’t hear how thick his voice was. 

Hopefully, by morning, it wouldn’t show so much he had been downstairs in the kitchen, crying his eyes out for the last hour.

He turned his back to her, his eyes open to the blackness.

What the fuck was he going to do. What.

Chapter Text

“Hey, stranger,” said Tony, moving aside to let Loki in.

Loki stepped inside and put down his stuff, looking like the very picture of physical and spiritual exhaustion incarnate.

“What is that intern of yours doing to you?” teased Tony. “I agree to lend you out, but I demand you are returned in good condition…”

“I’m tired from actual work, ok?”, snapped Loki. “I’m very busy. Give me a break.”

“Alright, alright…” said Tony, appeasing. “Moody, much?”

Loki huffed, irritated. “I told you it was not the best idea that I came over tonight.

“But I was missing you…” purred Tony, closing up, nuzzling him. And with a hint of reproach, “It seems it's never a good idea, lately.”

Loki sighed, closing his eyes. Tony cupped his face and kissed him. After a moment, Loki returned the kiss, and even seemed to relax into it.

“Start over, yeah?” said Tony. He mumbled softly, cheerfully, “Well, look who’s here! My beautiful lover-boy! How very nice to see you! Please, come on in!”

Loki smiled faintly. It was enough. Tony returned a wide, white beam, and lead him to the living room by the hand.

“Candles?” observed Loki, taking in the fine dining set-up, which included fresh bread-rolls in a pretty basket and two types of wine. “I thought you couldn’t be bothered to wait for dessert. Wouldn’t you rather skip the preliminaries and I just fucked you on the table instead?”

“Hm, tempted, but I did put some serious work in that soup. So, shall we?”

“You should not have bothered,” muttered Loki. And noticing Tony’s mock warning glare, he quickly added, “but thanks.”

“I’ll tell you what I would like,” said Tony, when they were at the stage of finishing the wine over their clean plates. “I’d like you to tell me what’s wrong.”

Loki looked away, “Well, isn’t that unlucky.”

“Why won’t you?”

“How is Pepper?”

Tony sighed, and relented. “She’s fine. She’s in New York. She says hi.”

Loki acknowledged that with a nod.

“How are things at work?” tried Tony then.

“Busy.”

Tony sighed again in frustration. He thought of a more direct approach.

“Are you and Thor getting along?”

“Like a house on fire,” said Loki, after he had drained his cup. “Regrettable loss of human life and private property included.” He straightened up in his seat. “Anyway, I doubt you made me drive all the way here just for the pleasure of my conversation…”

“Good job,” interrupted Tony, an irrepressible bout of sarcasm.

Loki ignored it. “…So why don’t we get on with it, yeah?” he finished, as he kicked off his shoes and socks. Then he got up and went to stand next to Tony, at the right distance for a good view, close enough to affect. Tony’s heart began to pump harder.

With his stare fixed on him, that haughty stance, Loki loosened his tie, lazy movements, and let it drop. He unbuttoned his shirt, no rush, then peeled it off, and let it drop as well. He stood still for a moment, letting Tony drink in the sight of him. Tony tried to swallow with a dry throat, and shifted in his seat to make room for his growing erection. Loki’s trousers next. His pants. He wore his nakedness like a wild animal. He was stunning, perfect, ticked every single box Tony could think of, and then some. All he needed to do was stand there like that, and rolling waves of lust were crashing against Tony’s body, threatening to tip him off his chair. But Loki’s eyes had very little challenge in them tonight. He was good at blanking things out from Tony, but Tony could always tell when he was.

“Come here.” He towed Loki closer with one hand over each buttock. He was looking up to that sharp, elegant face, trying to read him, when Loki wove his fingers deeply in Tony’s hair, and Tony’s eyes closed blissfully, without consulting him.

“What do you want,” whispered Loki, that sinful, velvety panther’s purr of a sex voice he had. It was melting Tony to a consistency that could trickle through the cracks in the floorboards.

“I want you to lay back and let me take care of you,” said Tony, his lips brushing on the sensitive skin of Loki’s hip. “I want to make you feel good. Will you let me do that?”

“What if I don’t want to feel good,” replied Loki.

Tony looked up again, scrutinised Loki’s expression. It quickly turned impish, playful — deflection, a mask.

“What if I’ve been a bad boy?” purred Loki, seductive. “What if I deserve to be punished?”

Tony rubbed his beard on him, then nipped a pinch of skin between his teeth.

“Whatever you need,” he said.

It was a good one. It was an epic one. It was one for the annals, no pun intended. It was also one that would need some down time to recover from, for all the participants. As in, first thing tomorrow morning. Tony was calling in the chiropractor.

“You ok?” he asked Loki. “Are you sore?”

“Isn’t that rather the point?” grumbled Loki, rubbing the ligature marks on his wrists and rolling his shoulders. He got up to go to the bathroom, a pinch in his brow, his steps rigid, the marks on his buttocks and thighs visible among the general swelling and redness.

Tony stretched his neck and shoulders, took his vitals (as he should, with his heart problem), and gave him some time and space. Loki kept him guessing with this BDSM thing. Tony liked a nice spanking and some naughty restraining like the next man, and Loki’s natural air of superiority and his penchant for mischief lent themselves nicely to light games, full of role-playing and humour, and those Tony enjoyed. But when it went in the other direction, when it was Loki at the bottom, so to speak, that was another story. 

Tony had celebrated it as a huge show of trust when Loki had asked him, not so long ago. And he had been pretty chuffed when he realised that, after one of these sessions, Loki usually seemed more… grounded, mellow, more at peace. Not only did Tony see the good in that, but he was also scared shitless that, if he didn’t provide it, Loki would just go and get it somewhere else, with people who would not care for him, and for doing things with a minimum concern for health and safety. Because if Loki went looking for something like this elsewhere, he’d piss on safe, he’d laugh at sane, and in those conditions, Tony held no great hopes for consensual. 

But he himself wasn’t a great Dom, or a particularly serviceable service top (see what he did there), and causing pain and humiliation was not his bag. And to be fair, Loki was an absolutely pants sub. He was proud, defiant, he had no respect, he hissed and spat and fought back. Orthodox or not, it was the one thing that made this kind of thing acceptable to Tony, really. He would not be able to find a meek, docile, properly submissive Loki arousing at all.

As far as Tony knew, it was not the pain per se that turned Loki on. No, his thing was being used and forced. It could get pretty dark, and some of Loki’s fantasies turned Tony’s stomach. Rape related, in particular. Tying him up, gagging him, and fucking him roughly with toys and this kind of thing (while Loki thrashed and fought one hell of a lot) was the most Tony could do for him in that area.

But where Loki sucked worst of all was at after-care. If it was up to him, he much preferred to curl up in a corner and sulk. Tony, however, had made it very clear that this part was non-negotiable, and that if Loki did not take it seriously, none of it was going to happen again. 

“Come and get your cuddles, sweetheart,” he called.

“Fucking minute,” grumbled Loki from the bathroom. Then a sharp hiss. Antiseptic?

Tony was open, alright? Except for a few no’s (who hasn’t got them), he was game to try whatever his partners wanted in bed (or any other setting). But he did have conditions, and a sense of fun was one of them. Joy. He liked his sex happy, goddammit, he liked to laugh in bed. And while Loki the Dom was hilarious, indecently sexy, brimming with self-confidence and black humour and campier than a row of tents, when it was the other way around, it did not feel like playing, and no fun was really had, not in the sense Tony preferred (even when Tony managed to get his head into it, and got off spectacularly on it, like tonight). This need of Loki’s did not seem to have so much to do with spice and variety and trying new flavours and new sensations, but rather it seemed to come from a place of intense self-loathing that broke Tony’s heart in half. 

And Tony understood self-loathing, yes siree. And not just from reading about it in books. But what helped him smooth out the sharper edges was a healthy dose of Ginnie ‘Pepper’ Potts in his life (also that glorious feeling when he thought he had broken through to Loki and made him feel good, that was what he called A Boost). So Tony’s first impulse in the presence of such feelings, after a bit of sarcasm perhaps, would always be to cuddle and kiss and smother in affection, but that was not what worked for Loki, or not always, and Tony had had to accept that. Punishment, subjugation, that was what seemed to help Loki make sense of those feelings, what helped to iron out the distortions between the outside and the inside, and give him some peace of mind. 

Loki thought he was bad. That he had been born bad, from a bad stock, and he was pre-destined to do bad things. He didn’t express it quite like that, of course, he was much too clever, but that was the gist of it. Early on in their acquaintance, during a drunken chat, Loki had opened up about his family. His father, first generation immigrant, barely spoke English, or at all, drunk too much, embarrassed his children, ignored them. He did not remember his mother. His older brothers had been his first bullies, the first to push him around and call him a fag. It was nothing the law or social services would have taken an interest in, but it had been a thorough exercise in destroying the budding self-esteem of a young boy nonetheless. Loki had grown up feeling intensely alone, belonging nowhere, wrong, unloved, and worst of all, unworthy of love. 

And then, when Loki was about six, the Odinsons moved in next door. In Loki’s eyes, that golden family could do no wrong. He worshipped the floor Thor walked on, and considered him the culmination of human evolution in every way. He loved Thor’s mother, Frigga, as if she had given birth to him, or probably more. Motherhoodliness and wisdom and kindness and perfection incarnate. And he looked up to Thor’s father Odin like he was a god. Ancient Testament styley, terrible, magnificent, harsh and unforgiving, the kind of god you don’t so much pray to in times of distress, as you sacrifice lambs and even first-borns to, to appease him, but a god just the same.

And yes, of course Tony could connect the dots, and knew that Loki’s passion for Thor was not platonic. And when Tony had met the man, ouch. Double ouch, even. Thor looked nothing like a certain fifty-something sexy brunet with really nifty facial hair and a dry sense of humour of Loki's acquaintance, did he? And was Tony kind of jittery about those two working so closely together right now? Hm, kinda. Maybe? (Did that make him the greatest hypocrite in the northern hemisphere, or just this continent?)

But, fucking hell, Loki idolised Thor to an unhealthy degree, ok? He liked to tell stories about how Thor had protected him so many times, like, saved him, in the Superman sense, from bullies and beatings and that accursed gang-rape attempt in college. He never talked about how Thor had saved him too from loneliness and isolation, from growing up without ever knowing company, affection, solidarity, respect, all those things that make little infant human beasties into civilised, fit-to-live-among-society, grown-up human beings. Thor had kept him right, that Loki did say, until he had lost him.

In the logic of Loki’s narrative of his life, he was always bound to lose him, sooner or later, because how could a misshapen wretch like him ever be good enough to deserve the love and attention of a creature so sublime. Ah, Loki, Loki, his poor broken baby. 

Don’t feel pity for him, Pepper would say, it doesn’t help him. Leave me to my pain, Tony would reply.

Loki returned, still naked, still rigid, brow still pinched, mouth still tight. Tony opened the covers for him. Loki lowered himself, gingerly, on his front, for Tony to put some cooling salve on his bruises, with a hiss now and again. Once that was done, he curled up on his side with his head on Tony’s lap. Tony petted him gently, and worried that it had not worked. Loki knew Tony was affected after these things. He should be cracking jokes by now, to try and lighten up the mood, but he was silent, his eyes open and empty.

“Ok, baby?” asked Tony sweetly.

To which Loki gave a mechanical reply. “Better, thanks.”

Petting, petting.

“I was wondering,” mused Tony, “that it must be pretty intense to work with Thor every day.

Loki did not make any comments. 

“With all the story between you, I mean,” kept prodding Tony. “Do you talk about it? Have you talked about it at all?”

“Vaguely,” replied Loki after a while. 

“Do you think you can become friends again?”

Another long, heavy silence, during which Tony could hear the sound of his hand brushing on Loki’s hair.

“I just want to finish this fucking case,” murmured Loki, “and go home.”

“I’m just asking because he seemed so happy to see you at the party. And you’ve said before that having him in your life used to do you good. I think you carry a lot of pain from the way it all-…”

“I don’t want to talk about Thor,” interrupted Loki dryly, “and if you insist I’m leaving. I mean it.”

Tony gave up, with a sigh. “Ok.”

Petting, petting.

“Was that enough cuddling?” grumbled Loki after some time. “Because I think I need some aspirin or something.”

Tony chuckled. Honestly, what else could he do.

“You stay here, I’ll get it.”

*

Loki rolled on his front and closed his eyes. He pushed the sheets away. His whole seating area was burning and throbbing, not even the touch of Tony’s excellent linen was endurable at the moment. It seemed he was going to be spending his weekend exactly where he was, and in that very position. And he wasn’t looking forwards to Monday, but at least there was no long car trip tomorrow, thank heaven.

Hey, stranger. Yes, well, he may have been avoiding Tony, putting him off and missing his calls. The thing was, you see, that Loki could block Tony’s questions all he wanted, but he could not prevent him from noticing when things were off. And he could not just tell him to mind his own fucking business either, because even Loki knew that you couldn’t just tell you boyfriend that, no matter how loosely the term may apply. It was just not very nice. And yes, ok?, he did worry about not being nice enough to Tony. The bastard had kept burrowing and tunnelling and now he was under his skin, like some tropical parasite. And Loki had ended up growing accustomed to him, to a point that... Yes, fuck, he would miss Tony if he lost him. (Or, like with a tropical parasite, the treatment to get rid of Tony would be extremely painful and leave him scarred for life. No point.)

But he could not possibly tell him what was wrong, now, could he? Tony had flexible morals, was very tolerant and understanding of human weakness, and was ok with Loki fucking around, but his one condition was sincerity and openness. He wanted the truth, he wanted everyone involved to be fully informed. He would not like what he was doing with Thor. He would hate how they had got into it. He would not like Loki very much for it. And Loki found himself scared shitless of Tony finding out. Put it any way you want, but in the end it came down to this: Loki cared about Tony’s opinion about him. He was his one real friend in the world. Nobody else cared about him that much. Or cared about him, period. Loki did not want to lose him. Didn’t stop him from doing all sorts of fucked-up things that pushed Tony away, but would you believe him if he said he really did not mean them. Can you control everything you do? Because Loki couldn’t.

Anyway, the way things stood between Thor and him at the moment, perhaps Loki could relax anyway. These days it felt like there had ceased to be anything to confess. Since that weekend together three weeks ago at Loki’s place, things had changed. He had been avoiding Thor, and Thor had been avoiding him.

Loki wondered if he had really believed at any time, deep down inside, that he had any chance at controlling this. If he had, what a king of fools he was. In hindsight, he had been doomed, and well and truly rogered, since he had put one foot on the plain from London. 

He had researched the firm thoroughly after he had received the job offer, and his eyes had nearly bulged out of their orbits when he had stumbled upon the name of the person in charge of the Hydra case. He had debated with himself for a few days about the wisdom and convenience of seeing Thor again, but to be fair, his mind had probably been made since about the moment he got to the N in Thor’s surname. Before he called Shield to communicate that he was taking the job, he had told himself that it had been over a decade (yes, thirteen years, thank you Thor for keeping count), and that he had a new, successful life, many notches in his belt from an endless parade of lovers, and even a partner, and that it would feel good to step in and rub Thor’s nose in it, while Loki took over his case. He told himself that he was over him. That it was safe to come back. That he should have known better? Hey, preaching to the choir, here, sister.

But cut him some slack, it had been a long time. He had seen photos, but he had forgotten about the physical impact of Thor’s mere presence in the room. In the goddamn building, even. And he would lie if he said that this was all. From the moment he had smiled at him with pure unfiltered joy in his eyes at the garden party, he had not stopped being Thor. His rousing speeches about good and justice. His generosity and selflessness with the work. The way he talked to people, how he knew every co-worker, every volunteer, and every client’s face, name, circumstances. How genuine he was, how kind. He fucking loved the bastard, ok? He was everything Loki was not.

And that weekend had taken the fucking biscuit, the cake, the whole goddamn bakery. Loki was drowning in it. He needed a break. Perspective. Something. And he was missing him like nobody’s business, and distance wasn’t doing much for him, apart from demolishing him from the inside out, and that was all bad.

But Thor had not exactly been bursting a gut to be with him either, and that, ladies and gentlemen, that was worse.

He did throw at Loki some puppy eyes when he thought Loki couldn’t see him. He talked to him kindly, warmth in his voice, when they absolutely had to address each other for work. He shuffled his feet around the office with a weight on his shoulders, and Loki had caught him many times with his eyes out of focus, expression vacant, and looking melancholy, brooding, and downright desolate.

And Loki had no idea how to read that. And he could not just go and ask, could he? So he hypothesised.

Possibility number one: the itch was scratched. Thor had been aching for cock. He had had cock. And he may still be wanting more, but the need was not so urgent that it was worth the hassle anymore. And that was that.

Possibility number two, a variation of number one: the itch was scratched. The unresolved sexual tension between Thor and him had been resolved. The pending issues left in the air when Loki had left had been dealt with. The account was settled. Thor's guilt had been relieved, the thorn had been plucked from his side, and he was at peace. And that was that.

Possibility number three, and Loki’s favourite, for sentimental reasons: Thor had realised how deep Loki was in it, and since he could not reciprocate, great and kind soul that he was, he was backing off, so as not to string Loki along, that old song of theirs: Rejected. Unworthy. Not good enough. 

Yeah, history has a way of repeating itself. How could it not? Apart from the part where they had consummated their attraction, what had changed? Oh, right, yeah. Loki had changed. He had not been a particularly outstanding human being back then, but he was scum now. Anyway, seriously, Laufeyson, even if you were a much, much better person that you could ever be, how could Thor of the Odinsons of number 9 Asgard Street ever l-… return your feelings? Had Loki not met that perfect, gorgeous, genius, UN fucking Special Ambassador and future double Nobel Peace and Physics prize of a wife? Those were Thor’s standards, that was the kind of level we’re talking about, in order to bag that godly creature and take him home. Now, shall we have a look at you, Loki, sweetie? (Please, don’t.)

Here was Tony. Not only with the pills, but also two cups of hot cocoa and a couple of those nice biscuits Pepper brought from that ultra-posh boulangerie in New York. How sweet. Loki mumbled his thanks. After dusting the crumbs off his hands, Tony began to pet his hair again. When Loki laid on his side (ouchie, any movement in his legs), Tony very, very carefully laid behind him. One arm around Loki’s waist, fishing for Loki’s hand. Loki let him hold it. Tony was really serious about this after-care thing. He wasn’t too crazy about some of the things Loki asked for, and he was usually pretty unsettled after one of these romps. Loki figured Tony needed it more than him, and since it was in everybody’s best interest, Loki made the effort and complied with it.

And an effort, it was. When he had told Tony he did not want to feel good, he had fucking meant it. It made him cringe right now, that gentle, affectionate touch, it made something inside hiss and rebel.

If he closed his eyes, he got flashes of that night in Brad’s dorm at the frat house in college. It happened frequently after one of these sessions, and it would probably make some psychoanalyst’s day if Loki was to share it. The night he went with Brad, he had had the victim’s guilt complex already deeply ingrained in his psyche, no question about that. Hadn’t he been told often enough, whenever something happened to him, that he had been asking for it? When he had names called at school, when he got pushed around in the aisles, when things were painted on his locker. If only you did not have to parade it around so much. But he could not help walking with his head held high, even if the rest of the world kept telling him that he should be ashamed of what he was, and hide. No, he could not do anything but be proud, because Thor was looking, and Thor had made him proud.

Now, things had changed a bit in college. Perhaps it had finally sunk in in that thick skull of Thor’s what people actually thought about him and Loki. As in, what exactly people thought they were doing. He had been so naive in many ways, even after he started dating girls. Or perhaps his feelings for Loki used to be perfectly clear and unambiguous, and so Thor had had nothing to fear, nothing to hide, no disturbing questions he didn't dare to ask himself, until they weren’t, and when push came to shove, Thor found that he struggled from actually being the names people shouted at Loki back in their hometown, or here, when Thor hung out with the guys.

Whatever it was, it had unsettled the dynamics of their friendship very badly. Had Loki still been in their provincial high school in their provincial town, he would have sunk. But they were out in the big had world now, and he was one of the cool kids (who, me? Yeah!), and people were attracted and intimidated by him, and he was but one of many LGBTQ people around, and so Loki found strength, even when Thor was failing him. And he had the genius idea that fooling around with straight jocks was the way to put a mirror in front of Thor’s face, and make him fucking see, once and for all. 

There was no jockier jock than Brad. Thor had called him a psychopath. Yeah, probable, that. He was also cut as a Roman marble copy of a Greek bronze original. Being signalled for his attention had felt to Loki as being summoned to meet the President. Hell, to meet the Pope. When he was blowing him upstairs, and his friends has started to pour in, Loki’s instincts of self-preservation had sounded off every alarm. They were big, burly, and lots of them. But Loki being the cocky shit that he was, he had smirked that smug smirk of his, carried on, and let them watch. The ugly, crass praises and the disgusting bad-porno style comments of encouragement had been music to his ears. He had seen them palming themselves and jerking off, the temperature in the room rising dangerously, and he had got off on it. Even though he was the one on his knees, and Brad was getting rough, he had felt this was all for him, and he had felt powerful. Watch and cry, idiots, watch and cry.

Even before Brad had had time to tuck himself in, the one jerk stepped forward, “Me next?” Loki had laughed. “You fucking wish.” The slap across the face shook him up. Still shocked, he had roared, “How fucking dare you…?” Then those two words, “Grab him.”

Ohshitohshitohshit. Hands everywhere all of a sudden, pulling, clasping tight, lifting him up, holding him down. Loki thrashed, kicked, flailed, heard clothes rip, cold when his pants were dragged down. He was screaming and swearing, he found a hand on his mouth, he bit down. Sucker punch. Taste of blood. Subjected face down on the rug, spread eagled. He lost his breath at the flash of ice cold lube on his bare ass. Kicking twisting pulling swearing, tears falling, then a human weight on top of each leg, one hand on his mouth, a strangle choke around his throat.

“Stop, you’ll hurt yourself.”

“We don’t want to hurt you.”

“I can’t get my finger in, it’s too tight.”

“Dude, this is for your benefit, stop fighting.”

“Relax, if you relax you’ll enjoy it…”

Loki was crying, terrified, unable to move, unable to breathe, completely powerless, unable to believe this was happening to him.Then there was that distant, growing roar, like a gathering thunderstorm. Voices, steps, a shout here and there. The deafening bang when the door slammed against the wall. Gasps of shock and fear all around, and Loki was free. In time to see Thor, eyes blazing with anger, breaking through half a fucking football team, to get to him. A force of nature. Bodies pushed away like rag-dolls, noses exploding in jets of blood, Thor shaking them off like fucking flies when they tried to stop him. It was the hottest fucking thing Loki ever did see.

But that was not it.

By the time Thor’s bloodied iron claw closed around his upper arm and yanked him to his feet, Loki’s pants were up at least. He was dragged out of that place in almighty, rage-fuelled strides, and stumbled and tripped and lost foot again and again along that corridor full of curious faces, until Thor lost his patience, and lifted him in his arms, Bodyguard style. All the noises around ceased, except for Thor’s huffy breathing and his grunts from carrying Loki’s weight up and down flights of stairs. Loki wrapped his arms around Thor’s neck, and closed his eyes, and for a few minutes, everything had been right in the world. 

And when Thor, in a panic, frantic with fear and fury, had physically thrown him on his bed, Loki thought for a split second, he really believed that Thor was going to fuck him. And through the shouting and the screaming and the crying, Loki had thought man, I’m so fucked up in the head, because he had almost just been raped, and here he was now, less than ten minutes later, and so fucking horny. So yeah, that was the cesspool that was his mind. And Tony wanted Loki to show him that? He wished Loki learned to love that?

Sigh.

Tony’s breathing had become regular and deep. Loki would need the painkiller to kick in before he could doze off — he was throbbing badly.

He tried (didn’t work) to quell the thought that he wished it was Thor in bed with him. Thor who was getting frighteningly good at seeing through Loki’s bullshit. Thor who these days seemed to be able to read him like an open book. Thor who kissed him with his eyes closed tight, with a frown, as if it hurt. Thor who fucked like the world was going to end. Thor who felt so much. Thor who had not lost hope for him. Thor who never gave up. He just fucking burst through it all instead, all the lies and the walls and the masks and the schemes, to hold him, to take him away from himself, to save him.

Either Loki had a hidden heart condition that had just suddenly decided to give symptoms, or the thought that it was over with Thor wasn't letting him breathe. Either way, he was fucked. And not in a nice way, either.

Chapter Text

After the initial shock, Thor found himself crumbling bit by bit. No, no, no, no, no! This was so fucking unfair! His head was spinning at the injustice of it all. Why, universe, why now? He was suffocating. It all tied into a growing, throbbing knot, pushing at his ribs from the inside. He could either just curl into a ball and cry or…

“It was in your goddamn medical history!” he roared. “I should sue the doctor who signed that fucking prescription!”

He strode away in a fury. Trying in vain to rub the building headache away, he really thought he would start crying now.

“Yes, good idea,” came her voice from where she was still sitting. Her sarcasm sliced through his rage like a scalpel, cutting him deep. “You do that,” she said, getting up and heading upstairs.

He did not chase her. Paralysed by the blow that had been dealt, he didn’t have a clue what he would fucking do if he tried to talk to her right now. Yell some more, probably. And oh, he knew what a colossal asshole he was being. What fucking sort of a reaction was that? And yet he could not fucking stop huffing and puffing like a bull, as he tried to choke his tears down, only to feel them swell again when he remembered, and future and consequences spread before him like the loneliest fucking prison sentence there could be. Fair or unfair, right now he resented her so much. He resented… it. He even resented his mother for ever wanting grandchildren. He resented Loki for leaving in the first place. And more than anything, he fucking hated and despised himself bitterly for being capable of such intolerably, unforgivably ugly feelings, especially for the people he should fucking never ever feel anything like that for. You shit. You mean, selfish, awful shit.

He plummeted on a chair, and he thought he’d break down in a river of tears, but apart from the lump of burning coal lodged in his throat he was having to breathe through, there was nothing. 

He turned his eyes to the stairs. 

This is real, he told himself, the part of him that still retained some semblance or reason. It’s real, it’s here, it’s happened. There is nothing you can do to change it. Raging at it and screaming “why me” is certainly not going to do anyone any good. Now, you can continue to be an asshole, or you can try to be more like the man you’d like to be. Which one is it.

“I’m so, so sorry honey,” he said. He sounded to his own ears just as desolate and drained as he felt. 

He stood at the threshold of her office, giving her space. She didn’t send him away, but neither did she invite him in. Fair enough. She was sitting in front of her computer, her eyes vacant, a blank mask blocking him out from her thoughts.

“Sorry about…?” she said.

“That reaction was…” he didn’t have a clue how to end that phrase. I deserve to be shot sounded extreme, but right now he couldn’t think of anything more moderate that would make it even. “I just… I didn’t think it would happen like this,” his voice was failing him. He was terrified, but he felt that this time he could not just keep lying and dodging the subject and speaking in riddles anymore. He shuddered, and he couldn’t look at her, but he said it. “This is not the best time. For-for us.”

She kept her eyes resolutely away. Her silence was scary.

He took a controlled breath, and didn’t even know the words he was going to use, but if he didn’t do it now, he’d…

“Janey…”

“I’m not having an abortion,” she interrupted.

What he was going to say fled his mind. He gasped, appalled that she would even…

“I’d never ask you that, ever…” he said.

She did turn to look at him now. And he fucking needed to work himself up to saying it again, goddammit.

“Janey, I…”

“Nothing is final,” she cut him again. “Nothing is the end of the world, unless we make it so.” Her eyes were fixed and wary, pleading. “Is it?”

He studied her face, confused by her words, her stance, the whole fucking situation. What the hell was she saying? 

She doesn’t want to know, the thought came to him, just a flicker. Whatever the fuck your problem is, she doesn’t want to know. 

Things clicked now. He was being asked to make a decision on the spot. He was. His decision. Nothing is final unless you want it to be. Do you want it to be final? 

So, unless it means you’re leaving, don’t tell her, was that it?

…Are you leaving?

How could he not confess? Wasn't it the right thing to do? Give her the chance to decide whether she forgave him or not? She wouldn't want to be lied to, would she? Or did he just want it out of his chest, so that he could feel better? Would it be fairer if he just carried the burden of guilt on his own? Was that his punishment? And was it the real reason for telling her that he wanted it to be on her shoulders? You do the thinking, you fucking examine the pros and cons, you decide? You do the leaving, so that I don't have to?

What a fucking mess. She was still staring. He would have fucking needed days to work through all the shit in his head right now, but he felt like he was given minutes. It felt like things might get broken irreparably if he waited any longer. Did he want them broken? He really had to say it now? Jesus fucking Christ, he had just learned they were going to have a child…

Oh, god, Loki…

Fatherhood in all its towering, resounding glory on one side, shining with Responsibility and Maturity and Decency, and on the other…

You selfish little boy, vain, greedy and cruel. 

“It’s early days,” she sighed. “We have to see how it goes.”

That hit him right in the gut too. What did that mean? That it might sort itself out? That she might still lose…?

His eyes dipped to her belly, where his son or his daughter was growing.

A baby. Oh, fucking hell, their baby…

He approached her, cautiously, and crouched next to her. After a nod of permission, he put his hand on her, and rubbed gently. His hand spanned the whole of her stomach. Nothing but a grain of rice, a handful of cells splitting, perhaps a head, a tail, a pair of eyes…

Fucking hell. Their baby…

Tears clouded his eyes, coming from all fucking directions, he didn’t even know anymore, love and joy clashing with loss and grief and yes, rage still, and all of it, resolving into such a blessedly clear and simple thought: Hold fast, little one…

“I’m sorry, Janey,” he said, a thread of voice. “I’m so, so sorry.”

More than she could know. She drew him close into her arms, his face buried against her body. She petted his hair in long strokes, like a mother.

“I love you, Thor,” she said.

“I love you too.”

“Then we work on this, ok?” she said.

He nodded against her. She pushed him apart, so that she could look at him. She was crying too, but had a warm smile on her face. She kissed his forehead.

“We’ll be alright,” she said. “We’ll figure it out.”

That night, he did not sleep, or even tried to. He found himself in the kitchen with an untouched glass of milk by his hand, eyes lost in space, thinking a hundred things, feeling them all, numb. He guessed it was mourning.

______

“Congratulations,” said Loki, toneless. “Have you thought of any names yet?”

After a whole week trying to catch him alone, Thor had had to make up an excuse to Jane, so that he could corner Loki in his house after work.

“How can you…?” Thor pushed out, aghast. “How can you be so…?”

Loki rolled his eyes, and put on an overacted huff of impatience.

“What do you fucking want from me, Thor? Shall I start crying and throwing things around? It makes no fucking difference.”

“How can you fucking say that?”

Loki scoffed. “Oh, please. Like it changes anything.”

“It changes everything!” shouted Thor. He wanted Loki to stop fucking playing. This was not a game!

“Oh, right. I forgot what a hypocrite you can be. So, it was iffy before, but now it’s Really Really Naughty.”

Thor huffed, appalled. Not the fucking time for sarcasm, baby.

“What do you think this is, Loki?” he said, when he was able to. “What do you fucking think we’re doing? What is this to you?”

Loki had a very strange expression on his face. A frown of suspicion, skepticism, alarm.

“What-what is it to me?” he stuttered, a shudder in his voice. It felt like he was aiming for the smart comeback, some cruel put-down to shut Thor down. But he couldn’t get his words out, whatever they were.

Thor tried to cool down. If he let Loki lead the conversation, horrible things were going to be said, for no fucking good reason whatsoever. He had to try.

“Loki, I…”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he cut him, and his breathing was shuddering now. He spoke next with a much more controlled voice, his tone sensible and calm. He still struggled to let it out. It took some pushing. “I don’t know what you’ve been telling yourself,” choking. Swallowing. “People get bored. It’s all it is. And I get it, ok? You don’t have to…” A sob cut him sharp. “You don’t have to say these things. It’s not necessary.”

“I don’t have to say that I was thinking of leaving my wife so that we could be together, is that what I don’t need to say?” challenged Thor.

Loki reacted as if he’d been slapped. Or punched. The memory made Thor stagger. Yes, it was the same expression. Loki disguised it as contempt.

“You’ve always thought with your cock, but this is some next level-…

Oh, no you don’t.

“Is that all you think I’m on about? Really? Is that all this is to you?”

“For god’s sakes, Thor! Keep it real!” screamed Loki, finally melting down. He looked like he was going to cry in a second. “How can you even...? Are you fucking insane? Look at me! Look at us! Now look at her!” his voice was hoarse, his chest heaving with the sobs he was holding back, a look of disgust in his face. "Why would you fucking…?"

“I love you,” said Thor.

Loki jerked again, gaping, eyes wide. Horror and astonishment. He was speechless.

Thor closed the distance between them and held him in his arms. Loki fought him like a wild cat, twisting in his arms, pushing, whimpers escaping his mouth as he began to break down. Thor only held him tighter. 

“I love you,” whispered Thor, his arms unyielding around him, squeezing his rage into something else. “I love you. You love me.”

Loki began to cry, his sobs shaking them both. As it resolved into tears, his anger abated. Thor pressed a string of strong, lingering kisses on his head.

“I love you,” he whispered, again, and again, and again. “I love you. You love me.”

On Loki’s bed, curled facing each other, arms and legs tangled, Loki’s face burrowing in the crook of Thor’s neck, Thor’s hand petting his hair. He had almost stopped sobbing.There was only a small bedside lamp on, the rest of the house was in darkness. A cold, hard, empty marble temple, a forgotten crypt, built and never used, and they, the last two men alive.

“We can’t keep doing this,” muttered Loki.

Thor’s eyes shut heavily, his frown deepening as the knife sunk in his heart.

“I know,” he said, holding him tight.

Loki pushed away, and looked at Thor as if he was never going to see him again. The smile that had barely managed to make his mouth twitch, shone instead in his eyes, full of a warmth Thor had not seen there since…

“God, I love you,” he murmured.

Loki nodded, tears falling again, still a smile. 

Thor huffed a laugh of sheer fucking joy. And even though he feared that trying to let go after this would be like skinning himself raw, he held him in his arms one last time. 

_________

“Did you finish?” said Jane from the kitchen when he got back. “Did you do what you needed to get done?”

The sound of food sizzling furiously in the pan muffled his bitter scoff. When she turned to look at him, oblivious, and all the more cruel to Thor for that, he gave her a dim, yet hopefully untroubled smile.

“Yeah,” he said. “All done.”

Chapter Text

Loud clattering in the bathroom. What the hell was he up to?

“What are you doing in there?” said Loki.

Bucky was humming a song to himself and didn’t answer. The door was half open. If he leaned to one side, he could catch Bucky’s reflection flashing in the full body mirror on the back wall. Gorgeous fucker.

Last few days had been a fucking mess for Loki. Don’t even begin to ask what he was feeling. It changed from hour to hour, one emotion rippling and fraying and blending into another, turning into something else.

Thor loved him.

Not enough, that ugly voice inside would wheeze, petty and mean and horrible, the kind of voice one hears from an old man who drinks too much and doesn’t speak three words of English, his mouth and teeth yellow from smoking the cheapest available rolling tobacco he could get his hands on, those bristles, badly shaven, from the shakes and from that jaundice in his eyes, and lips parched and dry, which Loki could still remember the scratch of on his face, the three fucking times he remembered being kissed with them. Not enough, that voice drilled from within Loki’s ears, in that language Loki had ever only heard in his house, nowhere else in the whole world, the oddity of it marking little boy him, and setting him apart from everything that was normal in that place, because he understood it. Not enough to leave her for you. 

Oh, shut up, he would reply. He’s going to have a goddamn baby with her. 

But he wasn’t losing his ass to leave her before he knew that either, was he? He only told you he loved you once he knew it was impossible between you two. Dear soft Thor, he must have thought it was nicer to send you on your way with a kind word…  (It was his old man’s voice, but the turn of phrase was all Loki’s.) On and on and on, that voice splitting hairs to shave off shards of meaning from Thor’s declaration, thinning it down, trying to make it less than what it was. 

So far, nothing new. That fucking voice was always there, always, telling him Tony only loved him because he refused to see him the way he was, making Loki hiss and rebel whenever Tony became too close. It rarely shut up, except when he nailed a case, or when he was nailing someone. Yeah, the old man was fine with that. But lo, what was the earth shattering novelty this time? That it wasn’t working. You’re stupid, you’re gullible, you’re delusional, you’re not worthy. You’re a skinny little faggot from a backwater shitty town who’s never going to amount to anything. Even when you’re looking down upon the great city of London from your posh office by the riverside, you’re still that skinny little faggot, you’re mean and petty and envious and nothing good ever comes from you, all you know how to do is disappoint and harm and lie and use people, you don’t know how to make anyone feel good, you don’t know how to love, and nobody loves you. — The usual crap, that on a good day just kept him edgy and wired and ready for the kill, and on a bad day reduced him to tears and made him even meaner. It was as loud as ever these days. And yet? Nothing. Wasn’t working. Wasn’t working at all. 

Loki believed him. He believed Thor. He simply believed him, like one believes in god or luck or Quantum physics. Against his every fucking instinct and every reason and every experience, against his deeper self. Like he believed Frigga when she told him she loved him before he left for college, even as that ugly voice told him it was pity or kindness or compassion. Must be something in the way she said it, looking straight in his eye, that warm, radiant smile of hers, you could not argue with it. You did not have to deserve it, or earn it. You could not fight it. It went right through, hit you deep inside, made a nest there. In his blackest hours, he doubted everything. Her love, deserved or not, he did not doubt. May very well be the reason he was still around, that little kernel of warmth against that cold, wheezy, crackly, hideous voice.

And now, he didn’t doubt Thor. 

Loki these days walked on air. A part of him had not touched the ground since that night. He felt anchored too, gently weighed down, when before he had been tossed this way and that by the waves in a stormy night sea. He felt like he had been wandering lost, and now he had found light and warmth and shelter in a deep dark wood… But only for the night. He was now out in the woods again, looking in from outside the windows. The memory of that warmth inside filled him with gratitude and yearning. He had no fucking idea how he was ever going to be able to tear himself away from that window. It had been hard enough to step outside. 

It was tough at work. Fucking excruciating. Not being allowed to touch all those years until college had been rather awful, to put it mildly. Well, it turned out, not allowing yourself to touch was even worse. He knew Thor was suffering as well, and instead of simmering with anger and reproach and resentment, Loki kept astounding himself with a deep, aching need to comfort him, if only he knew how. There had been two minor arguments, strictly about the case, and without neither ever uttering one word beside the point, they had both ended up in fucking tears. It was ridiculous, and people would start to notice. Something had to be done. 

Something. How lazy Loki had been coming up with a plan this time. He knew the answer, of course. Bridges had to be burned, temptation liquidated. Since for Loki himself there was no hope (if he had not killed it in those ten years, he would certainly not be managing now, after all his fucking dreams had come true), so it was down to Thor. 

Loki could be a real asshole. Loki could be cruel, mean and horrible. Loki could work it so that Thor found himself wondering why the fuck had he even liked Loki in the first place. So there, that was the plan.

He tried, he fucking tried, for all of three hours. But he saw Thor’s hurt in his eye at the first few really unkind words and… For god’s sakes, Laufeyson, pull yourself together! He had no fire for it, no rage, no hatred. He could not conjure up enough bad blood within himself to carry on with it. He felt flat, drained, hollow. He just wanted to crawl to Thor’s feet and curl up there, and never leave.

Oh well. Plan B it was, then.

Bucky returned. Naked, glorious, buzzing with electricity and triumph. He flopped on the mattress, face down, perpendicularly to Loki. He began to nip the skin of Loki’s side between his lips and gently nuzzling him. It was absurdly pleasant.

Loki sighed. Plan B. All out with Bucky. More obnoxiously than ever. Fucking in his office pretty much every day, like a couple of randy teenagers, making out all over the place, flirting brazenly at meetings, leaving together from work and straight to a hotel, all in Thor’s face. Tonight, he had even taken Bucky home.

Thor was predictably, and quite loudly, not happy about this. The tune of the arguments between them had changed. More vicious, more personal, bitter reproach cutting right underneath. Loki took it and took it and took it, although his heart was fucking breaking, and gave as bad as he got, because if he didn’t, if he didn’t keep Thor’s anger and jealousy on full blast, Thor would stop to think, and he’d realise what Loki was doing, and that would defeat the purpose, wouldn’t it? 

So Loki was simultaneously the happiest and the most miserable man on earth, his heart teetering in a seemingly impossible state of matter, like a new element previously unknown to science, extremely unstable and radioactive, killing Loki slowly and painfully and mercifully and sweetly, stripping him down to the bone, but bones that could still hurt, and which could still love. 

He noticed Bucky was staring, from the general region of Loki’s lower abdomen.

“What,” snapped Loki.

“Nothing. Just…” mused Bucky, those huge, dreamy eyes of his, nipping, nipping with full pink lips. “I’ve been thinking… You really have it all sussed out, don’t you? Life, career, everything.”

Loki cocked an eyebrow.

“Do I?”

“You go where you want, you take what you want, you do what you want. Sounds like living the dream to me.”

Even at any other time in his life, Loki doubted he would have found this funny.

“It’s really not like that, darling.”

“Whatever. When I grow up, I want to be just like you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he scoffed.

Bucky smirked, and it suited him. Damn, how it suited him. He laid on his back, still looking satisfied. 

“You know what I’m thinking?” he said.

“I don’t really care,” muttered Loki.

“I’m thinking that,” proceeded Bucky, ignoring him. “to begin with you said you’d never let me go to your place, and now I’m in your place. What does it mean, I wonder?”

“It means I’m fed up of fucking you on a desk.”

Bucky kept right on smirking, cockier than a bag of dicks. There was a foul taste in Loki’s mouth now, seeing that sparkle in Bucky’s eye. 

“Don’t get too comfortable,” he darted.

“Hm?”

“You did not think you were staying the night, did you?”

Bucky’s eyes went wide with incredulity and astonishment.

“You’re… you’re chucking me out?”

“Well, of course I’m fucking chucking you out. You’re getting ideas.” 

Bucky was appalled. Good.

“Oh, please, don’t give me that look,” said Loki. “I never led you on. I made it clear from the start what this was about.”

“Why do you have to be such a shit,” said Bucky.

“I don’t have to, it just happens.”

His smirk caustic now, smarting. “Fuck you, Loki.”

He got up in a huff, grabbed his clothes from the floor on his way to the bathroom, and slammed the door behind his back. 

Loki sighed, once more with feeling. Clanging and stomping in the bathroom.

He thought of Thor. He thought of how the universe liked to make his humble servant Loki the butt of his cruelest jokes. He thought of Thor. He had to tighten his lips to stop them twitching, but there was nothing he could really fucking tighten to stop the fucking tears from building up. His hands curved around the void, clasping air when they had held flesh and bone and skin and warmth. He’d never fucking touch him again. Ever. It seemed like an awful lot of time for nothing.

Bucky burst out from the bathroom, shirt still hanging open.

“Where are my fucking shoes,” he was grumbling. 

And he was beautiful, and he kissed with his whole soul, and he looked at Loki as if he knew him well, and liked him anyway.

Loki took a hand to himself, lazy strokes, quickly getting hard. Bucky tried not to see it, glancing out of the corner of his eye as he struggled to put his shoes on in a fury.

“You don’t have to leave yet,” purred Loki.

“You’ve got to be fucking joking,” snarled Bucky.

Loki gave him a winning smile. Bucky always said so many nice things about his smile. 

“Such a waste of a perfectly good evening, if you go now.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

Loki laughed, slow, hot and mellow.

“Now, there’s a thought,” he muttered, honey voice. He sucked two fingers wet, spread his legs, and as he milked the head of his cock with a twist, he slid his fingers inside himself, with a hum.

Bucky’s face. 

“You look gorgeous when you’re angry,” said Loki, breathy, eyes heavy. He licked his lips, the action between his legs never stopping. 

“Fuck you,” said Bucky, his voice hoarse.

Loki smirked, and pretended to think about it.

“Hmm… Why not?”

Bucky’s jaw hung slack, his eyes drawn to Loki’s fingers sliding in and out. Three of them now, and Loki allowed himself a little moan. He could see the fight inside Bucky’s head like a fucking puppet show, Punch and Judy style, self-respect and pride against throbbing, burning lust.

“I fucking hate you sometimes,” he groaned.

“Very wise,” sighed Loki. “Do you want to show me how much? Do you want to make me feel it?”

Bucky gasped as if he’d just been punched in the gut.

“Fucking hell, Loki,” he breathed, eyes glazed with desire.

Loki bit his lip, and let out a soft ‘hmm’…

That did it. Bucky kicked his shoes off again, pushed his pants down, and in a scramble he took position between Loki’s legs. Loki’s fingers were out, he passed him the lube and a condom. Bucky’s hands were clumsy with impatience. Loki took over. Bucky shuddered and whimpered, simply from Loki’s hands on him, rolling the condom on, slicking him up.

“How do you want me?” he asked.

Bucky looked fierce. “Get on your knees,” throaty voice.

“Hm, bossy. I like it.” 

Bucky pushed him when he wasn’t being quick enough. That had Loki hissing with arousal.

“Come on, boy, show me how it’s done,” he taunted.

Bucky went in all in one push, and began to pound him like the twenty-something, very fucking angry young stud he was, a young stud Loki had cut down to size with words and actions one too many times already, and now was going to get his own back and make him pay. He was rough, and wild, and oh, fucking hell, he was good…

“Is this what you wanted?” Bucky was panting, pistoning into him like he ran on fucking steam. “Is this what you fucking wanted?”

“Oh fuck, yes… Just like that... Just like that...”

Loki could feel it from the base of his spine all the way to his fucking throat. He was moaning for Bucky like a cat in heat, he let him have it all, pump his body for Bucky’s lost pride and his ego and his self-respect and whatever else he needed to get back to full tank, every time he shoved it in, skin smacking on skin, wet, fleshy, obscene. 

When Bucky commanded him to touch himself, Loki obeyed, and he held nothing back. Bucky fucked him through it with ferocity, driving his point home (through the front window, with a fucking truck), and Loki took it and took it and took it. Bucky came groaning, having pounded him into the mattress until Loki’s face was buried in the crumpled sheets, ass throbbing, and he was fine with it, very fucking fine. But when Bucky began to melt down all over his back, the moment his lips touched the top nubs of his spine with tenderness, Loki shoved him off, hissing.

“You don’t want to be like me,” said Loki later, lying next to Bucky in bed, both under the quilt. 

“I want to care less,” said Bucky softly.

Loki half turned to him, Bucky’s eyes lost in the void, containing quiet, aching multitudes of which Loki knew nothing about, because he had not wanted to know.

“You think I don’t care?” asked Loki.

“You’re telling me you do?” a very thinly disguised undertone of hurt under Bucky’s contempt.

That silence between them, pregnant with all the things they wished they did not have to feel. Loki even thought for a second, a burden shared is a burden… Oh no. How many fucking people’s lives are you going to ruin this year, Laufeyson. Don’t you even dare.

“If I kicked you out now,” he said, absently, “I would be doing you a favour, you know?”

“If?” 

Loki sighed once again, but no more.

“You can stay if you want, it’s up to you,” he said. “But don’t come crying to me later.”

Bucky laid there in silence for some time, deliberating. Would he be clever.

“I’m staying,” he said. “But you’re still a shit.”

Not clever, then. 

Loki scoffed. “Don’t I know it.”

Chapter Text

“I give up!” shouted Sif as she made her way back inside. And over her shoulder, before she slammed the door, “You’re impossible!”

Thor refrained an inarticulate roar of pure frustration, and carried right on pacing up and down the middle of the street, deserted at this time in the evening. He was trying to walk off his tantrum. Winter had already taken hold of this part of the state, but Thor’s anger was keeping him warm.

The rest of the group was inside, sitting comfortably in the tiny lounge of the inn, crowding it. And Thor should be there too, but after one very long, very tense, very edgy day knocking on doors and being stuck in the cabin of a jeep with Loki and Bucky, while discussing dinner options, what had started as some light bickering between him and Loki (not particularly friendly, but civil) had escalated into a nasty tiff. Things had been said, and Bucky had stood up as if to fucking challenge Thor to a duel (which probably Thor had had coming, since he had called Loki everything short of a slut), and the rest had got up too, to stand in between them, except for Loki in his corner, who had kept quiet while looking very gloomy. When Thor realised he was going to fucking cry, he had stormed out, with Sif in tow. Sif had tried to get something from him, but he had clammed up, hence her frustration. But he had not asked for her help, her advice, or her fucking shoulder to cry on, so did she really have a fucking right to get so annoyed at him for sending it right back to her?

Pacing, pacing. He could not get a fucking grip.

“Don’t bother, it’s useless when he gets like this,” came Sif’s voice from inside the lounge. 

Thor turned. Fandral was at the door. Thor showed teeth. Fandral stepped outside, closed the door behind him. He prepared a range of angry retorts, to be produced the moment his friend appealed to his reason, his civility, his common sense, or just fucking opened his mouth at all, probably. Pacing, pacing.

Fandral lit up a smoke, stomping his feet for warmth. He wasn’t saying anything.

“You’ll catch your goddamn death,” grunted Thor. “Go back inside.”

“I can’t smoke inside,” said Fandral. 

Thor huffed. “Listen, I know what you’re doing, and-…”

“I’m trying to soothe my nicotine crave. In peace. Now, shush.”

Fandral kept smoking, Thor kept pacing. The cold and some quiet time got to work on Thor. When his strides had finally begun to shorten down to steps, Fandral announced,

“Loki and Bucky have retired for the evening.”

Thor said nothing to that.

“I heard the concierge, or whatever the name the guy at reception gives himself, ordering some pizza for them.”

Still nothing to say. Then Fandral mused, in a wistful tone,

“Bucky, Loki, some melted cheese, and no clothes. What I wouldn’t give for a peek.”

“Shut the hell up,” barked Thor, unable to help himself. He immediately felt as transparent as fucking cellophane. His heart was hammering. He studied Fandral’s expression as discretely as he could. He found him smiling beatifically.

“I wonder why he was so determined to bring Bucky this time,” mused Fandral, “when I had personally heard Loki putting him off whenever Bucky has asked to come before.”

Thor grumbled under his breath, “He’s trying to piss me off, as usual. Some things don’t fucking change.”

“You're right there," said Fandral. "He's succeeding with flying colours."

Thor could not hold his stare. He saw out of the corner of an eye as Fandral put out his cigarette, and began to blow hot air on his hands and rub them together for warmth.

“We’ll freeze out here, mate. Shall we head back inside?”

“I don’t want to see Sif.”

“So we won’t see Sif,” said Fandral. “Hey, why don’t we go to your room, pitch our tent with a box of cookies and a couple of beers?”

Thor gave him a look that couldn’t possibly leave a doubt as to what he thought about that idea. Still, Fandral was undeterred,

“Oh, come on!” he said, cheery, excited. “It will be like college.”

“When did you find out you were bi?” asked Thor.

One hour in. They had only had a couple of beers, but they had never needed much to feel comfortable and at ease with each other, and get rambling. Side by side on the bed, over the covers, but huddled together under the same ugly, ratty tartan felt blanket, they had talked a bit about the case, about college, about Sif, and not at all about Loki. Which, come to think of it, was quite a feat, and a diplomatic achievement of some caliber.

“Hm,” Fandral swallowed down the gulp of beer in his mouth. “Find out? Or acknowledge?”

That gave Thor pause.

“It’s really hard to pinpoint the exact moment in time,” said Fandral. “Let’s just say that, when Loki jumped me in college, it cast a whole new light over the hero worship complex I had for you since high school. That good enough?”

Thor turned an inquisitive eye.

“Loki was your first?” he asked. He knew about Fandral's crush. He had known intuitively at the time, and they had talked about it afterwards. Fandral didn't make a big deal of it, so he tried not to either.

“My first male hookup? Yes, yes he was. Lucky me.”

Thor meditated.

“How did he…? I mean, did he ask, or…? How did it go?” Thor rubbed his forehead. “Sorry. Is that too private.”

“It’s fine. He flirted at me most delightfully for a whole afternoon. At the time, however, I thought he was just being his usual snake-charming self, making time until you got there. Anyway, I clearly wasn’t catching on, so he must have lost his patience. Suddenly, he kissed me until my eyes were about to pop out of their orbits. Then he proceeded to… You know what, let’s use that lovely old expression: he made love to me.” He quirked an eyebrow at Thor, playful.  “And if I had any doubts left about my attraction to the male species, he, uh, blew those out of the water for me.” Broad cheeky grin. The kind that divides humanity in two groups: people who’d wish to slap Fandral’s face, and people who’d wish to pinch it. (…Three groups, actually: people who’d do the one, the other, and then get him out of his pants.)

“When did you find out you were bi?” asked Fandral, just like that.

Thor seized up, and went very quiet. His very first impulse rose and pushed to come out, and he examined it with unease: deny, deflect, play dumb, lie. Why? Why the fuck should he lie? What was he protecting? What did he fear? Was he ashamed, was he embarrassed? What had made lying about that part of himself his fucking default reaction? Why wasn’t he out to the whole goddamn world already? Oh, he was disgusted at himself right now, so done with his own shit. He cleared his throat.

“Find out, or acknowledge?” he said.

Fandral said nothing. He observed quietly, as if leaving Thor time and space to find his own way.

“I was already with Jane,” he said. “But it’s not like I didn’t know. I just did not… you know, I did not think about it much, if I could help it. I dodged it. I refused to examine those feelings honestly. Which translates into… hell, I did not know because I did not want to know. Which means that I did know all along. Fuck, what am I even saying.”

Fandral’s half-drunken laughter was contagious, easy, quick, silly. Thor felt it come over him, and he burst with it. Relief, a deep breath of fresh air. It wrapped around him like a towel that’s been lying in the sun all day, after Thor had been soaking in very cold, unkind waters. He did not remember the last time he had laughed like that.

“I know what you mean,” said Fandral, after they stopped.

Thor’s expression soon darkened again.

“I was such a fucking coward,” he said. “I don’t know what I was so afraid of. I’ve never seen the wrong of it in other people. What the fuck was my problem? I still don’t fucking know, to this day.”

“You know, my friend, I’m in the same boat as you. Imagine me at fifteen, thinking, ‘isn’t Thor handsome and cool and awesome? Like, wow. I’m not a girl, but if I was a girl, I’d totally date him. Wow, sometimes I kind of wish I was a girl!’ “ he had imposted his voice to an over-excited teenage lilt. Made Thor laugh. “Seriously, how obvious was that. I was crushing for you like nobody’s business. You gave me butterflies, no joke. But, because I liked girls, and I liked them a lot, I just never… If I sometimes thought about it, I remembered all that palaver about developmental phases and teenage confusion, and I paid it no mind. I thought it would resolve into something or another. So I didn’t so much deny it as… I did not pursue it, didn’t interrogate myself about it. It was a lot easier, wasn’t it? It’s so much more comfortable on the corner of Mainstream and Straight. Just look at the kind of abuse Loki had to put up with… We all grew up witnesses to that. And it was hard. Who wouldn’t just rather blend in with the crowd, if at all possible?” Fandral took a long gulp. “And nobody was projecting the ideals of the All-American Straight Football God onto me. Nobody expected me to be one way or another. Nobody told me what I had to be. I lived in happy-go-lucky limbo. And still, I had to be physically shaken out of my own assumptions about myself, before I dared to face those assumptions and challenge them. As in, I had to receive an actual orgasm from another male person before I had no other option but connecting the attraction I experienced around hot dudes, with what that attraction actually was about. Which was-… well, sex. So what I’m saying here is, darling, it’s not easy. Certainly not as easy as being brave or a coward. A lot more than that comes into it. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

Thor shook his head, brooding, bitter, refusing to take the line his friend was throwing him.

“Well, college is college, but what’s my fucking excuse now? Jane doesn’t know, can you believe that? I’ve never told her. Why does it come so fucking easy to me, lying?”

Fandral didn’t offer an answer. He opened up the last can, took a sip, and handed it to Thor.

“What’s going on between you and Loki,” he asked, making Thor jump.

“Nothing,” he replied automatically. And he exhaled heavily, aching, angry at himself. This will not do, Odinson. 

Fandral was quiet, still, looking serene, welcoming. And pleasantly at ease there, no rush, as if he had all the time in the world. Thor took one deep breath, for courage.

“Doesn’t matter,” he said. “It’s over.”

He awaited for a reaction, any reaction. Not that he expected Fandral would ever be too shocked or repulsed about this - he knew his friend well enough -, but some surprise wouldn't have hurt. Fucking hell, did they all know?

“Doesn’t look like it’s over,” it was all Fandral said, calmly, after a minute. “You both look like shit.”

Thor's cheerless laughter broke right down the middle, with a choke. 

“Jane is pregnant,” he said.

Fandral nodded once, in a silent “Eureka.” He patted Thor’s shoulder, then gave it a squeeze.

“Congratulations,” he said, his smile dim with commiseration.

Thor raised his beer for a reply, and had a long drink.

“Well, that explains why Loki brought Bucky along, then,” said Fandral. “Lead us not into temptation. A sort of human chastity belt.”

“I don’t even know how you managed to slip chastity in there, but yeah,” said Thor tiredly. “I suppose that’s what he’s doing.”

“And it’s driving you round the bend.”

“I’m a jealous asshole when it comes to Loki,” he admitted, in a shy mutter. “Always have been.”

“True,” said Fandral. He patted his shoulder amiably again.

“I’m making my ancestors proud, ain’t I?” said Thor, sarcastic, “with the way I’m handling this whole situation.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, babe. It’s a very tricky affair.”

“And I keep fucking everything up,” said Thor, feeling very sorry for himself. “I haven’t stopped fucking up since… Fuck, that’s not true,” he corrected. “I know what we’re doing is not right, but I can’t-… I can’t feel it. Do you know what I mean? I’m cheating on my wife, and I feel awful about it, because she would be hurt if she found out, but still I can’t…” he fumbled for words, “I can’t regret it. I know I should, but I know that… Fuck, I’d do it again. I would not be able to help myself. Hell, I don’t think I’d want to. What does that say about me.”

“I’m no expert, but if I was to hazard a guess, I think it probably means you’re in love with Loki.”

Thor wrapped both arms around himself, as if he was cold.

“Are you? In love with him.”

“Yes,” said Thor. “Yes, I am.” He put on a sad little smile.

“That’s probably it, then,” grinned Fandral. “And Jane?”

Tears built up, a burn in his throat.

“I love her too. But…” He choked, unable to face it, let alone say it.

“…But not in the same way,” completed Fandral.

Thor’s face scrunched up as if he was in pain. Hell, he was in pain, a cartload of it.

“That’s so fucking brutal…” he muttered, no voice for more. “I don’t know. Fuck, no, of course it’s not the same. We’ve been together for going on nine years, nine good years. She’s going to have our child… It’s like, two completely different fucking universes of feeling. I don’t know how to even begin making sense of it.”

Fandral kept quiet, his eyes warm, listening.

“She’s a dreamboat,” said Thor. “She’s everything one could possibly ask for. On top of the obvious, her looks and brains and humour and all that, she’s also kind and decent and just plain… she’s a good, solid person. Extraordinarily so. She’s understanding, patient, and she… she loves me so much. God knows why, but she does. And what we had was solid. We were good together, we were strong. We wanted this, we wanted kids. I had not even considered anything but spending the rest of my life with her before… before Loki showed up. So how can everything change so much, so suddenly? It makes me feel so fucking frivolous, that just because Loki turns up I put all of that into question and… what, don’t want that anymore? Just because someone else makes my blood run faster? What kind of a fucking reason is that to call off something like what I have with Jane? …Or did I not want all of that with Jane as much as I thought I did? Was I looking for a way out? What’s the fucking answer? I’m questioning everything. I’m so fucking lost. ”

Fandral finished the last of the beer. He seemed to be meditating.

“This is, indeed, a muddle, poor dear,” he said. “Listen, I’m not the deepest of souls, or a very wise man, but this one thing does strike me as true. It seems to me that how fast your blood runs, or doesn't, is not a minor detail at all. Not sure exactly if it makes you happy, or if it means that you are, but anyway, happiness, as in taking some joy in your day, and experiencing a certain measure of content, is kind of important. Just my two cents.”

“But we were happy,” protested Thor. “With Jane. Before Loki. I think. Because what am I to think? It never even crossed my mind once to break up with her. She was good enough for nine years, she was all I wanted. Has that really changed? Or I'm fucking obfuscated because these days all my blood is permanently in my dick?”

Fandral laughed, Thor didn't.

“Anyway, what kind of a bastard even thinks of leaving his wife while she’s pregnant with his baby," grumbled Thor bitterly, deflated.

“The kind of bastard who wishes to be fair to the people in his life, I suppose," said Fandral. "Babies don’t need their parents to be together, necessarily, but they do need them to get along with each other, and to be reasonably content with their life, and these two, well, I think there’s not one without the other.”

Thor curled up on himself even more. He went for the heart of it, the little nagging chip in his shoe he did not dare to acknowledge, a tiny spark that, should he pay too much attention to it, threatened to grow into an all-consuming blaze.

“I’m afraid,” he whispered. “I’m afraid of breaking up with Jane and finding out in a few months that… That I was thinking with my dick. Or that it was all a whim on Loki’s part. That he was just doing it to get back at me.” The simple thought was ripping him apart. “And you know the life he leads. I’m not sure if I could live like that. It’s just not the way I work. …And would he change it for me? Would that make him happy?” Deep sigh. “I’m afraid of ruining it all with Jane, and pissing her off so much that we end up in court over fucking custody, and then find out that me and Loki just don’t… get along. That he doesn’t really love me, or that I’m just mistaking lust with something real. Or even that, no matter how much we love each other, it’s still impossible between us.”

Fandral was nodding in sympathy.

“It’s hard. Fear complicates things. All I can say is, all these things you fear, you cannot know how real they are until you try. By which time of course it’s too late, but you know the old saying, that at the end of your life you’re going to regret more the things you didn’t do that anything that you did. Not sure if that helps.”

“I was very close,” murmured Thor, with a confused blend of defiance, shame and guilt. He was going crazy, he swore he was. “I was going to damn it all to hell and go for it, but then…”

“The baby.”

“Yeah.”

A long silence.

“When I’m with Loki, I have no doubts,” confessed Thor. “It feels right. I trust him. I feel so much tenderness for him. And I don’t want him to go away. I can’t fucking stand it, thinking of him far away, when he… when he belongs here, with me. Where I can look after him and make him feel good and… love him. Make him feel that he is loved. Give him a better life. Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He banged his head back against the headboard, eyes shut tight.

“Stop that,” said Fandral softly. He petted his head.

“I want to do the right thing,” said Thor, eyes still closed. “I just don’t know what that is anymore. I’m hurting everyone as it is, but I don’t have a fucking clue. What am I going to do, man,” his voice was thick, it burned him.

Fandral smiled compassionately, threw one arm around him, drew him close for a smacky kiss on the cheek.

“Right now?” he said. “Well, my friend, how about some sleep. You have a long day tomorrow. There’s nothing else for it. You won’t sort this out tonight, so sleep, and don’t think about anything for a while. You can always go back to worrying yourself into an ulcer tomorrow. Yeah?”

Thor tried to smile.

“I can try.”

___________

“Are you sure?” insisted Bucky one last time, leaning by the passenger’s window of the jeep. “You’re completely sure you don’t want me to come with you?”

“Yes, I am,” said Loki. “You better stay away from this. Plausible deniability.”

Thor at the wheel could feel Bucky’s dark, hostile leer boring a whole in his head. 

“Don’t let him talk to you like that,” muttered Bucky, loud enough that Thor was sure to hear. He also heard the wet kiss Bucky planted on Loki’s lips, before he turned around and walked away to meet up with Fandral and Sif.

“Try to be more obvious, will you?” grumbled Loki after a minute, already on the road. “I’ve seen pigeons in heat that were subtler than you.”

“So have I,” retorted Thor.

“I’m not trying to make you jealous,” hissed Loki.

“I don’t want to fucking talk about this.”

Loki muttered under his breath, “Are we fucking there yet.”

Having Bucky there in the car with them all of Saturday had probably not been a bad idea. Loki had informed him that they were going to tackle the Andrews this weekend. They would not discuss The Subject except among themselves, so the dark cloud on Thor’s head had rumbled quietly. But today they were heading there, just the two of them, and time was running out. Loki was going to break his heart and cause some good people unnecessary pain, and there was nothing he could do about it.

He had pleaded and argued all week. Loki wouldn’t hear it. Thor had got more and more frustrated, but he wouldn’t let go. There had been shouting, desktop items had flown. Loki had pulled rank, Thor had nearly burst a vein in anger. 

“You have that fucking luxury!” Loki had screamed at him, standing his ground. “You can stay there on your high horse and piss on me for wanting to make two people uncomfortable, two people who are not fucking paying you, while you forget the three hundred clients, and the same number who depend on those clients, who are actually paying you, and counting on you, while they put their own jobs and livelihoods on the line! These people took a step forward and risked shit, to make some good for everyone on that valley! I’m not going there deliberately to put anyone through the wringer, but I will if I have to, because I don’t have the fucking luxury to stand back and roll the fucking dice! So much is riding on this, and you’re willing to fucking put it all in danger, just because two fucking people who are only looking out for themselves might have a rough time! You fucking bleeding heart, go explain with a straight face to your fucking clients when you get a negative ruling that you did everything you could!”

That had been Friday. Once more, Thor had been out of arguments that stood any kind of chance at even tickling Loki’s cold, ruthless logic, so he had had to back off, and vent with Jane, poor suffering soul, who aligned with him wholeheartedly at least, but it changed nothing for the Andrews. 

Still, what grated on Thor most painfully was not the deed itself, but rather that Loki was the kind of person who was able to set aside his humanity and his compassion, turn if off and proceed without it, and cause harm to some blameless people for his own profit. Or for anyone’s profit, dammit. Yes, even the firm, even the case, even the clients. Thor understood the pressure Loki was under, make no mistake. He was a lone ranger, his reputation depended on results. He took great risks in his job, he went further than other people dared to, and the clients would only get behind him if those risks translated consistently into victories. He had pushed for arbitration, he had taken it on his shoulders to put this whole case on this one hearing. Of course he felt he had to deliver, no matter what. And Thor could see that this was not a life-or-death situation. That asking two people to snoop at work, and push them if they hesitated, did not amount to an unforgivable crime. But it was significant, and Thor felt it said things about who Loki was, and the things it said, Thor hated. He hated that the one he loved could be so heartless. And so, there was a lot more riding on this that just the Andrews’ peace of mind. Without ever meaning to, it had become a test Thor was putting Loki to. He was dreading the moment that he would fail it.

“I’m not having any part in this,” he warned. “I don’t care what you say. You’re on your own here.”

“Fine,” said Loki.

“So it’s all down to you,” insisted Thor, prodding in the wound, pushing for a reaction. “You’re the one who’s going to have to look at them in the eye and remind them of their poor son, who suffered a slow and painful death, until they feel shitty enough about themselves to risk their whole family by spying for you.”

“Yes, thank you for the run-down. I know the plan.”

“Can you really fucking do that? Can you?”

“I do what I have to do. We’ve discussed this.”

Thor shook his head, disgusted, furious, panicky. Loki, no…

“Like bringing Bucky along and rub my nose in it. I bet that was hard on you too.”

Loki looked away, didn’t answer.

“You were given the same room again, didn’t you?” insisted Thor. “Did you fuck him in our bed?”

Loki’s eyes closed tiredly.

“I so don’t need this shit from you right now.”

Thor smashed the wheel with both hands in anger and frustration. The jeep swerved. Loki held on quietly.

“Do you think this is easy for me?” murmured Loki, after a while, almost as if he didn’t wish to be heard. “Do you think I’m enjoying it?”

“Yes, poor poor Loki. I bet you hated it when Bucky was giving you that fucking love bite last night.”

“Fucking hell, Thor! Give me a fucking break!” he yelled. And after a few deep, shuddery breaths, and in a much softer tone, “I’m not fucking worth it, don’t you see?”

Thor swallowed, to tighten the cap on the tears he was trying to keep bottled.

“I wish that was true,” he whispered.

“Shut up,” replied Loki, whispering too. “Please, just shut up. I’m begging you.”

__________

Thor never meant to even get out of the jeep, but Mrs. Andrews was there on the drive raking leaves when they pulled in. 

“Mr. Odinson!” she waved, her cheeks flushed with cold and exertion. “And Mr. Laufeyson…” She frowned in confusion. “Did you have an appointment with my husband?”

“Mrs. Andrews, how are you,” said Thor, walking up to meet her, shaking her hand with both of his. “We have no appointment, we… We’re just in the area, collecting signatures for arbitration.”

“Oh,” she said, with some alarm. “But we have not changed our minds… I mean, we wished we could, but we can’t really afford to…”

“No, Mrs. Andrews, it’s not that. We just…” Damn, why the fuck was he even talking to her? Let Loki fucking take it from here, if he had the guts. Thor took in her sunken cheeks, the dull eyes, the new grey in her hair. She had been plump and rosy once, Thor had seen photos. She had aged ten years since the summer before last. He threw a quick glance at Loki, who was leaning cross-armed against the car. What was he waiting for? Hang him. He turned to her. “How are you doing, Claire.”

“Well, you know,” she offered a weak, dim smile. “This time of the year is always hard. The holidays, you know. But Dylan!” her tone suddenly cheered up, her eyes brightened, “he made it to the county’s junior orchestra! He really struggled last year, he almost didn’t practice. Remember they used to go to music with Joe? We weren’t sure he would qualify, and you know he had been looking forwards to his twelfth birthday, so that he could apply for the tests. But he came back from counselling the one day, he said he had heard something that made him think. That Joe would want him to keep playing. So he’s been putting in the hours, and you should have seen him, Thor, when he was told he’d got in.” Her eyes had blurred. 

Thor smiled, his chest tight. Jesus christ. He turned to Loki again, for a second. Loki was staring at his shoes.

“I’m so glad, Claire, that’s so good to hear.”

“Yes, it’s meant a lot to all of us, you know. But where are my manners, keeping you both out here with this cold? Would you and Mr. Laufeyson like to come in for a cup of coffee? I made lemon pound cake only yesterday…”

Thor turned to Loki once more. And Loki looked back at him for the first time.

“Forget it,” he grunted. He got back in the car, and slammed the door shut.

Thor stood there, stupefied. Soon he began to feel his chest swelling up, as if he was about to burst into fucking fireworks. Tears were piling up.

He remembered Mrs. Andrews. He looked at her, words would not come. He didn’t even try to make up an explanation for their odd behaviour. Who the fuck cared. He hugged her tight.

“Claire,” he said,” thank you. Give my love to Dylan and Cam.”

“I will,” he heard her say, as he already dashed for the jeep.

“Not one single fucking word,” warned Loki, once they were both inside. “I mean it. Drive.”

But Thor’s heart was still pumping hard a couple of miles down, and he just could not fucking help himself any longer. He stopped the jeep in the middle of the road, and turned to Loki, who was stubbornly looking out the window.

He grabbed Loki’s neck and drew him near. He kissed him with all his fucking heart. Loki melted into it in silence. Thor hugged him as close as the cabin would allow. Loki’s arms wrapped around him tight. Thor groaned in perfect content, he laughed with joy. He buried his face in Loki’s hair and breathed in deep. He smelled like home.

Breaking it up was hard. They pulled apart in slow motion. Loki touched his mouth, and Thor watched him for a moment, dazzled at his beauty. There was so much to say. There was nothing to say.

Thor started the car again. Until they met the others, they didn’t say one word.

Chapter Text

When Loki got to the office on Monday morning, there was a blank envelope on his desk. Inside, a hotel card key and a calling card, with a simple scribble on the back — a room number, and the current date. Their hotel. Their room.

He slowly sunk in his chair. He took a deep, deliberate breath.

He had thought of nothing else since last night but what that sudden surge of emotion in the jeep had meant, if it had meant anything at all. Turns out it did. He didn’t fucking know what to feel about it. About anything. So it appeared he would just be feeling everything at once, then, to keep all bases covered.

He should not go. He could not go. He could not do this to himself. And to Thor. Tony. Jane. It was in Loki’s hands this time, and they may not be the safest or most reliable to place anything delicate in, but as the born survivor he had himself for, to take up Thor on his invitation would be an exercise in self-sabotage if he had ever seen one. He had done the hardest thing already, walking away once. He was living with it. Letting himself fall into the same honeypot, only to have to drag himself away again? Masochistic. And not in the kinky way. Because the situation had not changed, had it? This was a date in a cheap hotel. Nothing suggested that divorce papers featured anywhere in the exercise. There was no indication of any plans about riding together into the sunset either. How could there be? The man he loved and his beloved wife were going to have a baby. Guess which couple had been dealt the happily ever after card in this game.

Thor was a hot-blooded man. He felt a lot, in his heart, in his cock. He loved Loki, he wanted him, and while Loki was around, he would struggle with that. He had fallen into temptation again. Fair enough. Flattering, even. But Loki’s blood ran colder. At least right now it did. His mind was clear, his reason spoke clearly. And it was saying how colossally moronic it would be to go. Just stick a fork in your leg, why don’t you, it would be quicker, and it would lead to pretty much the same end result.

It would not only be stupid. It would be selfish. Thor. The man was a mess, everybody could see that. He was clearly not thinking straight. Even Loki could see that, and he really didn’t want to, and was trying not to look. They had managed to break up cleanly this one time, in decent enough terms, and for all the right reasons. After fucking up so much, a little bit of decency. After so much bitterness, anger and reproach, a bit of kindness, a bit of warmth. There had been kisses and embraces and bittersweet words of goodbye in their parting hour. Once Loki left, and some time had passed, that’s what they would remember, and forget the bad blood of the weeks that had followed. They would. And it would be right, and fair, and a good memory, a fitting finale for a very fucking long soap opera with a cast of hundreds. Who was to say they would manage to do that for a second time. 

And Jane. Why was her name and her face haunting Loki’s thoughts now, when he had gone out of his way all this time to sweep her under the rug? She was nothing to him, who the fuck cared? No, she was worse than nothing, she was the one who had finally taken Thor home. She had got the prize, good for her, she did not fucking need Loki’s good will on top of that. Fuck her.

But while Loki was far away, focused on nothing but making himself and other people miserable, keeping away anyone who reached out for him, she had been here, looking after Thor, making him feel loved. No, she did not need Loki’s good will, but she had probably earned it. She deserved it. What had she ever done to Loki, but do right by Thor, loyally make a life with him, and love him? Could Loki have done that? Could he have taken her place? His track record to date suggested strongly against it. 

So there was that. Sometimes innocent people get hurt and it can’t be helped. This was not one of those times. There was a choice this time, on his desk, inside a blank envelope.

And Tony. The drama queen in Loki was tearing her tunic and pulling her hair and bawling, for surely all was lost there, if Tony ever found out. So why worry, the harm was done. But the cooler, more calculating streak that also ran in Loki dismissed all those antics, and maintained that it would actually make a big difference to Tony, whether Loki chose to do the decent thing at least the second time around. And even if Tony never found out about any of it, Loki thought it would still make a difference. To himself.

Reason upon reason piled up high. Even his lawyerly self at his most cunning couldn’t produce a fucking leg to stand on to argue the opposite case. He didn’t even fucking try. He did not need to. Why bother. All his reasons, both the selfish and the selfless, the moral ones and the self-serving ones, the tangible and the speculative, they all crumbled to a fine dust and vanished in the air, when Loki remembered how it had felt to be again in Thor’s arms.

__________

The room seemed empty when he got there. Then the bathroom door opened and there Thor was, without a stitch on. Loki staggered from the sight of it, desire punching the air out of him in a quiet gasp. 

“You’re here,” said Thor, a smile warm in his eyes.

It seemed to happen as if underwater, how they walked towards each other and embraced, the pull of Thor’s mouth on his own, as demanding as it was giving. Hands in each other’s hair, a strong grip, they both needed a moment now and then to breathe and take stock, before diving it again. Thor kept his eyes shut as if he wished to narrow down all sensation to just his touch. His blind fingers fumbled with the buttons of Loki’s shirt, Thor’s mouth quickly finding his neck. Loki too wished he was blind and deaf and dumb for a spell, to reduce his whole world to what his skin could feel. There was no lying in that place of touch, no illusion, and there was no tomorrow and no past, only now. And now was warm and beautiful and it trembled with Thor’s strength and his urgency, tugging here and pushing there, undressing him, backing him up until they fell on the bed. 

But Loki did look, because how could he not, when kneeling between his legs, Thor began to worship his body. Loki’s fingers threaded in that golden hair he had longed for all his life, but did not lead or guide. He just let himself breathe in and breathe out, writhing and jolting with sudden surges of sensation that spiked under Thor’s touch.

Thor had begun to undo his pants, but he changed his mind, and instead took to mouthing him through the fabric, nuzzling, burying his face there, like an animal. Loki groaned with the exquisite frustration of it. He was agonisingly hard. He must have begged, or Thor simply took pity on him, and pulled his pants down to take him in his hand and in his mouth. The feel of his bare, hot skin on Loki’s own, Loki’s jaw fell unhinged. He half-opened his eyes, and there it was, that blue stare, not missing a beat. Loki bucked up into him involuntarily, but that big, golden hand over his own white stomach held him down.

After one last luxuriant suck, Thor climbed on the bed, and pulled Loki on top of him. Their cocks twitched and pulsed, trapped between their bodies, rock hard and wet. Thor’s arms and legs spread to welcome him and own him. He felt blindly for the lube he had clearly prepared earlier. Loki propped himself up for Thor to slick him. Then Thor guided Loki with his hand. They rolled their hips and Loki thrusted up and he was home. It was easy, Thor was open and well lubed. It made him gasp in arousal, when the thought hit him of Thor in that room, waiting for him, preparing himself for him, wanting to be fucked, thinking of Loki fucking him. 

They had been so quiet until then, nothing but sharp gasps and shuddery exhales, but now Thor allowed himself a soft whimper, his eyes closed, his neck arching back in offering. Loki began to move, and when Thor dozily opened his eyes to look right into his own, Loki had to kiss him. He was fucking slowly, feeling Thor relaxing, abandoning himself to the whole thing, lying there for the taking, and Loki wished it could last forever. And so he paced himself, even when his whole body was thirsty and wanted to drink its fill and swallow it all down in one gulp. He paced himself, and when he was getting too close, he stopped.

It was only meant to be a moment to breathe and cool down, but Thor blinked his eyes open as if from a sleep, and seemed to gather his wits, and pushed him off. Confused, and almost ready to protest, Loki still pulled out gently, and sat on his heels, and asked what do you want without one word. 

Thor rolled on his front. Loki draped himself all over Thor’s back, and Thor bent one knee up, and Loki fucked in again. It felt like there wasn’t one inch of their bodies that wasn’t touching. Thor wove his fingers with Loki’s, his hand by Thor’s side. Thor’s expression was peaceful at first, then his forehead scrunched up, as sensation mounted. Loki picked up the pace. Thor moaned for the first time, mouth hanging, and pushed his hip up against Loki’s thrust. Flesh slapped, wet slick. One of Thor’s hands reached back, rested on Loki’s ass, drawing him near. Loki groaned, and fucked faster.

“Fuck…” breathed Thor, and bit his lip hard.

It drove Loki wild. With a firm grip of Thor’s hip, he made him rise. Eager, Thor got on his hands and knees. Loki went for it.

“Fuck, fuck… Loki, god…”

Loki reigned in his lust and refined his stroke. He angled himself expertly, and as Thor dramatically arched his back in a muted moan, telling him he was on the gold, Loki let the beast take hold. Soon, Thor was collapsing forwards, face in his crossed forearms, his desperate, high-pitched moans cutting off into a breathless expression of sublime agony.

“God don’t stop it… oh fuck Loki, Loki… please don’t stop it… Fucking hell, fucking hell…”

Loki snaked his hips, whiplash move, and took it up a notch.

“Fuck, I need to come, I need to come…” begged Thor, reaching under himself to jerk off. The muscles of his back bulged so fucking beautifully as he tensed up with climax. He groaned low and long as he came, forehead on the pillow, but his face turned just so, to let Loki see. 

When the aftershocks started, Loki left Thor’s prostate alone, but didn’t stop fucking him.

“Need me… to pull out?” he asked, panting, when Thor seemed spent.

Thor’s hand reached for Loki’s butt again, to hold him there. Loki suspended rational thought, and kept taking what he needed from Thor’s body. He took in the sight of it rocking there underneath him, one big, almost delicate boy-man hand clutching the sheets. He drove himself into a near frenzy at the end, crazed with the glorious, maddening friction, and his moans cut off as he came, as if he’d been punched in the gut. He spent inside Thor’s body, and that was the first time he had even remembered about the fucking condom. He folded on Thor’s back, panting, panting. Well, too fucking late now.

Thor’s hand was still there, on his ass, firm as ever. They laid on their sides, spooning, legs tangling. Loki’s cock slipped out when it softened, but they remained in the same position, afraid to let go and never be able to touch again. And why be anywhere else, ever.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” confessed Thor in a faint whisper, a long while later.

Loki wove their fingers together. With his eyes closed, he burrowed into Thor's hair. 

Chapter Text

Loki walked into the hotel room, droplets pearling the furry trim of his long black coat like diamonds. He was short of breath from hurrying down the street in the cold.

“Sorry,” he said, putting down his things, his movements a nervous flurry, still wired from work. “Coulson just went on and on and on…” 

From the bed, Thor was taking in the sight of him, cheeks flushed, eyes bright, that dove grey suit and the emerald green shirt. He had to refrain from being too obvious at work, but damn, Loki looked particularly dashing today. 

Thor had also arrived in a fluster, but he had had a few minutes to calm down and warm up. The guy at reception had waved him in automatically with no more than a passing look. They were regulars now, both of them. They had a standing reservation on that room, on Loki's tab. Loki had suggested upscaling at some point — there was a much nicer place still within walking distance; Loki had purposely not chosen it for their first encounter for reasons he didn’t need to explain —, but Thor had said he was fond of this one. “If I had realised you were such a sentimental oaf, I would have gone for the nicer hotel in the first place,” Loki had said. 

While Loki hung up his coat, Thor went to him. He threw his arms around Loki’s waist from the back and drew him in. Loki relaxed against him, and after a moment he turned his head for a kiss, hand around Thor’s neck. Thor’s hands reached down. Loki’s hand fell on his to stop him.

“No time,” he whispered.

Thor groaned in frustration. He had felt Loki’s cock stirring in his pants, and he was half-hard himself.

“Got anything to eat? I’m starving,” said Loki, as he wiggled out of Thor’s embrace and made for the bathroom.

Thor got the take-away boxes out of the bag and set them up on the bed, for a little indoor picnic. A bit of a routine had come about by now, after more than a month. They tried to find time once or twice a week, although as the Christmas break approached, and the date for the hearing, not only was opportunity becoming harder and harder to come by, but time. Sometimes they fucked, sometimes they didn’t. Thor could feel rather depressed after a slapdash quickie. He liked to build it up a bit, do it well done, then cuddle up for a while. If he had to pick just one of those, he’d rather just cut to the cuddling, and feel a bit less depressed when they had to leave. But god, it was hard. His lust for Loki was not abating, it was fucking mounting. Now that he had tasted him, he couldn’t get enough. He had never fucked (or certainly been fucked) like that, not even in the most passionate early days with Jane, or any other girlfriend. Loki was wild, fucking electric, it made Thor feel wild and electric too. Or maybe they were just very much in love with each other. Same difference.

Loki returned from the bathroom with a loosened tie. He threw the jacket on the bed, kicked off his shoes, and sat on the covers, long legs crossed at the ankles. He leaned back against the headboard, facing Thor, who was resting idly on his side by the foot of the bed. He picked up a container and a pair of chopsticks, and started to eat.

He kicked Thor’s leg after a while — “Stop staring. Eat.” Thor obeyed. Even without much appetite, with his big mouth and utter disregard for the whole tiresome business of chewing, he finished first, and got back to watch Loki picking at his food. He gave the impression of a fussy eater with little appetite, but Thor knew better. He was just thorough. That had not changed since they were kids, and it used to drive Thor up the wall. He was always in a hurry to finish and carry on with the much more important things they could be doing. He had developed a taste for waiting patiently now. It had its perks. His eyes followed Loki’s Adam’s apple when he threw his head back to drink down his fizzy water, straight from the neck of that posh glass bottle, his lips closing around the rim. He thought he would never tire of watching Loki do even the most mundane things.

After he had put the bottle and the empty food container to one side, Loki returned Thor’s stare.

“What,” he said.

“Nothing,” said Thor. But he knew he was busted.

“What?” insisted Loki.

“Nothing…!” Thor sighed, defeated. “I don’t want to… dump it all on you. You don’t need to hear me moping and feeling sorry for myself.”

“Isn’t that what unhappy husbands do, vent to their mistresses?” countered Loki. His tone was mild and light, not meant to harm.

Thor wasn’t harmed, but he was saddened. Not that it took a lot to make him sad these days.

“I wouldn’t really know,” he replied. “Never been an unhappy husband with a mistress before.”

Loki gave him a little smile. 

“Well, go on then,” he said, nudging him with his foot. “I’m all ears.”

“It’s stupid, really,” he said. “I’m… Christmas is coming, and I’m… I’m dreading it, that’s all. The whole family around, and Jane is showing, and… You know. There’ll be a lot of happy relatives, a lot of congratulations, and I… ” He sighed.

Loki’s expression was thoughtful.

“How is she.”

“Morning sickness finally gone. She’s eating a bit more, putting back some weight. She was beginning to worry me.”

Loki didn’t react outwardly, except for a little nod. 

“I hate you being all alone for the holidays, baby. Why don’t you go with Tony?”

“Tropical Christmas?” scoffed Loki. “And with Pepper, too, like a fucking hippie commune? Fuck that. Besides, it’s become our own little tradition. He suggests it, and I turn him down, fa-la-la-la-la, la-la, so on.”

Thor nodded. “What about Bucky?”

“No,” said Loki, succinctly, expression blank. “That’s as good as over.”

“Is it?”

“Yes. Don’t tell me you hadn’t noticed.”

Thor meditated.

“Is it because of us?” 

“It’s because of him,” said Loki. “What he wants, he won’t get from me, so it's better to end it while the cut could still be more or less clean.”

“I see. …Is he in love with you?”

“Can we not talk about Bucky, please?”

“Alright.” Thor sighed. “I had the stupidest dream. Alright, it was not a dream, more like a-a fantasy. I saw you, me, and Jane, all sitting at my parents’ table for Christmas dinner. My mum would be so happy to see you again.”

Loki scoffed, making clear how ridiculous the notion was.

“She wouldn’t like to think you’re out in the cold by yourself on those days,” insisted Thor.

“Oh, please,” groaned Loki, pinching the bridge of his nose as if to rub away a headache. “I’m always alone on those days, darling. I fucking hate the holidays.”

“I know,” said Thor. “And it-it sucks.”

“I don’t mind. I know it’s incomprehensible to you, because you love them,” said Loki, “so you’ll have to take my word for it.”

“‘Course I love them. Food, drink, presents. What’s not to love,” shrugged Thor.

“Well, apart from the Christmas sweaters and the fucking carol singers, there’s always the fathers who get drunk and stumble with the punch bowls, splashing egg-nog all over the place, and getting kicked out, politely but icily, along with all his progeny, out of the distant cousins’ house and back into the snow, before dinner has even started. There’s the older brothers who get drunk and come back home with fucking horrible drunken girls, who don’t miss the chance to call the eight-year-old younger sibling a fairy and a princess, and insist on dressing him up and doing his face, for which he’ll subsequently get slapped by the drunken father when he comes home after drinking some more. Then of course, there’s the hand-me-down clothes and toys in the Christmas stockings, which are ordinary socks on a fucking peg, because who’s got interest or time to get a tree.” 

Thor remained quiet for a long time. What do you say to that. Loki sighed audibly, impatient.

“Let it go, Thor. That was just me rambling. There are worse tragedies. Let it go.” Another sigh. He sat up, searched the pockets of his jacket next to him on the bed. “Anyway, just because I hate Christmas doesn’t mean… Well.” He handed him a flat square parcel in shiny red wrapping paper.

“You got me a present?” Thor could not believe his eyes.

"Like I said, I know you like this whole shebang, the presents and all, so.” 

Thor was trying to rip through the paper wrap.

“I, uh, it’s not a joke-gift,” said Loki. “I mean, you’ll be able to pass it off as a joke, but…”

“Oh my god.” Thor looked at him, eyes wide and unbelieving. It was a CD, the Backstreet Boys’ Greatest Hits.

Loki was glowing red, although his composure was holding up.

“I wanted it to be personal, but a pair of gold dog tags with our names on it or sexy red lingerie might have been difficult to explain,” he said, poker faced (pink poker faced). “This way, if she finds it, you can just say it’s…”

Thor had crawled up the bed and interrupted that thought with a kiss, crouched straddling Loki’s legs. 

“Thank you, baby,” he said, as he hugged him. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he heard Loki’s faint, muffled reply.

“Well,” said Thor, reaching for the parcel he had put in the drawer of the bedside table earlier, “I know I said I wouldn’t, but…”

“Oh, no,” warned Loki.

“Oh yes, I’m afraid.” Thor handed him the parcel, as he sat on his heels between Loki’s legs. “I saw it and I knew it was for you.”

Loki shook his head, tut-tutting. He unwrapped the parcel with such care and pause, anyone would have said that instead of opening a present, he was disabling an explosive device. Thor could hardly contain the excitement. After the wrapping paper, came the posh embossed cardboard box. Finally, the lid came off.

“Nothing original, I know,” said Thor, apologetic, “but I thought you like to wrap up warm, and I even looked into cozy sweaters and blankets, but when I saw this…”

Loki unfolded the scarf, which draped with the elegant weight and flow of its blend of precious fibres, that Loki’s trained eye and hand were sure to appreciate. The pattern was exquisite, sumptuous, black and green and gold thread, and so soft, Thor could only think of comparing it to the feel of running water. He had never paid so much money for a goddamn piece of cloth, but after he had this in his hand, and seeing Loki gently rub it between his fingertips in silence, he thought the price tag was fair.

“It’s beautiful,” said Loki, with a breathless tone that made that word take on some serious heft. “Thank you.” He leaned in for a kiss, eyes shut. “You shouldn’t have,” he said, right by Thor’s lips.

“I know, but I wanted to,” he said. “I passed on sweaters and blankets because… well, you can wear this to the office. And I can see you in it.”

Loki smirked, and threw the scarf around Thor’s neck, holding it taut, drawing Thor closer to him.

“Just the scarf?” he teased, trying for humour to lighten up the mood. Didn't really manage it. It was one of the last chances they would get to be alone together like that, perhaps the very last one, before Thor had to leave to spend Christmas with his parents, and then fly to London with Jane for the New Year, as they had planned months ago. 

Thor’s own mood was heavy with those thoughts, but he didn’t want the memory of today to be a sad one either. He put on a playful smile.

 “Just the scarf,” he purred, letting Loki reel him in. They kissed slowly and hungrily, open mouths, hot tongues. Loki raised his knees, entrapping him. They slid down the bed, and now Thor was fully on top, and hardening up quickly. He humped dry between Loki’s thighs.

“We really don’t have time,” whispered Loki, but he had hooked his ankles around Thor’s calves, and was bucking up his hips to press against Thor.

“But baby, it’s cold outside…” mumbled Thor, grinding.

“We’ll be so late,” muttered Loki against his lips.

“We’ll tell them… whatever,” said Thor. “It could be our last chance.”

Loki’s hands raked down his back and found their way underneath his shirt. Thor hissed -- so cold. Never breaking the kiss, Thor slipped his hands between them to unzip and unbutton.

“My suit…” protested Loki, weakly.

“So take it off then,” replied Thor. 

They both got Loki out of his clothes. Thor lost the shirt, but kept his pants on. Loki pushed them down under his butt, and sunk his fingers in the bare flesh, with a hum. Loki’s cock was hard and cold against him. 

“We have to be quick,” said Loki. 

“Baby, if you asked me to take it easy, that’s when we’d have a problem,” said Thor, reaching in the bedside table where he had put the strip of lube packets earlier. “I’m about to burst.”

“Don’t fucking leave me high and dry, or so help me…”

Thor cut him off with a kiss. He was rubbing his hands together to warm up the lube. He bit Loki’s lip as he slipped one finger inside him. Loki groaned and arched his back. 

“Fuck, yes…” he sighed, grabbing Thor’s hand and encouraging him to move. “Come on…”

With the second finger Loki sucked in a breath, but it soon turned to a breathy moan. 

“Come on, come on…” urged Loki, reaching for Thor’s cock, spreading his legs wide.

“You sure?”

“Yes, fuuuck…” 

Thor spread lube on himself, and propped on one arm, he lined up. Loki’s hand helped to guide him. He pushed in. Loki was frowning, eyes shut, expression tense. Thor buried himself balls deep, and breathed in slowly, trying not to come right there and then — Loki was tight.

“Ok?” asked Thor.

“Come on…” said Loki, with a strong hold of Thor’s ass. 

Thor began to move gently, snaking his hips. He had learned that when Loki did that, it brushed on that sweet spot inside and drove him insane. Loki’s jaw fell unhinged, drowsy eyes, sounding wrecked already. Thor felt his need taking over, he fucked faster, he wanted to get deeper. He pushed Loki's knees up to his ears, folding him in half, opening him up and slamming against him hard. Loki’s moans, high-pitched, breathless, out of synch, as if he was holding back until he could not be quiet any more. He sneaked one hand between them to jack off. Thor propped himself up to leave him some room, and watched him as climax washed over him. Loki seized up, and with one last strangled, pleading whimper, he came on his chest and his neck. Thor’s hips stuttered, he fucked faster, and groaned deeply and shook up as he spilled inside Loki, hard and long, grinding. He collapsed on top of him, both breathing hard, Loki’s hand from his butt to his hair, fingers weaving in, so tender.

“I love you, baby,” panted Thor. 

Loki kissed him for an answer. He did not complain about having Thor’s entire weight squashing him, even though his breath was short, and Thor was grateful for it, because he wasn’t ready to move yet. He had no words to express the sinking feeling inside, the dread that he always felt at this point that this might be the last time they got to be together. 

“Maybe we can still make Thursday…” said Loki, vaguely, as if he was reading his thoughts.

“Baby,” said Thor, choking up, “what are we going to do…”

A long time before Loki answered, his strokes gentle on Thor’s hair.

“We said we wouldn’t talk about it.”

Thor swallowed down again and again, trying to suppress the crying. He felt Loki’s quiet sigh in the rise and fall of his chest.

“Nothing,” said Loki, “we do nothing. After the hearing, I’m taking a plane home, and that’s it. That’s all.”

Thor’s tears were swelling now. Soon they would start to fall. Loki would feel them on his skin.

“I can’t fucking accept that,” said Thor, hoarse with the lump in his throat.

“What other choice do we have?” said Loki softly. “Stop banging your head against the wall. The situation is what it is, and the decision is made. If you really wanted to leave her, you would have done so by now. And I get why you don’t, I really do. It’s fine. I get it. It’s fine.”

“She loves me so much,” said Thor, as if he had to defend himself. “Shit, I don’t even know what I fucking feel for her anymore.”

“You still love her,” said Loki quietly. “Or it would be so much easier, wouldn’t it?”

“Nothing about this is easy.”

“I know,” whispered Loki.

“We’re not having sex anymore, me and Jane.”

Loki’s hand in his hair almost stopped, then began to stroke again gently.

“Of course you’re not,” he said. “I wouldn’t feel frisky either if I couldn’t keep my food down. But it will pass. I hear they become rabid by the second trimester. Crazy randy hormones kick in or something.”

Thor laughed, without much cheer.

“God help me,” he said. Without no cheer whatsoever this time, he repeated, “God help me.”

Loki sighed again.

“We need to get going.”

Slowly and battling his will, Thor sat up on his heels. Loki underneath him had a naughty, sexy smirk.

“Look at you, all covered in me.”

“Look at you, full of me,” returned Thor, actually feeling between Loki’s thighs, making him gasp in feign shock at his impudence.

They had stopped using protection. They hadn’t discussed it. When Thor was waiting for him at the hotel after leaving that envelope of Loki’s desk, fingers up his ass, preparing himself, he had had the condoms in his hand and… God, inside me. Nothing between them. And it was stupid and reckless and unsafe, but he had done it regardless, because he fucking wanted it so much. He wasn't having sex with Jane anyway, and Thor trusted Loki to take precautions with his other lovers. Fuck it. I want it. One more utterly selfish and unforgivable thing, he guessed, but who's counting anymore.

He touched the come smeared on his own chest, and stared at Loki. They held each other’s eye for an instant that said one fucking hell of a lot. Loki was running his eyes on his bare skin as if he wanted to commit the details to memory. It may be the last time. It was always maybe the last time.

“Get off,” grumbled Loki, looking away. “We’re late.”

They cleaned up together in the bathroom. They put their clothes back on and checked each other out for tell-tale signs. Loki tut-tutted at the wrinkles on his own shirt and pants, which Thor had discarded carelessly on the floor after peeling them off him. He seemed also appalled at the state of Thor’s pants, badly crumpled around the groin and upper thighs from when Thor had just pushed them down, instead of taking them off altogether.

“They look like that after I’ve been sitting on my ass all day, don’t worry,” said Thor.

Loki picked something off the zipper area, and showed it to him: a fine black pube.

“Whoops,” Thor laughed.

Thor brushed Loki’s shoulder, as if dusting some non-existent bit of fluff, and left his hand there, sliding it to grab around the back of Loki’s neck and bring their foreheads together. With his eyes closed, he let himself feel his warmth and his scent one more time, before they had to get back to the world.

“I love you,” he whispered, from the bottom of his soul.

Loki let him pull him in his arms and hold him tight.

“See you Thursday, maybe?” he whispered.

“Maybe,” said Thor, without much hope.

Chapter Text

In the conventions room of a nice hotel downtown, rented for the evening, Shield’s Christmas Party was in full swing. Thor had been trying for almost two hours now to be his usual, soul-of-the-party self. He had toured the grounds, patted backs, shaken hands, kissed cheeks, bantered, shown interest in people’s lives, families, and plans for the holidays, and he had done it all with a smile on his face. And yet, he had been asked no less than thirty goddamn times if he wasn’t feeling well. That’s the problem with being of a sunny disposition, everybody notices when you’re having an off day. But couldn’t they just try and pretend? Fucking hell, he was.

“Want a refill?” he asked his lovely wife, taking her glass. A virgin cocktail for her, of course. That pearl-coloured gown she wore clung on to her incipient belly, so congratulations had been raining on Thor’s head all night. He had accepted them graciously. His feelings about that subject were still an unholy goddamn mess he didn’t want to think about right now.  

He made his way to the bar. His eyes drifted into space as he waited. But they were soon drifting towards the other end of the room. Loki was there, in that sharp-cut, tight fitting black suit. It was a casual party, so no tie. A scarf instead. Yes of course, that scarf. At the moment, he was talking to Coulson and Fury (listening, more like), but he turned to meet Thor’s gaze, as if he had felt his eyes on him. He ran his fingers slowly down the scarf. The miserable scowl on Thor's face broke into a little smile, barely there, but heartfelt at least.

He reunited with his beautiful, pregnant wife, who was talking animatedly with Peggy and Steve, and he tried to keep up with the conversation. He had to turn his back to Loki, to prevent his eyes, and his attention, from straying again and again.

*

“If you’ll excuse me,” Loki told Coulson, the second there was a gap in the conversation, “I need a refill.” 

But once he got a drink, he did not rejoin that group. He discretely made his way out of the room. It wasn’t rowdy inside, but with that jazzy, christmas-themed music playing in the background, and with so many people talking and laughing in a closed space, Loki’s head was about to fucking explode. 

Out in the street, the cold hurting his face, he exhaled a white cloud, and relished the moment of peace and quiet.

“Happy Christmas,” said a voice he knew well behind his back. 

He turned. It was Bucky, leaning against the wall, having a smoke.

“And a happy new year,” Loki replied. He was beginning to shiver.

Bucky checked him up and down.

“Looking good.”

“You too," replied Loki, with a neutral expression. But he did look damn fine.

There was an awkward silence. Bucky was going to say something, but he wasn’t quite daring yet.

“I better go back in,” said Loki, before Bucky made up his mind, “I’m freezing.”

He was a few steps inside the building when he heard Bucky call behind his back.

“Loki…”

A few steps ahead of Loki, another door opened.

“There you are!” Tony appeared in the hallway. He spotted the man behind Loki. He beamed. “And… oh, my good Lord, you must be Bucky!”

Fuck. Loki’s eyes shut tightly under a heavy frown. 

Tony and Bucky were now only a few feet away from each other. 

“Well, well, well!" said Tony, with a quick once-over. He managed to make that come out simply as admiration, and not sleazy in the least. He had a charming, dashing smile on his face, as he offered his hand. “What a pleasure. We meet at last.”

Bucky took that stranger in, head to toe, his overly familiar words and ways confusing him thoroughly, and filling him with a suspicion he probably could not even place right now, but stopped him from shaking Tony’s hand.

“And you are…?” said Bucky, coldly.

“Tony, Tony Stark.”

“You say that as if it should mean something to me,” replied Bucky, stiff, wary.

Tony dropped his hand, and the cheery tone.

“I’m Loki’s boyfriend.”

Bucky’s face fell, stunned, his eyes wide. He turned to Loki, who at first could not meet his stare. When he did, he shrunk from the twisted, caustic smirk that had appeared on Bucky’s face. 

“I see,” was all Bucky said. He turned around, and strode away.

Loki exhaled. This fucking day just kept getting better and better.

“He didn’t know about me?” said Tony, reproachful. “You had not told him?”

Loki clenched his jaw. 

“Not now,” he said, as he followed after Bucky.

He caught him in the front lobby. 

“Bucky, wait,” he grabbed his arm. Bucky snatched it away.

“So you ‘don’t do boyfriends’, rigth?” he mocked, bitterly, still walking. 

“No, I don’t.”

“Oh, right, right, I get it," said Bucky, feigning realisation. He had stopped now. That sarcastic smile cut like a knife. “You don’t do boyfriends, but you do exceptions, just not for me. That makes me feel so, so much better.”

Loki felt a bad burn in his gut.

“I don’t do exceptions,” he said. “Some exceptions just… sort of make themselves.”

Bucky shook his head slowly, aghast at Loki's nerve.

“My oh my, what a way with words you have,” he said. “Tell me, has there ever been a time when that silver tongue of yours didn’t get you out of the shit?”

Loki swallowed, his stomach churning.

“I somehow doubt it's going to do much for me right now.”

“Then why don’t you shut the fuck up!” snarled Bucky.

Loki flinched. He muttered, “I don’t think I can help myself.”

Bucky snorted, but sarcasm fell from his face now, and there was only hurt.

“I knew I wasn’t a big deal to you,” he said. “But at least I thought you were being honest. Of course, I was so fucking low in the food chain, I didn’t even deserve that!”

Loki was feeling sick. Bucky was completely fucking right, and he had nothing, absolutely nothing to say for himself.

“Didn’t it occur to you for a fucking second that I would have gone into this differently, if I had known you had a fucking boyfriend?” challenged Bucky.

Loki couldn’t hold his stare, so Bucky sunk the knife in.

“I guess I should thank you for being such a mean shit to me all this time, right? What an ungrateful, stupid fucking idiot am I.” 

Loki’s throat was dry, and he felt as if he was going to puke.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?” said Bucky.

“What good would it do,” said Loki. “It’s better this way.”

Oh, Bucky was speechless for a moment, too indignant to reply.

“Oh, right!” he scoffed. “So this is all for my own fucking good!”

Shit, Bucky, thought Loki, just fucking hit me already.

“Fuck you, Loki,” he hissed, as he walked away.

Loki just stood there. He would have preferred a beating.

“You had not told him about me?” said Tony, when Loki finally brought himself around to rejoining the party.

 “Please, not now,” he begged, “please.”

Tony was going to reply, and it wasn’t going to be nice.

“Tony, hi!”

Enter Thor and Jane. Oh, fucking great.

“Jane, sweetheart!” beamed Tony. “Oh my god, look at you! My darling, you are glowing! How far gone? It’s a baby, right? Answer the last question first.”

She laughed.

“It’s a baby, yeah. Sixteen weeks. Hello, Loki.”

“Hi, Jane.” He leaned in for a kiss. Skin like a fucking mirror, a lovely, natural blush permanently on her high cheekbones, massive hazel eyes, the neck of a swan. And an outstandingly decent human being as well. Loki swallowed. That sickly feeling was rising again.

“So, does it have arms and legs already?” joked Tony.

“We certainly hope so!” she laughed.

Pleasantries followed. As he tried to pretend he was listening, dipping in and out of it, Loki toyed nervously with his scarf, and carefully avoided Thor’s eyes. Sometimes a word would catch Loki's ear and would make him reengage for a spell.

“Oh, London? When?” Tony was saying.

“After Christmas, for a convention, and then my friend, Doctor Selvig, remember him?”

“A colourful chap,” teased Tony.

She laughed. “He’s invited us to his country house in Sweden for New Year’s Eve. We may even get lucky and see the Northern lights!”

“Ah, how lovely, one last romantic escapade.”

Yada yada. Loki was trying to keep a light, mostly blank countenance, but there was no hiding the black thundercloud above his head, especially as it kept turning darker and darker by the minute. He guessed he should be trying to engage in conversation with Thor, because that uptight silence between them was beginning to look very fucking weird.

And Tony kept throwing them glances, those eyebrows of his giving away the spin of the wheels and cogs in his brain. Hawaii with Pepper… No, Loki hates the tropics… He was conversing easily, relaxed, and Jane would never be able to tell he was only paying her half an ear. He was good at this. With those big innocent brown eyes and that childish smile, who would have guessed he was such a cunning, fine liar.

Conversation was beginning to fray now, probably because of Thor and him, two mute, awkward lumps of meat standing there uncomfortably, stiff as boards, impervious to the bubbly mood of their respective partners.

The moment there was a pause, Loki pounced on it.

“Tony, could we go?”

Tony stared at him, that insightful, scrutinising glint in his eye.

“Sure," he said, cold.

“Aren’t you feeling well, Loki?” asked Jane, with polite concern.

“Not really. Overworked. Last few days before the break, you know.”

“Thor's exhausted too, aren’t you, Thor?” she said. “You have both been working such long hours…”

Tony’s eyes darted up and met his. Loki had a sheepish look on his face, and he knew it, and he could not fucking wipe it out.

“I’ll go get the car,” Tony said. “Jane, it’s been lovely to see you. Thor.” He kissed her and shook Thor’s hand. 

“Give your mother my love,” said Loki. 

“I will.” Thor shook his hand. He had not noticed how Tony had been observing them during the chat, and so it was a lingering, much-too-strong handshake, absolutely obvious if you knew what you were looking at; its intensity flew over Jane’s head, but not Tony’s. 

Fuck.

They were quiet in the car, the silence between them thick and heavy. Tony kept his eyes on the road at all times. Loki’s heart was pounding.

Once inside the house, Loki hadn’t even finished hanging up his coat when Tony said, “You’re fucking Thor.”

Loki remembered a time when he would have been able to stare at him blankly and reply “what are you talking about,” without so much as batting an eyelid. Tonight, all he could do was swallow with a dry throat, without meeting Tony's stare or making a sound. And that was his reply.

Tony scoffed bitterly, but his eyes gave his devastation away. And he probably realised, because he fled the scene. He strode towards the bar.

Loki followed after a moment, with slow, cautious steps. He wasn’t even sure he was allowed in the house right now. He watched Tony pour himself a very long shot of scotch.

“How long,” said Tony, after a considerable gulp.

Loki tried to take a deep breath in complete silence. All he managed was a shivery sigh.

“Two months.”

Tony turned to him, his big eyes even bigger with outrage, fixed, unflinching, burning a hole in Loki's skull. Then the sardonic smirk appeared, and Loki begged the ground to take some fucking pity and just swallow him up once and for all.

“When exactly were you planning on telling me?” said Tony.

Loki looked cowardly to the floor.

“You were not going to tell me,” deduced Tony. “You had no intention whatsoever. You never did.”

Loki's lips were shivering. He clenched his jaw.

“You’re in love with him,” said Tony.

The words hit him right in the gut. The dejection in Tony’s face was bad, the sarcasm plastered over it was worse. There was a claw of iron around Loki’s throat now, choking him. He flinched when Tony slammed the glass on the bar, splashing decades-old scotch all over the place.

A silence loaded with a dark, seething energy set between them.

“Go ahead, judge me,” muttered Loki, after a while.

“Judge you?” 

“Tell me what a selfish asshole I am. The lovely home I’m shattering. All the lives I’m ruining.” (Please. Just do it, please.)

Another silence followed, scary as hell. He looked up at Tony, and he immediately wished he hadn’t. Loki had never seen him as disappointed or as angry with him as he was now. He had never seen him more hurt.

“Fuck you, Loki,” a hiss. Several huffs, as he tried to control his breathing and his voice. “When have I ever judged you?” he said then, his voice thick, but holding up. “You think that’s what this is about? That’s how well you know me, how much you’ve fucking bothered to understand me? That’s how far up your own ass you are, that all you can think of right now is oh, poor Loki, I’m such a horrible and despicable creature, and everybody hates me and despises me, woe is me!” 

He had yelled that last bit. Loki startled. He felt that he had to hold Tony's stare - it was the least he could do somehow, stand there and took all Tony threw at him, and not spare himself one bit of it -, but god, it was hard.

“I don’t have it in me to break it down for you this time,” said Tony, his voice cutting like a knife. “I don’t have it in me to hold your hand and fucking walk you through it, so just take my fucking word for it, alright? I’m not fucking judging you, Loki. I’m heartbroken.”

There was so much hostility on his face. The certainty that he was the cause and the source and the focus of all that suffering in front of his eyes was making Loki's stomach heave. What could he say. What was there to say. Words were cheap. He could explain himself for hours and it would only make Loki himself feel better, not Tony. So he just kept his mouth shut. It was not like he deserved to feel better.

“I-I’m going to have ask you to leave,” said Tony, his voice tightly measured, with a kind of polite coldness, almost impersonal, as if he wasn’t really talking to him.

The message hit him right on, and Loki now struggled to breathe, as if it had broken his fucking ribs, which were now crushing his lungs. There it was, his worst fucking fear come to pass. After all the shit he had put him through, Tony had finally said enough.

“Please,” said Tony. “If this was your place, I’d do the leaving, but it isn’t. And I-I can’t be with you right now. I can’t see you.” 

He turned his back on Loki. Physically turned his back on him, maybe to fight the impulse to give in to what Loki guessed was his sad puppy face. Which for the record, your Honour, this time wasn’t a ploy. 

If there was one single decent, fair thing Loki could do right now, was to get the fuck out of that house, and not make this any more difficult for Tony. So he turned around, and walked away. 

He hesitated at the door. Should he say anything? Everything that came to mind right now sounded sarcastic or a “fuck you,” (Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, Goodbye, See you… Each one worse than the last). It felt very fucking wrong, but he left without saying anything. He closed the door carefully, though, without a sound.

He didn’t cry.

When he woke up from his drunken stupor a few hours later, alone in that empty house, then he did cry.

Chapter Text

Christmas. Dinner had finished hours ago, the guests had taken their leave. Balder and Nanna were the last ones; they had a long drive back to the city. 

Dusk had set in, and a light snowfall had started. Jane said she fancied a walk, so Thor took Attis, the fluffy mongrel who had replaced Thor’s old dog, Mjölnr, after she died (Thor had always felt that Attis was more Balder’s dog than his), and out they went into the night, arm in arm. She looked beautiful in the orange twilight the street lights created with the snow, and he told her. It made her smile.

Already on their way back, almost home, Thor slowed down as they walked past an old, crumbling house.

“This is where Loki used to live growing up.”

She turned to the old building, with its boarded-up windows, the cracking paint, the picket fence full of gaps. The snow softened the effect somewhat, but the state of severe disrepair came through even under that glazing.

“How come it’s abandoned?”

“Loki’s brothers contested the will. It wasn’t clear — Laufey, their father, was a heavy drinker. But they either ran out of money for attorneys along the way, or they lost interest, or both. Or there may be an ongoing process we don’t know about. Anyway, it can't be sold, so the house has been shut down for years, since Laufey died.”

“When was that?”

“It wasn’t that long ago. Loki had already left for London. It looks like centuries, judging from the state of this place, doesn’t it? Laufey wasn’t great at housekeeping. It was already falling apart when I was a kid.”

They stared at the sad, ruinous building. 

“Poor Loki,” said Jane.

Thor only sighed in response. He felt a sudden impulse. He jumped the fence, crossed the yard, and climbed the three steps up to the porch, his steps crunching in the snow. He crouched and lifted a board just to the side of the door.

“Oh, my god!” his face brightened up with joy.

“What is it?”

He walked back to her, holding his hands up. They were full of trinkets, a magpie’s treasure trove: a couple of glass marbles, rolls of colourful string, a rusty skeleton key, crayons, a few old coins, little cheap plastic soldiers, a pretty pebble.

“Loki’s treasure. Look, these are our names, in runic alphabet. Loki carved it.” Thor held up the pebble to the light for her to see. “I can’t believe it’s still here.” He contemplated the small booty with wonder. 

“Are you going to take it?” she asked.

He snapped out of his daydream.

“It’s not mine,” he said. 

“For safekeeping?”

He smiled again.

“Seems fairly safe where I found it.” He walked back and put it all back in its place. He hesitated the most with the engraved pebble. With another sigh, and a feeling of finality, he laid it among the rest of the trinkets, and carefully replaced the board. Like closing up a casket.

He dusted his hands as he returned to Jane. Back on the other side of the fence, he had one last look.

“I swear this yard used to be bigger, and the ceiling of that porch a lot taller,” he mused. “It seems I spent half my childhood under that porch, waiting for Loki to come out.”

“Waiting?”

“The way it is in my memories, he was forever doing his homework. He took it more seriously than I did. I either left it for the last minute, or slap-dashed it to run out to play. But he would always take his time.”

She was staring at him with an immense tenderness, the kind of expression she usually had when they were showing her Thor’s family photo albums, or telling her stories about him as a little boy. She clung to his arm, and stood up on tip-toes for a kiss.

Home and dry. They hung up their coats, Attis dried up from the snowflakes pearling his fur with a vigorous shake.

“I think I’ll be heading straight to bed,” said Jane, after a yawn. “I need to put my feet up, and my head down. Long day.”

He stopped her when she was already a few steps up the stairs, for a kiss. Then he lifted her jumper and put a kiss on her belly too. She held her breath, as her skin covered up in goosebumps. When he looked up, she had desire in her eyes. His touch had aroused her. They kissed again, more heatedly this time, but still with restraint — this was Thor’s parents’ house after all.

“I’ll be up in a bit,” he said.

“Don’t take too long, or you’ll find me snoring.”

He slipped his hand up her back, under her jumper, making her shiver.

“No, I won’t,” he said, with a cocky smirk.

“No, you probably won’t,” she admitted, looking flustered. “Because I don’t snore,” she joked, with a wink. 

He made an appreciative sound as she climbed up the stairs. She chuckled.

In the living room, he rekindled the embers, sat on the couch in front of the hearth, and took off his boots. Attis came to lie by his side. Thor’s sight was drawn to the flames. All the lights were out, there was only the flickering glow of the fire, casting strange and changing shadows, creating the illusion of life and movement from objects inanimate and still. His hands itched and ached as the heat made his blood flow again, reviving them.

“You’re not going to bed yet, son?” said his father, standing behind his back.

“In a minute,” said Thor.

Odin’s old, but still strong hand gripped his shoulder. Thor patted it, then squeezed it warmly.

“Good night, son,” said Odin, squeezing back.

“Good night, dad.”

His parent’s voices carried in the stillness of the house from outside the living room - somewhere by the stairs, perhaps -, with only Attis' huffy sighs in his sleep and the crackling logs to be heard besides them. Thor tuned his ear to their warm tone, the muffled chuckles, then the smack of a kiss - no passion in it, but not mere routine either; his mom and dad still kissed like they meant it. Dad still bought her flowers, mom still looked at him as if he was the dashing young man that had stolen her heart all those years ago. He still noticed whenever she changed her hair or wore something new, and liked to embarrass his sons by urging them to comment on how beautiful she looked in that outfit or that gown.

Would Thor still be kissing Jane like he meant it after forty years? Would he still be bringing her flowers? 

Did his parents still make love? Shit, brain bleach, right now. …And yet it seemed terribly important to find out, not that he would ever dare to ask. Had their parents ever thought of breaking up? Thor remembered bleaker times now and again, more fighting, more tension. Once or twice after a big argument, he remembered asking his mom, “Are you going to get a divorce?” And had either of them ever had an affair? Sure, it was none of his business what went down between his parents. But also, it sort of… was? It was his mom and dad; his life could have been completely different. He didn’t have a say in it, but he still wished he knew more.

Maybe he shouldn’t. As he grew older, and his parents had started to talk to him as an adult, Thor had found out that lots of things had not gone down the way he remembered them, and he had discovered for the first time other things he had been shielded from when he was still a child. That Odin had had a major heart intervention once, and had been in hospital for a whole month, none of which Thor could remember at all. That grandpa Bor did not die in his sleep, but in the afternoon; that attempts had been made at reanimation by the paramedics; that it had not been the elegant, peaceful transition Thor had been told when he was eight years old. That his mom had had a boyfriend in college, and that she had almost married him instead of dad, but that he had ended up with someone she hated and despised (his mom hated someone?!). That Balder had been a surprise after a chain of miscarriages, and that he had not been expected to come full-term. That Thor’s cat Freya did not just disappear one day, but was ran over, and took days to die. They were never delivered as crucial revelations, they simply dropped in conversation, just like that, and were all the more shocking to Thor for it. It was as if a whole other life had been happening behind a curtain that just kept on rising and rising. Adults who had minded their words around children, stopped trying to protect them from the seediest aspects of life as kids grew up. Or was it that children grew up the moment adults decided to stop shielding them? It was unsettling, to have to look back on his childhood memories and mistrust them. To have to tell his gut feeling, which ultimately ruled what to Thor felt true or not, that it was wrong.

“Am I disturbing you?” His mom appeared in his field of vision.

“Of course not.”

She sat next to him on the couch, and for a moment they watched the flames together in silence.

“It was a nice day, wasn’t it?” she said, as she put her hand on his. He noticed new brown spots on the frailer, thinning skin. Perhaps they had been there a while, and tonight he was more observant.

“Yes,” he said, holding her hand. “The food was lovely, mom.”

She nodded quietly. 

“Wouldn’t it be wonderful if Balder and Nanna also had a child next year? They would be so close in age, theirs and yours. They’d be great friends… I do so want a house full of kids for Christmas again.”

“Yeah, it would be cool. Nanna didn’t seem so keen, though.”

“Well, they’re still young. But nobody can say no to Balder for very long.”

“That’s true. It’s those big blue eyes of his. He’d get away with murder.”

She laughed.

“Jane told me that Loki is working at Shield,” she said.

Thor tensed up as one name followed the other in one single sentence. 

“Yeah. Just for the one case, though; Hydra, the big one.”

“How is he?”

Thor exhaled deeply, as he felt himself crumbling down. He planted his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands, rubbing tiredly. He felt scraped down to the bone. He was missing Loki something awful, and he wouldn’t be seeing him in almost two weeks, which already seemed to stretch before him like months. And he had been putting on the Happy Husband and Prospective Father façade all day, with people who knew him well, and which he actually had to see regularly for pretty much the rest of his life, which meant worrying whether his eyes were bright enough, or his smile big enough, as he was congratulated again and again about this blessing of the heavens about to be bestowed upon his perfect marriage. All of which, he did while thinking about his lover. As in, thinking about Loki all by himself in that big empty house. So this was how far he had endured, and no more. His veneer was cracking. His breathing turned heavy and huffy. He rubbed his eyes until he saw sparks.

Her hand came to rest on his hair, petting gently. How was Loki? Fucking hell, mom.

“I really don’t know what to say to that,” he replied. He leaned back again, shoulders slumped, eyes out of focus, her hand still comforting on his hair. “I guess he’s fine, in some ways. He’s successful, he’s rich, he has a-a partner. A boyfriend. They’ve been together for some time.”

“Oh, that’s great.”

“Yeah. Well. I’m not so sure about that.”

“Why do you say that?”

Damn. Nothing, forget it — it would not do, would it? He formulated his reply in his head first, checking it for giveaways.

“This guy, this boyfriend, Tony, he also has a girlfriend. It’s one of those weird arrangements. They use the word ‘unorthodox’. It seems ideal on the surface, sensible and healthy and balanced, but… I don’t know, I don’t know if this is the kind of set-up that can make Loki truly happy.”

“What makes you think that?”

Fuck.

“He-… he just doesn’t look very happy to me,” he said. “And I used to know him a bit. He wanted to be somebody’s first last and everything, somebody’s entire life. I guess he’s not a kid anymore, but, well, you don’t ever really outgrow a childhood like his, do you? He had always wanted to be needed, to feel irreplaceable, to rock someone’s world. Then again, he did always save a part of himself to himself, didn't he? He doesn’t like to be caged. He’s afraid of giving too much, and losing himself, and getting hurt. He always keeps some sort of safeguard in place, and maybe that’s what he has with Tony. Maybe this is the only way he can be with someone, when there’s a restriction of some kind, a limitation, an escape clause. Or an end date.”  He sighed, and checked his words. He was talking way too much. 

“Nothing was ever straightforward with Loki,” she said. “He liked to keep it complicated. He liked to keep people guessing.”

“That’s true, but in the end, once the smoke screen clears out, once you get through the illusion, the image of himself he likes to project, he’s really not that hard to get, and not half as complicated as he’d like to admit. He’s just a little boy in many ways, and he wants what a little boy wants, unconditional love, undivided attention. He’s as volatile, demanding, and impatient as a little boy, and he can be extremely cruel and extremely loving, like a little boy. He’s as intense as he ever was in that way.”

 They both smiled quietly, sharing for a moment their mutual love for Loki. And for Thor, it felt like the first real, fully heartfelt smile in days.

“Have you talked about what happened?” she asked.

“A bit.”

“And did you kiss and make up?”.

He hoped to god the heat from the flames was covering that blush.

“It’s behind us. As much as something like this can ever be truly put behind us, that is.”

“Yes, it was a fateful thing, a turning point for both of you. You can never get back those years you’ve missed. It must be a great relief, though, to have dealt with this once and for all. It was such a weight on your shoulders.”

Thor meditated his answer again.

“That weight is off, but I have others.”

“Did you not want this baby, darling?” she asked, shooting from the hip.

He felt a shudder and looked away, stomach churning. He never could hide much from his mother. He hoped he had done a better job with the rest of the family.

“You’re allowed to say you didn’t,” she said, petting his hair. “It doesn’t make you a horrible person, and it doesn’t mean you’re going to love him or her any less.”

He rubbed his beard nervously, as he looked for the right way to put it.

“I didn’t want a baby, but now I want this baby, but I still… I still didn’t want a baby. Does that make sense?”

“Perfect sense.”

She kept petting his hair, while Thor stared at the flames, unseeing.

“I sort of… I can’t believe it’s happening yet. That I’m going to have a child. That I’m going to be a dad.”

She smiled warmly.

“I remember that feeling,” she said. “I must confess I struggle to believe it myself. It seems only yesterday when I was pushing you to the park in your pram, the handsomest baby in town, in your rainbow hat with bear ears.”

He smiled now. He had seen the photos.

“Are things with Jane any better?” she asked.

He darted a look at her, taken aback. She didn’t flinch. He had not told her a thing. Had he? Well, she was always good at reading what was missing in his silences, even on the phone.

“I don’t know,” he said. “Yes, I guess. We’re both… sweeter to one another, more patient. Things had gotten a bit, I don’t know, dry, for a while. They never got bad, as in bad-bad, but… I don’t know. I’m still not… I’m not quite there. You know what I mean? …Damn, I feel awful.”

“Don’t be silly,” she said. “Nothing to feel bad about.”

He turned to look at her fully, the urge to confess it all at the tip of his tongue. He was desperate for advice and guidance, but more than anything, he was desperate for his mom to hug him, and tell him it would all be alright.

“Mom, have you and dad ever… Have you had bad times?”

“Of course. What couple doesn’t.”

For the next question, he pushed for the right wording that didn’t give it all away. 

“Have you ever wondered what your life might have been if…? I mean, with-with another person.”

She stared at him in silence. He felt himself turn smaller.

“I think everybody must do that, at one point or another,” she said. “In my case, it was an idle thought, just a ‘what if’. I never really meant it. Even in our worst times with your father, I could always fall back on the conviction that I had chosen the right person for me. But that’s not anything I can congratulate myself for, it’s sheer luck. I have faith that my decision was the right one. But faith is a gift, and some people have it, while other people don’t, and need to push through by other means. Don’t beat yourself over it, if you’re doubting.”

“Many would look at me, at my life, at my marriage, and say I’ve won the lottery. Am I an ungrateful bastard?”

“I wouldn’t put it quite like that.”

“How would you put it, then?”

She bit her lip in meditation, considered her words for a moment.

“I think it would depend on where your dissatisfaction with your life is coming from,” she said. “If it’s just immaturity, a kind of ‘grass is always greener’ syndrome, an irrational feeling that prevents you from fully appreciating what you have, then it’s something you need to grow up from. Because if that’s what it is, then no matter what life you lead, and no matter who you have by your side, you’ll always be dissatisfied. But if it’s a genuine feeling, coming from a real need you’ve got that your current lot cannot fulfill, then the frustration you’re experiencing is a sign that you either need to try harder to make what you’ve got work for you, or that you need to stop trying altogether, and move on to something else.”

He frowned, half vertigo, half disconcertment. 

“How can I know which one is it, what I’m feeling? How can I tell?” he asked.

She smiled warmly at his bafflement.

“Well, if you jump to something new and you’re still dissatisfied, there you have it. You were being an immature, ungrateful bastard, and you blew a good thing for nothing.”

“Not helping, mom,” he grumbled.

She smiled, commiserating.

“You’re too old for fairy tales, my darling.”

He turned to the fire. 

“I don’t know what to do,” he whispered. His face crumpled up in tears. He hid behind his hands.

“Oh, baby…” she said, throwing her arms around him. 

Deep breaths to control the sobs, eyes shut tight to fight off the sting. He leaned against her, and let himself take comfort. Slowly, he slid down on the couch on his side, curled up, his head on her lap, her hand on his hair, soothing. At least he didn't have to look her in the eyes now.

“Won’t you tell me what the problem is, my darling?”

“I can’t,” he choked out.

“Oh, baby,” she said, “don’t you know you could confess to a murder, and I would not love you any less?”

He chuckled, hoarse.

“I haven’t murdered anyone.”

“Well, that’s a relief. I wouldn’t love you any less, but I would be awfully conflicted. Saves a headache.”

He smiled faintly to the fire.

“This other life, this other person you fantasise about,” she said cautiously, after some time, “is it real?”

Thor gulped, and froze, and realised it was pointless to lie. He was answering with every second of hesitation, with every twitch of tension in his muscles. And he was gasping to confess anyway.

“It’s real,” he said, his heart hammering.

She took a moment to let that sink in.

“And is it platonic?” she asked.

He hesitated again, which really took away the need for an answer. He still made himself reply.

“No.”

“And is it still ongoing?”

His stomach churning, another gulp.

“Yes.”

She took another moment, which he spent doing his own lay version of praying.

“Did it begin before, or after you knew about the baby?”

He didn’t hesitate this time.

“Before. When we found out we broke up, but… But I couldn’t stay away. I love h-… this person with all my heart.” Words had scrambled out of his mouth, peddling for mercy and understanding.

“And Jane?”

Another twist in his stomach.

“…I don’t k-… No, fuck, of course I love her. And what we have together is a good thing. Isn’t it? We’re happy together. I mean, whatever my problem is, it’s not her. So as you say, how can I know I wouldn’t feel the same restlessness, the same dissatisfaction with this other person as well? What if I just want what I can't have, the fantasy of it? What if I stop wanting it the moment it becomes an everyday thing? I-I guess that’s what the mess in my head boils down to, I’m afraid of ruining something good I already have, and then, in a few months, find out that… God, I’m such a goddamn mess. And I’m such a f-… a damn coward.”

“You’re a good man in a complicated situation, trying to do his best. It’s not cowardice to stop and think, and try to make sure, before jumping to a decision that affects more people besides you, and in such a critical way.”

She was still stroking his hair, and god fucking dammit, if it wasn’t the best feeling in the world right now. With his eyes shut, Thor was drinking her love and her understanding like sweet hot cocoa, warming him from the inside out.

“But you can’t carry on with this situation indefinitely,” she said. “You have to do something about it, in time. It’s one thing to be cautious and not jump into things, and it’s another to abuse people’s ignorance and trust.”

“I know,” he muttered.

“Of course you do. I raised you well.”

“You still think so, after… this?” he mumbled sheepishly.

She held his face to turn it up towards her.

“What do you think?” She was smiling so warmly. “I never expected you to be flawless. I just hoped you would be decent. And you are a decent man.”

Thor turned his face to the fire again, his eyes low. 

“I just… I thought I’d be better than this, that I’d be stronger. That I wouldn’t find it so easy to-to lie. Sometimes I feel that I don’t fucking know who I am anymore. Like I can't trust myself. You don’t know the half of it. How the hell am I to know what I want?”

“Oh darling, don’t say that. You’re the same man you always were. Things happen in life, in our hearts, without our intention, or our permission, or our wish. Were you looking for someone else to fall in love with?”

“Hell, no.”

“Well, there you have it, then.”

“But… but falling in love is one thing. It’s another to…” He struggled with his words, feeling shy about the subject all of a sudden. “I-I’ve cheated.” First time he said it out loud.

She chuckled quietly. Thor snapped his face up to her again. How could she laugh?

“Tell me one thing," she said, "is this the first time you’ve been tempted? Is this the first time you have been attracted to someone else, since you’ve been with Jane?”

Fucking hell, mom. 

“N-no.”

“And did you cheat, in those occasions?”

“Of course not.”

She shrugged.

“So, there you are,” she said. 

He sighed deeply, his head still on her lap, her hand still on his hair. He remembered the ruthless war of attrition Loki had subjected him to, teasing and tempting and tormenting. How fucking good it had felt to just let go.

“What are you thinking?” she said.

He went for the other thing he had been thinking.

“That I’m feeling a little bit better about it all, and I’m not sure I have a right to feel better.”

“That kind of thinking won’t do anyone any good.”

“Can’t help it.”

She pushed and pulled until he had sat upright again, and made him face her.

“Listen, Thor,” she said, holding his face, “whatever has happened, happened. You’re human. We all make mistakes, we all do things we’re not proud of at times. It doesn’t make you a bad person. It’s what you do now that will define the kind of man you are. You have to decide if you’re going to be honest and decent and do the right thing, or whether you’ll keep coasting on it, out of indecision or fear, or simply because it’s the easiest. Understand?”

He nodded, but couldn’t hold her stare. She let go of his face. He leaned back on the couch, eyes lost in the flames.

“Mom, if dad had cheated on you, would you want to know?”

She thought about it for a long time.

“Yes,” she said at last, when she reached a conclusion. “I think I would. I don’t like secrets”

“What do you think Jane would want?”

“She doesn’t strike me as a person who likes secrets either.”

“That’s what I used to think, but… These last few months, even before this... other thing started, it seemed as if… I mean, whenever the conversation went anywhere near us, our situation, our problems, she seemed eager to change the subject, to stop me before I could bring it up. And there are certain questions she doesn’t ask, as if she suspected something, but… but didn’t want to know. That’s not like Jane at all.”

“She must be terrified of losing you.”

Suddenly, there was an unbearable weight on his chest.

“Perhaps she doesn’t know what to do about it," added Frigga, "and since she can’t think of a solution, she just hides her head in the sand. I would say that’s a very human thing to do as well. And now she’s pregnant… I think I too might be in complete denial, and just wishing for it to go away, and not even let myself think about it, or hear of it.”

He touched his throat, where it was burning inside. The thought of Jane lost, confused, and afraid… 

“God, what the fuck am I doing…” he muttered.

“But just as you work through your doubts and fears, she will work through hers,” she said, as if she hadn’t heard a thing. “She’s sensible, and strong, and she can look after herself.”

“But… she shouldn’t have to. That’s what I’m here for.”

She smiled fondly, and stroked his face.

“This other person,” said Thor, “will be leaving soon. Far away.”

“Well, I guess that’s a blessing, in a way,” she said. “You won’t have to see each other again if you decide to end it. It should make it easier for both of you.”

“If?” he choked out. “What choice do we have?”

She sighed, with some exasperation.

“Thor, darling… Every choice. You have every choice, all of them. It’s your life. You’re not chained to Jane, you don’t owe her a life indenture simply because you’re going to have a baby with her. It’s the baby you’re bound to, and you can be a good father for that baby with another person by your side, or with nobody at all. If there’s one thing I am sure of, is that I would not want anyone to stay with me just out of duty, just because they feel they have no other choice. If you love Jane and want to stick with Jane, because it’s what you prefer, what you think it’s going to make you happy, then stay with Jane. If you love that other person, and you think you’d be happier with him, then leave Jane and give this other person a chance. Don’t stay with Jane just because she’s your wife, or because of the baby, or because breaking up would be too painful or too complicated. Stay because she is the one you want. And not just for yourself, but for her sake too. She does not deserve anything less.”

He stood quietly stunned, reeling.

“And if you do choose her,” she added, “you may need to come clean and tell her the truth, and give her the chance to decide if she chooses you or not.”

He rubbed his eyes tiredly for a long time. He felt a strange numbness, beyond exhaustion. This secret inside had been taking up such a stupid amount of mental space, and at least for a moment, he felt as if it was not within him anymore. He was relieved. He leaned into her arms again, and she hugged him. His mother knew. His mother knew, and perhaps he would be able to sleep all night tonight because of it.

“How I wish I could make all your worries go away,” she whispered. “Whenever you struggled at school, whenever you found something difficult or scary, how I wanted to just keep you in my arms, so that you would never have to face it. I wouldn’t have been a very good mother if I did, but it was hard, to see you suffer.” She was rocking him slowly. “You’ll find out soon.”

He huffed.

“Not really selling it to me, mom.”

She chuckled.

“Oh, you’re going to love being a dad, Thor.”

They hugged again once they got upstairs, on the landing, before making their separate ways to their rooms.

“Good night, my darling,” she whispered.

“I love you, mom,” he replied.

He tried to undress and slip into bed in complete silence (Jane was snoring softly, it was cute). The old bed creaked under his weight. He laid on his back, facing the dark, his wife’s body pushing against him in that narrow mattress that sunk in the middle. The whole conversation was circling in his head, and something was bugging him about it.

It hit him all of a sudden. “If you think you’d be happier with him…”

Well, fuck. And how she had avoided saying “the other woman” all along, right from the start? He had been so relieved about her choice of words, and had been so happy to go with them, he hadn’t even thought… How the hell did she know? Was it just an intuition he had confirmed with his every word? And with the way he had been talking about Loki tonight… Fuck, the way he had always talked about Loki! Had she known about it all his fucking life? 

Oh, fucking hell. It was a relief in some ways, but so fucking sad in many others, because how many times, how many times must she have tried to talk to him about it, and Thor had only clammed up like the surly, irritable teenager that he was? One single open chat about it would have made such a fucking difference. His whole life might have been different. Loki’s life might have been different. “You can never get back all those years you’ve missed…”

Thor sighed heavily, and kissed his hopes for a good night sleep goodbye. Before tonight, he had more or less come around to the idea that he would have to let Loki go, that it was utterly hopeless between them. And now he was a complete mess again, because he had his mother's blessing. He still wasn’t sure about Loki, and he still wasn’t sure about himself, and he still feared throwing it all away with Jane, and then finding out that Loki had never intended for this to become real.

But then again, no matter what Loki wanted or did not want, perhaps he didn’t have the right to carry on with Jane just because he was not sure of the alternative. Perhaps, if those were his reasons, they weren’t good enough. Damn, it was all so abstract, Right and Wrong and Should and Shouldn’t was all fucking great, but when push came to shove, Jane was very real, very warm, and very much alive by his side, and so afraid that she could not even let him broach the goddamn subject. People stayed together all the time out of responsibility, out of timidity, out of fear of hurting others, out of fear of being alone. Perhaps Jane didn’t give a damn about Thor’s reasons, as long as he stayed.

He wondered for the first time whether he should just ask Loki what he wanted, and not stop pestering him until he got an answer. 

He wondered what he was up to right now. Damn, he missed him so much.

*

New Year’s Eve. 

Loki’s phone went ping. Loki lifted his eyes from his papers, stretched his arms. It was late. He reached for the phone. Well, how about that, midnight already, he hadn’t even realised. He opened the message.

“Happy new year. I love you. T.”

In spite of himself, in spite of it all, he found himself smiling at the stupid screen. He didn’t caress the goddamn words, but he was close.

He sighed miserably then. Well, Laufeyson, how’s that, you win. Don’t you believe me? Well, behold the evidence. There you go, in your hand, in black and white: victory. He’s on a romantic trip with his pregnant wife under the northern lights, and he’s thinking about you. And not just generally thinking, he’s been keeping an eye on the time zones, and he’s made sure that his message got to you on the stroke of your midnight, the sappy, lovesick doofus. You’ve got him eating out of the palm of your hand.

All Thor needed now was a little push. He was begging for it. An anonymous note under Jane’s door, an untraceable email, a rumour at work. Thor would never find out how it started. And he would never be able to deny it, if his wife asked him if it was true. And so, Loki’s original plan would have come to fruition. He would have achieved what he had set out to achieve: ruining Thor’s life.

And once Jane kicked Thor out, Loki had options. He could turn his back on Thor, and watch him suffer, just like Loki had suffered all those years; or, he could take him in, welcome him with open arms (and open legs), and have what he had always wanted. Talk about having your cake and eat it.

Shit, even if Thor found out it was Loki who had let the cat out of the bag with Jane, he would forgive him. He would. Sooner or later, he always fucking forgave him.

One little push, that was all.

Loki chuckled. At himself, and quite bitterly. How fucking unfortunate that it should be precisely on this occasion that his fabled killer instinct should desert him. Oh, Laufeyson, pathetic sod. Even when triumph is fully within your grasp, you can’t win, you never fucking win. You lack conviction.

With one last, lingering look to the words on the screen, he deleted the message.

He poured himself another glass of wine, and went back to work. It helped pass the days. He kept his nose stuck in the case until he fell down from exhaustion, no time between wake and sleep to lie there and think.

Chapter Text

Monday morning, his first day in after the Christmas break. He knocked on the door of Loki's office, fist tight to avoid the shaking. He found Natasha and Bruce inside. Everybody turned towards him. He gulped. Fuck it.

“That meeting later, is it still on?” he said to Loki. 

Those green eyes on him, Thor’s stomach dropped to his knees.

"Yeah, sure," he said, and looked away. He seemed tired.

The frustrated ache to touch him had Thor sinking his nails into his palms. He shut the door behind him.

The minutes dripped dripped dripped slower than trickle. Thor was climbing up the walls. He left early - he couldn’t wait in the office another minute. He needed him. The only way he had managed to make it through those long days apart was to keep his mind focused on the moment he would have him in his arms again, and everything would be fine, for a while. Forget the guilt, forget the baby, forget that Loki was going away, forget everything and think no further than the time they would spend together in their hotel.

In the meantime, nothing was fucking fine. He was a godawful mess. He had pushed the conversation with his mother to the back of his mind, with all the fears and the complicated dilemmas that came with it. He had not managed to get to a place of serenity or clarity. He thought he knew what he wanted to do, but he was torn apart still by that side of him that simply did not agree that he had a right to do what he wanted, what felt good to him, if it was at the expense of others. That in such case, the right thing to do was to sacrifice his wishes. He had a duty to Jane; he had made a promise once, and if there was ever a bad time to break it, surely this was it. And while he was able to reconcile with the abstract thought of terminating his marriage, the moment he started to think about the logistics, about the practical nitty-gritty of actually carrying out a separation, the moment Jane’s face appeared in his mind, he felt his heart sinking. He wasn’t ready. And how could he go to Loki with such a half-assed, guilt-ridden proposition? Even if he could physically do it, leave Jane now, Loki deserved a clean slate, a new man, with all his heart to give, not someone still in mourning and burdened by all the pain he was causing.

It was all such a fucking mess, and he was trapped in it, and saw no way out. All these days, his thoughts had been dark and heavy with it all, and to be with Loki again was the one thing he was looking forwards to, what kept him going. He simply couldn’t wait any more.

The unflappable reception guy just gave him a nod. Thor nodded back, and ignored the elevator, impatient. He hopped up the stairs in two’s. The cheap laminate flooring creaked under his strides as he rushed down the hallway, the even cheaper, very thin, very worn-out, discoloured carpet doing not a lot to muffle and dull the thumping sound of his steps. 

Their room. His heart was pounding. He went to grab the handle. The door opened in his face. Loki, with his coat and scarf, and a stunned expression, as if caught red-handed. Thor took in the sight of him, disconcerted.

“Were you… were you leaving?” he asked.

Loki lowered his eyes, looking awfully guilty, awfully busted. It didn’t make any sense. Thor turned his eyes towards the room, and spotted it then, the envelope on the pillow. His heart sunk. He turned to Loki again, hoping for another explanation, any other explanation, to come in his aid and dispel his fears. But Loki’s gaze remained low.

“An email was too risky, so I wrote you a letter,” said Loki, his voice soft. “But I couldn’t send it to your house, of course, or leave it lying around in the office, and I was afraid you would not take it if I tried to give it to you in person. And there’s no way I could just say it, so…”

No.

His chest felt tight. He walked to the bed — only two steps away from the door, the room was small — and picked up the letter. He walked slowly back to Loki, who still could not look at him.

“I’m sorry,” said Loki, just a whisper. “Anyway, now you have it, and I will…” He made to leave. Thor grabbed him by the wrist, his hold not vicious, but strong, fixing him in place.

He let go slowly. Loki did not flee, although he looked like he wanted to. Thor opened the letter.

“Dear Thor,

I think when you find this and not me you’ll guess what this is about. We need to stop doing this. We’re stopping now.

Even though you must know already, I will never be able to say this to your face, so I may as well say it here. I love you, more than anyone or anything. I always have, and I believe I always will. I was doomed since the moment you stopped by our fence, and asked me why was I crying, and what was my name. And I am grateful for having you by my side as I grew up, for your kindness, your generosity, your courage, and your love. Thank you for choosing to be my friend and my family. All the happiness I ever knew as a kid I owe it to you. 

For many years, I felt that I had lost that. I could not think about the past without feeling bitter. I found no comfort in it. But because of these few weeks together, I feel like I have it all back. I will never lose it again.

I also owe you an apology. I see now the major part I had in bringing about our ruin. I pressured you when you weren’t ready. Because it was clear and easy for me, I refused to try and understand why it wasn’t clear and easy for you, and I got frustrated with your doubts and your indecision, as if you had no right to be confused and uncertain. I pushed you and pushed you and pushed you, I tried to corner you, and you snapped. What you needed was time, and space, and some peace, and I didn’t get that. I was impatient, and I fucked up. I regret that so much. There is nothing I would want more than being able to go back to that night and give us both another chance. However, I think it still would not have been possible between us back then. It simply wasn’t our time.

It’s too late to change the past. All I can do is tell you that I don’t blame you anymore, and that I don’t resent you. I hope you can forgive me too, for the pain I caused you when I left, for the awful way I treated you when I first started working at Shield, and also for my part in blowing our chances back in the day. I’m so very sorry.

Maybe it was never meant to be, you and I. But it would be unfair to complain, and greedy. I’ve had so much already. I had you growing up, and I’ve had you now, and I am grateful for the time we’ve been given. I’m not sure you understand how much it's meant to me, being with you, hearing you say that you want me and that you love me. And now I will always have that as well. And I’m taking it all with me.

I’m not going to fuck up again. I’m going to look after this. We’re going to stop it here, before the harm we are causing to other people ruins this for both of us. 

Forever yours,

Loki.”

Thor sat heavily on the bed. He buried his face in his hands, still holding the letter, crinkling the paper. His throat was burning, but his eyes were dry. He spent some time with his eyes closed, rubbing his face. He guessed he was feeling too much to actually feel at all. 

Loki was standing by, in silence.

“Say something,” he prompted, after a long time.

“What’s there to say,” said Thor, hoarse, his voice heavy with grief.

“Whatever you’re thinking,” said Loki.

“I’m not sure what good that will do.”

“Still.”

Thor took a deep breath.

“I love you,” he said, choking, forcing the words out. “I want to be with you. I don’t want to break up. I need you. I’m this close to falling on my knees and beg you not to leave me,” his voice faltered. He swallowed. “But I can’t. I’m not going to do that. I don’t have any right. I’ve thought about nothing else all these days, about you, about what I need to do, what I must do. On the one hand, it’s so very fucking simple. I need to leave my wife. But on the other hand… it’s very simple too. I can’t. I’m not ready. I thought I could make myself ready, but I haven’t. I fucking can’t.”

Loki nodded.

“I understand,” he said, his voice ever so soft.

Thor looked up, but couldn’t hold Loki’s stare for long.

“I could explain myself the whole day away, but the truth is that I’m a fucking coward who’s so afraid of hurting people I am fucking paralysed, even if I fuck up even worse by not acting. I’m fucking up with her and with you.”

“I know a thing or two about fucking up with people,” said Loki, with a listless, tiny grin. “If you’re looking for a scolding, you’re not going to get it here.”

Thor huffed a broken laugh. Tears came and Loki’s image broke into a million pieces and melted into a blur.

“This fucking hurts,” he said, with a grimace that he had meant to be a smile.

Loki’s hug caught him completely by surprise. Warm, intense, utterly heartfelt. It went right through to him. He clung on to Loki's waist, sobbing. After all that bad blood between them, only a few months ago; all that resentment, all that anger, Loki viciously rejecting every show of tenderness, using every word and his body only to cut and harm. And now he was leaning to comfort him, his love surrounding Thor, without filters or disguises or barriers or reservations, almost drowning him. Thor pulled apart to look at his lover the way he would not be able to look at him after they left this room today. Because even if they found themselves alone and away from prying eyes — unimaginable as it was, they would have to keep on working side by side —, he would have to keep it inside, for Loki’s sake, out of simple decorum. 

Fuck, he would not be able to touch him. His hands encircled Loki’s slender waist, and they dug in, as if they could feel him being taken away from him already. His eyes must have spelled out what he wasn’t capable of asking for, and Loki began to undo his own shirt. Thor just looked on. He stared and stared and stared, wanting to burn that sight in his memory. Loki took one of Thor’s hands, put it on himself, and covered it with his own. Thor felt the tug of a tiny, lopsided smile. He touched him, his eyes still roaming. He slid the shirt off Loki’s shoulders. Tiny details distracted him — that vein, that freckle. Had they always been there? There was a whole planet's worth of minuscule landmarks on that body that would have taken a lifetime to learn. They were his now, but gone tomorrow, lost to him. Damn, why hadn’t he paid more attention? Fucking mindlessly, kissing with his eyes shut, wanting only to feel. It all seemed now like swallowing without chewing, without savouring. Why hadn’t he tried a little fucking harder? A sob cut off his breathing.

“Baby…” whispered Loki. 

His lips were on Thor’s face, cheeks, forehead, lips, neck. He pushed Thor gently back, Thor wrapped up in his warmth, concentrated on his weight. Loki’s mouth on his neck was electric. He had thought he was too fucking sad and heartbroken for lust. Loki ground their hips together and Thor’s thighs closed around him, and his skin was awake and feverish with want. 

“Touch me,” muttered Loki.

They got each other out of their clothes, lips never too far apart. Loki left his side for a minute to search his jacket. He returned with the lube. They gazes crossed, Loki interrogating. Thor guided Loki’s hand to the space between his thighs, threw his head back when he felt Loki’s finger stroking gently, and eventually entering him. Loki laid by his side to kiss him while he prepared him. Thor’s mouth had become lazy and distracted by the mounting sensation in his groin. He didn’t hurry him this time. He was always impatient, always wanting to get that part done and on with the fucking, whichever position he was in. But this time he made himself wait and take everything Loki was giving, exactly as he was giving it. 

When Loki finally entered him, Thor kept his eyes open to see him. They made love as if they had all the time in the world.

They were on their sides, Thor glued to Loki’s back, eyes closed to breathe him in. He had been struggling with something he wanted to say for some time. Was it even right to say it, was it appropriate? Did it make him look even more like the coward, the hypocrite he was? Would it hurt Loki, or was it something else for him to take away when he left? Would Loki think he was just fucking saying it, to make him feel better?

Oh, it burned on his tongue. Right or wrong, he blurted it out.

“Loki, you need to know this. I choose you. It’s you I want. I just… I mean, I just…” Damn, what was he even trying to say.

“…You’re just going to have a baby with your wife, whom you’ve been with for the last eight years, going on nine,” completed Loki, without inflection.

“I just need to figure this out,” he said. “Do you believe me?”

“I get it. It’s fine,” said Loki, his voice so soft. “You don’t have to say this, any of this. You have things to work out, and it’s just plain fucking wrong and a very bad idea to keep this thing going while you try. You’re being pushed and pulled in twenty directions at once right now. It’s the worst possible time for this. You can’t make a fair, sensible decision like this. You can’t make her, me, or yourself justice. And the best thing I can do, the only thing, is to get out of your way, give you some space to find your way through this. After all I’ve done, I just want to do the right thing, the decent thing, for once.”

Thor was silent, reeling from what he had just heard. What had happened to that angry, malicious, vengeful little boy who had set out to hurt him? How had he become this man? That he loved Loki, he had always known. That he was so very right in loving him, that was news. And he was sending him to the world like that, and others would meet him and love him and...

Oh, god. He was choking.

“Loki, I… I can’t ask you to wait for me but… Will I have a chance? I mean, is it what you want? To be with me? Because… Jesus,” he forced a laugh, so hoarse, “Please tell me you won’t shut me out, please, that I will get to... because I can’t… Jesus, I can’t…” That burn in his throat was suffocating him. "I can’t think it’s forever. I just... It will kill me."

“Forever is a long time,” was all Loki said. 

Thor’s tears started falling again. Loki twisted around to look at him and touch his face.

“I fucked up once by pushing you too hard,” he muttered. “I’m not going to do that again. You’ll have the time you need to do this right. And then, whatever you choose, it will be fine. Even if-… even if it’s not me. I’ll understand.”

“But Loki, it’s you I-…”

“Don’t,” cut Loki, turning his face away again. “Please, don’t. No promises. “ A heavy, thick sigh. “I have you now. I’ve had this. That’s all. You can’t promise me any more than that. You shouldn’t. I don’t want you to. This, now, what-what has been, that’s enough. Whatever happens after, that’s another story. So don’t make me any promises. Please. Just don’t.”

Thor clung tight around him, buried his face in Loki's neck. Loki didn't make a sound while he cried.

*

Loki had meant to get this over and done with first thing in the morning, straight back from the Christmas break, but both him and Bucky had been in and out of meetings until way after lunch, tensely crossing paths in hallways and meeting rooms, avoiding each other’s gaze. It was a long day. The admin staff was already packing up to leave when Loki finally managed to find an opening. He almost, almost lost his nerve. The thing with Thor had already taken out of him pretty much everything he had. 

After a deep breath to gather himself, he pressed the intercom.

“Barnes, in my office now, please.”

Bucky walked in, shoulders tense, a solid frown, a bit of a pout. He had an air of caution, like a ruminant in a clearing. The pout, which he probably intended to be a tight, hard mouth, made him look like a little boy.

“Please, take a seat.”

“Want me to shut the door?”

“As you wish,” said Loki. “This should only take a minute.”

Bucky seemed positively suspicious now, on red alert. He shut the door and sat down, crossing his arms, with a petulant child’s stance that was defensive in nature. Loki refrained himself from telling him that he had a lot to learn about body language (both about reading it and about not giving himself away) if he ever wanted to make it big in the court rooms. He looked Bucky in the eye while he spoke, but keeping it light, with a stare that didn’t threaten.

“I just want to make sure we’re both clear on a few things,” said Loki. “First of all, I consider our intimate relationship terminated. I will not expect, suggest, instigate, and certainly not demand, any further intimacy between us, physical or otherwise. I want to be sure that this is understood and accepted on your part.”

Bucky was scanning him through a squint, as if trying to drill a hole in his head and read his mind. His eyes were cold, hostile. He was looking for Loki's angle. After a long minute, he nodded, once.

“Good, that's that,” said Loki. “Now, I value your work and your collaboration in this case very highly, and I don’t wish to lose it, certainly not at this critical point, so close to the trial. But if you feel that you can’t keep working as my personal assistant, I will release you, with no loss of any privileges or benefits derived from that position. You wouldn’t even lose your office, unless you chose to move. It’s completely up to you.”

“Do you need me to move?” 

Loki fixed him with a hard stare.

“No,” he said.

“Has our previous… intimacy, as you call it, ever got in the way of my professional performance?” challenged Bucky. He didn’t expect an answer. “Of course I can carry on as your assistant. I’m not a fucking child.”

“Good,” said Loki evenly, impervious to Bucky’s aggressive tone. “I’m glad to hear that. That will be all.”

Bucky didn’t move.

“Is there anything else?” asked Loki.

“That’s it?” said Bucky. “No disclaimers to sign?”

“Disclaimers?”

“Waiving away my rights to sue for sexual harassment in the workplace.”

Loki reclined back in his chair. He hadn’t meant to play this, but he would if he had to. He gave it a minute, which made Bucky very, very nervous. 

“Is that how you feel about it?” asked Loki, with a relentless, unwavering stare. “My perception is that we entered this as two willing, consenting adults, and that it did not affect our professional relationship in any way. Or did you feel at any time coerced? Or taken advantage of? Do you consider I abused my position of power?” He had chosen his words deliberately. With the dynamics of their relationship, with all the times Loki had made him kneel and submit, just what would Bucky say to that?

After a gallant attempt, Bucky lost the staring contest.

“No,” he answered, eyes to the side, then low.

“In that case, and since I have you for an honourable man, I don’t think any paperwork will be necessary.” But there was a spark of defiance in Bucky's eyes, and the mischief-maker in Loki never forgot that even the tiniest spark has the potential of becoming a disastrous blaze. Some would have sought to squash it. Loki couldn't help himself from fanning it. “Although a talented, clever lawyer such as yourself must surely realise that, with my reputation, if you should decide to pursue this, I am a sitting duck. And even if you told the driest version of the truth, the details are so juicy, the press would be on it like vultures. You’d make headlines. God knows where it would get you. You’d probably fuck up our case too, but you could always tell yourself that it was me who fucked up first.”

Bucky looked up, trying to figure out how Loki was playing him, what were the rules, and what might be at stake. And then, being the man he was, he clenched his jaw, fixed him with a hard stare, and threw the game away.

“But then you’d walk up to the stand swinging your ass and looking like that, and start to purr your testimony with that voice of yours, and everybody would see the way I look at you, and there goes my case.” He tried for a smirk, came out kind of sour. It suited him. Ah, he adored this kid, dammit. More than that, he liked him.

“You deserved better than the way I treated you,” said Loki, hands entwined on his lap, knuckles white, gaze low. “You deserved better than the way I made you feel.”

“Damn right I did.”

Loki felt a smile tug at the corner of his lip at that show of spirit. It vanished soon.

“I have no excuses,” he said. “I’m a self-centred bastard and I'm shit at taking other people’s feelings into consideration the way I should, and I need to do better. I’m sorry about how I handled things. I have nothing to say for myself. I don’t expect you to forgive me or to spare me any kindness, now or ever again. You can either hate me to your heart’s content, or I can tell you my sad life story, if it will make you feel any better.”

With his eyes low as well, Bucky rubbed a non-existing scratch on Loki’s desk.

“It might,” he said, after a while.

“Then I will,” said Loki. “Not on office hours, though.”

Bucky burst out laughing. It sounded quite light, considering.

“You’re fucking unbelievable, do you know that?” he said. “I don’t even know why I like you.”

“Yeah,” said Loki. “I get that a lot.”

Chapter Text

“‘Objection, your honor!’ ‘On what grounds, sarcasm?’”

The guffaw of laughter was as loud as the three previous times Fandral had told the story. He mimicked the lead defense attorney down to the twitches of his eye, and he got the raspy, cutting voice of the judge down to a T, with her “listen, son,” and “I’ve seen it all” kind of attitude. When the laughter began to die down, Fandral brought up another.

“‘B-b-but… your honor! He is… He is…!’ ‘Yes, Mr. Laufeyson is flirting with your witness. Jealous, attorney?’”

Hysterical response, just like in the courtroom. Thor put on a smile, tried to join in; it was a party, after all. Even though the verdict wouldn’t come out for at least another six months, the signs that Shield had prevailed were compelling.

“It’s not so much that we doubt the verdict,” Thor had explained to the clients, straight after the trial concluded. “We can be satisfied that we proved our case. Winning or losing depends at this point on the sentence. Basically, we’re talking money. If Hydra gets a significant fine, or a symbolic one; if there is a mandate to clean the grounds and water supply, back off from the mountains, and modernize the machinery; if there are punitive damages, and which amount. That’s what will send the message that we have defeated Hydra, or not.”

The clients just heard, “we have won.” So Shield had rented this convention room for the evening, and those who could make it, and all the staff, were down here celebrating. 

Fandral was delighting his audience with the recounting of yet another one of Loki’s stellar, and rather unorthodox, interventions in the courtroom; it had only been hours since the end of the trial, and they were already acquiring a legendary aura. Again, Thor tried to join in, and again, his smile fell flat. His heart wasn’t in it, his fuse had burned out. For the last few weeks, the intensity at work had escalated to a vertiginous peak, and he had missed sleep, skipped weekends, and endured one long day after another. When it finally started, the trial had taken his stress levels to a whole new dimension. The work of three years, and people’s lives and futures, were going to be decided within a handful of days. And even giving it his all, there was only so much he could do. But while the end result did rest in the judge’s hands, whatever happened would be on his shoulders. So, even if it was only about the case, he’d be beyond exhausted, but it wasn’t just about the case, was it? Because each day that passed was another day closer to the time when Loki would be leaving.

Working together hadn’t been as bad as Thor had thought. It had been far from a piece of cake, sure. He couldn’t touch, he couldn’t say, he couldn’t even look, not really. He missed him. Bouts of crying had occurred. Loki mercifully pretended he didn’t notice. And Loki was a lot better than him at faking, that’s for sure, because he looked unruffled most of the time, to a point that fucking hurt. As if he wasn’t affected. As if he didn’t care. It was excruciating at times, and it took every shred of empathy and common sense his mother had ever tried to put inside his head to reel himself back when ache became anger. He’s just better at this than you are, man, don’t be unfair. Don’t you know him? He’s doing it for you. Don’t make it even harder for you both. Fucking chill. 

So, not a piece of cake at all, but there had been some unexpected upsides. Now that there was nothing to hide anymore, sort of, they could let their guard down. And this time, there was no bad blood between them, no resentment. They were sad, but they were also able to relax around each other, and talk normally, and work side by side, and have a professional discussion without aggravation, like grownups. And even more than that, they had been inseparable for the first twenty years of their lives, and it was coming through now. They could banter, joke, and tease, exchange jabs. They got each other, they liked each other’s company, they made each other laugh. Damn, that side of things was like a dream come true. Loki was really back; his best friend in the world had returned to him, and there he was, by his side, the complicity between them restored, without the tension of those last few years at college, and an added layer of tenderness and intimacy that melted his heart. And that was good. That was great, even, as long as he didn’t look too far ahead.

And the killer team they formed together? Thor had never had more fun at work in his life, and he never would again. For once, his job didn’t only take from him, but it also filled him with passion, and purpose, and fire. He went to bed every night feeling like he had accomplished something that day, that he had done good for somebody, that his efforts had made a difference. And even though he woke up already exhausted, he found the strength to get up in that hunger, and felt ready to take on the world. It was a great fucking feeling.

To top it off, witnessing Loki plying his trade was like watching an exhibition round of the world’s ice skating champion. Smoothly, ruthlessly, and seemingly without effort, Loki had performed a virtual vivisection of the defense, with the fine scalpel of his wit, his intelligence, and his sharp, sharp tongue. Thor had taken on the friendly witnesses, and Loki the hostile ones, and god, the interrogations had been like something out of a frigging movie. His questions were honed to a cutting edge, but it was with his calculated silences, his reptilian stares, his humour, his charm, and his comedic tempo, that he had demolished the witnesses one by one. He had them tripping over their own words, admitting to things they should never have admitted to, or pushed to a point where anything they replied would incriminate them. Even the technical experts had been no problem for Loki, who for this case had pretty much crammed a degree in industrial chemistry into his head in a matter of months. They never once caught him out. Even the dry, elderly, world-weary judge was mooning. She smirked whenever a juicy objection came up, and turned to Loki with anticipation — which obscure precedent would he be challenging her with this time?

And Thor had had to refrain himself during the trial from actually drooling. He was so in love it was hard to breathe. Day after day, the wildfire that was Loki consumed and obliterated another acre of whatever attachment Thor might still have for his current domestic life. He was absolutely helpless against it. No matter how sensible, how decent his marriage was, no matter how nurturing and positive his relationship with Jane, it was now clear as day that Loki was the only one he wanted, simple as that.  In the place where this need was coming from, reason and sense had no weight and no substance. The power Loki exerted over him was an animal, magnetic pull. It was also warm with so much tenderness that it was physically painful not to do something about it, having to bottle it up.

And yet, he was going to let Loki go. Because it was not their time. Because he had affairs to settle before he could offer Loki what he deserved. Because he owed Jane and their child to do things right, honorably, without rushing. He was going to let Loki go, even though he feared that he’d be losing him for good. He feared that distance would play tricks on them, that every day that passed while Thor took care of things would come back to Loki as proof that Thor never meant what he had promised. That while they were apart, Loki would second-guess all that had happened, all that had been said. He feared that Loki would be hurting so much, that he would make it a matter of survival never to let Thor near him again. 

And so, while everybody around him was having the best time, Thor was crumbling, and so was his façade. He saw it in the way Fandral was looking at him.

“Let’s get this topped up, attorney, shall we? I’m dry too. Back in a sec, guys,” he said to the group, who made noises of disappointment over losing their private entertainment for the evening. 

They got a drink at the bar, and then Fandral lead them to a far, dark corner of the hall, where tables and chairs had been crammed to make room in the center. They formed a tight maze, and once they penetrated it deep enough, it created a kind of protective wall around them — anyone approaching would be spotted from a mile away. The music was loud enough to drown their voices, casting another veil of privacy over them. Thor exhaled, feeling almost secluded. They sat side by side with their back against the wall.

“You look terrible,” said Fandral.

“Charming, thanks.”

“Glad this is over?”

“Relieved. And shattered. I’ve had the time of my life.”

“Yes, it’s been quite a ride, hasn’t it? And what a colossal, final high.”

“And the fucking drop just after it,” sighed Thor. “It will take me a while to get used to the ground again.”

“I know what you mean.” Fandral gestured with his glass towards Loki, chatting with Bruce and Natasha in another corner. “When is he leaving?”

“Tomorrow,” muttered Thor.

“So soon?”

Thor shrugged, his gaze lingering on Loki. He was wearing the lead-grey, tailor-made, three-piece suit he had made such a killing with in the courtroom, but the collar of his shirt was now undone, and his throat was so fucking long. He had thrown a scarf over his shoulders, their scarf, and he kept brushing his hand over it mindlessly. He too was wearing a blank mask, barely disturbed by a social smile every now and then. Thor wagered he too was telling everyone he was exhausted to justify the lack of spirit. And he too was hurting and trying to keep up appearances, and Thor could not fucking get there and comfort him, and it was fucking ripping him in half. 

Fandral gave his shoulder a warm squeeze, as Thor looked away, his eyes clouding.

“What happens now?” asked his friend. “Between you.”

“I don’t know,” muttered Thor. “I’m still married. That’s not going to change by tomorrow.”

“About that, are you going to…?”

“Please,” said Thor, rubbing his eyes until they showed sparks. “I-I can’t.”

“Silly me,” said Fandral softly, “So insensitive. Apologies.”

Thor waved the apology away, and tried for a smile. Not that Fandral had it easy. Even the most harmless “how are you doing” was stepping on a sensitive subject for Thor these days. With Jane, it was worse than ever. He had made up his mind, but he couldn’t do anything about it yet, except keep up appearances until the time was right. He had never felt like such a lying bastard, not even when he was fucking Loki. At least back then he had his confusion to fall back on. He felt so callous now, so cruel. He was a disaster zone, wasn’t he?

“He worships you,” said Fandral, his eyes towards Loki. “When you were delivering your closing statement, man, his eyes were like…”

Thor smiled, in spite of himself.

“He wrote half of it himself,” he said.

“Like I always say, it’s not the words, darling, it’s the delivery.”

“He said he wanted what he saw that first day at Shield,” he muttered. “We worked hard on it.”

That, they had. Together, alone in the office, late in the evening, with Loki urging him to show his anger, his passion. Their eyes locked, the blaze between them flaring a fucking mile high in the sky, pulse racing, visions of ripping Loki’s clothes off and fucking him on the boardroom table. And Loki was the one in those loaded moments to break eye contact, make a snippy remark about his delivery, his timing, or his choice of words, to try and disable the building tension. Had it been down to Thor…

“Oh, god, that first day at Shield. And the shock when it was finally disclosed who was the super-secret star new sign-up?

Thor smiled, and this time it reached his eyes, and under his skin, making him feel warmer.

“We’ve come so far,” he muttered. 

“My poor darling,” said Fandral, throwing an arm around his shoulders. He clinked their glasses together. “To better times.”

They drank. Thor caught Loki staring. Even from across the room, it sent a shiver down his spine. Loki gave him a smile. It was a tired smile, weak, sad, but a smile nonetheless, just for him. And for that moment, Thor didn’t feel alone. What they had had been real, and there it was, in Loki’s eyes. They couldn’t take that away from him. He smiled back.

*

“Barnes, do you have a minute,” said Loki, tapping Bucky’s shoulder.

Bucky turned from the group he had been chatting to, and saw who it was. He tensed up.

“I’ll be a moment, guys,” he said.

Loki noticed the cold, hostile looks he was being cast. He didn’t really care, he was out of here the next day, and didn’t plan on coming back. If the story got Bucky some sympathy, he was welcome to it.

They walked out of the room. Loki grabbed his wallet and started to pull out calling cards.

“These people are in L.A., this firm is in San Francisco, this is in downtown Manhattan, this one in Toronto…”

“The fuck is this?” cut Bucky, a stack of cards in his hands.

“You’re a remarkable young lawyer. All these firms will be delighted to have you. Use my name and they’ll offer an interview.”

“You’re going to give me some fucking references?” scoffed Bucky.

“I’ll help you in any way I can.”

Bucky was clenching his jaw, biting in his anger.

“You don’t owe me shit,” he said. “I mean… Anyway, this is not the way to make up for what you… Fucking hell, Loki.”

“I’m not trying to make up for anything.”

“Like hell you aren’t.”

Loki looked away.

“You’re a great lawyer at the start of your career. You could use a leg up. We’ve all had one. Here is yours, if you want it. I’ll be proud to back you up.”

Bucky assessed him with a sharp eye, and Loki couldn’t meet his stare.

“None of these are in London,” noted Bucky.

Loki didn’t say anything to that, and that was enough. Bucky huffed.

“Listen… Thanks, but I think I’ll be staying here for now. I’ve made some friends. Rogers has offered to mentor me.”

“Is that what the kids are calling it these days.”

“Shut up, it’s not like that.”

“You wish.”

“So do you.”

Loki smirked. So did Bucky, in spite of himself.

“Anyway, keep these. They’re yours. And if you ever need an ally, you know where to find me.”

“An ally,” repeated Bucky, caustic.

The edge in his tone cut Loki deeper than he could have anticipated, when he first led Bucky into his office. The vulnerability under that veneer of snark, he couldn’t fucking deal with it.

“I don’t think you’ll take me up on this, and I get it, but if you want a friend, I can be that too,” he mumbled, surprising himself. “I mean, I’m not great at it, but I could try, anyway.”

“This has to be the shittiest offer I’ve ever received in my life,” said Bucky. But his eyes were soft, and he had put on a smarmy grin much too fetching for anyone’s good. 

“And yet, you’re tempted,” Loki swung back. He too could pull off smarmy like a fucking boss, and look pretty good while at it.

Bucky’s grin grew even wider. He shook his head, and started to walk away.

“Thanks, attorney,” he waved the cards in the air as a salute. “See you around.”

“Good luck, Barnes.”

Bucky turned his head, and threw him a wink.

In his car, three streets away from the hotel where the Shield party was still ongoing, Loki pulled up and tried to get his shit together. He had the phone in his hand, hesitating — more like agonizing, but what’s in a word. They had already said goodbye in a way, hadn’t they? Thor and him. The night before, in the office, as they finally packed up for the day, after the last rehearsal of Thor’s closing statement. Thor had asked what were his plans, trying to sound unaffected. Loki couldn’t think of a way to soften the blow, and Thor looked stunned as if he’d been hit when he told him.

“Friday?” he had said, with a little, strained voice. “So soon?”

“I’ve been away too long, I need to find out if any of my plants have made it.”

“You have plants?” said Thor, with a tone of astonishment.

“And fish,” said Loki. “I have a gorgeous, state-of-the-art, massive tank full of tropical seawater creatures. A client in an extradition case couldn’t afford my fees, but he did own a very cool pet shop, and saw me ogling the coral reefs. He has the key to my house to look after it. He was supposed to water the plants too, and he has clear instructions, but god knows. The man is an expert at keeping cephalopods in captivity, not fucking houseplants.”

Thor’s jaw was still hanging.

“What?” snapped Loki.

“I just… You have plants. Wow. Ok.”

“Yes, they’re pretty. What’s your bloody point.”

“Nothing! Nothing. I just…” He seemed about to burst out laughing. 

And if Loki had been told six months ago that he’d be using the word ‘adorable’ in a way that was neither ironic nor sarcastic… Then a shadow darkened Thor’s expression, when he remembered what they had been talking about.

“Jesus, don’t give me that fucking look,” said Loki, in a whisper, because his voice was failing him.

Tears swelled in Thor’s eyes. 

“Fucking hell,” grumbled Loki, and hugged him tight. Thor clung onto him like a drowning man to a raft, crushing Loki’s back and ribs, and making it feel nice. His breathing was laboured, but he managed not to break down completely. Loki, with his eyes closed, was breathing deep, to saturate his senses with that scent he had come to associate with everything he loved. He was going to break down crying, so he began to push Thor away, sniffing. Thor loosened up his grip with reluctance. His hands lingering on Loki’s waist. Once those were gone too, Loki felt cold and already cut off, drifting away into the deep dark wood.

“It’s been a pleasure and a privilege working with you, attorney,” he said, straightening his back. “Tomorrow, you’ll win this case for us.”

Thor nodded, inexpressive. He didn’t give a fuck right now about the case. But he would one day, and he’d be proud of what he’d done, and it might help with all the rest. Or anyway, here’s hoping.

“Good night, Thor,” he said, as he put on his coat and scarf. 

He didn’t turn to look, but that place was full of windows, which at night became dark mirrors. He could make out Thor by his reflection, distorted by the double glazing and the dim light. He was slumped, burdened by an unseen weight on his shoulders. You’ll be alright, baby, whispered Loki in his mind.

He would be, right? Of course he would. Loki, on the other hand… The crush on his own chest would get a lot worse before it got better. Loki was fine with that. It reminded him that it had been real.

He was still staring at his phone. He could imagine Thor’s voice in his head, You’re not leaving without a word again, are you? 

Sniffing, Loki typed. “I’m sorry for bailing like this. I hate goodbyes. So let’s just not.” And then, although he feared Thor would overlook the prayer contained in that formulaic, worn-out pair of words, he typed, “See you”. And before he could change his mind, he pressed send.

He cried in his parked car for half an hour. He would have cried a lot longer, but he still had one more thing to do before he left.

*

Phone. Oh, look who it is, and guess who’s got two thumbs and weak knees all of a sudden. Well well. Anyone would have thought that, after more than two months mulling this over, Tony would have been ready for this call. Ding dong, wrong again, but thanks for playing.

“Hey, it’s me.” Loki’s voice sounded weak, his tone subdued.

“Hey, you.”

“Can I drop by. Won’t be long. I need to talk to you.”

No, Tony wasn’t fucking ready. Just that weak little voice was already tearing him to pieces. He wasn’t fucking ready. Would he ever be? When it came to Loki, he was so fucking helpless.

And he hadn’t replied, and the silence was getting awkward.

“I’m going home,” said Loki. “I… I’d like to say goodbye. Please.”

Oh, fuck. 

“Ok.”

“Five minutes.”

Since that goddamned Christmas office party, Tony had done what was expected of him by those who wished him well. He had kept his distance, maintained radio silence, nursed his wounds, and tried to learn and grow or some shit. He had been hard done by, and now he had to be strong and send Loki the message that he couldn’t just walk over people like that. Chin up, lip tight, one step at a time. Well, if he was supposed to feel better for it, he had clearly been doing it wrong. He was in pain here. He had been about to call thirty fucking times. Like, really, really close; like his finger was on the button, ok? 

He kept himself awake at night thinking of Loki all alone in that empty mausoleum of a house. Other nights, he kept himself awake thinking of Loki with Thor. Couldn’t tell which was worse. So now he knew what had been eating Loki up from the inside out. And just for shits and giggles, he had taken some pains to revise all that had happened since Loki had started working at Shield, reviewing under the new lens Loki’s silences, Loki’s absences, Loki’s mood swings between neediness and prickliness. So many confusing details suddenly made sense. And that was the worst of it all. All this time, it had never been about the two of them, had it? It was about fucking Thor. That thought had Tony wanting to smash things against the wall, not least his own stupid head, for his blindness and idiocy. Did you think it was about you? You’re pathetic, Stark. And in those moments, he couldn’t see the day he’d forgive Loki for how much he’d hurt him, and he never wanted to see him for as long as he lived. That little shit was not going to take the piss out of him again, not a chance.

But that fury rarely lasted. Loki’s face when Tony told him to leave crept into his thoughts. Loki's face at the Christmas party, as he silently stood in front of Thor, unable to bring himself to pretend, while Tony chatted with Jane. When Thor wouldn't return his hand after they shook goodbye, the fucking agony there. Oh, you idiot, you poor little sod. He finally got what he had always wanted, but on what terms. Can you fucking believe that Tony felt sorry for him? Because Tony himself fucking didn’t.

So, it had been weeks, sure, but concerning Tony’s stance on the Loki issue, the jury was still out. He’d have to improvise on the go.

The doorbell sent his heart racing. He went to the door shuffling his feet, no rush. If he could scrape up another couple of seconds, he would.

Ok, here we go.

“Hello,” he said, when the door was open.

Loki’s gaze was low, his face puffy. He had been crying, and not too long ago. It made the green in his eyes even greener. Do try not to remark on these things, Stark.

“Can I come in?” asked Loki.

Tony stood to one side. 

“Thanks.”

Once in the lounge, Loki didn’t take his coat off, and he didn’t sit down, so neither did Tony. And neither did Tony fix himself a drink, or pretend to be otherwise occupied; he just stood there. He wasn’t interested in posing or playing games. The only way to win at this, if Loki was involved, was not to play at all.

“How did the trial go?” (Oh my god, Stark, small talk now? Why don’t you fucking offer him some hot cocoa…)

“I did everything I honestly could,” said Loki. “Emphasis on the ‘honest’.”

Tony snorted. He hadn’t meant to react. They were not ok, and he was not going to let him get away with it just because he got cute on him, ok?

“When does the verdict come out?” he said, with his voice back in check.

“Six to eight months.”

“And whatever comes out, that’s it, right? No appeal.”

“None.”

“Well then, good luck.”

“Thank you.”

“You look tired,” noted Tony. And wan, and pale, and sickly, and overall just plain fucking miserable.

“I am tired,” admitted Loki.

“So, when are you leaving then?”

“Tomorrow.”

Tony gasped in shock. Jesus Christ, Loki, fucking warn me! Ok, breathe. And breathe some more. Just… 

“Why the rush,” he asked, sounding pretty normal.

Loki shrugged, his expression set and blank. Tony could tell a desperate getaway when he spotted one. Loki needed to get himself out of here yesterday, and with unabashed pettiness, Tony wondered which portion of that need could he claim as his own. 

“What happens with Thor?”

Loki looked away.

“Nothing happens with Thor.”

Fencing now, aren’t we? Oh sweetheart, if you think you can get away with it that easily...

“You want something to happen with Thor?” prodded Tony. 

Loki kept his stare resolutely low, and his pretty mouth shut.

“Loki,” he poked him. And again, more severely, after a moment. “Loki.”

Nope, nothing. Couldn’t he admit to it, or was he afraid of Tony’s reaction, or what?

“Fucking answer me at least,” said Tony, his voice hardened. “I think I deserve that.”

“Yes,” said Loki.

Tony inhaled, exhaled. Well, he knew that, didn’t he? Hurt just the same.

“So?” he asked. “Where are you at?”

“Where are we at?” repeated Loki, bitterly. “I left it with him. Him and his pregnant wife. So I’m not holding my breath.”

Tony caught that flinch in Loki’s face, and the frown of tension in his brow. He was trying not to cry, wasn’t he? Stark, I forbid you from giving him a cuddle. I forbid you. Tony walked briskly to the bar, and away from temptation. He poured a couple of drinks, and on his way to the couch, he put one in Loki’s hand. Loki followed him like a shadow. At Tony’s gesture, he sat down. Tony didn’t, not yet. He paced, rolling the drink in his glass, and a question in his mind. Ah, if Pepper could hear him, he’d be in trouble.

“Am I welcome in London?” he blurted out.

Loki looked up towards him, unbelieving, and he just did that, as if looking for the signs in Tony’s face that he was fucking with him.

“I didn’t think you’d want to be,” he said.

“Neither did I,” said Tony, “but there you go.”

“Why?” asked the stupid, emotionally challenged dunce.

“Good question,” said Tony. ‘Because I want to,’ was the straightest answer, but since there were others, and safer ones too, Tony went for those. “Because you could use a friend.”

“I’m done using people.”

“Some statement,” mocked Tony. “You know what I mean.”

And no, of course Loki didn’t get it. Considering what he was offering, perhaps Tony could sacrifice another few ounces of pride and just go ahead and enlighten him. 

“Because I’m worried. You’re lonely, you’re in pain, and I care about you. I wish there was a switch I could flick to turn that off, but there isn’t. …No, actually, I don’t wish there was a switch. I don’t mind caring about you. I don’t want to stop.”

Loki flinched, and his brow scrunched up, as if those words had hurt him. He was confused, and hanging by a thread. Tony sat down on the coffee table in front of him, but kept his eyes low. 

“Yes, you should have told me what was going on. We had a deal, and you broke it big time. That was wrong. And I-… it hurt me. But-… But it had nothing to do with our deal. That’s not why I reacted the way I… I was jealous, alright? You and Thor, it was my worst nightmare come true. Up until then, I had been very happy with the arrangement, in which there was me, and then a string of faceless fucks. That suited me just fine. But Thor… That’s a whole different story, and, fuck, I can’t compete with the love of your life, can I? But… But it’s not a competition, right? I mean, I’m the one who has Pepper. If I can’t accept that there can be more people in your life too, I’m the one who has a problem, not you.”

Loki looked stunned. He hadn’t been expecting that. And Tony had to grip his drink tight, because he was aching to take him in his arms and shush him, and rock him, and tell him everything would be alright, but the conversation wasn’t over yet. 

“I’m sorry I lied to you,” whispered Loki. It wasn’t so much the words as that weak, strained mutter that got to Tony. “I’m sorry about… everything. I never intended to start anything. With Thor. None of this was meant to happen. I was going to settle a score. Which was mean and stupid of me, I know, and I never… I never meant to tell you about it. I know that sucks, but… You wouldn’t have liked it, and I… I was going to go ahead with it anyway. I guess I hoped you would never find out, and I’d get away with it. And then on top of it all, things got more and more messed up, and I… Thor complicated everything. I don’t fucking know. It sucked me in. And it got harder and harder to tell you. I was scared. I had fucked up, and I knew you’d be so angry and hurt and-and disgusted, and I was afraid that… I-I didn't want to... I was going to lose you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry about what I did. I’m sorry for not telling you. I’m sorry for the way you had to find out. I’m sorry about this shitty apology. I’m sorry.”

Well. 

All Tony could do was sit there, dumbstruck, and wonder what in hell had Thor Odinson done with his boyfriend, the little shit. 

But in the meantime, and just like that, the pain was gone. It was all forgiven. He wasn’t angry anymore, he wasn’t sore. He was over it. 

“Ok, you screwed up,” said Tony. “Bad, bad Loki. Don’t do it again. So, am I welcome in London, or not?”

“I-I can’t,” said Loki, just a whisper, and a solitary tear sliding down his face, and many, many more being held in with a huge effort, or so suggested that frown. “What you’re offering, I… I can’t take it. Right now. It feels wrong. I shouldn’t be around you right now. I don’t get to feel… It would feel wrong.”

“Oh, sweetheart…” Tony put one hand on Loki’s shoulder, rested it on the back of his neck. “That’s exactly what I’m worried about. You, alone, a whole ocean away, in this state of mind…”

Loki scoffed, and hid his face in his hands. 

“Listen to me, sweetheart,” whispered Tony, leaning closer. “If you go get yourself, uh, seen to for your sins, you have to fucking promise me that you’ll go to a serious, respectable place, ok? For the love of god, Loki, don’t just get beat up and fucked by the first fucking taker you find on Grindr. Get a professional. Do you hear? Fucking swear it, Loki…”

“You trust me?” he said, sarcastic.

“Yes,” said Tony, earnestly. “You’ll do that for me. Because I ask. Yes?”

Loki nodded, not too enthusiastically, but Tony chose to believe him, as if he could make it happen with the mere power of his conviction. Anyway, he could not hold back another second.

“Come here, you fucking idiot…” he said, as he pulled Loki into his arms. 

Loki clung tight. There was need in that hug, and it was unguarded, open, vulnerable. All that Tony was giving, Loki wanted to take. Tony was drinking that need like cool fresh water, feeling it wash over him, soothing, cleansing. He lived for moments like this with Loki. There was nothing in the world that could take their place.

He kissed his hair again, and again, and again, like an old auntie. But he needed to hoard up, a long famine was coming. And Loki was still clinging on, sobbing quietly.

“I’m going to tell you how it’s going to be, ok?” said Tony. “And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll do what I tell you. Listen up. I’m going to call you. All the fucking time. Several times a day. Get used to it. And if you don’t pick up, or otherwise reply somehow, I’m coming over, whether you like it or not. And once I’m there, I’ll become the worst imaginable pain in the ass. So, if you want me to stay away, you’re going to look after yourself. You’re going to eat, sleep, wash, use condoms, see only professionals, take the fucking aftercare seriously, and pick up the goddamn phone when I call, so that I know that you’re doing well. Is that clear?” He gave him a shake. “Is that clear, Loki?”

Loki wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, like a little boy, and nodded. Tony gave him some room, a tissue, and a couple of minutes. His hand was still on Loki’s hair, petting, petting. He was having inappropriate thoughts. Not so long ago, he would have totally pursued them, and propositioned Loki. And Loki would have said yes, because didn’t he always? More than ever tonight, the goddamned idiot probably felt that he owed him. Tony took his hand away, and sighed, resigned. He guessed he had matured. Growing up was no fucking fun.

“Well,” he said, distraction manoeuvre and subtle come on at the same time, “if and when you patch things up with Thor, perhaps you will let him know that, if he’s happy to share, so is Pepper. I mean, that she’d like to share herself with him very much.”

Loki rolled his eyes, such contempt. Tony felt a smile uncontrollably taking over his face. Dammit, he adored that snarky little shit with all his heart.

“I love you, Loki,” he said. “Don’t ask me to shut up this time.”

Loki frowned, overwhelmed. Tony kissed him, long and deep. Loki kissed him back, and god, Stark, what a fool you are, a boneless, spineless fool, but Loki’s eyes were so fucking green with tears, and sure, his real smiles weren’t very wide, but for mercy’s sake, they were breathtaking.

Tony stroked his face, dwelling on the tiny details. He didn’t want to let go. He sighed.

“Don’t be a stranger, eh?”

Chapter Text

There is nothing really special about that Friday. They get home, they’re tired. She’s still working. “As long as I can manage,” she says whenever people ask. 

He makes dinner, she talks. He’s quiet. Nothing to contribute, no spirit. He struggles more and more every day to maintain a fiction of normality. Since Loki left, he’s not feeling as anxious and on edge as he used to, but he’s distracted, melancholy, and wistful instead. His mind wanders. He misses Loki so much that his yearning feels like a physical presence in the room with them, an unwanted guest overseeing their interactions, making him act strained and awkward. It makes Thor think of the times their parents had been interrupted by the phone or a caller in the middle of an argument, how they plastered on a smile and perked up their voices and were able to talk as if nothing had happened. He used to wonder how could they do it. Well, there are no fights in Thor’s house anymore. Not with Thor’s guilt, and his growing disconnection from her, from this marriage, from their life together. He yields whenever there is a disagreement. Most times, he doesn’t even disagree out loud. Those little things don’t matter as they used to. Why did they ever.

On the couch, after dinner, with the TV on. He flicks between channels, not really looking for anything to settle on. She’s checking baby items on Amazon.

“What even is this thing? What is it for?” she’s muttering, but she doesn’t expect him to reply. Not anymore. She stopped calling him out for not paying attention quite some time ago.

It’s not so much that he’s distracted this evening; he’s just so fucking low, he can’t muster any degree of interest, or even fake it. Every day, he wakes up from a bad night’s sleep, which has brought him no rest from the obsessive torment of his thoughts, his fears, and his guilt, and he tells himself, today I am going to tell her. But it’s been over a month since Loki left, and he hasn’t had the balls yet.

“God, I’m like a beached whale,” she grumbles, in good humour, as she tries to get up on his feet, the seven-month belly weighing her down. “This damn couch. It sucks you in.” 

She shuffles to the bathroom, one hand on the small of her back, another on her belly. Thor turns his eyes to the TV without seeing it. A mention of London makes him tune in; the Prime Minister met with so and so at this summit, he made a speech vindicating the “special relationship” between the UK and the US. Thor snorts, rubs his face, sighs deeply.

Jane comes back and lowers herself carefully on the couch, by Thor’s side. She shuts down the laptop and picks up a magazine, a Quantum Physics Quarterly it seems, and Thor’s eyes follow her hand, drawing slow, distracted circles on her belly. She keeps changing positions. She’s become a fidget as of late. Tingly legs, she says, cramps. It irritates him. He feels like shit for it. The tiniest smidge of negative feeling towards her turns against him.

“He’s doing the submarine trick again, look.” They don’t know the sex, so she has taken to calling the baby a he, for some reason. “Look! Here it goes again.”

Thor smiles weakly. He observes the little bulge running from side to side. 

“Little alien,” she mutters, her eyes so bright with love. A kick. “Whoa, there! Here, feel this.”

Thor puts his hand where she tells him to. She presses his palm on her skin with both hands. They wait. There it is, that kick, and another. Thor’s smile comes unbidden, in spite of it all. Whoever it is, it’s alive, and it’s his, and it’s just there, and it’s exciting.

His eyes meet hers, and somehow he feels like he needs to curb his joy, that to let it show unfiltered is lying to her and stringing her along. He’s in mourning already, grieving for the thing he has already killed and now needs to pronounce dead. She doesn’t realise they’re a walking corpse. She strokes his hands on her belly tenderly, tentatively, her eyes fixed on him, enquiring. As if a touch, and a smile, and her love, which he doesn’t want anymore, could put life back into this. 

Thor feels a bout of resentment inside. Irrational, of course, and surely unfair, but there’s that grumpy voice inside spewing venom on her, “don’t fucking use the baby”. He can’t help it. As he turns his sights back to everything that’s happened since they found out she was pregnant, and he wanted to spill the beans and she stopped him right there, (“It’s not final unless we make it so,” she said), he is so angry at her. For refusing to see how fucked up they are, for putting on a happy face, for not confronting him about it, for avoiding real talk. She never fucking asks “What’s wrong” anymore. Just in case, right? She sees him brooding, she comes for a hug and a kiss, she tries to make him smile with the baby. Don’t fucking tell me you haven’t realised that this is a disaster, Janey, he wants to say sometimes. There is no intimacy, no complicity, he is miserable, she is sad, and they’re both just fucking pretending… what? That perhaps when the baby is born, they’ll magically fall into step again? Fall in love again? Go back to the way they were? 

He pulls away his hand. His breathing would be huffy if he wasn’t trying hard to keep it quiet. Anger, or tears, or both, or neither, who the fuck knows anymore.

“Are you ok? You look ill,” she says.

His breathing turns more laboured. 

He has been waiting for the right time, but there is never going to be a right time. He hopes his words come out clearly, that his voice is loud enough. If she doesn’t hear him the first time, he might chicken out once more. He takes a deep breath.

“Janey, we need to talk.”

____________

“I can’t look at you right now. I can’t… I need to…”

“Janey, wait, don’t go, I’ll-I’ll go instead. Janey…”

She doesn’t reply. In her goddamn scruffs and slippers, she puts on a coat and walks out the door. She doesn’t slam it. He hears the car starting a moment later, wheels on the gravel.

Fuck. 

All he can think of: it’s dark, it’s cold, she’s seven months pregnant, she’s in her goddamn slippers, she’s upset, and I’m not allowed to do anything about it. She doesn’t want me to. Not anymore, never again.

He remains sitting down on the couch for a while, stunned, reeling. He doesn’t try to work out what he’s feeling. He needs to get his shit together. He has stuff to do.

He sniffles as he picks up a few clothes, toiletries, briefcase, essentials. Then he leans on the breakfast bar to write her a note. He never even manages to put pen to paper. How does he even start? Would she think that Dear Jane is taking the piss? He texts her instead: “I’m not in the house, and I won’t come back unless you give me permission. I’ll wait for you to get in touch to talk about this, when you’re ready.” Then he hesitates. “Love”? “Sorry”? “Forgive me”? “Please don’t go freeze in the street out of spite”? “Please promise me you’ll let me see my child”? He just presses send.

In the car, he sits and ponders his options. He calls Fandral.

“Hey. Uh. Are you… Are you in? Are you alone?”

“Yes I am. On a Friday night. I know, I know. Just don’t go telling around. I have a reputation to maintain.” Fandral jokes, but he sounds cautious. He definitely realises something’s up. 

Thor hesitates. 

“Can… can I crash at yours tonight?” 

“Oh dear,” says his very perceptive friend. “What happened?”

“I’ll tell you when I get there. Can I come over?”

“Of course you can.”

“See you in a bit.”

“You know where to find me.”

______

“Not a sofa-bed, I’m afraid,” says Fandral, as he leads Thor to the living room. “Unless you prefer sleeping in my room?”

“I’m not going to kick you out of your own bed,” says Thor.

“King size mattress. Who says anything about kicking me out?” smirks Fandral, wagging his eyebrows.

Thor tries for a smile. Doesn’t get far.

“Couch is fine,” he says. And he notices Fandral’s expression. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m not dying.”

Fandral squeezes his shoulder.

“How are you doing?”

“Been better,” says Thor, feeling more than anything empty and drained, and so, so tired.

“Was it bad?”

Thor nods.

“Did she cry?”

Nod.

“Did you?”

Nod.

“Want to drown your tears in some variety of liquor?”

Thor shakes his head no.

“Got any painkillers? Head is killing me.”

“I’ll get them,” says Fandral. “You get yourself nice and comfy. Within the realm of possibility.”

Thor collapses on the couch, rubbing his face and his eyes. He feels numb. “I can’t look at you right now.”

“Oh, darling,” says Fandral, when he gets back and finds him crying, Thor’s back shaking with silent sobs.

_____________

Thor wakes up to the smell of coffee and a cooked breakfast. They eat in silence, with the morning news on the radio. His friend doesn’t pry. Thor feels he owes him something, anything.

“She didn’t understand why I was telling her. About Loki. She said, if it’s over, why are you telling me? She didn’t understand I wanted to leave.”

Fandral hears him in silence. 

“She didn’t really say a lot. She said she couldn’t look at me. I haven’t got a clue where we stand, or what happens now.” I’m fucking terrified.

Fandral squeezes his shoulder, gives it a nice pat. 

“I’m hardly an expert on this kind of situation. I don’t really know what to tell you.”

Thor puts on a weak smile.

“You don’t have to say anything. Thank you for taking me in.”

“Always and anytime, my friend.” Another nice squeeze. “Hey, tell you what. Since I have you here. I bought this flatpack sideboard for the living room ages ago, and I’m pretty terrible at this assembling thing, but I seem to recall you have a knack for manual labour, don’t you? While I do the laundry, would you mind giving it a go?”

The weekend passes in a blur. Fandral works him hard. After the sideboard, Thor repairs cracks in the walls, sorts out a leaking tap, hangs a few pictures, repaints the bathroom ceiling where it’s stained with damp, and adjusts the door hinges of all the kitchen cabinets. This entails approximately half a dozen trips to the hardware store, which is really too close to justify driving, but not so close that it’s not a decent walk there and back. Fandral follows him around, providing advice and a running commentary. His blabber fills the air and Thor’s head, and between one thing in the other, it’s Sunday evening and Thor hasn’t really had time to stew in his woes. He might not look it, but Fandral is a wise one.

On Monday, Thor takes the morning off to go buy a new suit (off the rack; ill-fitting, pulls everywhere, too tight here and sagging there, but it will have to do, he needs it now), a stack of shirts, extra changes of underwear and socks, smart shoes, and he’ll soon have to go back for stuff to wear around the house (Fandral is as tall as he is but not as broad). The hell was he thinking when he was packing? That everything would be fine by Monday morning? 

When he does get to work, he thinks he spies some odd looks. They can’t all possibly have found out already, have they? Is it the cheap cut of the suit that has them baffled? The way he keeps stretching his back, sore from that deceptively comfortable couch of Fandral’s? Thor knew they would soon put two and two together, but he did hope it would take them longer than that. 

When he gets back to Fandral’s that evening, out of his uncomfortable suit and into a borrowed pair of knit pants and t-shirt, and hears his friend beating eggs in the kitchen, he shuffles over, nervous as a little boy.

“Do I need to find me a hotel, Fan?”

“Don’t be silly. And this is fun,” says his friend. “Scrambled alright?”

On Tuesday, he watches the phone for a long time before he hits call. Frigga’s voice comes like a cool rain in the middle of the driest summer. He lets the pleasantries stretch, he asks about dad, Balder, Nana, the dog, the cat, the garden, the neighbours, and even gets her talking about the goddamn house plants, before he manages to get it out.

“I’ve left Jane.”

“Oh, my darling. How are you? How is she?”

Thor doesn’t really know the answer to that. 

The word comes to him unprompted after he’s put down the phone, “relieved.” The weight on his shoulders was so crushing, the burden of lies and secrets and guilt, that now that it’s lifted, he feels almost like there is a spring in his step. Which is wrong, right? So wrong. His marriage has ended. Shouldn’t he be feeling…? Well, he shouldn’t be feeling so light, that’s for sure. Right? He should be crying in the corners, mourning the most important relationship in his life, and freaking out about the future. There’s a baby in the middle of it all, jeez. Don’t you know the seriousness of what you’ve done?

But he’s sitting in the deserted kiddies park on Wednesday, on his bench, with the leftovers Fandral packed for his lunch like a doting parent, and as he closes his eyes and raises his face to let the sun warm him up, he realises there is nothing but pure relief in that sigh he exhales. It’s done. It’s out. No more secrets, no more lies. Thank fucking god. 

On Thursday, Fandral has a question.

“You haven’t told Loki yet?”

Thor hasn’t.

“Not really sure what to say at the moment.”

Fandral raises an eyebrow in puzzlement, but he’s delicate.

“Well, let me… let me make sure I got this right. You and Jane… It’s over, isn’t it? You’ve told her that you…? What, exactly, pray, have you told her?”

Thor rubs his eyes until it hurts. 

“I don’t fucking remember right now,” he chuckles miserably.

“But you… you told her you wanted a divorce, right?”

“Yes.” He’s pretty sure divorce was mentioned.

“So… Loki would like to hear that, I believe.”

“Would he?” snorts Thor. He feels so deflated right now, so low. He sighs. “I don’t know where we stand, with Jane, with the-the baby. I feel… It’s unfair telling Loki anything until we’re clear on how this pans out. I can’t go to him like that. My life needs to be in some sort of order.”

“But surely, you can’t keep him in the dark about something like that. What if he thinks you-…?”

“Please, Fandral. Please. I-I don’t think I can. … Do this. Right now.”

He’s let off the hook, but on his back in the couch later that night, he can’t sleep a wink. What if Loki thinks Thor lied, that he didn’t choose him in the end, that he was never really going to leave Jane? What if he’s in London right now nursing a ball of spite and resentment against him? What if he meets someone else?

He wants to call him. He wants to, so much. Don’t. He can’t ask him to drop everything and come to him, when he still doesn’t even have a clue of what he has to offer. If Loki asks “what happens with the baby?”, Thor needs to know the answer to that. 

He can’t call him now. He doesn’t know about Loki, but Thor would have him right here right now, today, and if they talk, Thor might just ask him. And who knows, Loki might just relent. What if Loki comes over, and then in a while Thor’s life is a mess, and Loki decided he never signed up for this, and…? God, no. No. Loki has got to know what he’s in for before he can make any decisions. And Thor needs to be in a reasonably stable place in his head before he risks hearing Loki’s voice and losing his bearings over it. No, he must try to keep his mind clear and even, don’t let it all get into a mess again. He owes it to Loki, to Jane, to his child, to himself. One step at a time. One day after the other. Loki has waited for almost fourteen years. He can wait a few more months. Right? (God, make it so. Make it so.)

But by Friday, Jane still hasn’t got in touch, and he’s very close to breaking his promise and texting her. “How are you? How is the baby? Please tell me that…” what? “Tell me you’re ok”? Her cheating husband has walked out on her two months away from giving birth to their first child. How the hell is she supposed to be feeling? 

He swore he would not rush her or push her, that this would happen in her own time, but he’s getting twitchy. All he can do is tell himself that one week is still a reasonable timeframe. And two would be as well, if it comes to that, god forbid. Tell himself she’ll take the time she needs, but then, sooner rather than later, she’ll face it. That she knows it’s in her own interest to get this sorted and out of the way, and focus again on the other life-changing event looming on the immediate horizon. That she’s a clever, mature, reasonable woman. Compassionate too, and generous. That they’ll be fine. They’ll work it out.

But Saturday goes by and nothing. He cuts the lawn, he washes both his and Fandral’s cars, he dusts and vacuums the entire flat, he even cleans the goddamn windows.

On Sunday, there’s a call. He had expected a text, and is startled when he sees the name on the screen. He’s concerned his words won’t come out. 

“Jane,” he says, husky voice. 

“Hey. Are you ok?” she asks.

Jesus. His heart becomes a lump of lead.

“Yeah. And you?”

“Ok. Listen, we need to… You should come by the house. There are things we need to talk about.”

“Of course. When.”

“How about now. This afternoon.”

“Uh, sure. Be there in half an hour. Is that ok?”

“See you then.”

____________

She looks pale to him. There are dark bags under her eyes, and she seems tired, but she was struggling to sleep even before last Friday anyway (she would pat her belly and grumble, “this gets in the way of everything!”). At least she doesn’t seem to have lost weight, or not so much that he can tell with just one look, but since her appetite is usually the first thing that goes away whenever she is stressed out, or ill, or upset, he is concerned.

She doesn’t look at him, she keeps her eyes low. He had wondered in the car, before he dared to get out, how he should say hello. Should he kiss her, or hug her, or, what, shake her hand? At the time of truth, he does nothing. He just stays there waiting for instructions. He’s been so stiff and tense all the way here that his back and neck are hurting. He feels shy about asking for a painkiller, god knows why.

“Coming in?” she says.

The house seems the same at first, until they get to the living room. All their photos together are gone. There’s a cold, sinking feeling inside. 

“Jane, sorry, do you have aspirin or something?”

“You know we have,” she says, coldly. “You know where it is. Help yourself.”

In the kitchen, alone for a minute, deep breath. His hands are shaking. He feels so fucking sad. He finds the pills where they’ve always kept them, washes a couple down with some tap water, and wishes he could wash down the knot in his throat with tap water as well. You asshole, you did the ditching, you did the fucking cheating. You don’t get to cry here. And his hands are still shaking. Awesome.

He’s taking forever, isn’t he? She’ll think he’s stalling. And she’ll be right. Deep breath. He returns.

As he walks into the living room, he’s wondering if he should look her in the eye or not, if he should smile or look somber, if he should start or let her say the first word. He honestly has no fucking idea how he should act around her. They were a team once; things happened naturally between them. All this artificiality and conceit is breaking his heart. 

With what he’s quite convinced is a duly solemn, but mostly inexpressive face, he sits on the armchair perpendicular to her. He chances a look. She too has gone for a blank, grave mask. 

“This is about the baby,” she says.

He nods.

“What do you want?” she asks. “Don’t tell me what I think I want to hear.”

Thor is taken aback by the question. He almost snaps “Do you really need to ask that?” Because the half a dozen answers she could throw at him go from unpleasant to downright ugly, starting with the way he reacted when she told him she was pregnant, and they better steer clear of this kind of talk. He swallows it down and goes for sincere and candid.

“I want to be in the baby’s life. I want to be their dad.”

She nods sharply, nothing that gives away what she thinks or feels.

“In that case, we need to draft an agreement. I’m thinking shared custody. I don’t know what the usual practice is in this case, with a breastfeeding infant. Because I still intend to breastfeed.” She darts him a look, challenging him to argue with her.

“That’s fine. I mean, whatever you think it’s best,” he says. “We’ll-we’ll find a way to make it work. I’ll do anything,” he offers.

“Would you handle the legal stuff?” she asks.

“Yeah, absolutely. I can sort out all the paperwork, that’s not a problem. I will find out what the usual practice is, and we can take that as a basis to come up with something that works for both of us, and then I’ll draft a proposal. Or I can get a specialist in the firm to do it instead, if you’d prefer that. But you should get your own lawyer to look through it. I can recommend you someone.”

“Yes, do that,” she says. “I was hoping you would say that.”

He exhales, visibly relieved.

“Janey, thank you so much, thank you…”

“For what?” she snaps.

He stutters.

“F-for making it so easy.”

She has a hard stare on her now.

“What did you think I would do?”

He gapes like a fish out of water. What, indeed?

“Did you think I’d be forbidding you to see the baby? Or throwing crockery to your head? I thought you knew me better than that.”

He must be looking so fucking busted.

“When did it start?” she asks abruptly. “Before or after?”

Thor is caught out cold, he goes dumb. He doesn’t want to look like he doesn’t want to answer, but he’s not sure he’s getting the question right. And if all these years in the profession have taught him something, it is to never chance an answer or shoot blind.

“Before or after… You mean…?”

“Did you start sleeping with Loki before or after you knew I was pregnant?” She enunciates slowly and carefully, with a deliberate, relentless pace, intended for him not to miss one word, and feel each and every one of them.

Feel it, he does. He rubs under his ribs, right where a hot, sour feeling has settled.

“Before,” he mutters.

He is tempted to offer a full confession, spill out the entire thing with all the details. But she hasn’t asked for that. Does she even want to know? He can’t seem to tell the story without starting to make excuses for himself (“We stopped when we found out, we wanted to do the right thing, but then…”), so he keeps his mouth shut. And what can he even say that will make it easier on her? That they tried to stay apart, but couldn’t fucking help themselves? How the hell is that going to make her feel any better?

“I’ve been thinking… You stopped fucking me when I got pregnant,” she says, her eyes low, and still hard.

“You-you were nauseous…”

“That’s not what I mean. Once I stopped being sick, and we had sex, you did everything except fuck me. You thought I had not realised?”

Blood drains from Thor’s face. His heart races.

“Why?” she asks.

Thor wrings his hands. 

“Did you fuck him without a condom? Is that why?”

He pinches his eyes shut, feeling cold in his stomach.

“You bastard,” she hisses.

“I got tested, and he…”

“I don’t care!” she shouts. “You fucking bastard! What were you thinking! What about the baby? Do you have any fucking idea what could have happened, whether or not you came inside me?”

There’s nothing he can say. (“I wanted to. I needed to. I thought I’d be losing him forever. I wanted to feel it all.”) He’s hiding behind his hands like a coward.

“I just… All these months, lying to my face! Pretending everything was fine! Letting me make an absolute fucking idiot out of myself! Did you ever stop to think about anything but…? I can’t begin to… Who even are you? It’s like you’re a completely different person from the Thor I thought I knew!”

He remains slumped, thrashed into submission, and takes the pounding. She’s not finished though. Hell, in fairness, she hasn’t even started.

“Had you cheated on me before?”

Finally, an easy one.

“No. Never.”

“Are you gay?”

He frowns, baffled.

“You know I’m not.”

“So you haven’t been faking with me all this time.”

“What? No! How can you…?” He bites his tongue. “I’m-I’m bisexual.”

She has a frown he cannot decode. There’s a lot going on in her expression in a very brief second.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

He sighs. Why didn’t he?

“I-I don’t know. I wasn’t really sure about it until long after we got together, so it didn’t… it didn’t seem to… I don’t know. The subject just never came up.”

“Never came up?” she repeats, aghast. “What were you waiting for, that I would come up to you and ask about your goddamn sexual orientation? You should have told me the moment you realised! This is kind of a pretty fucking important thing to keep from your wife!”

He looks down at his hands, chastised.

“I-I didn’t know how to.”

She seems disarmed, stunned.

“What did you think I would do? Why are you so… afraid of me? I can’t understand it!”

He shakes his head, still out of words. He doesn’t understand it either. He’s ashamed.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner? About Loki.” Her tone is softer now, almost pleading.

He suddenly feels so exhausted. This is fucking hard. He rubs his eyes until he sees sparks. There is no way to soften this blow, or to put it nicely. 

“I wasn’t sure what to do. I wasn’t sure who I wanted. I wanted to clear my head before I… I fucked up. I never meant to… I’m so sorry.”

That leaves her thinking, and there’s a hint of compassion now in her face. Perhaps this dilemma she can understand. Perhaps she is letting herself see that he is hurting too, and how very fucking much. And perhaps it’s not fair on her, perhaps she should get to hate him fully and freely before she begins to see things through his eyes, and start forgiving. Or perhaps it’s him that would feel better if she hated him for a while, as if that would help him atone for his sins. In any case, hell, if it doesn’t feel good to see her looking at him like that, with some sympathy.

“When did you decide you wanted a divorce then?” she asks softly.

He sighs deeply. Weeks ago. Ages ago. Oh, Janey…

“Around the time of the trial.”

Her brow wrinkles, and her gaze drifts out of focus. Is she trying to work out connections? She attended the first day of the trial and the last. Is she remembering Loki in court, ravishing, killing it, and Thor unable to tear his eyes from him? Is she mulling the thought that her husband has known he wanted to walk out for over a month, and has been keeping it to himself, pretending everything was fine, basically stringing her along? Thor wrings his hands some more. Her silence is unnerving.

“We weren’t together at the time. We had… He had broken up with me.” Why is he even volunteering that? She has not asked. He shuts his mouth, pretty sure his foot is already deeply stuck in it.

She scrutinises him without an ounce of warmth. 

“He broke it up? When?”

“When we came back from Christmas break.”

“Why?”

“Because it was wrong.”

She snorts.

“And it wasn’t before?”

Not to Loki, he almost says. Oh, Janey, you have no idea. He’s grown so much, he’s changed…

“We had tried to stop before,” he says. “That time was final.”

Again, there is so much behind that frown of hers. She looks like she wants to keep asking questions, and she’s restraining herself. Because she fears it might only hurt more to hear the answers? Because it’s none of her business? Who knows.

“If you had decided… If you had chosen me instead, would you have told me about Loki? Or would you have kept it a secret forever?”

The lawyer in him hasn’t missed that she rephrased her sentence to make it more fucking poignant.

“I-I don’t know,” he confesses. “Would-would you have wanted me to?”

She returns an indignant stare. He is aware that this was a shitty answer.

“I don’t know,” she hisses. “What would you prefer in my place?”

He is stunned into silence. He has’t got a clue. He has never thought about it before. (Jane, cheating on him? Unthinkable. - oh, the irony.)

“Is Loki the only man you’ve ever…?” she asks.

“Yes.”

She nods, for some reason.

“And you’re in love with him.”

“Y-yes I am.”

“So, what happens now. With him.”

Well, at least this one isn’t too hard.

“I don’t know,” he replies sincerely. “My priority right now is the baby. Before I make any other plans I… Once the baby is born, and we settle into-… whatever arrangement we agree on... Then I’ll know what my life is like, and then I’ll-I’ll talk to Loki.”

Her eyes are getting wet. Thor in response feels a choke, and it burns him — throat, chest, eyes.

“So, you haven’t told him?” she asks, just a whisper. “That you’ve left.”

He shakes his head no.

“Why not?” 

“It’s too soon.”

She snorts, and she looks like she wants to come back at him with something, but she lets it go. She looks exhausted.

So is Thor. He wants nothing more than to enjoy the blessed silence. He wants this to be over. But it isn’t yet.

“Jane, if Loki and I…” When did words become so goddamn prickly, so dangerous, so cutting, that even considering some to try to pick the right one leaves a wound? He gives up. “Does he get to see the baby?”

“Does he…? What do you ask me for? ...What are you actually asking?”

He is left in confusion.

“Are you seriously asking me if I’ll want to police your private life in the future? That because we have a child together, I think I’m entitled to have a say in who you date? That because he’s the one you went with behind my back, I will not tolerate him seeing our child? Is that what you seriously think of me? I can’t fucking believe you, Thor. We’ve been together for almost nine years, and you still have no fucking idea of who I am.” 

Her stare is as cold as he has ever seen it yet. 

“I’m sorry, Janey,” he mutters. “I’ve been so unfair.” If that’s even the word for it.

“So, I’m assuming I keep the house, at least for now?” she says.

The sudden change of topic leaves his head spinning.

“Y-yes. We did buy it to-… to…”

“To start a family. Fine. You need to pack your things, then.”

The task overwhelms him. He’s filled up two suitcases, and there’s just so much left, everywhere. 

She has disappeared for the last hour, and he hesitates. He won’t be able to take it all tonight. Is it ok if he…? He just doesn’t feel confident enough in their current situation to make assumptions on even such a small thing as that. He looks for her. 

As he walks past the door of her office, he hears her cry. Muffled sobs, quiet. She doesn’t want him to hear. It breaks his heart. The impulse to get in there and offer some comfort is almost overpowering. Is it just a habit he’ll be needing to break himself out of? He stands by the door for a long time, physically unable to get himself away while his wife is in so much pain. How is he supposed to walk away and leave her crying?

He’s not wanted here anymore. He’s cut himself off. He had feared and tried to prepare for many things when today came, but he hadn’t thought to prepare for this. By comparison, it seems as if the rest of it was no big deal.

He leaves as quietly as he can. He’s pretty sure he has never felt worse about himself in his entire life. 

________________

“Hey,” says Fandral, and that’s all he says. The rest he does with his eyes, with a tiny smile, with his very expressive eyebrows. 

He reaches to help Thor with his bags, they pile them up in a corner. Then they slump side by side on the couch, stay in silence for some time. Thor doesn’t offer anything about his conversation with Jane, and Fandral knows better than to ask.

“Want to stay up and drink?” he says instead.

For the first time since this whole thing started, getting plastered and waking up with a head-splitting hangover sounds exactly like what Thor needs right now.

“Yeah,” he says. “Please. Yes. I’d like that.”

Chapter Text

September 10th 201…

Dear Loki,

My baby daughter was born on the seventh of June. We named her Emma. Both she and Jane are well.

Jane knows everything. She was very understanding, very generous, and more forgiving than I had any right to expect. Our relationship at present is cordial. We filed our divorce papers one week before Emma was born. It will soon be final. We have signed an agreement establishing joint custody of our daughter. For now, while she is still breastfeeding, Emma lives with Jane in our old house, which she will be keeping. I have taken parental leave, and I spend a lot of my day at the house, helping look after Emma. Jane takes the night shift, since it seems to work best for her. (I have spent some nights there too, if Jane needed to be somewhere in the morning, or if she wasn’t feeling well, but I sleep on the couch.)

Emma is very good; she makes it easy for us. She feeds well, usually she’s a good sleeper, and she has a very sweet, calm nature. It’s felt like plain sailing so far. She did catch a bad bug when she was five weeks old, and we even feared she would have to be hospitalized (she couldn’t keep any food down - or so it felt to me anyway - the paediatrician said she was managing), but she got over it just fine. I enjoy looking after her more than I ever thought I would. I’m quite sure I’ll be taking a sabbatical (though I’ll probably still be on call for matters related to the Hydra case), and then when Emma turns one and starts doing mornings at day care, go back to work part-time.

As you see, I have the immediate future pretty much mapped out, even if the day-to-day still feels like absolute chaos. But it’s good chaos. There’s not a moment of boredom, and I honestly don’t know how to explain that, since all a baby does at this point is sleep, feed, need changing, and look at things with balloon-sized eyes… Oh, and smile. And the other day she chuckled, I swear. She looks at me like I’m the source of all light, and also a very puzzling thing that keeps wowing her. She listens to me talk to her, or read to her, or sing to her (yeah, I sing to her, ok? And she loves it too.) I take her for walks, chatting all the time, and I point at things for her. She looks at my finger. We make fun of how long she can entertain herself simply staring at her own feet, but we’re the ones watching her do nothing but that for just as long, so.

Anyway, I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. I’m sure you’re not interested in hearing me gush about my baby. I know I never used to give a damn about other people’s stories about happy parenting before I had my own sprog. I would ask you whether you’re interested but, well. Why don’t you pick up my calls? Or answer my texts? I’m getting bent out of shape here, thinking you don’t want anything to do with me anymore. I’m sure you’re not doing it just to spite me. So, whatever your reasons, please baby, won’t you talk to me? I miss you so much. And I may have started to panic a bit. Throw me a bone, please?

Are you pissed off because I didn’t get in touch for weeks after you left? I’m so sorry if that upset you. I just wanted to get things in order with Jane before I did. I wasn’t able to leave her straight away — I know, I know, but I was terrified —, and I was reluctant to call you just to say, “I haven’t had the balls yet, but I love you” (perhaps I should have. Anyway, I fucked up there, I’m so sorry). And then, when I finally did leave Jane, I got caught up in the moving out, and apartment hunting, and the paperwork for the divorce, and the custody agreement, and in the middle of it all Emma was born… I did call you the moment the agreement was settled on (and then I texted you), to let you know I finally had an idea of what my life was going to be like in the following months. To let you know what I had to offer, basically. I swear I wasn’t having second thoughts or doubts of any kind as to what I want, and whom I want. Haven’t had them for a long time now. I really hope that’s not what’s bothering you, because you have to believe me, you have no cause.

Emma will start on solid food within the next couple of months, and then I’ll start taking her to mine for a few hours to get her used to it. She’ll continue to breastfeed once or twice a day until she’s one year old (depends on her too), so I’ll be to-ing and fro-ing a lot for some time between Jane’s place and mine, but eventually Emma will be with me for one week at a time. That’s the plan. We hope she takes to it well. I am spending hours alone with her already, so adaptation shouldn’t be a big problem. I’m sure we’ll be fine. I’m really not half bad at this.

So, things are beginning to fall into place and take shape. There’s only one thing missing in the picture, and it’s you. I would like you to be a part of it, somehow. Hell, you know what I want. I want us to be together. I do realise there are lots of difficulties. I realise I’m asking a lot from you, since I’m stuck here, and you’d be the one doing the traveling (or the moving, if you were happy to do that). And most of all, I realise that what I’m offering you is miles away from the kind of life you’ve led so far. But I hope we can make it work. I’m willing to be very flexible. All I want is you, as much or as little as you’re happy to give me. And if you need time, because the next months before the “week-in, week-out” part of the agreement kicks in seem like too much for you, I can give you time too. Anything you need, Loki.

Just in case you wonder, I’m not asking you to be Emma’s stepdad. I’m not expecting you to change nappies, lullaby her to sleep, and take her to the park. To make it completely clear, I’m not taking for granted that we’ll live together, or even that we will be exclusive, if that’s not what you want. I know you need your space, and I know that Tony is important to you. I’m not asking you to change the way you live. I just want to be in your picture, and for you to be in mine in a way that makes us both happy. Remember, I will only have Emma for one week at a time, and the rest of the time I’ll be pretty much a bachelor. It would be just you and me.

But just because I would hate for you to misinterpret what I’m saying, I would love for us to live together, in a place of our own, and be a family with Emma in the more traditional sense. But even that wouldn’t have to come straight away. You could have a try, see if it grows on you, and back out if it doesn’t suit you. I don’t want you to feel suffocated. It’s enough that I’m asking you to move countries, I guess. Like I said, all I want is you, but I’m willing to leave us a lot of latitude on the details.

Sorry I’m not great at this love letter business. I’m a goddamn lawyer. What I really set out to say is that nothing has changed the way I feel about you. If anything, I love you more than ever, now that I am free to do so without guilt. We’ve only had a taste of what it would be like if we were together, and it’s made me desperate for more. I think of the weekend we spent at your place, and those long car trips to meet with clients, and the fun we had, in spite of it all. We always have fun when it’s just the two of us, don’t we? I feel so good with you. You know me inside and out. You get all my awful jokes and all my references. Nobody has ever made me laugh as much as you. (And nobody turns me on like you do, damn.)

And I just think about you all the fucking time. I have all these imaginary conversations with you. You’re snarky even in my thoughts, although the real you is wittier. And you don’t know how many times you’ve been out for a walk with Emma and me. I dream about you, and I’m so fucking sad when I wake up and you’re not there. I miss you more than words can say. And I want you so badly. God, what I wouldn’t give to have you here right now. By the time I was done with you, you wouldn’t know what had hit you.

I don’t know, baby. I’m trying to keep my head, be patient, and not panic. I’m sure you have good reasons for the radio silence, and I want to respect that. But please, baby, drop me a line and tell me you’re ok. Tell me we’re ok (we are, aren’t we?).

I love you with all my heart. My thoughts are always with you. I hope I hear from you soon.

Always yours.

        Thor.

P.S. I hope you don’t mind that I pinched your London address from Shield’s files. I think Fury’s PA likes us together - she winked one hell of a lot when I asked her for your details. I suspect the whole fucking office ended up finding out about us.

P.P.S. I know it’s a bad idea to write this by hand, seeing as you’ve never missed a chance to take the piss out of my handwriting since we were 10. But give me a break, I thought it’d feel more personal. Anyway. I love you. Please write (or text, or call) soon.

P.P.P.S. Will you come over for the verdict reading of the Hydra case at the end of October?

___________

Thor woke up to the soft clicking noise of a phone taking a snapshot. He was lying on the couch with his daughter napping peacefully on his chest, and there Jane was, phone in hand, probably thinking they looked adorable. He smiled at her drowsily.

She picked up the baby to put her in her cot. Thor stretched his arms with a soft groan, and tried to clear his head. A look at his watch to check the time finished the job. It was a lot later than he thought.

Some time later, he stepped into the living room to find Jane feeding Emma on the couch.

“Dinner’s ready,” he announced.

“We’re just about finished here too,” said Jane.

Thor still didn’t know where to put his eyes when she was covering up after nursing. He knew it irked Jane, not sure why, so he tried to act naturally, but sucked at it. Her breasts just looked so… changed. He was curious, and he just didn’t know if he was even allowed to look at them anymore.

“Can you burp her, please?” she said.

“Sure.”

He picked Emma up and rested her on his shoulder, stroking her back in slow circles. The newborn-velociraptor noises she made in that position had his face bursting into a smile every time.

“There you go, good girl. You’d make even great-grandpa Bor proud with that one,” he was mumbling, enjoying the weight and warmth against his chest.

Out of the corner of an eye, he caught Jane smirking. She looked both endeared and kind of wistful. She often had that look on her.

They were the perfect family, except for the part where they weren’t. Frigga had told him several times that there are different types of perfect families, and he saw her point, and he even agreed, but he didn’t always feel it.

He had been present at the birth. He had held Jane’s hand, stroked her hair, wiped the sweat off her forehead, kept her up with developments, encouraged her, soothed her, praised her efforts. When they had first put Emma on Jane’s body, they had kissed, both shaking and crying with adrenaline, relief, and joy. Already at home, he sometimes caught her looking at him and Emma together with longing. That one time, he was humming softly as he rocked her to sleep, and Jane had suddenly disappeared upstairs. He realised she had gone away to cry.

“She’ll be alright, little one,” he had muttered to her daughter, as he started to cry too. “We’ll all be alright.”

And the thing was, they sort of were alright. They had settled quite smoothly into their new routine. Without the need to pretend that things were anything but what they were, it all felt a lot easier. They had always got along well, they were of the same mind about the big issues of raising a child, and most of the small ones too, and they just worked together well as parents. It helped that Thor was in a much better mood overall, full of energy, optimism, and patience. Their relationship hadn’t been so good in a very long time.

He usually cooked dinner for both of them before he left to spend the night at his place, and they sat at the table and conversed.

“I told him I have no time for that interdepartmental cold warfare bullshit,” Jane was saying. “That they could take it or leave it, because I have no patience or interest for their politics.”

He listened, followed, and contributed. It was like the good old days. Looking in from the outside, nobody could say they were getting a divorce.

“Look at you,” she said a while later. She had finished loading up the dishwasher and tidying up the table while he was scrubbing the pots.

“Me?” he chuckled, drying his hands. “What about me?”

“You’re… shining.”

He wasn’t sure where she was getting at, but her voice had a yearning in it that disturbed him.

“Am I?” was all he said.

“You look like the man I married,” she said, with a cheerless, yet kind smile.

He kept rubbing his hands with the towel, long after they were dry. They had avoided the bigger issues all this time, the emotional ones. Seemed safer. Is that where they were headed? She seemed to be gathering herself to say something. He waited.

“I think I was unfair to you,” she said. “I let you take all the blame. It was easy, of course, with Loki and all. But… well, ever since, I’ve thought that if we had been happier together at the time, perhaps you wouldn’t have… I don’t know. Am I wrong?”

Was she?

“I don’t know,” he said, maybe a bit too cautiously. “Maybe not. I never thought I’d do something like that. It’s not something I’m proud of.”

Her stare was open and compassionate.

“I had been watching your fire die down for years,” she said. “I didn’t know what to do about it. I loved you, and I loved what we had once had, so I couldn’t just accept that it was gone for good and would never come back. It was hard to face that it was over. And that had been the situation long before Loki turned up. I can’t help but think that, if I had been braver, or more realistic, perhaps you would have been single when Loki came into your life again, and we could all have saved us some pain.”

Thor let out a long, heavy exhale, emotion clawing at his throat. She seemed to find it so easy, to speak her heart and her mind candidly. It overwhelmed him.

“Nothing was your fault, Janey,” he said thickly. “None of it.”

“It’s nobody’s fault. Things just… they are the way they are. You could have been braver and more realistic too. I guess we could both just have carried on the way we were for years. But it would have been a mistake. We weren’t making each other happy anymore, were we? Simple as that. And whenever I feel… When I see you so full of fire again, so happy, and I get the temptation to fool myself… It’s the hardest part of it all, to realise it has nothing to do with me. Perhaps what happened with Loki was for the best. It forced us to confront the situation.”

Thor didn’t know what to say. He wouldn't know where to start. She had floored him.

“I’m still happy we had Emma together. You’re a good dad. We’re a good team. Don’t you think?”

He nodded, still with that choke.

Her phone pinged. She checked it while Thor refrained from drawing a long sigh of relief.

“Pepper and Tony,” she said. “They’re dropping by.”

“Oh?”

“She called this morning to say they might. She just came back from a tour of Asia, and apparently she’s bought a cartload of things for Emma. I’m still not clear on whether having a millionaire self-appointed auntie is a good or a bad thing for her... Anyway, are you staying? I can make an excuse if you’d rather disappear.”

Thor scratched his beard. Tony and Pepper had visited a few times already. It had been strained. From the moment they walked through the door, the elephant in the room started to grow, until it threatened to fill the entire house. Thor usually didn’t stay longer than a few minutes, and the last time he had made his escape before they even got there, appearances be damned.

But Tony may be in touch with Loki…

“I’ll stick around and say hello,” he said. “We’ll see how it goes.”

“Aaaah-coochie-coochie-coo, aaah-coochie-coochie-coo…” Tony was lying on his front on the new playmat, blowing raspberries on Emma’s belly and neck, while Pepper, on the couch, was showing Jane her loot, and walking her through the basics (many objects required an explanation). Thor, for his part, was waiting by the kitchen door for the kettle to whistle (Pepper had brought some really special tea from Java, too).

He didn’t know what to feel watching Tony with Emma. The man had a knack for babies. He lost all sense of ridicule around her, and the childish air he always had about him really came to shine. Emma clearly adored him. She was making those little delighted shrieks and that weird gurgle that was almost, almost a chuckle. And it was altogether rather cute, and the women couldn’t help but drool a little. All in all, Thor was relieved when the kettle began its wailing.

With the excuse (which he gave only to himself) of waiting for the tea to brew, he hid away in the kitchen. And then he hid some more, waiting for it too cool off. And then Tony walked in.

“Uh, do you need anything?” asked Thor, twitchy.

“Pepper has confiscated the baby from me. Apparently, we were turning her stomach with our combined adorableness. I came to see if you needed a hand.”

Thor cleared his throat for no good reason before he said, “I’m fine.”

They went quiet, unspoken things and unspoken names hanging in the air. There was no point in pussy-footing around it for ever and ever. If Thor wanted to be able to make good on what he had promised to Loki in his letter, it was high time they had a goddamn chat.

“Do you talk to him?” asked Thor, bit abruptly perhaps.

“Yup.”

“How is he.”

“Hm, interesting question.”

Thor grimaced with annoyance. He was not in the mood for Tony’s games.

“Can you answer me?”

“He’s…” Tony frowned, concentrating. “Well, he’s Loki.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” snapped Thor.

Deep sigh to reel himself back. He didn’t enjoy opening up to the other fucking man in Loki’s life. It was all very fucking weird, alright? He just wanted to get on with it. Could Tony please make it a bit easier on him?

“Sorry. Listen, he doesn’t talk to me, ok? Doesn’t pick up the phone, doesn’t reply to my texts. I just… I’m worried. Alright? I would appreciate… an answer, a proper one. Please.”

Tony rubbed his goatee, pondering.

“I’m not sure what to tell you, honestly. He’s… in good health? He’s looking after himself, and he’s not doing any stupid things. But as you know well, he’s kind of a riddle. He rarely says what he’s thinking, or what he’s feeling, and if he ever touches on it, he cloaks it all in a goddamn veil of mystery. So, how is he? Hm, he doesn’t look too chirpy, but neither does he look like he’s sinking to the bottom. He’s getting on with things. Does that help?”

“Do you see him?” said Thor with longing.

“Skype.”

Thor felt a lot of pathetic, absurd, pointless questions tingling at the tip of his tongue. He bit them back. He didn’t want to hear about Loki’s looks from Tony anyway.

“Next time you talk, could you please tell him… Can you ask him to get in touch,” he asked instead.

“I can ask, sure.”

Thor sighed. Did he want to ask? Did it make him look pathetic? Information, or pride? Oh, fuck it. He gave up. He wasn’t that strong.

“Is he mad at me?” he muttered.

Tony’s eyebrows did a thing. Thor must be looking like a homeless puppy in the goddamn rain.

“I don’t think so,” said Tony. “But you know how he is. He’s… complicated.”

“Complicated? He overthinks everything.”

“Yeah, but it’s not like it’s a hobby, ok?” countered Tony with severity.

Thor turned his back on him. Being told off was annoying, but mostly he was just feeling chastised.

With the most inexpressive tone of voice he could find, he asked,

“Are you and Loki still…?”

“Still…?” prompted Tony.

He was going to make him say it.

“Are you still in a relationship,” Thor said between his teeth.

“Yes, we are in a relationship. I call him, he tells me how he’s doing, I remind him to look after himself, and he does it, because he cares about what I feel. What you’re really asking here is, are we still fucking. So why don’t you ask that?”

Prickly. Thor was glaring at Tony now through a narrow squint.

“I thought we were keeping this civilized,” he groaned.

“It’s high fucking time we begin calling things by their name,” countered Tony.

“Fine. Are you and Loki still fucking.”

“No, we are not. But regardless of whatever future additions to Loki’s life, that part of our relationship, if it comes down to me, is not over for good. As in, I’ve told him I would like to resume our physical intimacy at his earliest convenience, and he didn’t exactly shut the door on it. Do you have a problem with that?” There was a tremor in his voice, and a vulnerable flicker in his eyes. Thor didn’t miss it. Was he… was he jealous? Was that it?

Suddenly, Thor felt on much firmer ground than he had since the conversation had started. Tony might have Loki’s confidence, and access to him, but Thor was very much there in the inner circle too, wasn’t he? With that sudden illumination, the spike of his own jealousy and possessiveness had eased. If he let himself look at things with a cool eye, the fact that Tony was there with him right now, and that they were talking, and that Tony cared for Loki, and knew his heart, and the place Thor occupied in it, made Tony an ally, not an adversary. Right? Perhaps that was the reason Tony had come into the kitchen in the first place. That was a thought.

“He asks about you,” said Tony flatly, not meeting Thor’s eyes. “When I tell him we’ve been around. He asks if it looked like you were alright. And he gets all shy and nervous, and his eyes get all twinkly. Bit like yours right now, I guess.”

Thor’s chest felt so fucking full all of a sudden. He smiled irrepressibly. And then he smiled some more. A deep sigh, feeling a bit teary.

“Will you please tell him I… Nah, forget it.”

Was it the thought of who he was talking to that made him reserved all of a sudden? Tony studied him for a moment with a perceptive stare.

“Go ahead, shoot,” he urged, softening the usual sharpness in his voice to make it more welcoming.

It worked. Cheeks burning, Thor muttered, “Tell him I love him. And that I miss him.”

Tony nodded. Then he lowered his eyes, let them drift out of focus.

“I miss him too.”

Tony and his relationship with Loki was a fucking puzzle to Thor at the best of times, but sometimes, he really got it, how they clicked.

“Listen, as far as I’m concerned… How do I put this. If Loki and I… Dammit." Thor stammered on the tricky subject. Try again. "Ok. I love Loki. I want us to be together. But if he needs you as well, I’m-I’m fine with that. Ok? I mean, it’s not something I’ve ever considered before, but - but I’m willing to accept whatever he needs. I can learn to make it work. I really mean it. Will you tell him that?”

Tony scrutinized him at length, as if assessing Thor’s sincerity, or perhaps if he had thought this through.

“If the subject comes up, I will, sure,” he said.

“Thank you,” sighed Thor.

“Thank you,” smiled Tony.

The silence that followed was definitely not miles away from the borders of almost comfortable territory. Progress?

*

Tony sat at his desk with a glass of scotch and hit the call button. It was his third attempt that night. This time, Loki did pick up, bless his soul. There he was, his pale, sharp face, made gaunter and leaner by the harsh angle of the lightning.

“ Hey ,” said Loki.

“Good evening, sweetcheeks.”

“ Sorry I didn’t pick up earlier. I was out.” He was fiddling with the camera.

“It’s fine. Oh, wait, whoa, what’s that ?” Now that the image was steady, Tony had noticed Loki’s cheeks were swollen and puffy.

“ What’s what, ” said Loki, although he knew perfectly well what Tony was on about.

“ That on your face,” said Tony, cutting.

“ Oh, that. ” Loki felt his cheek. “ Went to that place.”

“…The club?”

“ Uh-huh. ”

“And they did your fucking face ?” said Tony, aghast.

“ I asked him to. ”

“But sweetheart... your face?” pleaded Tony, with dismay.

“ Just a few slaps. Guy knew what he was doing. Nothing permanent, don’t worry. ”

But that isn’t the fucking issue here, protested Tony in his head. He sighed.

“Is it that bad?” he asked.

Loki looked away. Tony suddenly felt him very far away, and himself so goddamn impotent.

“ What? ” snapped Loki, who tended to take exception to some expressions on Tony’s face when it was him they were addressed to. “ I did what you fucking told me to do. Got myself a professional. Nobody died, nothing was broken . It’s not such a big deal. ”

“I… I was kinda hoping you’d just make do without.”

“ Yeah, well, sorry to disappoint you. ”

“Loki, you don’t… That’s not it. I just… Listen, I’m glad you’re being safe, ok? I just wish it was me. Ok? Because I care for you, and… you know.”

Loki threw him a quick look. He didn’t seem completely displeased with that. Phew.

“So, what prompted it?” asked Tony. “Why today?”

Loki sighed again.

“ Thought it would get me out of my head for a while. Clear my mind. ”

“Did it?”

Loki shrugged. He certainly didn’t look mellow, purry, and easy as he did when it was Tony and him.

“What was wrong with it?”

“ It didn’t feel personal,” said Loki, with a dark smirk, full of self-loathing. “Too clinical, too controlled. He did exactly what I asked, no more, no less. No spontaneity. No danger. ”

“Danger?”

“ He knew what he was doing. Unlike some other people I know. Turns out, the amateur approach gives it a spicy edge that makes a world of difference. ”

“Ah, the magic Stark touch.”

“ Yeah. The chance that at any time you might break something. ”

“I take exception to that,” said Tony, but his tone was amused. “I’m very knowledgeable, ok? I’ve read books.”

Loki enjoyed riling him up. He was grinning like an imp. Ah, dammit. A lump of putty in Loki’s hands isn’t physically capable of staying pissed off at him, right?

“ He called me names, though. Which you don’t ,” added Loki.

“I can’t call you names with a straight face, sorry. I suck at humiliation. I just fucking worship the floor you tread on, what can I say. … Oh, oh, oooh… Is that the blushy-grumpy face I see? That’s my evening done. Oh, my, and look at that! Smile for me, sweetheart. Thaaat’s it.”

Loki fought that pesky smile until he bested it, and adopted again a gloomy scoff.

“What about aftercare?” asked Tony, when he gently landed back on earth.

“ As instructed .”

“What did you have?”

“ Cool bath, massage. ”

“Cuddling?”

“ Hell, no. ”

“But it didn’t work. You’re still feeling… What are you feeling? Why today? Something happened?”

Loki was quiet for a long time, but he hadn’t changed the subject, and he hadn’t told him to mind his own business. He wanted to get it out, didn’t he? He just needed time.

“ Got a letter, ” he finally said. “ Thor. He wrote to me. ”

“A letter? What century is this again?”

“ I may have left him without options. ”

“I see. So, explain it to me. What was in that letter?”

“ Nice things. ”

“What kind?”

Loki sighed.

“ …Loves me, misses me, wants me there with him. ”

Tony nodded.

“And that’s a problem because…?”

Loki shrugged, looking pointedly downwards. Made him look like a schoolboy who has no excuse for not having done his homework.

“I saw him today,” said Tony. “We went to see the baby. Thor was there. We talked.”

Loki’s eyes had widened to cover one fucking third of his face, like the goddamn puss from Shrek.

“He told me to ask you to get in touch. Why aren’t you talking to him?”

After a very long time, Loki muttered,

“ I don’t know what to tell him. ”

Hm.

“How about, ‘I’m fine, thank you, how are you, how’s the fruit of your loins, how is parenthood treating you’ ?”

“ And then he’ll start with the rest, ” muttered Loki, even smaller voice.

“The rest?” prompted Tony.

“ Yeah. The whole ‘ I miss you I love you come live with me in Fairyland’ shit. And then what do I say .”

Oh, right. Tony got it now, the entire conundrum.

“Your answer,” he said, softly.

“ I don’t know the fucking answer, ” said Loki.

“Because you want to say yes.”

“ Do I? ” snorted Loki.

“You’re telling me that’s not what you want? What you’ve dreamed of your whole fucking life?”

“ It’s not realistic, ” muttered Loki. “ It’s not possible. ”

“…Why?”

“ Oh, please. He... he wants a fucking ‘relationship’ . With me . He’s fucking delirious. I’m a walking disaster zone. I fuck up everything I touch. ”

“Bullshit.”

“ What? ”

“Bullshit, I tell thee! That’s not the reason. You’re just scared.”

“ Damn right I’m scared! He says he’ll adapt to whatever wacky shit I ask for, but he doesn’t mean that. What he wants, what he really fucking wants, what would make him happy, is a house and two cars and a lawn and me in a fucking pink apron, packing his lunch, putting an apple for the teacher in his daughter’s bag, cake baking in the oven, plastic-covered furniture, a dog and a cat. And he says he’ll adapt because he’d say anything at this point. He thinks that because the sex was great, everything else will be too, and he’s fucking dreaming. Ok? ”

“What does he say he’ll adapt to?”

“ Whatever I need, ” scoffed Loki.

“And what do you need?”

“I don’t fucking know, ok? When have I ever fucking known?! You’re giving me a fucking headache, jesus christ! ” He rubbed the bridge of his nose deeply. He was all slumped, as if he wanted to become smaller.

“Sorry,” said Tony after a while. “Trying to help.”

Loki nodded. Then he huffed.

“ What we had was perfect. Why ruin it. ”

“Perfect?” snorted Tony. “Hiding and lying and sneaking?”

“ Yeah, ok. But we had our moments. ”

“Whenever you forgot to feel guilty and ashamed. Right?”

Loki glared at him. He resented when Tony had a sudden insight and caught him off guard. You don’t blindside Loki Laufeyson, attorney-at-law, without ruffling his feathers.

“Right?” insisted Tony, because he loved having a point, and was going to get the recognition he deserved.

“ I guess ,” said Loki grudgingly.

“Well, there you go, then.” That may have come out quite smug.

“ There’s a fucking baby in it now ,” grumbled Loki. “ A baby . Can you fucking see me…? ” Loki scoffed sourly. “ I have stupid, mean, really petty feelings. Like, embarrassing. ”

“Such as…?” Because Loki wouldn’t bring it up if he wasn’t itching to let it out.

“ That there’s always someone else. That I’m never… It’s like, you have Pepper, and Thor had Jane, and now Jane’s out, but the baby’s in, and I… And he’ll always love her, unconditionally, and she doesn’t have to try, but we would have to work our asses off just to get through the fucking week, and… I just don’t want that shit inside me. Those feelings. I have enough with what I got. I don’t want to irrationally resent a goddamn infant. I don’t want to be the evil stepmother, alright? I don’t need any more reasons to despise myself .”

Tony sighed deeply, because it was all he could do not to hug the goddamn computer screen. Or smack it on the back.

“You… duckwad,” he said. “If overthinking was an Olympic sport…”

Loki didn’t like that. He crossed his arms petulantly.

“Listen. Ok. I hear you. We… we’ll work on that. But you should at least drop him a line, ok? He looked very anxious and very miserable.”

Loki’s face again appeared to be at least one-third green, wide, pitiful eyes.

“ I honestly don’t know what to say, ” he whispered.

“The truth? ‘ Dear Thor, currently I am an absolute mess and can’t make any decisions regarding our future, but thank you for your letter, I love you, I will get in touch when I sort myself out’ . You can write that down.”

Loki sighed woefully. And Tony wasn’t there to shake him out of it, or slap him out of it, if it came to that. How fucked up was he? Just how deep and how dark did it run? And what the hell had he been up to that afternoon, if this was the state of his mind?

“So, what did he do to you?”

“ Who? ”

“The Dom.”

“ Seriously? Now? ”

“Babe, I haven’t touched you in months. Won’t you give me a little something to keep me warm tonight?” (Yeah, that worked.)

There was a naughty glint in Loki’s eyes now. He was on to him.

“ What do you want to know? ”

“Did he spank you?”

“ Yes .”

“What did he use?”

“ Hands. Riding crop. ”

“Did he bend you over his knee?”

“ Tied me to the wall. ”

Loki was staring straight into his eyes now. Tony gulped. Damn, the collar of that t-shirt was low, and Loki’s neck and collarbones were fucking poetry.

They had been very, very restrained in their videoconferencing so far. Tony was all too aware of the pending situation with Thor, and of Loki’s readiness to offer sex in payment for Tony’s care and affection, so he had been very much keeping his hands to the keyboard, and their chats above the belt. But, damn, if Loki wasn’t flirting right now...

“What else?” asked Tony, hot throbs down below.

Loki was still staring at him without blinking, that head-tilt that made him look positively feline.

“Fucked my mouth,” he purred.

Tony swallowed.

“Were you tied to the wall then?”

“ Suspended from the ceiling .”

“Holy fuck.” Tony shifted on his ass, pulse racing, the image very clear in his mind.

“Did you come?”

“ Yes . Jacked me off with a toy. ”

“Did he tell you to await permission to come?”

“ Yeah .”

“Did you?”

“ Nope .”

“Ha. Did you get punished?”

“ Hardly. He might have called it that. ”

“What…?”

“ Vibrator .”

Tony’s eyebrows shot up.

“Really? You-you were fine with that?”

“ Safe, sane, consensual ,” recited Loki.

Tony wasn’t sure what to make of it. He may have questions, but perhaps another time.

“Did you come again?”

“ Eventually .”

“And did you learn your lesson? Did you await his permission to come?”

“ No .”

Tony laughed, and then let out a dreamy sigh.

“Did he ask for your number when you were finished?”

“ Naturally .”

“Did he get it?”

“ No .”

Tony laughed again, his fucking spirit soaring with love.

“God, I miss you.”

Loki looked away.

“Me too. ”

Tony’s eyes widened; he all but jumped in his chair.

“Then, can I…?”

Loki shook his head. Tony sagged, disappointed. Loki threw him a guilty look.

“Is it because of Thor?” asked Tony. “You’re afraid of how he’d feel about it?”

Loki looked very guilty now.

“You utter nincompoop. You’ve already made up your mind. You’re just burying your head in the sand.”

Loki looked resolutely away.

“Ok, fair enough,” said Tony, letting him off the hook. “Can I ask you for something though?”

“ What .”

“Take your clothes off.”

Loki rolled his eyes, but he was smirking.

“Oh, come on. Let me see you. Please?”

“ Is it the bruising you’re interested in? ”

“I’m interested in all the landmarks and salient points of your truly remarkable anatomy, bruised or otherwise.”

Loki shook his head heavily, disapproving glower, making a big show of how Tony liked to try his patience. Then he slipped his t-shirt off and got up to start on the buttons of his jeans. Tony smiled from ear to ear.

“Bless you, bless you, and bless you,” he sighed. “Hang on, I’ll get the lube…”

*

Thor’s phone pinged. His heart jumped to his throat when he saw the sender.

“ Dear Thor. Thank you for your letter. I hear you. I will give you an answer when I work it out myself. I’m sorry I can’t give you more, but at the moment I’m just not able to. Love, Loki .”

Less than a minute later, while Thor was still trying to get his bearings from the first one, another text.

“ P.S., your handwriting shames your entire family. You missed your true calling. Should have been a doctor. ”

Another text.

“ P.P.S., not sure about the verdict reading, for obvious reasons .”

Last one:

“ P.P.P.S., three postscripts is excessive. Control yourself .”

Chapter Text

Thor stopped by the low, forged iron gate, and observed with astonishment the narrow house, - red brick, identical to all the others in a long continuous row, wooden door painted London blue, and next to it a bay window topped with coloured glass of abstract, Mackintosh-style design, the bottom half obscured from prying eyes by goddamn hand-crocheted curtains. Thor pulled out his phone to double-check the address; he checked the plaque with the name of the street, the number on the wall of the house. Yes, he had got it right, this was the place. What a shock after that ultra-modern castle Loki had picked in the States. Thor compared it with what he had now before his eyes - sleek, minimalistic brutalism and a garden of gravel and wild grasses, against a mail slot made of polished brass, a clump of lilies growing by the two steps that led to the door, the curlicues of the forged iron gate. And inside, one supposed, were the house plants Loki had mentioned, his state-of-the art saltwater aquarium, and god knows how many more surprises. Loki’s house. This place. Fucking unbelievable.

He slowly, very very slowly, pushed open the metal gate (it got to just above his knee, what the hell was it even for), took the step and a half across the front garden - a square yard of grass with a fucking cast-iron bird bath in the middle -, and stood in front of the door. He raised his hand to ring the bell, but left it hanging there; he needed a deep breath first. It had been almost eight months since the last time they had seen each other. It felt like a lot longer.

He pushed the button. The most ordinary ring was heard inside. He took another deep breath. He didn’t even know if Loki was in or not. Somehow, he thought he would be out. He resigned himself to waiting. 

He turned around and had a look at the quiet street. London. He had never been before. He had not had a chance to see much, and he did not think he would have time for sightseeing before the flight home tomorrow evening (and that was not why he was here anyway), but so far, all he had seen from the cab was exactly as he had imagined it. And this street… A song came to mind, and he hummed to himself. 

“Are there lilac trees in the heart of town… Hm-mm-mm-mm… No it’s just on the street where you live…”

He couldn’t remember the words beyond that couple of lines, just the tune, but the spirit was all there. And he was still smiling. 

The door opened. His heart jumped and then plummeted, a roller-coaster sensation. Loki. With wide eyes, surprise blatant on his face, alarm too. He was pale, or was it the dim light of this cloudy afternoon.

“Hey,” smiled Thor. That came out easily enough, considering how hard his heart was pounding. And Loki was still staring as if he’d seen a ghost. Thor tried to shrug it off. “I-I should have called.”

“You should have called,” repeated Loki, cold, cutting. 

A silence followed, in which Thor’s heart fell a bit. This was not how he had imagined their reunion, and it didn’t seem like it was going to change soon, at least not from Loki’s end. It was down to him to make an opening, as usual.

“Can-can I come in?” he asked.

“I was just going out,” said Loki, briskly again. 

Thor’s heart fell a little lower.

“Can I walk with you?” he said. He hadn’t crossed the goddamn Atlantic ocean to let Loki put him off just by being short with him.

Loki sighed. Thor took in the sight of him. Thin turtle-neck - dark green; expensive stuff —, black jeans, leather jacket, leather boots. So he was going out then. 

The silence had stretched long enough. Thor was close to begging. Loki sighed again.

“Yeah. Alright,” he conceded. He grabbed something from the top of a narrow shelf inside — wallet and keys perhaps —, locked the door behind him. They walked.

“Where to?” asked Thor.

“Shop.”

“What for?”

“Why?” replied Loki, cutting again. And then, just a bit more softly, “Milk and bread.”

Thor couldn’t help a smile.

“What’s funny?” snapped Loki.

“You. Doing human things, like the rest of us mortals.”

Loki didn’t think it was funny. It had him clenching his jaw.

“You look beautiful,” said Thor. 

Because he did. Thor had his hands deep inside his pockets, but he yearned to touch him. Of course, he didn’t. Loki was tense next to him, uninviting, unassailable. He also had his eyes firmly fixed on his boots. He didn’t reply. Thor thought, well fuck it, then; this was just as good or bad a time as any.

“Loki…” he began.

“Let’s go somewhere,” cut Loki. 

He walked them both to a small coffee place, tucked between a tiny art gallery and a posh grocery store, piles of fresh fruit in purposely-aged wooden crates (it was that kind of a neighbourhood). The coffee place had cozy round tables, bistro-style painted chairs, hanging flower pots bursting with fuchsias. Stacked behind the window, a mouth-watering display of pastries from all corners of the world.

“A favourite?” asked Thor, eager for every scrap of illumination he could glean about how Loki lived, the things he liked. It was like getting to know him all over again. It was exciting.

“It’s just a place,” said Loki.

But he had walked them straight to a table at the far back, by a tiny yard with fairy lights (off at this time of the day, but noticeable), potted trees, and more hanging baskets brimming with flowers. There were books stacked up on shelves. I call bullshit, thought Thor, this is a favourite of his.

They ordered coffee and a pastry each. They waited quietly for their orders, Thor staring a bit too intently — couldn’t tear his eyes off if he tried —, Loki staring equally intently at the tiny ceramic vase with one single rose in the middle of the table. His hair fell like a heavy veil over his shoulders, ironed to death to fight off the frizz which the damp London weather must surely fustigate him with. And how very smooth, how lush, how very fucking touchable it seemed. How he had missed him. How he had conjured up those features in his mind, tried to remember how it felt to hold him. And now there he was, right fucking there, and Thor still could not just...

“God, I want to touch you,” he said.

“What are you doing here?” said Loki.

Thor sighed. So, this was the game they were playing, then?

“You got my letter,” he said.

Loki didn’t say yes or no.

“What did you think?”

“I told you what I thought,” muttered Loki.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t wait any longer. I had to see you.” And why the hell was he apologizing for? Loki still didn’t talk. Thor added, “And Tony said it may not be a bad idea”.

“Tony? Are you best chums now?” 

“He’s grown on me,” smiled Thor.

“God help us all,” grumbled Loki.

Orders arrived. 

“This is good,” said Thor, after a sip of coffee, wiping the froth off his beard. “Really good.”

Loki drank in silence. Was he really that nervous? When he licked the cappuccino foam off his lips, Thor felt a thing…

“Baby, come home with me,” he blurted out. Couldn’t help himself.

A frown of delicately restrained yet deep agony appeared on Loki’s brow. His face was tense. He didn’t say yes, but he hadn’t said no. Thor went with his gut again. He reached to hold his hands, both of them, and how fucking warm and soft and… god. He brought them up to his mouth and kissed them, brushing his lips on the soft, hard knuckles, taking in the smell of Loki’s skin. Loki took them back immediately after.

“Don’t-… don’t you want to?” Thor asked.

“It’s not a good idea, Thor,” replied Loki, with a whisper.

Thor’s heart sunk as far as it could go.

“But, do you want to or not?” he insisted, petulantly almost. Because Loki hadn’t said no.

The frown on Loki’s face grew deeper. There was a bitter fight raging right behind, wasn’t there? And how his mouth became thinner and more brittle, somehow, with his pain. Oh, damn it all to hell, thought Thor, and with a screech he dragged his chair closer, threw his arms around Loki’s shoulders, and pulled him close to his chest. Loki’s scent and his warmth and the feel of him flooded his senses, and Thor drew a deep sigh of content. I got you, he was thinking, all is well now. I’m never letting go again. Loki had not returned the hug, but Thor could feel the tension melting, bones liquefying. He wasn’t sure who started it, but then their heads were turning to one another, and their mouths were searching, and they met, and they were kissing, and the world ground to a halt, and then more kissing, deeper, Loki’s teeth, going at each other’s mouths like they had been suffocating and here was air. Had kisses ever meant so much. Had tiny details ever registered in such high definition. Bones and flesh in Thor’s hands, his hair trapped under Loki’s arms, pulling when he turned his head, the softness of Loki’s lips disturbed where they were chapped by the cold.

Loki pulled apart, looking so charmingly ravished and thrown off. 

“We shouldn’t have done this here,” he mumbled.

“No, it was a good idea,” argued Thor. “If we were at yours, I think there wouldn’t be much talking.”

“And there has to be some talking, right?” said Loki, sounding weary.

“I’m afraid so,” said Thor. He sought Loki’s mouth again, but the next kiss was short and almost chaste. “God, I’ve missed you,” he whispered, eyes pinched shut, sighing, drinking him in.

“Missed you too,” muttered Loki.

“Come home, baby,” insisted Thor.

“On what terms.”

“Always the lawyer,” Thor laughed. “Whatever terms work for you. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

“What about what you want.”

“Oh, baby,” sighed Thor, pushing the hair off Loki’s face. “You know what I want. I want you. I want everything.”

Loki shook his head and pulled a face, showing irritation.

“What happens with your… with your daughter.”

“I have no preconditions,” said Thor promptly. “We can try different arrangements until we find the one that feels right for you.”

“But what about what feels right for you,” insisted Loki, sounding as if his patience was running out.

“Dammit, you’re relentless!” said Thor, forcing a laugh. “Ok, listen. I’ll tell you about my dream scenario, and you tell me how much or how little you want to feature in it. We have a house. Maybe you keep a place of your own, but mostly we live together. Half the time, we’re merry bachelors, sort of, and I court you and woo you within an inch of your life. And the other half of the time, Emma lives with us, and we’re a family, the three of us. And Tony is there too, if you want, I’m fine with that.”

Loki stared now, finally meeting Thor’s eyes with a narrow, green squint, full of skepticism.

“And does Jane know about this dream scenario of yours,” he challenged.

“Yup.”

“And?”

“…And she’s fine with it.”

“With me and-and the baby,” continued to challenge Loki, unbelieving.

“Yup.”

Loki scoffed. He did not buy it.

“She’s fine with it, I swear,” said Thor. “She said that whomever I trust around Emma, she will trust too. She’s a pretty awesome human being all around.”

“So it seems. You should marry her,” said Loki. 

Thor gave him an admonishing pout. Loki looked away and had a sip of coffee.

“I doubt I would have been as generous,” he muttered, with a tiny voice.

“But you already were that generous, baby!” protested Thor. “You gave it all up without asking for a thing.” 

Thor wanted to hold Loki’s hands again, but Loki kept them tight around the coffee mug, a thimbleful of steamy liquid held like a shield, protecting him from Thor’s all-demanding, all-consuming touch.

“I wasn’t the one cheated on,” countered Loki.

Thor huffed, annoyed, and realized that what he felt was impatience. All those difficulties Loki was bringing up, they were done and dusted to him. They were not an issue anymore, hadn’t been for a while. It was as if Loki was talking about a different life, one Thor had already left behind, along with its priorities and concerns. He had other things on his mind nowadays, and he struggled to slip again into the shoes of the man for whom those things had been an obstacle, or even just a headache. He understood that he could hardly brush them aside, not when they still meant something to Loki, but he was so eager to get to the present.

“That’s behind us, I swear, all of it,” he said. “We’ve talked a lot these past few weeks, Jane and I, more sincerely and openly than we had for years. And things are really ok between us. We’re friendly. And you and me, we’re forgiven, I think. She sometimes tries to take the blame for what happened, can you believe that? And I think she remembers well what a pain in the ass I had been the last couple of years, even before you arrived. She does not resent you. She’s moving on. It’s the truth.”

Loki kept his eyes low, and his shoulders slumped. 

“You make it sound so easy,” he said, after a few attempts, his voice thick. “And it fucking isn’t.” He rubbed his eyes deeply. They were red. Oh, fuck.

“Loki…” Thor tried to stroke his hair.

“Let’s get out of here,” snapped Loki, getting on his feet.

They left the place and walked out in silence. Loki led them down the street and through a back alley, between the tall fences of many back gardens, all squashed in side by side. He seemed lost in thought, and Thor couldn’t think of anything to break the ice that had formed again between them.

They reached the grocery shop, one of those local corner spots that stores everything, extremely unpretentious for the area they were in. Loki bought bread, milk, a bag of apples, and a packet of biscuits of a brand Thor had never heard of before in his life, Eastern European judging by all those accents.

When they were heading back, Thor offered to carry the shopping for him, and Loki let him. A while later, he held Loki’s hand. And again, Loki let him. Down the London streets hand in hand with the man he loved, the twists and turns of life, eh?

They had made it back to Loki’s house, and Loki had got his own hand and his shopping back — the bag was hanging from his arm now, the handle digging into the skin of his slender wrist — and the key was in his hands, and he was hesitating.

“Do you want to come inside?” he asked, eyes low.

“Yes,” said Thor. “Do you want me to come inside?”

Loki shrugged, like an eight-year-old playing cool. He unlocked the door and stepped in. Thor didn’t move. 

“I’m not coming in unless you ask me,” he told him. 

“What the hell are you, a fucking vampire?” snapped Loki.

Thor didn’t take the bait. He waited.

Finally, finally, Loki looked at him. Something crumbled inside Thor with that look, hungered and longing.

“If it’s not too much of a bother, please, Thor, come on in,” said Loki, sarcastic tone. But his eyes were begging.

“Is it a good idea?” questioned Thor, against his every instinct. “I don’t want you to… I don’t want to put pressure on you,” 

“Yes, you do.”

Thor chuckled, busted.

“Yes, I do.”

Loki smiled a little, in spite of himself. Then he stared at him, eyes drawn here and there, face, body.

“So, pressure me,” he said.

Eyes locked on Loki’s, Thor walked in. They were kissing before the door was shut behind them. Loki walked backwards as Thor advanced, stopping only when they met a wall, and then Loki was climbing him, whimpering, mouths never more than one breath apart. Thor felt like he was suffocating, his desire was that sharp. He fumbled with layers of clothes to get at Loki’s skin beneath, and he put his arms up in turn when he felt Loki tugging at his sweater. He struggled with the buttons of their jeans as Loki urged him on with small, pleading whimpers. Teeth sunk into Thor’s earlobe as he bit Loki’s neck. They pushed down their jeans and jacked each other off using only spit, still kissing as if their very lives were in the balance. It was embarrassingly quick.

Panting, not looking, Loki tried to push him away. Thor wouldn’t have it unless he got a kiss first, but when he got it, he wouldn’t let go either.

“I want to get clean…” grumbled Loki, trying to dodge his mouth. “…You’ve got spunk all over your shirt…”

Thor relented eventually. He had to pull his jeans up and tuck himself in before he was able to follow Loki to a small washroom under the stairs. They washed in silence.

“Want something to drink?” asked Loki, when they were a bit tidier.

“Glass of water would be nice,” said Thor. 

He followed him to the kitchen through a narrow corridor. Walls seemed to be closing in on him, ceilings low, looming. The decor inside was sparse in all the areas he guessed Loki had had a say in (plain, pale wallpaper, no art, rugs also plain, the famous house plants — not as many as Thor had expected, but then again, he had begun to imagine a kind of indoor rainforest; the plants that were there looked healthy, anyway); but the tiles on the floor were heavily patterned, in bold colours; the wood — on stairs, doors, door frames, and skirting boards — was dark red, turned and carved, rich, almost sumptuous; there were plaster cast details everywhere, moulded in leafy designs; every window in the house had those coloured glass inserts. It was charming, beautiful, nothing like what Thor was used to, but it also seemed quite overbearing, especially to a midwestern American, used to much bigger rooms and wider spaces, with a lot less personality. 

“Everything is so…” he started.

“So what?”

“So full. How can you breathe here?” He forced out a laugh.

Loki didn’t answer. He poured him some water from a bottle. Thor drank and watched him, mouth ravished, edges blurred, pink, hair mussed up. His own pulse was almost back to normal, but not quite. There was no calming that thrill down, not with the thought of what they’d just done so fresh in his mind, and Loki just there. The tall neck of his sweater was ruined, widened by Thor’s pulls and tugs to get at his throat. He hadn’t had anywhere near enough of him.

He put his glass down and moved closer, behind Loki’s back. He felt as much as he saw Loki tensing up, shoulders straightening and hairs standing on end, with a shiver. Thor rolled that turtleneck down again, swept the long black mane of hair out of the way, and leaned in to kiss the back of Loki’s neck. Loki’s breathing began to pick up once more.

“Why don’t you show me your bedroom?” asked Thor, between kisses.

“It’s upstairs,” said Loki, breathy, head tilted to the side, goosebumps on his neck, lids drooping.

“Then take me,” rumbled Thor right against his skin, wreaking more havoc, “or I think we won’t be making it up the stairs again.”

It was a lovely, bright room at the front of the house, the tall bay window throwing so much light. Resting against the carved headboard of an old-fashioned four poster bed that shouldn’t be as sexy as it was, Thor enjoyed the last light of the afternoon while Loki washed in the bathroom on the landing. 

They hadn’t rushed it this time. They had laid down and Loki let him have his fill, moaning and calling his name out loud, without concern for who might hear, for once. And Thor had buried himself in, crushing Loki beneath with all his weight and all his strength. And he may have been trying to sell something here, but that was only an afterthought, honest to god. It felt like it had been years since they had last been together. Their quick romp earlier made it easier for Thor to exercise some form of control. He had been pretty fucking desperate, alright?

He felt drowsy and happy now, content. He liked this place. 

“Where’s the aquarium?” he asked, when Loki returned.

“Downstairs.” 

He was wearing a black, fluffy robe. Shame. He sat down on the side of the bed, barely within reach. So Thor shuffled over, and tried to grab his hand. He wanted to pull him closer, maybe even take that robe off, but Loki wasn’t having it. He snatched away his hand, and crossed his arms as if he was cold. 

“When’s your flight back?” he asked.

“Sunday evening.”

“Where are you staying at?”

“The Excelsior or something. It’s not far.”

Loki nodded. Yes? Yes what?

“This place is so different from that house you leased in the States,” commented Thor, just for want of something else to say. The atmosphere felt loaded, somehow. “I never imagined you…”

“Because you don’t know me,” cut Loki. 

Which hurt Thor more than he would have guessed.

“Yes I do,” he protested.

“No, you don’t,” insisted Loki. “And you think we can just move in together and have this fairytale life and that everything is going to be peachy, but you have no idea.”

“I don’t think that.”

“No?” challenged Loki. “Merry bachelors half the time, gay parents of the year the other half? A white picket fence, a lawn, a dog?”

“That’s not… Yeah, alright, that’s kind of my dream scenario, not the fucking picket fence, the… You know. But I realize that it’s a dream, ok? I don’t need my life to be picture-perfect, I don’t need-…”

“Bullshit,” cut Loki. “I heard what you said.”

Thor gasped at the bluntness.

“Hey, I know what I said, ok? But-…”

“But what?” cut Loki again. “You look at me and… what the hell do you see? Because I’m not a fucking picnic, you know?”

“Yes, I do. Better than most.”

“Yeah? Really? Are you sure about that?” said Loki, sarcastic. 

“I’ve known you my whole life,” declared Thor.

Wrong answer. Loki scoffed. He got up, robe flying dramatically behind him, and began to pick up the clothes they had just dropped all over the floor earlier, and fold them up with brisk gestures.

“You’re not fucking hearing yourself,” he was grumbling. “You wear these rose-tinted glasses, and you think because we had a few good times together we can just… And I’m not-... fucking hell, I don’t even know who you think I used to be, but anyway, I’ve fucking changed, or-or I’ve stopped pretending, and in any case…”

Thor was getting a headache. He rubbed his forehead. Goddammit, Loki could be a fucking pain in the ass. And yet... Thor felt a smile breaking through, in spite of it all - My pain in the ass.

“It’s not just that, though,” said Loki, softly now. He had finished folding clothes. He was pouting with his arms crossed, looking so very sorry for himself. “There are things… Things I do, things I need… that you can’t give me.”

Thor frowned in thought. 

“Are you talking about the-the beatings?”

Loki’s eyes went wide, then they narrowed in fury. Uh-oh.

“Tony… fucking told you?” he asked, pale with outrage.

Thor sat up in bed and raised his hands, in an appeasing gesture. 

“Hey, don’t freak out. He did it with the best intentions. He was trying to help.”

“Help? Help who?” roared Loki.

“Me. Help me. Help me to get you.”

“Great,” said Loki, dramatic again, sarcastic. “Well then, do you get me now?”

“I-I can try to do it for you…”

Loki rolled his eyes and turned away, groaning. Thor grabbed a sheet and wrapped it around his waist. Somehow, it didn’t feel dignified to continue that discussion stark naked. 

“But the important thing, Loki, is that none of it is a deal breaker, ok? I can try and do this for you, but if it doesn’t work for you, then… I’ve accepted I can’t be everything and all things to you. That you may need more people in your life, and that’s fine. Nobody can be everything to anybody, I get that now. And it’s fine. I mean…”

Loki’s eyes had narrowed down again to a green, blazing squint of malice.

“Oh, now I get it,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“Nobody can be everything to anybody,” quoted Loki. “As in, I can’t be everything to you. How very fucking convenient!”

“What?” Thor was completely at a loss.

“You were bored as fuck of being monogamous, right?, but with me you can have it all! You can get it at home, and then a bit on the side!”

“What? No! Why do you…? That’s not what I was getting at, and you know it!”

“Whatever, Thor,” said Loki, as he snatched his arm away from Thor’s grip. “See? We’re not even together yet, and we’re already fighting!” 

He walked away to a corner, rubbing his forehead. And Thor didn’t fucking know how they had ended up here, when only a few minutes ago, they were rolling in the sheets and calling each other’s name out in praise. His heart was thumping hard and he felt like crying. It must have shown, because Loki stared at him with gentleness and infinite sadness.

“Listen,” said Loki softly, “it was beautiful, ok? You and me. It’s so easy being the ill-starred lovers. It was good. But this is something else entirely, and it just… It’s not what you want, Thor. You wouldn’t like it.”

“Why is it all down to me?” countered Thor. 

“What?”

“Why do you pin it on me? What about you? What would you like?”

Loki gaped, no reply.

“Have you been thinking about it long and hard, then? Have you thought you wouldn’t like it? To have to put up with me when I’m in a bad mood, when I’m too tired to fuck, when I lose my patience and shout at you? When it’s the middle of the night and Emma’s crying and you need to get up in the morning? When real life gets too real? Why is it just my goddamn fault that we can’t make a go at it?”

“What are you getting at, Thor?”

“I don’t even fucking know,” he grumbled. “But this is so unfair! I do not deserve it! Why do you talk to me as if I’m the kind of guy that would come here, crossing a fucking ocean, to ask you to be with me, without thinking it through first? Why would I do that? I’m not fucking stupid, Loki, and you’re not as clever as you think you are! And nowhere near as mysterious, ok? I know you better than you will admit. And you apparently don’t know me well enough. You underestimate me by fucking miles, ok? I was with Jane for ten years. I know relationships are not a bed of roses. I know you have to work for it. And I’m willing to work for it, to make it work out with you. So you tell me, Loki, is that the problem we have here? That you don’t want to work for it? You don’t sound sage and wise, ok? You know what you sound like? Like you’re fucking terrified!”

Loki was looking at him resentfully, jaw clenched tight. He hated hearing hard truths about himself, always had, probably always would. But that was fine, right? No big fucking deal. Thor approached him. Loki turned his face to the window.

“Dammit, Loki, look at me,” muttered Thor. He cupped his face and made him turn around. “Look at me. Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t want to be with me.”

“I don’t want-…” muttered Loki, eyes low.

“No,” cut Thor. “Look at me,” he commanded.

Loki looked up. He couldn’t do it, he could not say it. Thor pulled him into a hug, he kissed his hair, he held him tight.

“I know it would not be perfect,” Thor whispered. “It doesn’t have to be. And it doesn’t have to fit in any box. We can create something that fits us, a way to be together that doesn’t mean we have to give up the things that matter. Like other partners, if you need that. And it might not be all we wanted, but it may be better than you expect. And it will be good. I know it will be. We have to try, baby, we just have to.”

“You’re very persuasive, attorney,” whispered Loki in turn.

Thor chuckled. 

“And nobody, nobody thinks you’re as fucked up as you do yourself, ok?” he reassured him. “And about the beatings, maybe when you’re happier in your own skin, you won’t feel the need to-…”

“See?” groaned Loki, shoving Thor off. “You’re already fucking doing it!” he cried. “You say you’ll take me as I am, but you’re already expecting me to change! You can speak all you want about how you’re willing to settle for what you can get, but it’s just fucking words! And I’ll never live up to it, don’t you see it?”

Dammit.

“Loki…”

“It’s fucking hopeless. I know it is.”

Holding his robe closed up to his chin, Loki dashed out the room and down the stairs.

Thor didn’t follow him straight away. He sat on the bed, shoulders slumped, elbows on his knees, rubbing his eyes hard. He hadn’t expected it would be easy, but he had hoped… Hell, he may have fantasized that by this point, Loki would be a puddle in his arms, and packing up his bags come morning. Well, that didn’t seem likely right now. He took a moment to mentally smash his head against the wall for his appallingly clumsy handling of the, uh, the beatings thing. He hoped to god he had not fucked everything up for everyone in that department - for himself, for Loki, and for Tony. But he did not regret what he had said, and he stood by it. He had thought about this, about what he was offering. One hell of a lot, and for a very long time. He had talked about it with his mother, with his friends, with goddamn Tony Stark, and with his conscience. This was not a gut decision. He may be all the things Loki said he was, and hell, he may even turn out to be wrong in the end, but this one thing he knew for sure, that Loki was definitely not speaking from reason, but from fear. That he was scared shitless of stepping out of his lair, or letting Thor in. That when he shouted all those things at Thor, he was projecting like mad.

So, anyway, one step at a time. He may have to go home empty handed after all, but he was not giving up just yet.

He found a robe in the bathroom and put it on. Tight at the arms, but otherwise it fit. He hopped downstairs. 

He found Loki in the sitting room, on the couch, by the truly impressive aquarium which spanned the length of the wall, bluish light tingeing Loki’s skin. Thor’s hands suddenly felt huge and had too many fingers, or so it felt to him. He didn’t know where to put them. He settled for the robe’s patch pockets. He sat down on the couch, not right next to Loki, but not too far either. They stayed in silence for a moment. Loki had not acknowledged his presence.

“Not that it has anything to do with anything,” said Loki, after a while, “but, what has Tony told you. What did he say. About, you know.”

Thor felt himself fucking blushing already. Thank heavens the light outside was gone, and there was only the wan clarity of the tank, concealing it. It had been a conversation weird as ever-living fuck, with Tony, and very shocking to him at first, with all the images it put in his head — he simply could not fucking picture Tony Stark doing that to anyone -, but after the first impression, it sort of started to feel… fitting? Right? Loki was many things, and Thor’s image of him may not be perfectly true to life, but he knew Loki was not a prude, that he had a wild, dark side, and had always had it. And that didn’t put Thor off one tiny fucking bit, pretty much the opposite. His only worry was that he wasn’t sure he could keep up with him, but he had thought about what Tony had told him one hell of a lot afterwards - alone, in bed, at night, imagining a variety of scenarios, with a raging hard-on. It sort of made him wonder what the hell had he been doing with his life. They were just fantasies, true that, but in any case, he was pretty sure that he was ready, so to speak, to try at least some of the stuff Loki might throw at him.

What Tony had also said, was that, with Loki, there was a kinky side to those games, but also a fucked-up side that could get disturbing. So who the hell knows. Communication, said Tony, that’s what it’s all about. Do not guess, do not surmise, do not try and deduce. You ask until you get clear, full answers, you make sure you understand, and you keep the communication channels open at all times. Not as easy as it sounds with Loki, but don’t stop trying. Tony seemed like a wise guy. Who would have guessed. 

So anyway, kid, remember, communication.

“He-he said you sometimes ask him to-to, uh, to tie you up, and get really, uh, rough. That you-you want to get beat up, and-and, you know, fucked hard. Um, hurt, even.” (Well, that wasn’t too bad, was it?) “Why do you say it has nothing to do with…?”

“Because I know that’s not the problem. With us. That’s just a… a symptom, whatever.”

“A symptom?”

“What else did he say?”

“He said you usually come to it very edgy, and when you’re done you seem calmer, mellower. He said he’s pretty sure he’s the only one you’ve ever trusted with this, except for the one time with a-a professional.”

Loki observed him quietly from the corner of his eye, said nothing. Thor took a breath and pushed it out.

“He’s pretty sure too that it has something to do with what happened to you in college,” he said. He was mentally keeping his fingers crossed that he had not completely blown it with that.

He awaited a reaction. It took some time to come. When it did, it only had a little bite to it.

“You mean, what didn’t happen to me in college. Thanks to you, sir Knight.” Cynical tone, but eyes averted shyly.

“Does it? Have anything to do with that, I mean,” asked Thor. “Is it just something you’re into, or…?”

Loki shrugged. He was quiet too, but it was an active kind of quiet. Things were going on underneath. Thor waited.

“I do think of Brad and that frat party,” said Loki very softly. “It’s like, a part of me wants to know how it would have felt if they had… If you had not saved me. So, yeah, I guess. But I may have been like that… before. I mean, I did go to that fucking party in the first place. I must have been asking for it in a way…” Thor opened his mouth to protest. Loki talked over him. “I know. But, anyway. I did have fantasies. Being gang-banged by seventeen jocks at a frat party was not it, but, you know. I-I did have the urge to… I don’t know. Feel like that. And when you grabbed me and carried me away and threw me on your bed… I was hoping you’d rip my clothes off and fuck me there and then, and I wanted it so badly… Sometimes I get off imagining… That they did rape me, all of them, and I’m dripping spunk and blood and I’m filthy and disgraced and ruined, and you… You punish me, you beat me up, and brutalize me, and then you fuck me, and… and you claim me. And I’m good. Because I’m yours. …I like to imagine it’s you beating me up. But I don’t know if I really want you to do it. Too close. I don’t know.”

Thor had been holding his breath. He released it now. He remained speechless, however.

“When I put it like this, it seems so neat and tidy, so clear,” added Loki. “Action, reaction. Simple. It isn’t, ok? It isn’t like that in my head.”

“I get that,” said Thor softly. At least that much he could give sincerely. “That it’s a lot more complicated in your head, I mean. That it’s not so simple. I get that.”

“Ok.”

Thor scooted over, wrapped one arm around Loki’s waist. When there was no rejection, he wrapped the other one around him and dragged him closer to his body, and then over his lap. Loki cooperated, much like a doll though. It was fine. He was there. Thor had him leaning against him, buried his face in Loki’s neck, and breathed in.

“I don’t get it,” whispered Loki, “why you want me. Me. You can have anyone.”

Thor kissed his neck, tightened his hold around Loki’s waist.

“I want you because you belong with me,” he whispered back. And in a low groan, “Because you’re mine.”

He felt it, that shiver that tensed and shook up Loki’s body.

“You’re mine,” Thor repeated. “Always been mine. I want you…”

Loki’s breathing was picking up again. Thor grabbed his hips, and made him move. He was half-hard already, and getting harder.

“I want you,” Thor muttered, as he bucked his hips up, pressing his growing hard-on against Loki’s flesh. He slipped his hands underneath a couple of fluffy terry cloth and velvet layers, pushing away the skirts of their robes to make skin meet skin. Loki was panting, ass doing slow circular motions on Thor’s crotch.

“Wanting to fuck me is not the same as wanting to live with me,” he whispered.

“I know that, smartass,” rumbled Thor. Hands on Loki’s hips, he lifted him up. Spat on his hand, slicked himself up. Spat again, he slicked Loki. Loki had his head half-turned, biting his lip. Thor held himself in place, and pulled him down. A hiss when Thor breached him, more hissing as his body took Thor inside. Loki’s ass hit Thor’s lap. Short, sharp gasps. Neither moved. Thor’s hands up and down Loki’s thighs, raking deep. One hand to cup his jaw and make him turn his head. When Thor moved closer to kiss him, he shifted inside him, and Loki whimpered. 

“Lube,” said Thor, “we need lube.”

“That-… ah, that box,” gasped Loki, shuddering, gesturing to the side table. 

“You get it,” rumbled Thor. 

Thor’s cock slipped out when Loki got up. There was a whole strip of lube sachets in a carved wooden box by a stack of magazines. Handy. 

“Knees on the couch,” said Thor. “Bend over.”

Loki obeyed, got on his hands and knees. Thor slicked them both without ceremony, got behind him, and fucked in again. He pushed him down, Loki’s chest on the cushions, and grabbed both his arms, wrists crossed over the small of his back. 

“Hold your elbows,” said Thor. 

Loki’s breathing was huffy, all the weight of his upper body on his face and chest. 

“Your ass looks fucking amazing like this.” Thor held the perfect white globes apart, and watched the slide of his cock in and out as he fucked slow and deep. The wet slide of their fucking so loud above the quiet hum of the aquarium. Loki’s hands, held behind his back, were trembling.

Thor began to fuck faster, hands on Loki’s hips now. Loki stopped holding back his moans. 

“You’re mine,” rumbled Thor, huffy as well, as he fucked him. “Mine.”

“Ah, fuck…” gasped Loki.

“What do you want.”

“Don’t stop… don’t stop…”

“I want you. What do you want,” insisted Thor, fucking, fucking, sweat beginning to trickle down his face.

“I want you,” panted Loki, obedient. “God, fuck me…”

“Fuuuck…” 

He grabbed a handful of Loki’s hair and twisted. He thrusted hard. Loki was sobbing, his moans partly muffled by the cushions. The smack of their flesh clashing together, loud and obscene. He was really trying to hit Loki right where he needed it, and was rewarded with small, broken whimpers when he did. On the home stretch, he struggled to keep pace, overcome with sensation. As he came, burying himself deep, and grinding, Loki pleaded.

“Please…”

Thor sat back, one arm around Loki’s waist to keep himself inside. When he had Loki on his lap, he started to jack him off. Loki turned his head for a kiss. He shivered deeply, sharp gasps, as hot spunk began to coat Thor’s hand. Loki’s hand on Thor’s fist, not guiding, just touching. 

They were panting together now, mouths close. Thor was still inside. Loki looked so shaken. 

“Ok?” muttered Thor.

Loki nodded, eyes still half-closed, still panting. Slowly, he got up on shaky knees. 

“What a mess,” he grumbled. “Fuck it.” He collapsed on the couch next to him. Come must be slipping out of him and onto the fabric.

They stayed in silence for a long time as their breathing quieted down. Thor needed to clean his hands and himself up, but he felt boneless, unable to move. Outside, night had set. It was drizzling. They spoke at the same time.

“Can I stay?” said Thor.

“Stay over,” said Loki.

Chapter Text

(The past. High-school days)

Loki has been watching Thor sleep for a while. He’s on his front, facing away from Loki (long blond hair spread on the pillow), so Loki feels safe observing. His sides swell ever so slightly with his breathing. Those boxer shorts Thor wears are loose at the waist (it’s so slender), so they’ve dropped enough to show the crack of his ass.  It seems like Thor’s beauty increases several degrees of magnitude when he sleeps, lost in dreams, peaceful, with a sliver of moonlight tracing his every contour. Or perhaps it’s just that Loki gets to watch him undeterred and unabashed. The more he looks, the more beautiful Thor reveals himself to be. Loki is about to die from a premature heart attack from an imperious need to touch that he cannot satisfy.

Study nights are the best and the worst fucking thing in the universe. Thor has a king sized bed in his room and not much space to spare for a cot, so there, share the bed, says Frigga. They’ve done it dozens of times since they were little. If you ask Loki, he’ll tell you he remembers sleeping miserably pretty much every single one of those. Not only does Thor fidget and sprawl freely, covering all the available space and whoever is in it at the time, but also Loki is always terrified he’ll wake up hugging Thor, and with a hard-on. But more than anything, he’s too fricking excited to sleep.

Thor groans and rolls over, scratching his chest. His morning semi tents his pants, and Loki’s eyes fixate on the fold of the slit, through which a tantalising half an inch of dark cock can be glimpsed. There is something so entirely animal about him. Thor begins to stir, and Loki shuts his eyes for a moment, pretends he’s asleep, waits for developments. He hears Thor groan again, then yawn and stretch. Loki opens his eyes slowly, as if he’s only just woken up.

“Hey,” mumbles Thor, puffy eyes, still blue like… Loki thinks of oceans. Lame.

“Hey,” he mumbles too. He doesn’t have to force the croaky voice, he is exhausted. 

“What time is it?” Thor’s words are slurred.

“Too early,” grumbles Loki.

Thor chuckles, as he scratches his armpit and a waft of manly musk and stale deodorant hits Loki’s nostrils. He’s been lying on his hard-on for fifteen minutes now. It’s getting uncomfortable.

“Did I fidget a lot?” asks Thor. “Because you look terrible.”

“Does that line get you a morning replay with the girls you sleep with?” he grumbles.

Thor smiles and looks at the ceiling, hands tangled over his stomach. 

“I’ve never spent the night with a girl,” he says. “Their parents would probably kill them. Or sent them to a nunnery, or something.”

“God, it sucks being a girl,” grumbled Loki.

Thor chuckles. And he gets pensive.

“Did you spend the night with your college boy?”

Loki looks up at him, assessing his intentions.

“Yeah.”

Thor has a frown on, as if he wants to ask something, but he’s not sure how. 

“How were his bedside manners?” is what he finally settles on.

“Impeccable,” says Loki. “He gave me a blow-job that nearly fucking had me tearing the house down screaming.”

“Loki!” Thor laughs and squirms, flustered. What is more, his dick just fucking jumped. He’s risen his knees to cover for it. Not really working.

Loki’s heart is pounding, his cock, squashed beneath, twitches like a tethered animal trying to break free. He works the metal while it’s hot.

“He taught me some cool tricks. And he could take me down his throat. I could feel him swallowing around me, it was… whoa. Ever had that done to you?”

Thor’s Adam’s apple bobs in his throat.

“No.”

“Keep your breakfasts in bed, give me one of those anytime instead,” he sighs, as if he’s yearning. He’s not - he’s on the tip of a needle, anticipating. When he dips his eyes, Thor is fully hard.

“I guess it was breakfast in bed for him,” jokes Thor.

Loki snorts, pokes his side teasingly. God, he’s so warm. Goosebumps on Thor’s skin. Loki swallows, dry throat. 

Fortune favours the brave. Do it.

One, two, three. He turns onto his back. The sheets are pooling around his hips, but his hard-on is noticeable.

Thor is very quiet all of a sudden. Loki dips his eyes low. Oh.

“Thor,” he says, with a meaningful eyebrow twitch.

Thor looks down. The head of his dick is poking out of his pants through the slit. It’s smooth and dark and looks as fucking enticing as a sweet ripe plum.

“Oops.” Thor laughs to cover his fluster, and tucks himself back in. His knees are still up, but there’s no concealing that. He’s so hard.

He throws a shy look at Loki. Embarrassed? Loki holds his stare for a breath, his heart does a somersault. He looks away and says, as if it’s nothing.

“Wanna jerk off?”

Loki’s heart is pounding so hard. It’s amazing he can even talk. Thor has pretty much stopped breathing.

“Or I could s-suck you,” says Loki, trying for nonchalant, and with only a minor hitch.

A few seconds of silence.

“You’re not serious, are you?” says Thor, jokey tone.

Loki wished he could meet Thor’s stare right now, but he can’t. He half wants to leave it there, in the limbo of uncertainty, just in case Thor says no, just in case he says yes. He shrugs noncommittally. 

There is a second, but a second, blink and you miss it, when he’s almost sure Thor will say yes.

Instead, Thor jumps out of bed, pants spectacularly tented. He’s shaking his head and chuckling. 

“I bet you would.” And he mumbles on the way out of the room, “Shit, I’m gonna be pissing in my face.”

He shuts the door.

Loki stays on his back, eyes open without seeing. He is not sure whether that was progress or whether he’s just taken ten steps back.

Oh, Laufeyson, you idiot. Progress? Towards what? You’re fucking delirious, come back to earth. How many times do I have to tell you? It’s not going to happen. Ever. This kind of thing doesn’t happen to mean fucked up losers like you. Get that inside your head, and move on with your fucking life.

____________________________

(The present. London.)

Thor slept. Thor slept, and Loki had watched him in the dim morning light so many times, feeling like he was stealing something that didn’t belong to him, those moments, that closeness, given and taken in a completely different spirit, making a thief out of him. Today that intimacy is not stolen, it is given. Thor is his. Loki doesn’t have to do anything, he doesn’t have to ask for it or even grab and take it. Thor is there, and is his. In the same way Loki was always his. God knows how - they walked a thousand miles away from each other, and then they met here, in the same place, this little country they share, just the two of them.

The world outside is still going about as usual, as if this was just any other day, but, god, it isn’t. Loki woke up in his bed, in his house, and Thor was naked in bed with him. Look at him. Actually, look at him, for god’s sake. Whenever he had stared before, it was always on the sly, and his heart pounding, always ready to pretend he was asleep the moment there was a flinch or a stir, dead scared of being caught out. There’s no harm in looking, he might try to argue, but eyes are powerful things, and treacherous. One look could do so much damage, even then; didn’t he know that.

Thor could catch him looking now. Loki was supposed to. He was invited. So he did; he feasted his eyes on the line of his neck, the dip between his collarbones, the broad, smooth chest, the nipples looking always so pert and wakeful. Because he could, Loki pulled the covers down, to reveal a bit more. Thor frowned in his sleep and stirred, but didn’t waken. Loki’s eyes wandered over the taut, slim stomach and waist, the navel that reminded the onlooker that Thor was actually no more than human, the sparse golden trail of fuzz underneath, thickening to cradle the sleeping cock and balls. He had seen this body being made. He had seen it emerge from the shapes of childhood, chubby first, gangly later. He watched it stretch and fill and become, while his own remained scrawny and ungainly and boney for many years yet. He saw it being given to so many who didn’t know or care what it had been, where it came from. And he had yearned so desperately for it, so hungrily, like the exile misses the motherland. No other could ever take its place, no other felt like this old familiar country he had wanted to make his own. 

And now, it was his. And because Thor was his, Loki stole closer to kiss his neck, and inhale the scent that only a few months ago he had accepted he’d never know again. The rhythm of Thor’s breathing altered. One big, heavy hand came to cradle Loki’s head. Thor turned his head slowly, looking for Loki’s mouth.

Loki reared his head away.

“Hm, morning breath,” he mumbled.

“So what,” groaned Thor, and kissed him deep, while he turned slightly onto his side and his other hand came to rest on Loki’s butt, drawing him flush against him. 

Loki guessed he had tasted fresher mouths. He was surprised at how little he cared. Well, Laufeyson, I guess this is love.

*

Loki made a pot of coffee while Thor sat on the kitchen table and buttered some toasts. They were both wearing robes, like most of yesterday. They ate in silence for some time, exchanging a look every now and then, no need to fill the air with babble. It was pleasant, homely. Loki expected a wave of discomfort or irritation (it was all so fucking nice; he didn’t do nice very easily), but it never did come. 

Then Thor’s phone went off with a message. Chewing his toast, Thor had a look. 

“Jane with a situation report. All is well.”

“How nice,” said Loki. 

“She sent a photo. Want to see it?”

His tone was nonchalant, but his eyes did a shifty thing… Contained, discrete excitement.

“Uh, sure.”

Thor jumped off his seat and stood next to Loki’s chair to show him a slightly blurred photo of a rosy cheeked infant making a grab for the phone, with round, amazed eyes. Loki appraised it in silence, not sure what to say. She didn’t look like anyone. He didn’t feel anything. It was just a small human to him.

“She’s very pretty,” he said. Did pretty even apply to babies?

“Yeah, she’s a stunner,” said Thor, with a smile from ear to ear, pride beaming from his face as he contemplated the photo for a long time.

Was Loki supposed to smile like that? Was he supposed to swoon, experience a sudden surge of hormones, and fucking start ovulating or something? Was he supposed to like her because it was Thor’s? 

Well, here it is, irritation. He had been expecting it, and it had arrived. 

“I’ll go for a shower,” he said, flat.

“Can I come with?”

Loki hesitated. 

“Actually, I, uh.” 

Thor arched an eyebrow.

“Do you mind if you don’t?” said Loki.

Thor blinked a couple of times, as if he was processing the sting through his eyes.

“No, of course not,” he said softly, but clearly his mood had suffered for it.

Shit. 

“Y-you can, I mean,” tried Loki. “It’s just, I’m used to…”

“No, it’s fine,” said Thor, and worked on his smile. It got ever so slightly brighter. “I get it. It’s fine.”

“Ok.”

Deflated, Loki shuffled upstairs. 

He needed space. Breathing space. Mental space. Thor sure could suck up the air in a room. And that bathroom was not much more than a glorified, white-tiled closet. The mere thought of having Thor in there with him right now, having to squeeze in the tiny shower, take turns awkwardly to soap and rinse, then be in each other’s faces to dry… They had been in each other’s hair for hours on end now. Loki needed air.

Under the spray hitting his face with far too little pressure (those damn electric showers. Honestly, why did he even rent?), he closed his eyes and pretended he was alone in the world. His own little ounce of meditation time. Cleaning his body, cleaning his mind. He wondered then, was this the first day of something, or the last? He had an intense sensation of the presence of the future, as if he had set something in motion that there was no stopping now, and led to one of two destinations: a life with Thor, or a life without Thor. He felt he had no control whatsoever over the outcome, like there were powerful, unseen forces at work. Thor couldn’t do anything to change it. Neither could Loki. He told himself it was all bollocks, but he was left with the doubt.

He found Thor in the bedroom when he came out. He had found the toy box.

“Nosy, aren’t we?” he said, towel-drying his hair.

“I banged my toe on it,” said Thor. As if that explained what he was doing with his nose in it. He had a black dildo of considerable size in his hand, with a cable and a control. In the other, Loki’s leather restraints. He was frowning.

“Like what you see?” said Loki, intentionally playful.

“Don’t even know what most are for, to be honest,” said Thor. 

Bullshit.

“I think it’s pretty self-explanatory, isn’t it?” Loki held up a leather harness with chains.

“I sort of… I thought Tony said you had only ever trusted him with this kind of thing.”

“I think that’s not what he meant. These are just… games,” said Loki. With a casual, matter-of-factly tone, “He must have been referring to the enactment of my rape fantasies.”

Thor harrumphed.

“Right.”

Loki put the harness back in the box, and went to the closet to consider outfits for today. Thor’s voice came with a rather hesitant hitch.

“So, uhm, I was thinking, you-you like to, uh, to be the boss too?”

“Pardon me?”

“When you, uh, I mean… When you…” He smiled, defeated, rubbed his face. “Can you lend me a hand here.”

“Absolutely not,” said Loki sweetly. He had settled for tight black jeans, a plain black t-shirt, and a favourite worn-out black sweatshirt. It was Sunday, goddammit. He dropped the towel to start putting it on. He spied with his little eye Thor’s eyes dipping when he was adjusting himself in his jeans. 

“You know what I’m talking about, though,” said Thor.

“Yes.”

“Are you having fun with this?” said Thor, with a hint of reproach.

Loki smirked, sat down beside him on the bed, fully dressed.

“How can you say you’re willing to try it, when you can’t even talk about it?” he said.

Thor huffed and nodded, defeated.

“Fine. Ok. When you play at… uh, what’s the word, bondage and domination games…” he tried.

“…Yes?” encouraged Loki.

“Do you like to, uh… Do you like to be the one doing the-the bonding and the dominating as well?”

“Sure.”

Thor raised his eyebrows.

“That’s it?”

“Didn’t I answer your question?”

“Fucking hell, Loki, can’t you just…”

“Neither Tony nor I are true Doms or true subs, so when we play, with each other or with other partners, we take it in turns,” elaborated Loki.

Thor still had questions, it was in his face.

“Yes, Thor?”

Thor scratched his beard, giving himself time.

“The way Tony talked about it. Didn’t sound like playing. As in fun and games, I mean.”

“It’s not. That’s not always what it’s about.”

“Does he… have his, uh, demons as well?”

“Doesn’t everyone?”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yes,” Loki sighed deeply. Tricky conversation so early in the morning. “None of his demons demands appeasement by having Tony tied up and fucked roughly. When he’s playing sub, that’s all it is, a game. But other times, when I’m playing sub… Well, I wouldn’t define it as fun.”

Thor frowned and looked low, processing. 

“Has Tony told you he hates it?” said Loki. “When we’re done, he needs the aftercare more than I do.”

“Aftercare?”

“Oh, you have much to learn, little grasshopper.”

“So, enlighten me,” smiled Thor.

“It’s something you do after a scene, or session, whatever, to soften the landing. It can be a very strange high, very intense. Different people need different things, but usually wrapping up in blankets, cuddling, and rehydrating are involved.”

“So, to him, it’s not a turn-on, doing this?” asked Thor.

Loki meditated his answer. 

“Tricky question,” he said. “It is and it isn’t.”

Thor waited for more, with a frown.

“What I ask from him mostly goes against his nature. But his body often responds, in spite of himself. It’s hard on him. No pun intended.”

Thor kept on frowning.

“Could you do it?” asked Loki softly, staring intently. “Cuff me spread eagled on the bed, with a gag, and take a whip or a cane down on me again and again, even as I was fighting you and screaming at you, or begging you to stop, or crying ‘please, no’? And could you then fuck me so roughly that you know you’re hurting me, while I struggle and beg and scream abuse at you?”

“Stop, please,” said Thor.

Loki put the harness away, for something to do with his hands. He was tensing up, and didn’t want Thor to notice.

“Fucking hell,” said Thor after a moment. “That’s fucking horrible.”

“Is it? Your pupils are dilated.”

Thor threw him a reproachful glare, as if Loki had insulted him.

“It’s fine, Thor,” said Loki softly. “You’re allowed to react.”

“How the fuck can you call that playing? How can Tony do it to you?”

“Because I ask him to.”

Thor was baffled, and horrified, and uncomfortable.

“Because before a session, I’m uptight and moody and a mess, and when we’re done, the day after, I’m singing and dancing around the house like Doris Day. As far as I can move, that is. I’ve even been known to bake.”

Thor was frowning even more deeply, if possible.

“Doesn’t it make sense? Demons have been exorcised.”

“By doing that?”

“Yes. It’s like it settles something down for me. Things that were bothering me, like pieces inside that weren’t fitting properly in their place and were rubbing and squeaking and making me sore and uncomfortable, and after a thorough shake up, they fall back into place and stop fucking with my mind. For a while at least. It’s what works for me.”

Thor was still frowning, pensive.

“Is that the only way you can… settle things down?” he asked.

Loki felt a surge of anger and defensiveness. He got up in a huff, went to the shoe cabinet to get his boots. He grumbled while he looked.

“What works for you? Drinking beer with your mates? Watching football or some shit? Or maybe, you don’t fucking have any demons. Ain’t you fucking lucky.”

  “Loki, wait,” said Thor very gently. “Please.”

Loki turned around, ready to deal a fresh round. Thor was extending his hand. Loki looked at it cooly. Thor’s face was open and pleading. Loki sighed, and took his hand. Thor dragged him slowly towards him, made Loki sit on his lap, and wrapped him in those massive arms. After a breath, Loki clung on to Thor’s neck.

“I’m sorry,” Thor whispered.

“About?” said Loki, pissy still.

“I’m not handling this well, am I?”

Loki sighed, pushed the hair away from Thor’s face. It was getting in the way of his view. Those deep blue eyes put him in a forgiving mood almost instantly.

“I guess you’re trying,” he said. 

“I really have nothing against it. I may be a bit shocked. Well, very. It’s just… It’ll take some getting used to,” muttered Thor. “Please, have patience with me.”

And because his whole fucking body was begging him to, Loki leaned in for a kiss. When Thor brought their foreheads together with his eyes closed, Loki held his breath.

“You’ll have to walk me through the mechanics of it,” said Thor then.

“You don’t have to do it, you know?”

“But I’ll try at least,” said Thor. “I’m not opposed to the idea of it. I just… I can’t see myself doing the most extreme stuff. Hurting you, really hurting you, or-or abusing you. I… I don’t know, baby.”

“Like I said, you don’t have to.” Loki turned on Thor’s lap to grab a thing from the box. He picked up a pair of cuffs. “Anyway, it’s a process. You don’t start with the heavy stuff. You start light. Dip your toe in, see how you like it, green for go, yellow for slow down, red for stop, and see where it gets you. Maybe nowhere, maybe somewhere, who knows. Who knows what’s really in here,” he pointed to his forehead, then Thor’s, “once you start digging.” He gave the cuffs a tug. “Ever been tied to a bed, Thor?”

“Uh,” Thor looked at the cuffs.

“Oh,” purred Loki, “do tell.”

Thor blushed.

“Tied up, blindfolded. We got a joke hamper on Valentine’s Day with a few things. You know, spicing up routine.”

Loki wanted to roll his eyes.

“Don’t tell me: black satin mask with fucking lace, and silk rope binding. With fucking tassels. Not gold at least?”

"Uh."

Loki chuckled, shaking his head.

“Any toys?” he asked.

“N-not for me, no.”

Loki smirked, and spun on Thor’s lap. Now he was straddling him, cuffs still in his hands. He lowered his voice to a whisper.

“Do you ever feel like letting go? Letting somebody else decide, and following blindly?”

Thor looked up to him, and seemed to actually think about it.

“Sounds like a relief,” he said.

“It can be.”

“Would you like that? Bossing me around? Having me obey your every whim?”

“That’s not exactly how it works, but now that you come to mention it.”

Thor chuckled.

“Would you like to hurt me?” asked Thor, a hesitant mutter. “Would that turn you on?”

Loki assessed his expression. Mistrust, wariness.

“I wouldn’t do it unless you asked me to,” said Loki.

“That’s not what I asked,” said Thor.

“Ok. My answer then is, I don’t know. I keep finding things out about myself. It’s a continuous education.”

Thor looked very, very wary.

“Right now, I don’t think I would. In general, it’s not my bag,” said Loki, opting for putting him at ease. “But,” he said, “having you down on your knees being my good little boy, tying you down in a variety of extremely becoming bindings, maybe smacking your ass a bit, just until it turns red and feels hot, and keeping you hanging there for a while, hard and desperate, watching you squirm as I try an assortment of different toys on you, making you beg to let you come? I think that would turn me on very much.”

Loki smirked wickedly at Thor’s look of discombobulation. He wrapped his arms more tightly around Thor’s neck and wrapped his legs around his waist too, bringing their hardening cocks together. He whispered in his ear.

“And what about the other way around. Imagine me bound and helpless and your slave. Imagine bending me over your knee, pulling my pants down, slapping my ass, telling me what a naughty boy I’ve been, and then commanding me to keep my cheeks apart so that you can watch me, and then fingering me, and I’m begging you to let me touch my cock, and my ass is throbbing, and then I’m on my knees, with a plug up my ass, desperate to come, and you fucking my face…”

“Christ,” gasped Thor, his fingers digging in Loki’s waist. “You have a mouth on you…”

“Oh, I’m a very naughty boy.” Loki blinked innocently. “Will you punish me, sir?” 

“Mother of fuck.”

Loki smirked, stared, challenged.

“Get on your knees,” rumbled Thor, hoarse with arousal.

“So you have a bossy streak on you, then.”

“On your fucking knees, now.”

“The cuffs…” whimpered Loki, being pushed and shoved to the ground. “Please, fucking hell, use the cuffs…”

Loki was rubbing his wrists fondly, fucked out and happy. He took off his t-shirt (now with a tear at the neck) and kicked off the remaining trouser leg, which was still wrapped around his ankle, and stretched luxuriantly on the bed. His ass throbbed pleasantly from smacking and vigorous fucking.

Thor returned naked and clean from the bathroom. Under Loki’s penetrating gaze, he seemed bashful. He sat on the bed, drank some water.

“I’m waiting for the verdict,” he said at last.

“First time sexy spanking?” asked Loki, all purry.

“That bad?” asked Thor.

“No, I’d say you’re a natural,” said Loki, turning on his front to expose Thor’s handiwork. 

Thor contemplated it, then pinched the closest cheek.

“Ouch.”

Thor scratched his beard.

“So, uh, what about the after… care, was it?”

“This was just a little game, don’t worry.”

Thor kept on fucking scratching his beard. Loki was fine, Thor maybe… not so much?

“Come here,” mumbled Loki.

Thor laid down and got enfolded in Loki. Tension fled his limbs after a while. Even more when Loki began to press kisses to his hair.

“Was I too rough?” muttered Thor.

At other times in the past, Loki would have snorted. 

“Did I use the safeword?” he said softly instead.

“No.”

“Then you were fine,” he said. And with an eye on positive reinforcement, he whispered, “You were perfect. You’re so fucking strong, I feel it even when you’re holding back, and it drives me wild,” he purred. He squeezed him harder, and kept kissing his hair. “Did you enjoy it?”

“It was very hot,” said Thor tentatively. “I don’t know.”

Loki hugged him and left him to it.

Some time later, Thor’s phone went off again. This time, it was a call. Thor reached out for his phone on the bedside table. He smiled and picked it up.

“Hey, mom.”

Loki’s heart jumped for some reason. Impulsively, he reached for the sheets, which were bundled at the foot of the bed, and covered up. Just as if Frigga had walked in on them masturbating side by side in the den.

Thor answered a few questions of little consequence.

“Yeah… Not as cold as I thought, actually. … Oh yeah, a few showers already. … He’s fine, yes.” He turned his eyes to Loki, who was clutching the sheets to under his armpits. “Sure, hang on.” He offered the phone, blocking the microphone, “She wants to talk to you.”

“What?” gasped Loki, a horrified whisper. He shook his head vehemently.

“Oh, come on.”

“I can’t talk to your mother!” whispered Loki.

“Please?” said Thor. 

“What am I going to tell her?”

“I don’t know, but I’m sure she has lots to ask.”

Loki felt backed into a corner, and pretty angry about it. How dare they?

“She’ll be so happy,” said Thor. “When I told her about us, she cried with joy. I fucking swear.”

“She did?” said Loki, baffled.

“Come on,” whispered Thor, “when you’ve had enough, give me a nudge and I’ll rescue you.”

Loki huffed. He considered himself, for the most part, a selfish prick,  but Frigga had a way about her… Pleasing her mattered. Seeing her happy. And not only for her approval or her blessing. Loki was grateful and glad even when it was somebody else doing the right thing to please her. In other words, get over your stupid self, and pick up the goddamn phone.

“Fine,” he grumbled. “A quick hello.”

Thor passed the phone. Loki exhaled quietly, steeling himself.

“Hi, Mrs. Borson, it’s…”

Frigga’s voice,

“Mrs. Borson? Loki Laufeyson, since when have you called me that?”

“Uh, s-sorry, uh, Frigga.”

“Never mind that. My darling, how are you? It’s been so long…!”

They talked for over an hour, until Thor’s battery gave up. Thor had time to shower, tidy up his beard, fix them a quick lunch, and just stand there for a long while, watching with a cheesy smile that no attempt to quell on Loki’s part (either by hurling pillows or making obscene gestures his way) managed to so much as touch. It was so easy to talk to her. She was so good at this, making you feel cared for, valued, loved. She didn’t ask once about Thor and him, about Loki’s intentions, about the future. She just made him feel she was simply happy that they were speaking now. 

“This is going to run out of juice,” said Loki. They had been talking about books by then.

“Oh, dear, and I do need to go to bed! I’m so happy we talked.”

“Me too.”

“Bye bye now, darling. I love you.”

“I-, me too. Bye.”

He was blushing when he put the phone down. He felt a bit like crying.

*

They curled up in bed together after lunch, and inevitably, they fell asleep. Thor would have to be leaving soon. Part of Loki thought napping was a waste of precious together time, but another part just snuggled up closer and was happy to let go.

When they woke up, the light outside had changed. In silence, with a heavy heart, Thor got up and started to get dressed. In bed, Loki stretched.

“When is the flight?” he asked.

“Late. But I need to get going. Get to the hotel, change clothes, get my things, check out.”

Loki nodded, watched him get ready. Didn’t take him long, and after that, he looked so low.

“We have time,” said Loki. “Come here.”

Thor laid on the sheets next to him. Loki burrowed again against him.

He ran ideas, possibilities, scenarios in his head. Thor coming to visit him in London every few weeks. Together, alone, far away, nobody else interfering. A little bubble separate from their daily lives, a fantasy holiday from reality, in which everything can be made perfect, and all squabbles put aside. Keep the romance, keep the freshness. Sacrificing daily companionship and time, in exchange for an illusion, fleeting but unspoilt. 

But that was the one thing Thor hadn’t offered. Was it even what Loki wanted? 

“This is nice,” said Loki. 

Thor pressed a long kiss to his temple.

“Yes, it’s wonderful.” He sighed, with yearning. “And it could be like this, all the time.”

“Half the time,” argued Loki.

At his back, Thor stiffened. Loki sighed now, in a very different spirit.

“Your dream scenario,” he said very softly, “it’s not a pipe dream. It’s an endgoal. It’s how you see yourself, us, in a few years. That’s why you’re willing to make allowances now. You’re expecting I’ll come around eventually, and we’ll all live together in that house in the suburbs with a white picket fence, and we’ll be the perfect 21st century American family.” 

Thor behind him was very, very quiet.

“What if I never come around,” said Loki. “What if I never live up to that… to that fantasy. What then.”

Thor, again, was tensely, rigidly quiet.

“You’re not coming back with me, are you,” he said after a while.

Loki sat up, huffing, rubbing his face.

“I need… I need more time.”

Thor sat up too. Loki eyed him on the sly. His face was broody. It broke Loki’s heart.

“Why do I feel that this is just an excuse,” said Thor.

Loki had a choke in his throat.

“You said you’d give me all the time I needed.”

Thor nodded, deflated.

  “Are you working up the courage to say no? Because if that’s your answer, let’s have it here, now.”

Loki’s tears began to fall.

“I… I need more time,” was all he could say.

Thor nodded heavily. 

“Of course.”

He stood up. Grabbed his jacket, stuffed back in the pockets the few things he had brought with him, and went downstairs. Rubbing his eyes furiously, Loki put on his robe, and rushed after him.

When Thor, hand already on the knob of the front door, heard him on the stairs, he stopped. After an exhale, he turned. His eyes were low. 

Loki wanted to say the right thing. He wanted to see it clearly in his head and go for it. He wanted all doubts to vanish. Or he wanted to be able to just fucking dive in and think about it later. Anything, whatever it took so that Thor did not leave like that.

Thor looked at him. He seemed dejected.

What could Loki say. It was the time of truth, and he still hadn’t a fucking clue.

“The verdict reading is on the 28th,” said Thor.

“Yes, I know,” muttered Loki.

“I guess you’re not coming.”

“I’m not sure.”

Thor nodded, clearly unhappy with that answer too. More of the same shit, right?

Thor opened the door and stepped out. A taxi was turning the corner and Thor hailed it with a gesture. 

“Thor…”

Already striding to catch up with the taxi, and just half-turning his face, not looking, Thor said,

“Bye, Loki.”

Chapter Text

The convention was an all-day event, the schedule tight, the sessions always too long, the breaks no such thing at all (if you’re not attending a conference, you’re networking and contact building, that’s how it is), and even so, Tony prided himself on still being able to pay attention and be reasonably interested in most of the stuff he was hearing today. Pepper did always say that his curiosity and his capacity for getting excited about things were some of his best qualities. 

The speaker was right in the thick of it when Tony’s phone, on silent mode, vibrated in his pocket. Surreptitiously, he had a look at the caller. Ah, Loki. Can’t right now, pet, give me half an hour. He ended the call, and texted quickly. His neighbours were giving him looks. He grinned sweetly, coy. Sent. He put the phone away.

Brrrr brrrr brrrr. Loki again. Tony pushed the hold button. Loki ended the call, and called again. What the fuck…? 

People around were turning, the speaker had an eye on him. Silent mode was not that silent when the entire room falls quiet to wait for the next slide of the presentation. Tony smiled innocently. They had asked for phones to be turned off.

“Excuse me.”

He made his way out. The chairs were always too damned close together; everyone on his row had to stand up to let him through. He kept a little, meek smile, and kept muttering, “sorry, sorry, sorry…”

Once he was outside, he called.

“Stark!” roared the light of his life from the other end of the line, in rainy England.

“What’s wrong, pet?”

“You dickheaded, dimwitted, idiotic asshole! You… you massive fucking dunce!”

Tony frowned to the empty corridor.

“I take it you’re not very happy with me.”

“You sent him over here! You knew I wasn’t ready! I had nothing to give him and now he’s pissed off with me, and everything’s fucked, because of you!”

“Ooooh-kay, pet, darling, sweetheart,” said Tony, his jaw clenched a bit too tight. And then he spoke severely, to let Loki know he wasn’t joking. “I’m going to ask you to take several deep fucking breaths and change that fucking tone, ok? And then, when you think you can speak to me like the lovely little shit I know you are inside, start again, from the beginning.”

“Fuck you!” cried Loki, and he hung up.

Ok.

Tony gave himself a moment. Deep breaths. Deeeep breaths. That’s it.

Brrrr brrrr brrrr brrrr… The phone vibrated in his hand. Loki again. Should he? He shouldn’t, right? Fuck it. He answered the call.

“Yes?”

At the other end, no words for a moment, just huffs.

“I apologise,” said Loki, tightly, his tone a mockery of submission. “Please forgive me for how I spoke to you earlier.”

“I forgive you,” he said, no fuss made. He knew Loki. “What’s up.”

“Thor.”

“Oh.” Whoops. Tony braced himself for what he guessed was coming.

“He came to see me. He said you told him it was a good idea.” Loki’s tone was tightly controlled, and he seemed to be holding on to his words for a moment before he let them go, with a jerk at the leash to make sure they would know to behave once he set them loose.

“Yes.”

“Why did you do that?” His tone was ominous.

“Because you were procrastinating.”

“Pro… procrastinating…” Barely restrained huff. He could imagine Loki right now rubbing his temples, doing his very best not to lash out again. “Why… the heck… did you get… your big meddling nose… in my fucking business?” Slowly again, the high enquiring note at the end making a parody of a polite question.

Tony didn’t hesitate for a moment. He had been ready for this.

“Thor was losing his shit and his patience over here,” he said. “He was panicking. That one single message you sent him didn’t really put him at ease for long. And he told me you had gone into deep stealth mode again. Meanwhile, I knew from our lovely conversations how you were circling and circling over the same lack of resolve, because, basically, you’re shitting your pants. So, when Thor came to me and asked me, do you think I should go there, I told him what I felt - that yes, it might help you make up your mind. Correction: it might help you realise that you have already made up your mind. Amendment to the correction, because nuance is important: it might help you fucking face the fact that you have had your mind made up for yonks, and help you grow some balls.”

A crackling silence.

“Well, you were fucking wrong!” Loki screamed. Here we go. “I have not made up my fucking mind! I have no idea what to do! And he gave me a fucking ultimatum, and I couldn’t follow through, and now he’s gone, he’s fucking gone, and I’ve fucking lost him for good, and you…!”

“Loki, darling, listen to yourself. You are losing your shit, because you think it’s over. You have made up your mind.”

“But what I want and what I can have are two fucking entirely different things!” roared Loki. His voice broke, poor dear. For a moment, he couldn’t talk, his breathing hitching into barely contained sobs. His voice was thin now, threadbare. “This was never my fucking dream! …It’s like the universe is taking the piss out of me. ‘Yeah, you can have what you most fucking wanted, but with One Fucking Condition.’ I feel so… cheated!”

“You’re talking about the baby?”

Silence means assent?

“She’s a laugh, you know.”

“Don’t,” grumbled Loki. “Not you too.” He sniffed. “Can I have something good all to myself for once?”

“Ah, self-pity fest,” said Tony. “You know, Loki, this compromising thing is a pretty common occurrence. It happens a lot.”

“Oh yeah? You know all about compromising, don’t you, Mr. McPolypants?”

“Nah nah nah, don’t change subjects, this is not about me. Yes, baby, compromising is a thing. He left his wife at a very complicated time in both their lives because he wanted a life that included you. It may not be exactly what you had dreamed of…”

“Exactly?” scoffed Loki.

“...But that’s how it is. I bet it wasn’t easy for him either, but he made a choice. You need to make yours.”

That did shut Loki up, for a good minute; only his laboured, thick breathing indicating that he was still there. Then, a pitiful whisper.

“I can’t do this,” said Loki, with considerable difficulty. “I’m going to fuck up.”

Oh, baby… How very much did Tony hate the Atlantic ocean right now. But he had really come to believe that hugs and pity were not of any help to Loki right now. He was persuaded that he needed a good kick in the ass (or several slightly lesser ones), and he was all too happy to provide them.

“So what?” he said. “Honestly, Loki, so what if you fuck up? People fuck up all the time. And they are forgiven by those who love them, and get second and third and tenth chances. But even if you don’t get forgiven, even if you don’t get another chance, you’ll only end up pretty much where you are now. So what have you got to lose?”

“What?”

“I’m saying, go for it! Give it a fucking go! It may never take off. It may work out for a while and then fail. So? Will the universe end? Will your lives be finished? No! You will break up, it will be sad, it will be hard. Hopefully you’ll have some good memories to fall back on to. And then you’ll move on, older and wiser. Honestly, Loki, what the hell are you so afraid of?”

Loki didn’t reply. His breathing was huffy with the crying he was trying to hold back. Tony was imploding with the need to crush him in his arms. He spoke with more tenderness next. Like, try and stop him.

“You think you’re not strong enough to endure a breakup? Is that what you think? You’re strong enough, baby. Don’t you know that? Have a think, you know I’m right. And Thor is strong enough. No matter what happens, you’ll both be alright. No matter what happens, I’ll be there to catch you.”

More laboured breathing. He might be imagining it, but he thought he was getting somewhere with this. He kept on pushing.

“You can come over here and try. And then you may change your mind, and go back to London, or wherever. Thor will prefer that a hundred times to never trying, I guarantee that. You can try, and it may fail, and you might lose him. It may happen. But you know what’s absolutely certain in all of this? That if you don’t get your ass over here and try, you are going to lose him for good. So why not try? What if it works? What if this new life you’re so scared of actually makes you happy?”

Loki sniffled. Tony pictured him now, alone in that city where he had never bothered making friends worthy of that name, fat tears rolling down his sharp, lovely face. He needed to get this idiot over here now. 

Loki sniffled again and exhaled deeply, trying to compose his voice.

“What if he gets to know me better, and finds out how I really am, and changes his mind and dumps me?” A pathetic, plaintive whisper.

Tony sat down on the floor, back against the wall, rubbed his forehead.

“Loki, baby, I love you,” he said. “And because I love you, I’m going to say this. I never knew your old man, but whenever you start saying things like that, I swear I can hear your father. And let me tell you something else: you have made it your life’s mission to prove that asshole wrong, and you’re succeeding. It’s what’s got you out of bed in your worst times, isn’t it?, what never let you give up. Everyday you get up, you get on with it, you rub his fucking nose in it, you shove it down his throat. That you’re not what he made you feel like, you’re not what he said you were. You’re stronger, better, you’re worthwhile, worth knowing, worth loving. And believe you me, wherever he is now, he’s choking on it. And the bastard is coming back now with a vengeance, because he never made anything out of himself but a miserable son of a bitch who only knew to do two things, boozing and try to ruin his kids’ lives, and he sees you now, not only successful and recognised for your talent and getting out of bed and fighting the good fight for yourself every day, but about to actually let yourself have nice things, for the first time in your life. And he’s trying to ruin this for you. And you can’t let him, pet. You’ve been beating him to the ground for thirty-four years. Are you going to let him win now?”

Loki was so quiet now, even the noises of his weeping were gone. Was he covering the speaker? Was he there crying his eyes out, and keeping it from him?

“Come on, baby,” said Tony softly, “get your ass over here now.”

Nothing for a while. Tony was expectant, wondering if he had done enough, and hesitating whether to let it run its course now, or keep hitting it while it was hot. Were they any closer? Had he lost him? He honestly hadn’t got a clue.

“I’m so s-scared,” whispered Loki eventually, a sob cutting his words. “Not sure why or… what of. I just am.”

“I know, baby, I know,” said Tony softly. “I got you. Promise.”

Only more sniffing for a while, then some throat-clearing.

“Why are you so intent on hooking me up with someone else?”

Tony laughed, relieved, the change towards sarcasm in Loki’s tone music to his ears.

“Because he’s local. It’s convenient.”

Loki made a laughing noise, not too cheerful, but there at least.

“And because I care for you, idiot.”

A silence. Then Loki inhaled, exhaled, and his voice sounded more assured when he spoke next, though it was still weakened.

“He got his mother on the phone with me, can you believe that?”

Tony enjoyed the grumbling as well. That’s my boy.

“Clever. How did that go?”

“I don’t know.” Sigh. “I don’t know. It was good talking to her.”

“Good. And the rest? Up until the point where he ultimatum’d you.”

“… He didn’t, not really. He just...” Sigh. “Anyway. It was… It was good.”

“Any talking, in between all the fucking?”

“Some.”

“Good.”

“Were your ears ringing?” asked Loki after a second.

Tony laughed.

“That explains it. What was the context?”

“You told him about the beatings. I forgot I was angry about that too. I owe you a thorough ear-pulling,” said Loki, without heat.

Tony laughed again.

“Sounds nice,” he teased.

Loki, at the other end, seemed strangely flat and wistful, no fire and no fury. He was scared out of his mind, wasn’t he? 

“Well, then, I’ll be getting back,” said Tony, snappy, a new convert to the belief that what would get Loki through this whole thing safely was being shaken out of it whenever he stopped to think. He got on his feet. “And you need to pack.”

“Shit, I forgot about that. Damn.”

“Glad to be of service.”

“Oh, shut up,” said his beloved, sounding closer to his usual snarky self at last.

“I love you too.”

A pause.

“Yeah, I know.”

Tony smiled from ear to ear. That had felt wonderfully sweet, somehow.

____________________________

October 29th, The Verdict Reading.

The moment Thor crossed the door to the office, there was an explosion of cheers, whistles, and applause. He was back-patted, shoulder-jostled, hand-shaken, and extensively hugged. Thor played his part as best he could, trying to return like for like and match the spirit. Enthusiasm and triumph were especially hard to come by. There were calls of “Speech! Speech! Speech!”, and Thor made an effort to deliver. Common effort, meaningful victory, couldn’t have done it without you all. Champagne flute in his hand, he proposed a toast. 

Socializing time. Hovering around, joining small groups, delivering personal words of gratitude and individual praise. He was officially still on paternity leave, and in the last few months, he hadn’t been seen in the office except for a quick dash, so he got yet another round of hugs and handshakes, this time with congratulations attached. That part wasn’t too bad. That child had powers, surely; a glimpse of her face and Thor was feeling warmed up down to the marrow of his bones. He had much to tell, photos to show, cute anecdotes to repeat to exhaustion. And of course, whenever it showed, he could call his current gloomy mood tiredness and get away with it. 

There would be a party with the clients at the end of the week. He was already dreading it. It would be more of the same, but on an industrial scale. And it was not that he wasn’t satisfied for a job well done, and having taken part in the act of justice being made, and the stepping stone of a better future having been laid today for an entire town. He cared about those people very much, and he would forever treasure the knowledge that he had made a difference in their lives. 

But that evening, he was simply so low. Up until the last minute before the judge walked in, he had harboured a flicker of hope that Loki would suddenly come bursting in and take his seat by Thor’s side. Then the usher had said, “All rise,” and Thor’s heart had sunk, and resounding victory or not, it had stayed sunk.

He tried to escape several times, but someone or other would always catch him. Finally, they were talking about continuing this in a bar. Thor made up something about having to look after Emma tonight, and that got him an instant pass.

He went to his office to pick up his things. The place was emptying out. In the dark, in peace, he slumped on his chair, turned away from the door, and buried his face in his hands. His breathing was getting painful and wet. Oh dear, here we go again.

He kept going back in his mind to that Sunday afternoon in London. He had fucked up, hadn’t he? Bye, Loki. Like a stupid kid who can’t handle adult fucking feelings. I just need more time, that was all Loki asked. Which Thor had sworn he was willing to give. Yes, he had fucked up. But he had been feeling so heartbroken, and rejected, so fucking devastated and forlorn. Loki had had time, was what his angry other self was grumbling. Was it his pride, then? That Loki had not tripped over himself to take Thor up on his offer? That the cons still far outweighed the pros? Was this somehow related to all those goddamn fantasies about the past, about how he imagined teenage Loki looking at him, transported, adoring, if instead of all those no’s, Thor had said yes?

Whatever it was, Thor had left London in a huff, and Loki was nothing if not proud himself, not to mention able to overthink any situation into the deepest, darkest pit of mistrust and despair. And there you go, Loki had not said a word all those days, not one, nothing. And goddammit, neither had Thor. Oh, pride and dignity will get you places, Odinson. Lonely, miserable, Loki-less places, but you can tell yourself you did not beg and you did not crawl, good for you. That should keep you warm at night.

Sniffing, he took out his phone and started a text. Was it a good idea? Not a clue, not anymore. Fuck pride, fuck strategy. He was just going to put it all out there, and then it was definitely out of his hands, for good.

“I don’t know what more I can tell you. I don’t know what else I can give. My promises and my best intentions to make good on them are all I’ve got. And my love for you. If that’s not enough, then that’s it, that’s all. I can’t believe how close we’ve gotten, after all we’ve been through, and that we’re not even going to try. Still yours, Th…”

“Congratulations, attorney,” said a silken voice he knew all too well behind his back, from the door of his office. 

Thor whipped his head around. His eyes went wide. Loki’s silhouette was cut against the brightness of the corridor outside. Thor could barely make out his cheerless, cautious smile, there only to reassure and show goodwill. 

“You’re here,” said Thor.

“I’m here,” said Loki softly.

Thor was out of words and out of breath, and all he could do was look at him in his sharp cut suit, that scarf around his neck, suddenly there in the room with him as if by magic, like a rabbit pulled out of a hat. 

“You’re really here?” he said.

“Do you want me to pinch you?”

“No, I mean…”

“I know what you mean,” said Loki. His posture was slumped, humble. He stuttered a bit. “Yes, I’m-I’m here.”

“You’re staying?”

Loki didn’t reply right away, but he knew the answer. He was just struggling to commit to it out loud.

“I am,” he said, after a few beats. “If you’ll still have me.”

“Baby…” sighed Thor, and closed the distance between them to take Loki in his arms. Loki hugged him back without hesitation, with conviction, and with just as much yearning and relief as his own. He heard Loki’s breathing get thick and huffy, so he held him even more tightly. He only loosened his grip so that he could pull back and find Loki’s lips with his, and take that clever, sharp mouth for all it had. Loki made the most wonderful little sound, a sigh of relief turning into a sensual moan that put all of Thor’s hairs on end. Then Loki broke the kiss and buried his face in the crook of Thor’s neck, and Thor would probably have kept right on squeezing tight indefinitely, but Loki made him feel with a quick shake that, as nice as that felt, it wasn’t a substitute for oxygen.

Thor cradled Loki’s face in his hands and had a good look at him, as if his eyes still needed further proof that he was there. For a moment, he saw the twiggy little teenager he once was, his eyes so big, his mouth not so crooked, not so sharp, baby fat still on his cheeks, goddamn dimples. He couldn’t go back in time and say yes when he should have, but he was going to say it now. Yes, yes, yes, one million times yes. He kept right on staring, his smile overflowing, swept away by it all.

“You’re not going to be like that all the time, are you,” grumbled Loki. 

Thor laughed. He wanted to hug him again. He decided to save it for later. Oh, Loki’s eyes when Thor laughed made him feel warm inside like only one other thing in this world.

“Home?” he said.

Loki gave him a pointed stare, then a small, shaky smile. He nodded. Thor wasn’t sure what to make of that, but you know what? He’d worry about it later. He picked up the few things he had brought with him, put on his coat, and grabbed his boyfriend’s hand. They walked along the corridor like that. Thor felt awkward, almost clumsy, the casual gesture of open affection still a novelty. He kept throwing him looks, while Loki remained fascinated with his shoes (which were probably handmade especially for him or something, so they were arguably more interesting than your usual issue, but still). While they waited for the elevator, though, Loki did dare to meet his eyes. Thor stared, smiling with his whole face, like the loved-up fool that he was. Loki rolled his eyes, but he was smiling too. And he had yet to let go of Thor’s hand.

Chapter Text

A two storey house in the suburbs, not a bad area, not a good one either. A drive at the front. Might have been a lawn once.

“No garden?” said Loki. “Where is she going to play? Indoors all the time?”

“It’s only provisional,” said Thor.

They parked, climbed out, approached the front door. There were two door bells there with slots to write in a name, both blank.

“You share this place?” said Loki, appalled.

“The other apartment is empty right now,” said Thor.

“What if you don’t like the neighbour? This world is full of creeps!” said Loki. 

Thor laughed.

“Like I said, it’s only temporary.”

“Second floor?!” exclaimed Loki as they went in and Thor started to climb the stairs.

“I get the use of the attic. I’m keeping lots of boxes there,” explained Thor, being rather patient. “The garage has dampness problems.”

“But you have to go up and down with the pram and the baby and everything! And what if she trips?” said Loki. Thor gave him an amused look over his shoulder. Loki sighed, “Yeah, don’t tell me, only temporary.”

They got to the door of the second floor apartment. Thor gave him a shy look.

“I don’t have a lot of furniture,” he said. “And it’s a bit untidy.”

Thor didn’t have a lot of furniture indeed - small couch, TV, a small dining table, but even with the open plan kitchen, the place was cramped; the jungle of bright plastic toys in the corner, a basket full of baby books, and other kiddie instrumentation Loki wasn’t entirely sure what their purpose was, all filled the space up considerably. 

“They’re so little, but they take up a hell of a lot of room,” said Thor, reading his mind. 

The kitchen was also invaded by contraptions for assorted baby-related occupations, toys, a high chair. And photos everywhere, on the shelves, on a massive cork board on the far wall, on the fridge door, stuck to the kitchen cabinets… Lots of the baby, of course, in her grandparents’ arms (how lovely Frigga still looked, that smile had not changed), with Thor, and photos of...

“Oh my god,” gasped Loki.

The two of them, Thor and him, so many; since they were little, taken by Frigga and Odin - on short day trips, on family occasions Loki was invited to (although in fairness he shouldn’t have been), playing in the yard in the summer, laughing hysterically while Odin sprayed them with the hose. Loki’s eyes wandered madly, discovering at every turn another scene, another snippet, another moment he had thought lost in time, memories he didn’t know he still had flooding him and soaking him through.

Behind his back, Thor stood close. Loki could almost feel his smile.

“She’s too little to recognise many faces, but, you know, soon she won’t be. I wanted her to know your face,” said Thor, as if he needed to explain, or apologise. “And I just wanted to see you. See us. I hadn’t looked at these photos in such a long time. I had packed them all up in the attic when I first moved in with Jane, and left them at my parents’ house. I remembered what you told me in that letter you were going to leave in our hotel for me to find. That you had not been able to look at the past without bitterness for such a long time, and now you had it back. I realised I felt the same, although what I felt was a lot of guilt, and sadness, and loss. But not anymore. Never again, no matter what happens. I have all of it back.”

Loki swallowed thickly, emotion inside pushing to come out. He picked up one particular photo. He must have been about fourteen, looked like he had way too many elbows and knees, his face a disaster zone of budding facial hair in stupid clumps, his forehead, nose and chin bursting with acne. What the fuck, Thor? 

“You can put this one away right now or I’m fucking putting it in the trash. Why would you even have it out? I look horrible.”

“Don’t you remember that day?” said Thor.

Loki tried. Those angry red spots and craters on the gangly teenager’s face were all he could see. Hard to think when your vanity is screeching ‘Burn it! Destroy it!” Thor smiled beatifically (the fucker must have had four fucking spots at most in his entire adolescence, and his beard, so blond and soft and lovely, came out in a very sensible manner).

“We were in the den jerking off,” explained Thor. “It might have been the second or third time we did it. Right in the middle of it, we hear dad shout. He wanted us to come down and help with the barbecue. I shouted ‘Just a minute, dad’ and kept at it. I finished, you didn’t. You were so shocked, I remember thinking it was adorable. Anyway, a moment later, we’re in the garden helping set up the table, and you’re shaking, so so nervous, as if my parents could read your mind or something, and mom suddenly says to you, ‘Loki, smile!’ and takes a photo. I laughed so much. You looked at me like you wanted to die, but only after killing me first.”

“Oh my god.”

“You remember now?”

“I do, yes. God,” Loki said, the echo of the deep shame he felt returning to him, heating up his cheeks. “That’s a new level of sentimentality even for you.”

Thor laughed.

“Sentiment or not, the fucking acne, Thor.”

“I still like this photo.”

“You’re still taking it down.”

“Fine, in the drawer it goes,” conceded Thor, his good mood unassailable. And pressed a long kiss onto Loki’s temple, which felt so very fucking nice. “Here, I’ll show you around.”

The bathroom was not much bigger than Loki’s in London. It had a tub rather than a shower, but half of it was occupied by a plastic baby bath, leaning against the wall.

“I know it’s not great…” said Thor.

Loki shrugged. It was provisional. But he thought that, if they did end up shacking up together, they were going to need a bathroom that fitted both of them comfortably. Because while Loki preferred to do his ablutions in peace and tranquility, he also enjoyed shared showers every now and then, when the space allowed. He wanted lots of it. Two sinks, massive shower for upright activities, and a tub big enough for two big-ass men looking to make wet, soapy whoopie. And for a little girl to have a nice splash, probably. Kids liked that, didn’t they? Loki had loved Thor’s big tub at his parents’ house.

“Why is it not child-proofed?” said Loki, eyeing the unprotected plugs and so many dangerous sharp corners.

“She doesn’t even crawl yet. She’s not going to get in that kind of trouble for some time.”

“Hm. What can she do?”

“She’s starting to sit up. She smiles, she cackles, she repeats some noises you make. She tries to reach things when she’s on her tummy. She’s very ticklish.”

Loki, in spite of himself, smiled a little. He didn’t even know why he should try and resist feeling tenderness. He should be doing the exact opposite, embrace the fucking cute, right? Oh, what a bag of cats his brain was.

Next, Thor led him down the short, narrow corridor. The light in this place was dismal, either dingy or harsh, like a cheap motel. 

“Master bedroom,” said Thor, gesturing grandly.

Well well well. Somebody had taken some pains to make that room feel comfortable, welcoming, and very distinctly double. There was a massive bed taking up almost all the space, ready for the most challenging exercises of the sex olympics. There were matching nightstands on each side, with their respective reading lamps, and a fluffy rug. The wardrobe that covered one of the walls, without doors, was only half occupied. Loki wagered that, if he went to check that big dresser at the foot of the bed, he’d find that half the drawers had been left empty.

Thor was at the door behind his back, radiating nervous energy and anticipation, awaiting a verdict. Loki exhaled as quietly as he could, because he didn’t trust himself not to sound shuddery. He was quite nervous himself for some fucking reason, almost like a virgin bride on her wedding night, beholding the place of her impending deflowering.

“Where does she sleep?” asked Loki.

“In her pram. Well, the carrycot.”

“Yeah, but, where.”

“Oh. In the living room.”

Loki was horrified. Who parks a baby in the goddamn living room?

“Only for her naps, while I’m around doing things,” explained Thor quickly, reading Loki’s frown of alarm correctly. “It’s good for them to get used to napping through noises and light.”

Hm. Well, if it was a parenting technique, Loki guessed he had to defer to the experts.

“And at night?” he asked.

“Emma still spends the night at Jane’s house, until the week-in week-out arrangement begins.”

“Right,” said Loki, bit tightly. “And when the arrangement begins?”

“We’ll find a place with a bedroom all to herself. Why?”

“Uh. I’ve heard that some people… Uh, they keep them in the room or even in their bed, and I was imagining — dreading, more like…”

Thor laughed.

“Yeah, no, not us. Jane and I agree. Emma does sleep in Jane’s room for now, not in the same bed though, but when she’s a bit older, she’ll have her own room there too. And in our bedroom… it would be just you and me.”

And those words for some reason made Loki feel a tumble in his stomach. He harrumphed.

“And that baby walkie-talkie thing so that we would not miss it every time she breathed, cooed, or burped, for mood.”

“Those things are not that sensitive,” explained Thor seriously. “They only activate when…”

"Joking, Thor,” said Loki, dry as dust, then a minimal quirk right in the corner of his lips. 

“Oh.”

Thor looked out of sorts, and quite adorable for it. Loki felt a surge of tenderness. Slowly, he raised both hands to Thor’s face, touching hair, skin, the soft beard. Thor put his hands on Loki’s, closed his eyes, and brought their foreheads together. 

“I really thought I’d lost you.” He turned his head to kiss Loki’s palm.

“Shh,” whispered Loki. They were so close. Just a slight change of angle, and he was kissing Thor’s face, his eyes.

“You’re here.” Thor enfolded him in strong arms and an iron hold, almost painful, so good. It was like Thor’s embrace could fit Loki’s pieces back into place. “Baby…”

“Shh,” repeated Loki, still pressing soft kisses all over Thor’s face, on his brow, on the line of his hair, closed eyelids, on his cheeks, on the corner of his mouth. It felt good in a way that had only a little to do with skin and lips and pulse racing. This went deeper, and felt so warm, and it was everywhere, and it was getting a bit too much too. He was relieved when he felt Thor’s hands in his clothes, strong, urgent pulls and tugs. Loki pliantly helped Thor slip the suit jacket off him, helped Thor out of his own.

Thor’s breathing was becoming huffier and heavier, and his hands clumsier and more impatient. Loki chuckled when he felt the buttons of his five-hundred pound shirt pop out. It was good, it was all good. He ripped the buttons on Thor’s shirt open too, fuck it, but Thor didn’t laugh, he groaned, and Loki felt it down his spine, all the way right to his cock. Thor’s mouth on Loki’s neck, kissing and nipping and blowing breath as hot as steam, while they blindly fumbled with each other’s zippers and trousers. Thor’s tongue in his ear, Loki moaning.

They fell on the bed, still stripping as they could, trying to help and hindering instead, and getting frustrated for it. Rolling and tumbling on that massive bed, until they were naked, hard, and each trying to end up on top. Thor forfeited. Sprawled on the bed, beneath him, chest heaving as he panted, eyes hazy. Loki ran one hand all the way down from Thor’s neck to his cock. He closed his fist around it, gave it a few lazy strokes. Thor’s eyes fluttered. Loki worked him, eyes fixed on Thor’s face, every twitch, every sigh. Mine.

“Where’s the lube?” Loki asked.

Thor’s eyes snapped open.

“Shit.”

“You don’t have any?” said Loki, dismayed.

“Whoops,” said Thor, with a little shy grin.

“Amateur,” grumbled Loki, and naked and hard he got up to fumble in the inside pocket of his suit jacket for his basic survival kit.

“You going to fuck me?” asked Thor, now on his side, and coquettish as a pin-up.

“You want me to fuck you?” asked Loki in turn, as he put the lube sachets on the nightstand, and one knee on the bed.

Thor wiggled an eyebrow. There was a blend of cockiness and shyness there that Loki wanted to fucking ravage through the mattress.

“On your front,” he said.

He had been doing all the wonderful things he had ever learned to Thor’s ass long enough that his jaw and tongue were beginning to protest, but Thor was writhing and whimpering so beautifully, clinging to the sheets and humping the mattress and begging, that Loki wished he could do this all night. It had never felt like this. It had always been a game of conquest. I’m going to destroy you, I’m going to ruin you, I’m going to make you beg… All fun and good, but this was something else… I’m going to make you feel good. I’m going to make love to you. I’m going to worship every fucking inch of your skin. If you let me. Because I need it. Please let me. It’s all I want.

“Loki…” a weak, breathy whimper, Thor’s hand in his hair. “Please…”

Loki climbed up the bed and lubed up. He hadn’t opened him up with his fingers, but his tongue had done a wonderful job. Thor was relaxed and ready. Loki draped himself over Thor’s back and pushed in. As he kept pushing, eyes shut tight, he was seeing fucking sparks.

“Fuck…”

“Baby…”

He fucked him slowly, burying his face in Thor’s hair, tangling their hands together. He wanted to do this for ever. Thor turned his head, looking for a kiss. In the middle of it, Loki rolled his hips, and Thor’s brow scrunched up and he bit his lip, and fuck, that was sexy, so Loki did it again. The strangled moan it got him. He did it again and again, biting his own lip hard to focus on that and distract himself from coming. Thor was moving beneath him, trying to get pressure and friction for himself. Loki kept working him as best he knew. And he knew for a fact that his best wasn’t bad at all.

“Ah, fuck…” Thor moaned. “Yes, yes, yes… Like that, baby, like that… God, I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come...”

And he tensed right up underneath, sudden shakes, those moans setting new parts of Loki on fire. 

After a moment, he felt Thor relaxing beneath his body, little shivers, and melting into the mattress. Loki was panting with unspent arousal.

“Can I carry on?”

Thor nodded, gripping Loki’s hand tight, but when Loki moved again, Thor bit back a hiss, oversensitive. A change of angle might do. Loki sat up.

“Turn around.”

Thor rolled onto his back and welcomed him with open thighs, which was a sight to behold, and made Loki rush to dive back in. Thor’s eyes got heavy again when Loki pushed in, and let his head fall back, and Loki began to move and Thor’s legs wrapped around him, and fucking hell, Loki was home. And with Thor kissing his mouth and his face and stroking his hair and making him feel like something tender and precious, Loki fucked him until he too came, surrounded by Thor’s strong hold, and scent, and heat. He recovered his breath with Thor still pressing gentle kisses on his forehead and his eyes and his face. 

He had been so strained and stressed out for so long. These last few days, and long before he arrived, long before Thor’s visit, long before he left last February… Since forever, it seemed. In Thor’s arms, the knots in his nerves were liquifying, the snags in the thread of his thoughts softening to a smooth, silky, tidy skein. He was falling asleep.

“I just thought,” said Thor.

“Hm-hm?”

“Where did you leave your stuff? You’ll need a ride. Is it at the airport?”

Loki tensed right up, a sensation that began with a cold shiver in his stomach. He was supposed to have mentioned that. He was going to bring this up. Before. 

“My stuff?” he repeated stupidly.

“Or is it in a hotel somewhere? We’ll have to go pick it up…”

Loki said nothing. The walls of the room were closing in around him, and at the centre there was a nice black pit, probably with sharp spikes at the bottom. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

“I can take a cab, no problem,” said Loki, strained, heart pounding.

A brief silence, while the cogs in Thor’s brain turned.

“When did you get here?” he said.

Here we go. Loki now felt sick. He sat up, his back to Thor. Exhale. Every moment he was quiet dug him deeper into the hole, but he didn’t know how to begin explaining.

“Few days ago,” he said, rubbing his face.

Thor didn’t reply straight away. Which was scary.

“How-how come you didn’t just…” Thor asked. And Loki could tell he was trying to keep the tone of his voice under control. Again, scary.

Ok, Loki, calm the fuck down. What would Tony say? Now it’s your chance to set this to rights.

“I wasn’t sure you’d even want to see me,” he said. 

Which Thor took with a couple of minutes again. Oh dear.

“So you were… You were thinking what to do?” Thor asked.

“Trying to work up the courage.”

“Oh. Right.” 

His tone had been gentle, and Loki half turned, and was much relieved to see that Thor was working on a smile. But this wasn’t over, Loki could see it in that little thinking frown on Thor’s brow. And then a pointed look. Here it comes. Took him long enough.

“Where have you been staying?” Thor asked, with an inquisitive squint. He knew the answer. He was just hoping he was wrong.

Loki’s heart like a jackhammer now. Thor was not wrong, and Loki was wishing he could lie as easily as he once did. He swallowed. He so needed a sip of water right now. Just get it out.

“Tony’s.”

Thor’s face. There was shock in there, but that flicker in Thor’s eye was pure hurt. 

“If he’s mature enough he will adjourn the unleashing of the brimstone and fire until you’ve explained,” Tony had said when they were discussing this very moment a couple of days ago. “Just explain what happened, how you were feeling, why we did it like this. Thor will understand.” Tony’s number one mistake? Thinking that everyone approached life and relationships with the same free spirit and equanimity of mind as himself and Pepper. Loki had wanted to believe it so very badly, because god, he had needed Tony last week, but there it was, reality: that most people abide by other rules, and Loki had sinned grievously against them. 

He wanted to explain. They had talked about this with Tony. Prepared for it, even. Loki was going to explain about his anxiety and taking the plane and putting one foot in front of the other and… And he was mouthing like a fish out of the water, the story a tangled up mess he was desperately trying and failing at finding the end of the thread to start pulling, and explain the goddamn thing in a way that made any sort of sense.

Meanwhile, Thor was still processing. Very quiet, and definitely not happy. Please say something, anything, Loki begged.

“Did you fuck him?” asked Thor.

Loki’s eyes pinched shut. He sighed heavily. He opened his mouth to say something. But what.

“You did,” sentenced Thor.

It’s not what you think. But it was. It was also other things, lots of other things, that was what Thor didn’t get, or didn’t want to see right now because, hell, because you’ve just gone and broke his fucking heart. You managed to cheat on him before you even got together. Anyway, yeah, it was what he thought, from Thor’s point of view, which was the one that was going to matter here in the end. Wasn’t it?

Thor had lowered his gaze to his hands, clasped tightly together on his lap. His frown was scaring Loki, and his silence. 

“So you… You got here and didn’t tell me… And stayed at Tony’s… And before you even let me know you were here, and that you wanted to-to try with me, you… fucked him,” summarised Thor, slowly, heavily, a lead hammer hitting on a lead coffin.

And what could Loki say. It was accurate. There was more to it, true, but the knot in his throat was now positively choking him.

“I can explain…” he tried meekly. But he still didn’t know where to start, or how.

Thor still wasn’t looking at him, he was still frowning deeply, his hands were still clasped tight enough that his knuckles had gone white. Didn’t look like a forgiving stance to Loki. 

“I would have thought you would have talked to me first,” muttered Thor, low. “I said I wouldn’t oppose it, but I thought we’d decide this together, not that you would just go ahead and…”

“I should have-…” A deep sob cut Loki right off. Shit, tears were falling. He rubbed them away viciously. But the look on Thor’s face was hard. And as Loki’s tears kept falling, it only got harder, as if Loki was having a crying fit to soften Thor up, to manipulate him, to get away with it. He wasn’t, he fucking wasn’t, just…

“I need a minute,” mumbled Thor. He jumped out of bed, grabbed his boxer shorts, and walked out of the room.

Well, it was beautiful while it lasted, sneered that nasty voice inside Loki’s head. 

He broke down crying for a full three minutes before he managed to stop. He needed to fucking fix this. He got up, put his pants on, found the bathroom through blurry eyes, splashed his face with cold water. He took a deep breath, and he went out there. 

He was scared. Whatever Thor wanted to deal him, he had it coming, so he wasn’t going to fight this. His defences were lowered. And it was going to hurt. 

Thor had heard him come into the living room. He was standing by the breakfast bar with a glass of water, his back to Loki, tense as a spring. 

It was Pepper’s words now coming to Loki’s aid.

“P-please, tell me what you’re feeling,” tried Loki, hesitant.

Thor scoffed bitterly, and it cut. Loki was feeling the tears rising again to his eyes. 

“I think it’s better if I don’t say anything right now, ok?” said Thor, his tone clipped, controlled, still with his back turned to him. 

Loki was crying a fucking river now, and he didn’t want Thor to hear him sob and look at him again the way he had before. He rushed back to the bedroom. He wanted to curl up and cry, but this place felt horribly wrong right now, like it didn’t want him here. He put his clothes back on, sniffling, whining pitifully, pathetic. He didn’t check himself in the mirror, but he could guess what he looked like, and it wasn’t good, but there was nothing he could do about it now. He could still smell Thor on himself. He hadn’t even washed.

He dashed down the short corridor in a few strides, holding his shirt closed, half the buttons missing. The unfamiliar lock of the door resisted him. 

“Loki,” said Thor from the kitchen. His tone was dry, no particular kindness or suggestion of affection there. It was just a name.

Loki swore, huffed, sobbed, and felt stupid and cheap and mean, and the fucking lock unlatched finally, and he got the bloody door open.

“Loki,” repeated Thor, still dry.

Loki dashed out and closed the door behind him. He skipped down the stairs in twos. 

Out there it was still daylight, only just. He walked away from the house down unfamiliar streets, all similar, a perfect impersonal grid, and deserted. 

London in October may be colder, but Loki knew he would not be able to stay on the streets for long. Where could he fucking go. He just walked. If only he could get lost, even from himself, disappear, never to be heard of again. That ugly, ugly voice again, “See? That’s why you can’t have nice things. You break them.” 

______________

It had been three hours. Loki wasn’t answering his phone, wasn’t checking his messages. Perhaps if Thor hadn’t let two full goddamn hours go by before he tried to reach him. 

Thor had been through what felt to him like the entire range of negative emotions in the last three hours. Rage and resentment and jealousy and spite and humiliation to begin with, abundantly drizzled with hurt pride, disappointment, outrage, and self-pity, to the current stew of self-loathing, guilt, sadness, and a deep, deep worry. Not that he wasn’t angry anymore, but hell, it had been three hours.

What to do. The cops would tell him to take a hike. Oh, he knew what to do, he had thought of it about ten minutes after Loki left. He just didn’t want to do it. But it had been three hours. 

He picked up the phone, found the number he needed, exhaled deeply, and swallowed his pride.

“Stark.”

“Is Loki there.”

“Oh dear me, you’ve managed to lose him already?” said Tony on the other end of the line. “What happened? What did you do to him?”

“What happened…?” gasped Thor, anger surging. “You have the fucking balls to ask me-…?”

“Ok, stay where you are,” cut Stark, his tone even and matter-of-factly. “Pepper will man this post and keep an eye out for Loki, if he turns up. I’m coming over. What’s your new address?”

“Coming over?” groaned Thor. “Like hell you are.”

“Yes I fucking am, because we need to talk, obviously. Text me the address while I go put on some clothes.” And he hung up.

_____________

“Before I come in, I’ll have you know that Pepper is expecting a call from me every hour. And we’ve worked out a code. I have one word to indicate I’m alive and well and not tied down to a basement somewhere under torture, and another that means please send the team I’m in mortal danger here. Understood?”

Thor might not be in the mood for jokes. He squinted at him with such a seething glower, that it certainly suggested that the thought of dragging Tony to a basement for some stress-relieving exercises was indeed what he had in mind, which would explain why he had texted Tony the address without further discussion. In any case, he moved aside to let Tony in. And then he latched the lock ominously behind him. Rrrrright.

The living room was not big, and it was rather swamped, but the kind of energy radiating from that 6’4” pissed off, all-huffing, all-puffing, blond giant sharing the space with him would have made even the Madison Square Garden feel crowded. 

“I could use a drink,” said Tony.

Without altering the vicious squint one wrinkle, Thor went to the fridge, got a bottle of beer out and opened it (not what Tony had in mind, but it would do for now), and put it on the table. Then he leaned rigidly on the breakfast bar, massive arms crossed over his chest, huge muscles on display, bulging, and rather threatening. Tony guessed that bottle on the table was all the invitation he was going to get. He sat down and had a gulp of beer, for something to do. 

“I’m guessing this is about, hm, about Loki…” Tony stopped when he realised he wasn’t sure just how far they were all in it. Did Thor know everything, or just a part of it, or…? If it came down to Tony to disclose the most sensitive material, he might still earn himself a punch on the nose. How about you make some enquiries first. “…What is this about, exactly?”

Thor sneered at him for an answer, and it wasn’t pretty (yes, ok, it was pretty; honestly, did that man ever look anything but fucking divine. Anyway, where was he). Tony rubbed the pinch of skin between his eyebrows for a moment. Why did he get himself into these things.

“Ok, alright. So,” he started. Let’s just go for it, shall we? “Over two weeks ago, Loki calls me in a state of complete and utter meltdown. He tells me he has fucked up with you to a point beyond repair. I talked to him extensively, and I finally managed to convince him that it probably wasn’t irreparable, but that he needed to make, well, reparations. He was really struggling, ok? He was convinced that this was it. Everything in his body was clearly wanting to come to you, but he was terrified. Thinking of coming over here and seeing you again seemed like an impossible feat to him at the time, unthinkable and undoable. Deep anxiety. So, I tried to help him. I tried to get him to put one foot in front of the other, take it step by step, set little goals. First, phone Mr. Sanjrani, get him to come water his plants and feed his fish for the foreseeable. Second, the valuables in storage, or shipped over. Third, packing clothes. Fourth, purchase ticket. Fifth, book a hotel. So on, so forth. When the time to get to the airport was approaching, he was again a fucking mess. Shit was getting real; if he crossed the Atlantic, he was one step closer to you, and to making a commitment that came with cohabitation and a baby. Self-loathing and self-pity party again, everyone was invited, his dead father was hosting. Loki was blocked. So I suggested that he changed his perception of this a bit. I told him to come stay at mine. Forget about everything else, Loki, you’re just dropping by on a visit. That wasn’t scary. He had done it a thousand times. And once you’re here, I told him, you decide what to do. We won’t tell Thor you’re here until you’re ready. Promise?, he said, promise, I said. So Loki got on a plane and came to mine. And yes, I thought that might be a problem for you, but I also thought we would cross that bridge when we came to it, because right now the priority was to get Loki over here before the expiry date on your offer came and went. Don’t you agree that was a good idea? I was proud of how I handled that.” Thor might not agree. His frown hadn’t softened one bit. “Anyway. So, as agreed before he left London, I did not pester Loki about you or anything else for twenty-four hours. After those twenty-four hours, I set out to work again. And Pepper arrived, hooray, now both of us were working on him. And then finally, Loki got himself together, and came to you. And then what the hell happened?”

“You fucked him,” groaned Thor.

Tony sighed, dismayed. 

“Really? Ok.” A deep exhale. “Loki struggles with intimacy. He struggles to express and accept affection and company as well. I suppose by now you’ve realised that.”

No answer from Thor, just the squint.

“But he doesn’t struggle with sex. Sex is safe, sex feels nice, and he gets to get out feelings and emotions he has trouble putting into words, especially when he really means them. He came to me a total wreck, needy and shaken up and needing reassurance. Which he could get from me more easily and more effectively through sex. It’s how we’ve always done it. We do lots of really meaningful communication in bed. And it won’t come as a surprise to you that I’m very much in love with that lunkhead, and that by my own generous disposition, there is no way I could reject him, especially in that state. So, yes, we had sex. That is, we shared an exercise in communication, reasserting of bonds, and exchange of affection and companionship, and it was awfully nice, and I think it made him feel more secure and more comfortable in his own skin, in his own head, and more ready to come to you and do something that’s very fucking hard for him.” 

Perhaps Thor was trying to speak and he could not. He had been clenching his teeth so tight while Tony spoke, he might just have gone and fused his jaws together. 

“You said some time ago,” said Tony, carefully, measuring the impact of his words before he spoke them, “that you were ready to contemplate a lifestyle with Loki which included me in it. Did you mean, which included me as a friend?”

Thor pierced him right through with a look.

“That’s not the issue,” he grumbled hoarsely. “He should have talked to me first.”

“Ideally, yes, sure, you are completely right,” granted Tony, “but have you listened to what I’ve just told you?” Apologies, shrugged Tony mentally, he didn’t know how to do this without coming through as patronising and defensive, a bit bitchy even.

A long silence, crackling with tension. They were really getting to the point where Thor would either concede, or… uh, not. It would come down to pride in the end. A test of character. 

Thor suddenly broke eye contact. He got a beer from the fridge, and that’s when Tony remembered his own, and treated his parchment-dry throat to a long drink. Thor drained his bottle in a few gulps, then grabbed himself another, and sat down at the table with him, slightly turned so as to not face Tony directly, and his eyes lost, faraway. Ruminating, digesting, processing. At least the silence wasn’t as tense anymore. Awkward and uncomfortable as hell, yeah. Tony took a good sip as well.

Tony felt for him, really. What Thor needed right now was a mate to talk things through, get it all off of his chest, put his thoughts in order, someone he counted on to be on his side, and dole out the stingiest truths with a generous helping of shared common history and complicity, to soften the blow. It was not like he and Thor trusted each other, was it? Perhaps Tony should go, leave him to it. But he would make one last point first.

“Listen, Thor. Uh,” he should have prepared something… And now Thor was spearing him with those brutal blue eyes again. Tony stared back, because Thor may be making him nervous, but damn if Tony was going to let that show. “I love Loki. You love Loki. Loki, I’m pretty sure, loves us both, each in his own way. I’m not trying to take him away from you, or keep him all to myself. I think Loki would be happier for having both of us in his life. Now, you being the love of his life and all, I am aware that you’d have the leading role in this. And I have no problems with that, I really don’t. I get it. I want him to be happy. And I’m sure that’s what you want too. Don’t you agree, that Loki would be better off with as much love as he can get, without having to choose or renounce any of it?”

Thor kept his vicious glare on him for another instant, then he looked away. His expression wasn’t as hard now. He was… sad? He took a long swig of his bottle.

“I wish I was enough,” he blurted out huffily. Tony had trouble getting his words at first. He granted that it had taken some guts to admit that, especially to him.

“That’s not what this is about,” said Tony softly. “You are enough. More than enough. Too much at times.”

Thor darted an unkind look up to him again.

“I mean that you are Thor, the man Loki has loved and adored without hope since… forever,” explained Tony quickly. “Since you were kids, as you grew up, all this time. You were his only friend, his family, you were everything he wanted, you had everything he craved. Can’t you see why Loki would feel a bit overwhelmed right now? But me… well, I’m only little old Tony. I’m not scary. I’m safe, I’m manageable. So he needed a time-out, and he took refuge in my bed. It doesn’t mean he wants you any less, loves you any less, needs you any less. There is just as much left of him as there was before. Bit more, actually. He can be blamed for not handling the communication and timing of this well, sure, but beyond that? Give him a break…”

After a pause that probably felt to Tony much longer than it was, Thor put his elbows on his knees, back slumped, and buried his face in his hands, rubbing heavily and tiredly.

“Why the hell didn’t he fucking talk to me,” he muttered, voice thick.  A thought expressed out loud. Self-explanatory, really. The answer was Loki. “Where the hell is he.” 

“He’ll turn up. He’ll be fine,” said Tony. “Or we can call the cops.”

“Jesus, Tony!” jumped Thor.

“Joking,” said Tony, raising his hands to appease him. “He’ll be alright.”

Tony’s bottle was almost empty. Now was the time when he should get up and leave Thor to his brooding, perhaps to call a friend, right? Tony eyed the door. It felt a bit heartless somehow, leaving Thor alone like that. But it was not as if they were friends, was it? He was twirling the bottle in his hands, hesitating.

“Another?” offered Thor.

And Tony guessed that was an invitation to stay.

“Yeah, sure. Thanks.”

They waited. They didn’t talk. Thor did indeed brood away, and Tony popped out his phone, checked his emails, the news, Twitter, kitten vids.

“We should go out and look for him,” said Thor eventually.

“Let’s give him a bit more time.”

Only a few minutes later, Thor went to get himself his fourth beer of the evening. Tony was willing to make huge allowances for such an impressive constitution, but still, all that barley juice would surely have a safer landing if it found something solid to cling on to on the way down.

“I’m starving,” he said. “What kind of take-away can you get around here?”

They were tucking into a lovely Vietnamese when Tony’s phone went off.

“It’s Pepper,” he informed Thor as he took the call. “He’s there. He’s fine.”

“I’m going to get him,” said Thor, scrambling to his feet. And swaying slightly —all that beer had finally gone to his head.

“Pepper says we should give him a break,” reported Tony, in a whisper, “that she’ll work on him tonight and ship him over in the morning.” 

Thor hesitated, and then fell back on the chair again. It must have just sunk in that he may not be in any condition to drive, let alone discuss delicate relationship issues with anyone, especially with Loki. He nodded, deflated. Tony addressed Pepper on the phone.

“Yeah. … Yup. … Yes. … Uh-huh. … Ok. … Ok, fine, yeah, we’ll talk later. I love you honeybunch. … Bye.” 

Thor’s appetite seemed to have evaporated. And Tony was, well, in a tight spot. He wasn’t sure if Thor had already realised or if he was too depressed to examine the ramifications, but he would realise soon. To wit, that Tony could not go home. Well, he could, but, you know, perhaps not the best idea, considering the current situation, to go reunite with Loki behind closed doors, and aggravate Thor’s issues with, uh, possession and jealousy. Tony could… find himself a hotel, he guessed? Hm. 

Oh well, where was the rush. There was still plenty of food, and Thor was drinking again. Tony pushed a food container towards him.

“Have you tried this? Nice and hot.”

They finished eating; they drank more beer. Tony hated beer - he hated belching and feeling all swollen and he wasn’t crazy about the taste, but that was what Thor was offering, so he drank. 

And then their butts were getting squared, so Tony asked if it was ok to move the party to the couch. Thor found the phrasing quite funny. Tony found it all quite funny too at this point. They laughed. Laughing was good. The couch was good, more comfortable than it looked. Not having to look at Thor’s face was good too, for tongue-loosening purposes. Specially when they added yet another beer each to the mix. 

“Do you think he’s ok?” asked Thor. “He looked pretty awful when he left.”

“Did you have a shouting contest or something?”

“No. He… I guess he was trying to talk it out, but I was - well - I was very hurt. I told him I’d better not say anything for a while, because god knows what I might have said, but he took it so… I mean, I was trying.” He was drunk. He sounded perfectly sober, except that he was talking freely. 

“He must have felt the world had ended. Don’t take it badly. Pepper will steer him back to reason, he’ll be alright.” He was also a bit drunk. His words came slower, maybe with a slight slur.

“How do you guys do it?” said Thor, disarmed.

“How does she do it. I’m only her padawan. She really puts herself in other’s people’s shoes, in their heads, and sees things through their eyes, and once you do that, you seem to lose the ability to get really pissed off at almost anyone for almost anything, apparently. Intentional harm is the one thing she can’t forgive, malicious bastards. Everything else is human nature, and she gets it.”

Thor seemed quite fascinated.

“It’s hard for me to… to see things like Loki does,” he said. “There is so much going on underneath at any given moment, it’s just beyond me. I still don’t get why he left like that. I mean, I hadn’t really said anything horrible, I don’t think?… I was thinking and feeling lots of things, sure, and I didn’t want to articulate them and make them real, you know what I mean? I was going to try and deal with it, and then talk to him.”

“Yeah. But in the meantime you leave it to Loki to work out what’s in your head, and he doesn’t take the moderate route, ever. I bet he thought you were about to kick him out of the house or something.”

“Shit, why would he think that, after all we’ve been through to get to this point? I was just trying to process it…”

“Tell him that when you see him tomorrow. Tell him everything. What you feel about this. About me, and him staying at mine, and having sex with me… Tell him all of it. Don’t leave him one inch to work out by himself.”

“It would help if I knew what hit me so deeply,” mumbled Thor, looking a bit embarrassed about it.

“That we fucked?” suggested Tony helpfully.

“I-… I think at first…” Thor had a deep frown now, thinking about this properly. “Yes, I guess that was the first thing that hit me. The flashiest part, I guess. But thinking about it now, I’m not so sure that’s what this is. I've been doing a lot of thinking about, well, about Loki and you, and... I’m not a jealous asshole. Or at least I don’t think this is about this kind of jealousy…”

“You don’t have to defend yourself,” Tony said. “It’s natural.”

“But I’m not. I swear. I mean, when other men drooled over Jane, I was proud, not angry, I didn’t feel threatened or anything.”

“I can’t see why,” smirked Tony, with a quick once-over, half admiration, half annoyance.

Thor smiled with a hint of extremely fetching cockiness, his way of accepting the compliment with grace. 

“Hey, she’s mainly into brains,” he argued. “Mine are ok, but I was hardly on her level, so it’s not like I felt like top dog in the kind of environments she moved in. But I thought… you know, if in a fit of passion she had gone with another guy behind my back, I’m sure we would have worked it out. I’m sure of it. I would understand, you know, things happen. I think if Jane had asked me to have an open relationship, I would have been perfectly alright with it. Hell, might have made things a lot easier for me in the long run, even if, you know, even if Loki had not happened. I’m really not a Neanderthal. But with Loki…” he sighed.

Tony listened quietly, and he thought with a sympathetic expression. 

“For such a long time, I was The Only One for Loki,” said Thor, managing to pronounce the capital letters. “I know it wasn’t… hell, it’s not healthy. And I honestly was happy for him when I thought he was making friends or… But I always thought I would be the Only One who got him, the Only One he could count on, the Only One he could turn to. And that made me proud, more than proud, it made me… It gets to your head, this kind of feeling. And now there’s you and… Yes, I want him to be happy. I want him to have all the love he didn’t get when he was little. Because when we were kids, and the other kids told me they didn’t like Loki, I honestly didn’t get why. He was fucking amazing in my eyes, the smartest, funniest kid, he always managed to surprise me, the things he said, the things he came up with… And the balls on that kid, I swear. He was thin as a pole, and he never backed down, ever. He always talks about it as if I was sacrificing something or doing him a big favour, but I was fucking proud of being seen with him. Loki and me against the world.” A deep exhale. “…So I guess that what kinda stings is that he needed to seek refuge from me with you, yeah. That’s what it comes down to, I think.” He tried a smile. “But I’m working on it.”

“Same here,” said Tony, and had a drink.

Thor half-turned his head, raising an eyebrow, questioning. 

“For years, I was The Only One,” explained Tony. “You were… his supervillain origin story, nothing but a myth. Thor. The One That Got Away. I didn’t get away. I stuck there by him, I got him through some rough patches. I thought I had the exclusive there… Doesn’t matter. Then you come back into his life and, well. I discover I’m not as pure of heart as I would wish.” Another gulp. “It was easy when they were nameless fucks. I knew they were not competition. And believe you me, I know it’s not a competition. But not every part of me gets it, if you know what I mean. And with you…”

“Really?” Thor seemed baffled. “I thought you guys didn’t struggle with this kind of thing.”

“Now you know better,” said Tony softly.

They sat in silence for a while.

“I would have expected that I would feel the same about it too, with Loki fucking around I mean,” said Thor, “better a string of nobodies than, you know, Somebody. But now, thinking about it…” And he seemed very puzzled at himself again. “Knowing the kind of things he’s into, and the kind of things he gets up to… Better be someone who I know cares about him. Someone who gets him, and loves him. You’re, uh, trustworthy.”

Tony stared, quite surprised himself, and raised his beer. They clinked their bottles.

“Although I know I have a lot to catch up with,” admitted Thor. 

“With what?”

“Uh, sex.”

Tony snorted.

“You’re joking? The way he talks about sex with you…”

“He talks about that?” gasped Thor.

“Well, not all the time, and it’s far from my favourite subject, but yeah, he has mentioned it.”

“What-what does he say?”

“It’s the expression on his face more than anything. Words like ‘transported’ and ‘swooning’ come to mind. He says you’re, uh, very strong, you know. Which is plain to see, damn you,” he added in a grumble. 

Thor laughed openly, slightly flustered. 

“He likes a man who can, you know, take what he wants. And make him take it.”

“Jesus,” chuckled Thor, turning his face away, with a drink. “Well, that I have no problems with. But he likes it kinky too.” 

“Sounds like between the two of us we make his perfect lover,” mused Tony.

Thor laughed.

“We know what to give him for his birthday then,” mused Thor in turn.

“What?”

“A threesome,” said Thor, and took a swig.

Tony laughed, a slow, drunken chuckle.

“Why wait for his birthday. Mine is in a couple of weeks.”

Thor laughed now, elbowed him genially. Then he said, in a light tone,

“Yeah, wouldn’t that be a good way to settle this.”

“Settle this?”

“Yeah. You know. Iron out the rough spots between the three of us.” 

Tony studied him on the sly. Was he being serious? Probably not, right?

“It’s the bonobo way,” said Tony after a moment, and a gulp of beer.

“The what?”

“Bonobo apes. They use sex for everything. To welcome a new member into the… clan or whatever, to resolve conflicts and disputes, everything. Whenever there’s tension or a problem, rub your naughty bits with someone, and bing!, sorted.”

After a second of meditation about ape culture and ethology (who would have guessed they’d end up here when they started the night), Thor laughed again.

“I think my friend Fandral might be a bit bonobo.”

“I remember your friend Fandral,” smirked Tony. “If that’s his attitude to life, tell him to give me a call.”

Thor laughed frankly.

“Pepper would approve of this approach I’m sure,” added Tony.

“Would she?”

“Make love not war? Totally her thing. Bonobos are a matriarchy for a reason.”

“Not sure if calling your woman a monkey will get you very far,” said Thor, chuckling.

“Top Monkey,” corrected Tony, chuckling too.

After a moment, eyes lost somewhere remote:

“I agree that you can get a lot of things through to Loki in bed that kinda slip off of him when you’re using words,” said Thor. “Like he resists believing them if you’re just saying it. But when you’re hammering it into him…” Thor heard himself and laughed at his choice of words. 

Tony snorted. 

“True,” he agreed, with a naughty smile. “I think Loki would be up for it,” he said after a spell, his imagination contemplating, uh, things, possibilities, scenarios. “Like, really, really up for it.”

“I think you’re probably right,” said Thor.

They both went quiet. Tony for his part was wondering if Thor was serious. Maybe Thor was thinking the same thing.

“I might even learn a few things,” said Thor. “Get a few ideas.”

Tony raised both eyebrows now. Yup, Thor might just be serious about this. Whoa.

“I could teach you a few good knots…” he suggested, part teasing, part meaning it. “You can do kinky too, though, can’t you?” he asked, emboldened by the general mood.  “Or it’s really, really not your thing? Have you tried?” 

“I, uh. In London, we…” stuttered Thor. “I’m usually a bit more chill,” he mumbled.

“Go on,” encouraged Tony, hoping that didn’t sound too condescending.

“I, uh, cuffed him to the bed, spanked him, and, uh, went rough on him,” elaborated Thor. He was flustered, but drunk enough. 

“Did he ask or…?”

“Yeah. He asked me for what he wanted. He told me what to do.”

“How did that go?” asked Tony casually.

“Uh. Not sure.”

“Did that not work for you?”

“Um… The thing itself… I don’t know. The spanking I mean. I don’t think it does anything for me to actually do it. But he, the way he… Watching him, when, when he’s taking it. You know.”

“Yeah. I know,” said Tony, with a totally inescapable eyebrow wiggle, and a naughty emphasis. “Sexy, huh?”

“Shit, yeah.” Thor blushed, drank. “Very fucking sexy.”

“He takes it so well.”

Thor gulped, eyes dreamy. A swig of beer.

“He says you hate it,” he said. “The really rough stuff. I mean the rape reenactment scenes, whatever you call them.”

“Not hate it-hate it,” explained Tony. “It’s not something I’d choose for myself, but I know he really gets something good from it, you know? Peace of mind. It’s still tough, because in essence he’s asking me to take the place of the guys who… You know, in college. I don’t want anything to do with those sons-of-bitches who I hope burn in hell. And what I hate the most… or concerns me… When we’re really getting rough and I… enjoy it. When I get off on it. Makes you think.”

“If you’re fucked up inside,” said Thor. “If you’re dark, really.”

“Yeah. Exactly. But I have to remember it’s just an act, a fiction. I’m pretty sure if it was the real thing, it would turn my stomach. That I couldn’t do anything against anyone’s will. That if he was in real distress, and really scared, and really in pain… You know, the other pain… I’m sure I would not enjoy that.”

“Scary stuff.”

“Yeah. Better not to think about it too much. In the end, it’s just sex. As rough as it gets, it’s just a game. But I need lots of cuddles after, that’s for sure.”

“I’m still not sure I could do it.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know. But the milder stuff... If I knew what the hell I’m actually doing, that might help.”

“I can recommend a few books…”

Thor gave him A Look, assessing whether Tony was taking the piss perhaps. Which he wasn’t. He tried for the most straightforward smile in his repertoire.

“Appreciate it,” said Thor.

“The heavier stuff is well, heavy. You start with lighter stuff.”

“That’s what Loki said.”

“He really likes being tied down,” offered Tony. “How do you feel about that?”

Thor rubbed his eyes, avoiding looking at Tony.

“Scorching hot,” he confessed.

Tony laughed.

“Well, he loves that. I have some stuff at my house I got just for him, and just talking about it gets him so… Sorry, want me to change subjects?” Thor was getting very very bothered.

“Uh, no.” (Harrumph) “Carry on. What-what kind of stuff.”

“Leather, chains, all of that. Things you can suspend from the ceiling, or attach to a wall.”

“Right.”

“Or things to hold him in a certain position… You know what I mean?”

Had Thor’s eyes gone a bit glazed, or was it just Tony?

“Shit,” he said, appreciatively.

Tony laughed.

“Yeah. Indeed. The good news is, I don’t think it’s the pain so much with him. Yes, he does have those extreme fantasies which are a bit more complicated, but for the most part, when he’s in ye olde run-of-the-mill kinky mood, what he likes is to let go, lose control of the situation, have somebody else do pretty much whatever they want, not necessarily painful. Sometimes just teasing. Is that something you would see yourself doing? Taking control?” 

“Um, maybe. But I-I feel like such a phoney. The other day, in London. I knew I was supposed to be playing the part in a certain way, and I had no idea what I was doing. I was second-guessing myself all the time. I knew I was supposed to be, uh, well, dominant, and I felt like I was bluffing my way through and, you know, not doing it very well. I don’t think I’m a natural at this.”

“You can learn. As long as you’re into it.”

“I might be. He really gets… Whoa,” Thor eyes out of focus, sudden flashback maybe. 

Tony laughed. 

“Whoa indeed. He’s really something, our boy.”

Thor chuckled frankly. He was a cute drunk.

“Sounds like we’re fucking raising him,” he joked.

Tony giggled. He liked to think he was a cute drunk too.

“We’ll keep him right, between the two of us,” he said.

They clinked their bottles together, and finished their drinks. Tony’s eyes had been getting very very heavy. Thor too seemed pretty much spent.

“Last one?” he said.

“I’m going to regret this tomorrow. But yeah, sure. Bring it on.”

Chapter Text

The irritating buzz seeped into Thor’s dream (something about Balder, only he was little again), and pulled him out if it. Thor felt like wading through a wave of treacle just trying to open his eyes. The dead weight on his shoulder, numbing the area, happened to be a passed out, drooling Tony Stark. Which didn’t make a whole lot of sense to begin with (was he still dreaming?), until he opened his eyes a bit more and saw the mess of beer bottles and take-away containers on the coffee table. Right, it was coming back to him now. 

And that buzz again. Shit, it was the door. He wasn’t used to it yet, he still expected the traditional “ding-dong!” of the old… of Jane’s house. What time was it? Eleven thirty. Oh. …Oh! That had to be Loki! 

Thor slipped out from under Tony Stark (who didn’t stir, except to re-position his head on the backrest of the couch, to carry on sleeping it off blissfully), and dragged himself to his feet. Which delivered a considerable hammer-strike to his head. He was dizzy. Such a lightweight. They had just had a bit of a late night and a few beers… You’re getting on in years, Odinson.

He shuffled to the door.

“Hello?” he spoke to the intercom. His voice was rough as sandpaper.

“It’s me,” said Loki’s voice, distorted by the speaker.

“Come up, baby,” said Thor warmly, smiling with his eyes closed. 

He so, so needed some painkillers. He had about ten seconds. He crossed the room to the kitchen as fast as he could without disturbing his headache too much, for a glass of water and a couple of aspirins. The bell of the apartment door rang as he was chugging it all down.

“One minute!” he called. And hurried back to the door. He wasn’t exactly afraid Loki might just lose patience and walk away, but, you know. Let’s not tempt fate.

The door opened to a sleek, clean, sparkling, beautiful Loki in jeans, t-shirt and a leather jacket, all in black of course, casually stunning. Enough to raise the dead from their graves, mused Thor, but he was taking in the sight through a narrow squint. He couldn’t open his eyes much; too bright, it fricking hurt.

“Rough night?” said Loki. His tone was light, but his lips were tight and tense, his eyes big and bright with… what was that, wariness? Apprehension? That had no business being there on Loki’s face. Thor put on a wider smile, kind and warm, and opened his arms. A quick frown crossed Loki’s brow, his eyes still as big and pleading. But he walked right into Thor’s embrace, which immediately closed around him and crushed him. The tension that had been setting Loki’s shoulders so rigid seemed to melt. Don’t run away like that again, Thor almost, almost begged. He kept right on hugging Loki tight instead. There was no way to misunderstand that, was there? Here, now, together - good. (Fire bad, tree pretty.) And how Loki was clinging. It warmed Thor all the way down to his bones. He fucking loves me, he thought - this man loves me desperately.

But as he went in for the kiss, he was met with an upturned nose, and a critical frown. He had to chuckle. Right. Loki had always had strong opinions about smells and tastes. Anyway. Hungover, sleepy, mind thick and slow, words probably even thicker and slower, tongue dry as dust, eyelids made of lead.

“Shower, coffee, lots and lots of water, and we talk, yeah?” Thor mumbled.

Loki nodded, some amusement finally breaking through the wariness, and kissed him. On the cheek.

__________________

“Stark.”

“Hm? What?”

Loki’s face occupied Tony’s entire field of vision. Which wasn’t at its widest or sharpest, true, but still, Loki was close.

“Hmmm…timezit?” Tony mumbled.

“Half past eleven.”

Tony did his best to pry his eyes open a bit wider. He had a pinch in his neck, and this was not his soft comfy bed. He looked around (although that made it hurt pretty much everywhere). Where the hell… Oh, Thor’s place. Right. The previous night came back to him little by little. Conversation. Loki. Anxieties. Bondage. …A fucking threesome? His eyes fell shut again, because what the fuck.

A glorious, heavenly waft of rich, toasted, hot, bitter, sweet black coffee scent inundated his nostrils and did away with all his thoughts. Tony opened his eyes again to the cup of coffee Loki was holding up for him. He grabbed blindly for it and gulped it in. Intense, black, sweet, just as he liked it. He took a few more scalding sips in silence, with a picture in his mind of the dark elixir trickling inside and bathing his cogs and wheels, dissolving the rust, the machinery slowly dragging itself back to life again. He was feeling a little like the tin man when Dorothy and the Scarecrow finally turn up with the oil can. Was Thor Dorothy in this, or the Lion? That left the Scarecrow for Loki, and Dorothy for Pepper. He snorted to himself. Yeah, that could work. 

The beam of caffeine found his wandering mind and slowly floated him back to consciousness. He opened his eyes again, with a bit more ease this time, and there Loki still was, his head also leaning on the backrest of the couch, facing Tony, smelling wonderfully, and staring at Tony from only a few inches away with a warmth and a softness that… This little shit loves me, thought Tony. He smiled lazily to his pretty Scarecrow.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” whispered Loki. “Thank you.”

Tony’s eyes closed blissfully again when Loki put a kiss on his head.

________________

Loki put the coffee maker on and had a rummage in Thor’s fridge, found bacon and eggs, and set out to cook something nice and greasy. Meanwhile, the two men in his life (whoa) took turns in the bathroom, speaking in mumbles and shuffling their feet to drag their sorry hungover asses along the corridor, squinting against the daylight. Then they perched on the stools by the breakfast bar, made some mostly unintelligible approving noises concerning their plates of food when Loki placed one in front of each of them, and tucked in. What a sight. Baggy eyes, bad colour, stubble, messed up hair, faraway looks. 

Loki made himself a cup of tea and leaned his butt on the kitchen counter to observe, staring from one to the other in a state of disbelief. Although there was no conversation at present, there was a distinct lack of tension in the air, a companionable, relaxed atmosphere. And when their eyes met, Thor and Tony started to giggle. They actually started to giggle, for god’s sakes, as the one rubbed his eyes and the other cracked his neck.

“Oh, god,” sighed Tony, “painkillers, Odinson, for pity’s sake.”

Still grinning, Thor pointed to a spot over Loki’s shoulder.

“Do you mind, baby? In that cupboard there.”

With a raised eyebrow, and no comment, Loki fetched some aspirin and a glass of water. 

Another round of coffee later, mostly silent.

“Do you have a spare toothbrush I can borrow?” asked Tony.

“Bathroom, bottom drawer. Need me to get it for you?” asked Thor.

“Nah, I’m fine.” Stretching his back, and yawning, Tony shuffled his feet down the corridor.

Now Thor was staring at him.

“Okay, baby?” he asked.

“Apart from the fact I appear to have fallen through a crack in the time-space continuum and I find myself in an alternate reality, yeah, fine,” said Loki.

Thor chuckled amiably.

“Just, what the hell is going on here?” asked Loki, baffled. “What the hell did you two get up to last night? You look so… cozy!”

“We talked.”

“And what else? You seemed ready to commit murder only yesterday.”

“We really talked,” said Thor, smiling lazily.

“About what?” 

“How you felt. How it all came about, why it happened the way it happened. And being a rational being, I think I understood.”

“You-you did?” asked Loki. It couldn’t possibly be that easy, surely? “You’re not angry at me anymore?”

“No.” Thor smiled. “No, I am not.”

Loki stared down at his tea, disconcerted, contemplating the mysteries of existence. 

“What did you and Pepper do?” asked Thor.

“Girls night,” mumbled Loki. “Braided our hair, manicure, pedicure, pizza, ice cream, Alien 1, 2, and 3.”

Thor laughed.

“Not four and five?”

Loki gave him a ducky pout and a “bitch, please” head tilt. Thor laughed some more. So relaxed, trouble free. He looked pretty luminous, considering the past night of debauchery.

“We talked,” said Loki cautiously. 

Thor looked up from his plate and adopted an attentive, patient air.

“Thor, I’m so sorry about…” started Loki.

“We’re alright, baby,” cut Thor. “I talked it over with Tony. We’re fine.”

“Let me fucking say it!” pleaded Loki, with a shy smile. “I’ve been preparing it all night…”

Thor smiled warmly, and nodded.

“Okay,” said Loki, and took a deep breath. “Thor, I am sorry. I should have called the moment I landed to let you know I was here. I should have come to see you straight away, or explain why I wasn’t doing that. I should have told you where I was staying and find out if it was alright with you, and get myself to a hotel if it wasn’t. And I shouldn’t have…” Huff. “I shouldn’t have had sex with Tony. Not without… sorting things out between you and me first.” A defeated sigh. “Basically, I didn’t put one foot right since I left London. God.”

“Can I speak now?” asked Thor.

Loki nodded, preparing for the worst.

“You got yourself here. You are here. I know it wasn’t easy. I know you find it very difficult, what you’re doing now, with me, and I really appreciate the effort. I’m trying, you’re trying, and we’re going to get there, and we’ll be fine. And I swear to you, baby, what happened with Tony right now doesn’t hurt one bit, okay? Not at all.”

Loki couldn’t help the skeptical frown.

“You mean that?” he asked.

“Yes I do. I wish you had told me before, but I get why you didn’t. And it’s-… fine. It’s fine. God knows I’ve fucked up before myself, and I was forgiven. So there. I’m fine.”

“Whatever did he do to you?” teased Loki, although in fact it was a half serious question.

Thor laughed.

“He got me drunk and made me see alternate points of view. Works miracles.”

“So it seems…”

Thor finished his coffee and pushed the cup to Loki for a refill, with a sweet, dazzling smile instead of please. He’d get himself out of a murder charge with that one, thought Loki as he complied. Once his cup was full again, Thor stirred the coffee for a minute, meditative, the sound of running water in the bathroom distracting Loki for a moment, and then Thor looked up in a way that made Loki get into high alert.

“Tony said you were feeling very anxious,” said Thor. “About coming over and… you know. Those fears you have, maybe we should talk about them a bit?”

Loki puffed. Damn. We were doing so well.

“Do we have to?” he mumbled sheepishly. “Right now?”

Thor tightened his mouth like a thoughtful professor in front of a clever but contrary student, wondering how best to tackle an impertinent question. 

“I think we have to, yes,” he said. 

Loki twisted and wrung his hands, tension rising uncomfortably. He just wished they could pretend everything was fine for a little bit longer. Why go straight to the fucked up place where shit hurt and other shit could get broken?

“I just… suck at this. Articulating,” he explained. “Tony and Pepper pretty much read my mind, otherwise I…”

“It’s ok,” said Thor. “I’m listening. Just… say what you’re thinking. Uh, feeling.”

Loki sighed, cursing internally. He would have to choose his words with care.

“Ok. Uh.” Inhale, exhale. He looked up, into Thor’s eyes, and looked away again. Constructive thoughts, positive words. Sigh. Ok, here we go. “Thor, you are being very generous, very patient, and very open. You’re trying really, really hard. And that’s exactly what…” Sigh. Getting to the tricky bit. “What I’m afraid of is that you’re stretching yourself so very thin to make this happen, that you may… well, snap.”

Thor had some thoughts about that, clearly, but before he worked out how to put them, Loki continued, admittedly with a faint note of despair in his voice.

“Relationships are difficult even for mature, adjusted people. And I’m not adjusted, and about maturity, well. And I have absolutely no experience. The closest thing I’ve had is with Tony, and for all his tolerance and understanding, I still manage to rattle his chains. What I’m asking from you is… hell, it’s a pretty big ask, isn’t it? I mean, if I was some sort of a prize with that little bit of a caveat, fair enough, but I know what a fucking pain in the ass I am, so why, why would you bend yourself backwards to accommodate me? I just… Sorry, I know we’ve talked about this before. It doesn’t really go away. Sorry.”

Thor was listening quietly, with a frown that could either be attention, or that black cloud forming over his head. 

“And we have such a long backstory, you and me, so much baggage. Having serious conversations feels like crossing a minefield sometimes. The stakes are so high, and I seem to always know how to hit the right spot to get you triggered. And-and you too, you know how to get under my skin. I’m probably on the defensive half the time, aren’t I? Force of habit. And it’s not like I can’t push Tony to breaking point pretty easily as well, but with him, there’s Pepper. And you and me, we have so much to talk about before we can even begin to… And I just don’t know how we’ll survive this conversation, I just don’t.” A heavy, miserable sigh.

“Well,” said Thor, tightly. “Doesn’t sound like you have articulating problems to me.”

Loki had nothing to say to that.

“It also sounds like you don’t have a lot of faith in the future. Or me,” mumbled Thor. “Are you even willing to try?”

Loki wanted to headbutt the wall. Way to fucking go, Laufeyson, we are off to a great start. Fucking told you, Thor, I suck at this!

“That’s not what I was trying to say.”

“No? Sorry. What was it then?”

Loki threw him a glower.

“I could do without the sarcasm.”

Enters Tony.

“Okay, children, better make myself scarce,” said Tony, looking fresher. He immediately noticed the loaded silence. “Am I interrupting?”

Thor worked on a smile for Loki. 

“Not exactly,” he said. 

“What was the subject?” asked Tony.

“Relationship Fears and Anxieties, for 100 points,” grumbled Loki.

“Oh, I see,” said Tony. And looking from one to the other. “You know what? I’m a world-class expert at Fears and Anxieties. Can I play? Let’s sit down with a cup of coffee, shall we?, and start again. How’s that?”

It was kind of surreal, the three of them sitting there, Loki on the couch, hugging a big cushion for a shield, Thor on a dining chair, sitting straight, and Tony the referee, butt on the edge of the coffee table, pushed back for breathing space, elbows on his knees. Then again, surreal didn’t faze Tony anymore, it completely slipped off Loki’s back, and Thor was quickly becoming used to it, so nobody gave it a second thought. They had bigger fish to fry, and the intimate conviction that no frying would be accomplished without some external help. Couples counselling it was, then.

“Again, from the start.”

“Please, no,” sighed Loki.

“Loki doesn’t seem to believe we can make this,” contributed Thor softly, with a weak, insincere smile. He was hurting. “Everywhere there’s problems. Apparently, he doesn’t believe we have a chance.”

Loki sighed again. Tony scratched his goatee. Ooookay. 

“Right. By the power vested in me by Virginia Potts our Guide and Saviour, I am going to ask you to forget the last, uh, five minutes or so. Never happened. Now, Loki, tell Thor what your biggest fear for this relationship is. Be specific. The way we said. Feeling words.”

Loki glowered, annoyed by the therapy lingo, and the slightly humiliating notion of having been prepared for this, and Thor hearing of it. Not that Thor didn’t know already but, dammit, Tony.

“Fine. What scares me, Thor, is that you are willing to make a huge effort, and put up with pretty much anything, as much as it might be actually perturbing you, but only because you’re hoping it’s all leading to the family picture. That you believe all the sacrifices will be worth it, because in the end that’s what you’ll get. And I’m afraid that I won’t be able to get there, and that you’ll start realising that you’ll never get the family picture, and stop being able to try so hard.”

Thor’s jaw was clenched. Loki’s butt was tight.

“The family picture,” repeated Thor, “the fucking picket fence.”

“What are you feeling, Thor,” said Tony, getting into the groove of things.

“Annoyed,” sniped Thor. “The way you say that, Loki.”

Loki gulped, gripping the cushion tight, knuckles white.

“What annoys you about it?” prompted Tony.

“It’s as if you’re taking the piss about it,” said Thor. “Like us as a family is a completely ridiculous thought, and I am an idiot for wanting it.”

“Because that’s not the way I am!” burst Loki.

“I’m not asking you to be anything!” cried Thor.

“Thor," Tony made an appeasing gesture. Indoors voice, young man. And to Loki, "Don’t interrupt him, sweetie.”

Loki crossed his arms, but he looked subdued and troubled, and quite harassed, but not petulant.

“I’m not asking you to suddenly want a picket fence, or to become the kind of guy who wants that!" continued Thor. "I don’t want to fit you in any pre-defined set of…” A frustrated huff. “How do I fucking…?”

“Deep breath, everybody,” said Tony, leading by example. He knew he looked ridiculous, but right now taking one for the team seemed like the way to go: Thor and Loki both glared at him, instead of each other. “Ok, Thor, in your own time, try to finish that thought. Loki, don’t interrupt him.”

They waited. Thor did, indeed, end up taking a deep breath, and his tone was less strained for it.

“Loki, I don’t want you to become anything you’re not. Or myself. I don’t want us to be anything but what we are. I like us the way we are. I know that there is a baby, and we have to work around that, but that doesn’t mean changing what we like, and the way we live. There’s more than one way of being a perfectly healthy, happy family. What I’m trying to say here is, we can be ourselves, and still be great parents.”

Loki’s mouth was a tight, hard line.

“How do you feel about that, Loki?” prompted Tony.

“That it’s exactly what I feared. When he says I don’t ever have to meet her or see her, he doesn’t really mean it.”

“I do mean it!” cried Thor, lurching forwards in his seat.

“But it’s not what you really want!” insisted Loki.

“God, I’m so full of bullshit, ain’t I?” snapped Thor, derisive. And he pressed on, ignoring Tony’s “ums” and “uhs” and his gestures to calm down. “You are a mind-reader, and you always know better, and everything and everyone is always the worst it can be. The world sucks, and I’m nothing but a deluded idiot. I bet you thought I was outright lying when I said that I chose you, and that I was going to leave Jane.”

“Thor,” cut Tony. There was a whip in his voice this time, full of authority.

Thor seemed to snap out of it. He broke eye contact, rubbed his face, sat back in his chair. Crossed his arms, almost taking refuge behind them.

Loki meanwhile was hugging the pillow with a dejected expression.

“I’m sorry, baby,” muttered Thor. It was the intention rather than the conviction, but it was a start. “Not helpful. Sorry.”

Tony scratched his goatee thoughtfully. What Would Pepper Say.

“Loki? Want to tell us how you feel?”

Loki was too forlorn to even roll his eyes at that. He had the cutest wrinkle on his nose. He sniffled.

“I had it coming,” he said. “He’s right to be pissed off.”

“Tell him, not me,” said Tony.

Loki looked up. In a soft mutter, monotone, almost hard to follow.

“You’re right, Thor. And I get why you’re pissed off. It’s true. I never expected this to happen. Any of this. I did not believe that you would leave Jane. And when I first came to you, I thought you would fuck me and toss me aside. Instead, when I was at my worst, at my shittiest and most hateful self, all you had for me was tenderness. I’ve known you all our lives, and I pride myself in being able to see through people, and still, with you, I always seem to expect the worst, and I keep underestimating you, and… I’m very unfair to you. Every promise you’ve made me, you’ve fulfilled. Everything that I asked, you’ve granted. You’ve forgiven the fucking unforgivable many times. And here I am, still refusing to believe in you and your word. No wonder you’re pissed. I’m sorry.”

Thor sighed deeply, shoulders sagging now, no spirit to keep them in line. He offered Loki his hand. Loki held it. 

“I’m such a fucking hopeless mess,” muttered Loki. “I don’t know why you…”

“Nah nah nah nah nah,” cut Tony, “none of that self-pitying, defeatist crap. Loki, fears and anxieties. What we talked about. What you need from him. Tell him.”

Loki looked chastised, and not looking forward to opening his mind on this or any subject at the moment. Thor tried for a small, reassuring smile, and a little hand squeeze.

“What I need from you is… Listen, I believe that you would do whatever it asked. That I could set up pretty much any conditions, and you would accept them, and try to go through with them. If I told you to see me once a week on Sundays, you’d say okay, Loki, whatever you need. That’s so generous of you. And it would be so easy for me to take you on your word and run with it, so easy. But-but it’s not what you want. And you can tell yourself that you’d make it work, and that you’d try to be happy with that, but I think it would not work out. So what I need from you is not for you to pledge to bend yourself backwards to accommodate me. Tell me what you actually need from me, what would really make you happy. Otherwise I-I feel we’re playing at different games and it-it scares me. Just be honest with me. With-with yourself.”

Thor sighed. It was scary for him too, to say “this is what I need”, and Loki hearing it, and saying “well that I can’t give you,” and then what? He realised he had been avoiding exactly this moment all these months. Well, there was no escaping it now.

“What would make me happy is that you met Emma, and tried to spend some time with her. And then, in time, that you and me had a house together, and looked after her on the week she’s with us, as her parents. I have no preconceptions on how we could spend that time.” 

Loki’s expression was impenetrable, unreadable beyond the gloom.

“I believe it could work,” said Thor. “I believe there are things about being a parent that you would enjoy, even if you had never considered becoming one. And I think you’d get some good things from it, Loki.” Thor leaned closer, held both of Loki’s hands. “Kids love you unconditionally, Loki. And whenever she looks at me that way, I imagine she could be staring at you like that, and I…” He trailed off, suddenly realising he had put his foot on mined grounds.

Too late.

“Some parents don’t deserve to be loved unconditionally,” gritted Loki, getting his hands back, and gripping the cushion tight. “Some parents are a fucking catastrophe upon their children. Some parents don’t fucking know how to love their kids, and then those kids grow up to be a fucking mess who don’t know how to love either. How can these children ever become good fucking parents, tell me?”

New level of tension achieved. Thor’s expression was a devastating combination of guilt, heartache, compassion. The poor guy was totally helpless against Loki when he got in that mode. 

“If I may,” said Tony softly, “as a kid from a, uh, challenging household myself, I like to think I would not be a sucky dad at all. I don’t need any book or any guru to tell me that what a kid needs growing up, more than anything,  even food and clothing if it comes to that, is to feel loved, to be paid attention, listened to. To feel included.”

Loki’s eyes filled with tears.

“Well, I suck at this love thing,” he grumbled, choked up. “What if I never… What if…” He broke down, hiding his face, sobbing.

Tony immediately moved to the couch to hug him. Thor saw how rigid and unyielding Loki was at first, and how Tony just pressed on, cuddling and soothing, until very very slowly, Loki relaxed in Tony’s arms. 

“What if I never learn to love her,” sobbed Loki, “and she notices it. I can’t fucking… She should never feel that, Thor, never…”

Thor had a bit of an epiphany at that moment. He just had not got it until that point. He had thought this was Loki being reluctant to give up on the playboy lifestyle. His optimism and his “go get’em tiger” attitude couldn’t do a thing against that.

After a few minutes, Loki sobered up, and Tony moved back to the coffee table. Thor was aching to hug him too, but he guessed that was enough hugging for Loki for now. He offered him a tissue (from Emma’s box; he had them all over the house these days). Sniffling, Loki looked at him, eyes red and puffy, emerald green.

“I’m not afraid of changing nappies and singing lullabies,” said Loki, his voice firmer. “It’s not my thing, but it’s hardly the end of the world. But I’m afraid that I can’t guarantee I can give you what you want, your dream ending, and be the stepdad Emma should have. And I’m afraid that, even though you think you can deal with that, you won’t actually be happy unless you get the future you want, and you will be unsatisfied, but you won’t express it. I’m afraid that would wear out your love for me, and the relationship would die from a slow, painful, gruesome death, and I… I’m afraid of that pain. Losing you. Losing what you feel for me. All my fucking being is telling me to run away from that possibility as fast as I can. It’s my biggest fucking fear. I’m terrified of putting my heart out there and…” His voice cracked.

A heavy silence, Thor floored by what looked like an unsurmountable hill.

“But…” prompted Tony gently, squeezing Loki’s hand.

Loki continued in an even softer mutter, eyes low, timid.

“But fears are just fears, no matter how real and even reasonable and inescapable they seem to me,” he was parroting somebody else’s words. “And I do love you very much, and it feels so good being with you, and I-… it’s not very rational, and not very clever, to walk away from this without even trying, to not do it altogether, just because it might not turn out okay.”

Thor sat up from his slump, suddenly hopeful. 

“So. I can’t guarantee that it’s going to work out, and I can’t guarantee that I will learn to love your daughter and feel comfortable being in her life, but - but I will try. I will meet her, I will spend time with her, and I will try to open my black little heart and let her in. And I will… see a family therapist or something if I have to, to learn how to-to be a better parent. And I will try as hard as I can to make a family, with you and with her.”

An awed, breathless moment of silence from Thor’s side, and a quiet, proud little sideways smirk from Tony.

“Wha-… really?” said Thor, eyes wide.

“Yes, really,” said Loki. And a sigh, as if a huge burden had been shed. “As long as you let me dictate the pace.”

“Yes, baby, anything,” said Thor, “anything you need.”

“And I’m going to have an apartment somewhere. Maybe I’ll never go, but I think it will do me some good to know that it’s there. And to you too. You’ll know where I am when things are getting suffocating and I’ve had to make a run for air.”

“Yes. Yes, of course.” Thor was bursting, absolutely bursting with it.

“Kiss him, goddammit,” said Tony. “I’m getting the jitters watching you hold back like that.” 

Thor laughed, and he went for it. Loki met him halfway. They stood up and hugged with all their might. Thor held Loki’s face and dipped in for a deep kiss. Tony looked away modestly. Inside, he was feeling pretty smug.

Chapter Text

“Well, then,” said Tony, with a slap on his thighs, like an old geezer. “I guess you two have much to celebrate. Talk about, I mean. I’ll see myself out.”

The happy couple, still blissfully in each other’s arms, broke it up for a moment.

“It’s so late already, why don’t you stay over for a bite to eat?” said Thor.

Tony and Loki both stared at him as if he had suddenly sprouted an extra head, then at each other. (Did you plan this? No, did you?)

“Uh, that’s very sweet of you, but I’m sure you’d prefer to be alone,” said Tony.

“And we will. But do stay over for lunch. I’ll make us some sandwiches or something.”

Again, Tony and Loki traded raised eyebrows.

“You know, Thor, right now, what I would really like is a long, hot shower, so-...”

“You’re welcome to use mine.” And he was already walking to the bathroom as he said. “I’ll get you some fresh towels.”

Two pairs of raised eyebrows, and now also matching frowns. Thor was not just being polite.

“Okay, then, if you insist,” conceded Tony.

“I absolutely do,” said Thor from down the corridor.

“Do you know what he’s up to?” asked Loki.

“I was going to ask you the same thing.”

________

The shower was running and Thor was gathering supplies from cupboards and fridge, while Loki observed with a persistent frown of suspicion, ass leaning on the kitchen worktop, arms crossed.

“What?” Thor said.

“What the hell are you up to, Thor?”

“Just being polite,” he said. “And he’s a great guy all around. I like him.”

Loki wasn’t convinced. His squint was taking no prisoners. Chopping carrots and tomatoes, Thor rolled his eyes and confessed.

“And I may have done some reading,” he said. “On poly relationships, you know.”

“Oh, now we’re getting down to it,” said Loki.

“Yup. I wanted to impress you. My reaction yesterday to the news about you staying with him and all that really let me down, there, didn’t it?” he chuckled. “But I have been doing some serious thinking about it all, I really have. I guess my chat with Tony yesterday may have just helped the reading fall into place. Anyway, I know it’s important that we all get along, and I don’t want this to be a big deal. And I want to show you that it really isn’t. Does that make sense?”

Loki’s squint of suspicion softened into a bright, perhaps slightly loved-up look, even? Made Thor smile anyway. 

"And I get why you love him," added Thor, still chopping veggies, eyes on the task.

Loki stared, quietly taken aback.

“Our chat yesterday did a lot of other things for me,” said Thor. “I think I get how you click together much better now. He’s similar to you in many ways. Many ways in which, dare I say, I am not similar to you. So I see how he could get through to you at times when I wouldn’t know where to start, because he… damn, he knows what would get through to him. I know he’s been a huge support for you all these years. I mean, I knew of it before, but now I get it, how important he must have been. I used to get jealous about it, but… Hell, that’s fucking ridiculous, isn't it? I wasn’t there, and he was, and he was doing you good. And I am grateful to him for that.” Thor put some spread on the toasts and piled up the veggies. “Before last night, I had done my reading, I had searched my feelings, and I was willing to do my best to… endure having Tony in your life. To share you. I meant to respect it and tolerate it, and not to kick up a fuss about it. If I got jealous, I was going to learn to deal with it out of your sight. I see now that this would not have worked for long, would it? Maybe I would have gotten used to it. Anyway, doesn’t matter now. What matters now is…” he laughed, put the tops on the sandwiches. “Hell, now I am pretty fucking happy that he’s in our lives. Look at what he did for us today. And these last few weeks! We would not even be talking now if it wasn’t for him, would we?”

Loki seemed pretty disarmed by Thor’s words. He didn’t look skeptical, just… well, Thor guessed he wasn’t expecting that after yesterday. Neither had Thor himself, to be fair.

“But talking is not fucking,” objected Loki in a mutter, picking at his fingernails like a shy little boy. “Tony doesn’t just want to be a friend. He wants to… He wants me. I can’t possibly tell him, yes, you can be in our lives, but only as our personal couples’ counsellor. He wouldn’t be happy with that.”

“I know,” granted Thor, softly. “And neither would you, right?”

Loki blinked quickly, and went back to picking his nails. Thor gave him time. It couldn’t be easy to admit in front of your boyfriend that you wanted to fuck another guy. 

“I don’t need to fuck him,” said Loki, his voice even thinner. “I don’t need to fuck anyone else. I’m not that kind of guy, in spite of my record. I mean, I don’t expect I’d be getting… bored with you any time soon and need diversifying or something. I know that for years I’ve fucked around plenty, but that’s because…” A barely-there thread of voice, “they weren’t you.”

Thor smiled, and he was pretty sure he must be fucking glowing. He gave himself a moment to bask in it, and then he prompted, as he must, 

“But...?”

Loki swallowed, anxiously.

“But there are always those times when…” Loki trailed off.

“The-the beatings. I mean, the kinky stuff,” offered Thor.

“Well, it’s that, but - but it’s not just that.” Inhale, exhale. “It’s always done me good. Being with him.”

“Yes.”

“I mean physically.”

“Yes, I know what you mean.”

“I feel at ease with him, in a way I-I am not always with you,” he muttered, his voice thinning to a whisper as he spoke. “He’s alright with me. With my shit. He really fucking wants me, all of me, not just the shiny bits like everybody else did. And he’s not this… luminous, righteous moral pole I can’t do anything but disappoint sooner or later. He’s alright with the way I am. And he-he likes me. For a long time, he was the only one who did.”

“That’s not tr-…”

“He doesn’t do that,” cut Loki. “He doesn’t tell me that what I know about myself isn’t true.”

Thor held his hands up.

“I’m sorry.”

Loki grinned a little, after a second.

“Well, at least not in so many words,” he said.

Thor smiled a little too. Loki proceeded.

“And sometimes he’s giving me so much, and I feel that the only way I can, uh (he hates this expression, but), pay him back is… And he thinks it is just that, me paying the rent, so to speak, and tells me I don’t have to do it, but the idiot doesn’t get that, sometimes, it’s just been easier for me to call it payback, or a transaction even, so that I can let myself ask him to come to bed and… I just get to say a lot of things that just won’t fucking come out any other way. I like to make him feel good like that. In a selfish way, even. Does me good.”

Loki looked up, sheepish, to assess the effect his words were having. Thor was frowning, but hopefully Loki would see he was paying attention, not censoring him. A deep inhale from Loki then, for courage.

“What I feel for you sometimes… overwhelms me,” said Loki. “What I feel for him… not so much. Pressure’s off.”

“Am I this intimidating, righteous moral pole?” said Thor, with a smile to soften the impact of the question.

“You’re a justice fighter and a beacon of truth and all that’s right and good,” muttered Loki. “In my eyes anyway.”

Thor kept on smiling, although he couldn’t make it too bright.

“I’m not a beacon of anything. And I know you inside and out, and I love you with all my being, shiny bits, less shiny bits, all the bits. And I like you very much. Always have. I hope one day you can feel like that with me as well. That there’s no pressure.”

Loki smiled weakly.

“Maybe some day. But you are,” he mumbled, stubborn. “Luminous.”

Thor’s cup was fucking brimming. He closed the distance between them and held Loki’s chin, made him look up. Kissed him deeply, eyes firmly closed. Loki let himself be hugged, leaned his head on Thor’s shoulder.

“I don’t want to let him go,” Loki muttered. “For your sake, I’m sure I could, but…”

“I get it,” say Thor. “You don’t have to let him go. You don’t have to do without him. You really don’t. Okay?”

Loki exhaled, a sound of relief and gratitude. Then he drew back. 

“I-I was going to tell him to take a break, while you and I, uh, have some time alone, you know. A-a honeymoon? I’m sure he’d be totally fine with that. But then I started thinking… What if you, um, start thinking that us being together has made me change my mind, and then when I mention seeing him again, you think it’s because things are not okay between us? And that’s a self-fulfilling prophecy, isn’t it? Even if I wasn’t prone to self-sabotage, especially when things are going well, so who knows, maybe I would be trying to fuck it up between us. I’ve been known to suffocate, and…” 

“Hey, come back, you’re miles ahead,” said Thor softly, holding Loki’s face again, hoping to ground him, to make that wrinkle of concern and anxiety between his eyes go away.

Loki looked up, huge, tragic eyes taking twenty-five years off his face. Thor kissed his forehead, and pulled him into his arms again. If it was down to him, he was going to be hugging Loki for at least half their waking hours, and as many of their sleeping hours he could get, for the foreseeable future. He had years and years of deprivation to make up for.

“God, this feels so fucking good,” he mumbled into Loki’s hair, with a deep sigh of content.

“But that’s not all there is,” whispered Loki. “There’s fights and squabbles and routine and grocery shopping and boredom and getting on each other’s tits and Sunday evenings and…”

“I’ve been married, baby,” Thor whispered back, with a slow chuckle.

“Well, I haven’t” grumbled Loki. “I’ve never had this. Someone to do all this with. And I know this everyday crap kills things between people. It almost feels like the only way from here is down.”

“Stop your goddamn brain for a second, come back to the present,” muttered Thor, as he kissed his neck. “We’ve always had fun together, haven’t we? You and I. Grocery shopping, even. Don’t you remember?”

“I remember being in a store with you buying snacks and booze, you trying to sneak a tits magazine, me successfully snatching a dick magazine. Hardly the same thing,” he sighed. “Now we’re grownups. Very fucking grown up. We even have a baby…”

Thor froze, and pushed Loki away to see his face, and held fire, giving Loki time and opportunity to rephrase that ‘we.’ But Loki did not. He stubbornly refused to meet Thor’s gaze, but stuck to his guns. Thor’s smile broke through, uncontainable. He wrapped Loki in his arms and crushed him tight, for a long time. Loki endured it, maybe even gave into it. He certainly didn’t fight it. Thor had his eyes closed, wanting to be deep in that sensation. Hell fucking yes. They were going to be alright. Not alright - they were going to be fucking amazing.

“Want to hear a secret?” he whispered, his lips brushing on Loki’s skin as he spoke. “I haven’t felt so young in years. We’re talking single digits, even. I spend half my time in kiddie parks, and guess what, I don’t hate it. I get to be goofy, play in the sandbox, toss a ball, run down hills to make her laugh. And she makes me laugh so much, all the time. I can’t quite explain how she… The other day, I took her to the petting zoo. And she got so excited about everything, it made me excited. I was eager to get to the next animal, just to see what she would do. It was so fucking pure. Just a silly petting zoo! I had a great time! Everything is an adventure to her. Makes me look at everything with fresh eyes. I can’t wait for her to grow up a bit, it will just get more and more fun. I may even take her to Disneyland. Remember how I used to hate Disneyland? I feel I get to do all those things I somehow had decided I had grown too old for, and even things I had always felt too old for, like the smug, self-aware little bugger I was, too fucking cool for childish things. I can’t wait to have you in it too. We’re going to have a crazy time, the three of us. Like, how long since the last time you were in a ball pool?”

“Oh god,” sighed Loki. But then he added, in a grumble, “Okay, that doesn’t sound too bad.”

Maybe he just said it to make Thor happy. Whether he meant it or he was just trying to be nice didn’t really matter; either way, Thor was happy. 

Loki’s very sightly, extremely appealing throat was just there, begging to be kissed, maybe nibbled a little, so Thor dipped in. Loki sighed again, but the spirit was another now.

“And about Tony…” said Thor, between kisses. “There was something I meant to suggest…”

“Uh-huh?” mumbled Loki, eyes closed, head tilted to offer more of his neck.

“If you’d like…” (Kissing, kissing) “…maybe we could…” (kissing, kissing) “…fuck you together.”

Loki went rigid, and slowly pulled back, frowning deeply with shock and alarm.

“What the fuck weird shit beer did you drink last night?” he said.

Thor chuckled.

“You’re fucking joking, of course,” said Loki, though he wasn't laughing.

“Actually no, I’m not.”

“Then you’re insane.”

“Jury’s still out on that,” laughed Thor, rubbing the back of his neck. “But I’m serious.”

“What the fuck are you on about?” 

“I thought I’d like to watch the two of you together," he said, with a conscious attempt to sound neither too heavy, nor too casual.

“No, you would definitely not like to watch the two of us together,” declared Loki categorically, “you’d blow a fucking gasket!”

“Maybe, though not for the reason you imply.”

Now Loki’s eyes narrowed with suspicion.

“Are you into Tony? Are you attracted to him?”

“Uh, he’s a great guy, decent and fun, but no, not really.”

“So?”

“I would not be fucking him. We’d be doing you. I’d-I’d really like that.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about!” said Loki, aghast.

Thor was tempted to take exception to that. Condescension didn’t sit easily with him, especially in sexual matters. The vanilla inferiority complex, he was beginning to call it in his head. But there were better ways to handle this, surely. He crossed his arms over his chest, showing off the muscles of his arms, which he happened to know was a good look on him (he’d been told often enough).

“That’s part of the reason why I want to do it. I have so much to learn, don’t I?” he said, with what he hoped was a suggestive smirk. “Have you… been with two people at once?”

“Yes. And more,” sniped Loki. “But never people I gave a shit about, and even that can get weird after.”

“Why weird?” 

“Because it just does, alright?”

Thor bit his cheeks in, thinking. Then he fixed Loki with a sultry stare.

“Did you know these guys well? Did you trust them?”

“I trusted them enough to have an orgy with them.”

Thor, again, didn’t rise to it.

“You’ve never been with two people who cared about you,” he said instead, true to his course. “Who loved you. Who worshipped you.”

“How do you know that?” grumbled Loki, but he wasn’t even trying. 

“…You didn’t care about them,” continued Thor, in a low, hot murmur, as he slipped his arms around Loki’s waist, and put his mouth close to Loki’s neck, letting his breath work some skin magic, “people who knew you well, who knew what you like, what you need, and were intent on driving you out of your fucking mind, doing everything they know you love, the rough, the kinky…” He kissed, he licked, he sucked… “I want to learn what he knows about your body, about what you like. I want to learn how to tie you down and get just the right kind of rough with you. I want to learn to do you so good you’ll be baking me muffins in the morning. Don’t I get to sample your baking?”

Loki’s breathing was becoming laboured, but he was holding him at a distance, hands splayed on Thor’s chest, resisting giving into his touch and his crazy notions.

“I want to smother you, to drown you in it,” Thor was whispering, lips brushing on Loki’s skin, “how very wanted and desired you are, how loved you are. To a frankly worrying degree, actually,” he chuckled, and felt Loki shivering with it. “I’d like to see you like that so much, falling apart, screaming with pleasure, both of us working you…”

“Are you fucking possessed?” chuckled Loki, a bit short of breath.

“Would you like that?” whispered Thor, fingers digging into the flesh of Loki’s hips, keeping him close, nipping the lobe of his ear. “Lying on a bed, tied up, Tony and me working you over? Or would you rather be on your knees for both of us?”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” gasped Loki, his own fingers now clawing into the muscles of Thor’s chest, almost painfully.

“Tony could tell me what to do to you. Boss me around. You could fight me. I’d overpower you… Would you like that?”

“You… you really fucking mean it?” said Loki, breathless.

A low, hot drawl, “I really fucking mean it.” He sucked on Loki’s neck. Loki whimpered deliciously. 

But a moment later he pushed Thor away to have a good look at him, and searched Thor’s face through an intense, ruthless squint. He would find no signs there of Thor pushing himself to any sort of painful edge to offer this, if that’s what he suspected. Thor was betting rather on dilated pupils, a hazy, yet unflinching stare, very sincere anticipation and hunger.

“Why?” asked Loki. “What would that achieve? What are you trying to get from this?”

Thor put on a little smile. There was no sneaking anything by Loki, was there? He sighed.

“You’re going to turn your life upside down to adapt to my situation. I can imagine how hard it is for you. I know I’m asking a lot.”

“So you want to… what, balance the scales?” snapped Loki, on the defensive. “Do something really difficult for you, to-…?”

“No, it’s not that,” interrupted Thor. “It's not hard for me, offering this. I just see you getting all worked up about Tony, and talking about honeymoons and putting him on hold, and you seem so anxious about it all, about how I might really be feeling about it, and I could tell you a hundred times that I’m alright with this, and you’d still… you don’t put great stock in people’s statements, do you? Professional bias, I guess. I just want to get it in your head that I’m fine with this. That I want Tony in our lives. I fucking embrace it. And not just to help us get through communication hiccups. I embrace it because his love does you good and makes you feel happier in your own skin. Hell, his fucking body makes you happier in your own skin. And I want that, I want you to feel good inside, happy, at peace. Loved. And he wants that too. He helped us get to this point because he… he has a heart big as a house, so big even I feel like I can fit in it. He’s done all he could to bring us together, because he thinks I’m good for you. Well, now we’re together, and he’s with you, and that’s all good, and you still won't let yourself believe it… So, you know, actions speak volumes. Let’s seal the deal. I want you to see that you can have it all, to really believe it. I want you to fucking feel it. And fucking tear you to pieces while we’re at it.”

Loki was still frowning, but in amazement now. Well, yes, Thor had thought about it, okay? It’s not like he had heard “poly” and just pulled “threesome” out of a fucking hat. 

“You… have no idea how complicated this can get. How painful," objected Loki.

“Why?" asked Thor softly. "We’re good people. We love each other. If it gets weird, we'll talk about it. After what Tony has managed to get us through today, I’m not fucking scared of… hell, anything concerning you and me. And him. We’ll be alright. We’ll have Pepper mediate.”

Loki snorted, crossed his arms, ass on the counter, staring in disbelief, but at least with amusement now too.

“I joked about it with Tony yesterday, but in the light of day, it makes even more sense,” mused Thor.

Loki opened his eyes wide.

“Oh my god, one night! I leave you alone for one single goddamn night...! You two, I swear!" he shook his head. Bit his lip, lowered his gaze, muttered, "What did he say about it?”

“That he could teach me some knots.”

Loki laughed, throwing his head back. Thor’s eyes glazed over, tracing the ridges and muscles and bones there. 

“He talked about this bondage gear he has at his place,” said Thor, piercing stare, “to tie you to the wall. To hold you in position.”

Loki returned the stare, and wasn’t he panting slightly?

“He knows how to do the whole domming thing, doesn’t he?” said Thor. “He knows how to push you to your limits. Shit, I want to see that. I want to see you like that…”

Loki swallowed, and he was definitely panting. He lowered his eyes, demure.

“Not that I’m saying yes, but, hypothetically, when would you want to arrange for that… scenario to happen?”

“Well, I’m here, he’s here, you’re here…”

“W-what? Today?”

“Do you think he’d be up for it?”

Loki was gaping. But then his eyes went to one side. Ah, he was considering it!

“After the rave you threw here last night? He’s not a spring chicken anymore, you know.”

“He seems fit as a fiddle to me,” smirked Thor.

“Oh, so you think he’s fit?” Loki narrowed his eyes at him, affecting jealousy.

Thor didn’t take the bait. He just smiled.

“Why don’t we ask him?” he said.

“You’re fucking crazy.”

“And you’re thinking about it.”

Loki bit the insides of his cheeks, definitely amused.

“Well, you know how to build a compelling case, attorney.”

Thor grinned, eyes fierce.

“Then let’s do it.”

The amusement in Loki’s expression dimmed somewhat then.

“There’s a huge gap from fantasy and words to reality, you know?” he warned. "You may think you want it now, but then you have to go through with it. There's smells, and sights, and sounds, and actual skin, and flesh..."

“Yeah,” said Thor, pulling Loki into his arms again, hands firm on his ass. He muttered close to his ear, “Fantasies are nice, but flesh…” He kissed his neck, “and skin…”

Loki didn’t keep him at a distance this time. He offered his mouth. It was beyond Thor how he could have possibly missed all those years ago that what he wanted from Loki’s lips was to kiss them numb. Loki’s nails dragged down his back, under his t-shirt. Thor growled, with his blood fucking singing. 

“Aww, how very sweet.” Tony was out of the shower. 

Thor eyed him over Loki’s shoulder. Loki turned his head, Thor sucked his neck, and tightened his grip on Loki’s ass, hands splayed all over it, drawing him close, crushing their growing erections together.

“You are a sight to behold, the pair of you,” said Tony, leaning on the breakfast bar, chin on his hands, openly enjoying the show.

Loki chuckled, squirming when Thor tongued his ear. Thor’s eyes were locked on Tony’s, who returned the stare, unintimidated. Thor then spun Loki around to face Tony, one hand under Loki’s t-shirt, showing a sliver of his stomach, the other anchored on Loki's crotch, and dipped to work Loki’s neck again, making him gasp, laughing. Tony observed quietly, his gaze heavy, and getting heavier. He must have guessed what Thor was doing.

“Are you busy today, Tony?” said Thor casually, now holding Loki firmly in place with one arm around his waist.

Tony laughed, with that childish, unselfconscious joy Thor had seen him display at times - with Emma, and yesterday night - as if this whole situation was as hysterical as it was delightful. It was quite charming, actually. Then he walked around the breakfast bar, and up to Loki. He cupped Loki’s face with both hands, stroking his sharp jaw, his thin lips, and pulled him down for a slow kiss. Loki gave in with abandon. Thor watched over Loki’s shoulder, still kissing his neck. 

“You okay?” whispered Tony to Loki, his stare doing a lot of the heavy lifting for that particular question.

“Uh-huh,” muttered Loki. “Though you're a terrible influence, Tony Stark.”

Tony laughed, still stroking Loki’s face with so much tenderness.

“Tell you what,” he said, “I’m starving. I see sandwiches. Let’s have lunch. We sit down, eat up, and talk. Maybe get more coffee too, shall we? How’s that.”

Chapter Text

A strange lunch. Tense. Not bad-tense, a bit awkward-tense. Thor had to avoid meeting Loki’s eyes, or else he felt a nervous fit of the giggles coming up. If he looked at Tony, he felt a shiver of unrest. Tony himself seemed supremely relaxed, the fucker, nonchalant, picking at the crumbs on his plate, eating as daintily as a girl fresh out of finishing school, posture and expression light as a feather. Just an ordinary day in Starkville. With the same confidence and smoothness, when he was done eating, he got up to go to the bathroom and brush his teeth. Loki went next, and Thor right after.

Alone in the bathroom for a moment, Thor thoroughly brushed his teeth, washed his hands, checked several times that his breath was fresh, refreshed other bits too, congratulated himself for not putting any pickles in the sandwiches. 

There was a buzz in his stomach. He wasn’t sure if it was nerves or… Hell, of course it must be nerves. But was he dreading this, or anticipating it? The heck was his body trying to tell him here? Because the shivers and shudders didn’t just stay in his stomach, they went along his neck and his back all the way down to… 

He faced himself in the mirror, and tried to prepare. He pictured himself naked, Tony naked, Loki naked, doing things, and forced his mind’s eye to stay on focus, dwelling on the details, trying to make it feel closer to reality. Stupid, really. As if any mental gymnastics would soothe the shock of the real thing. Not to mention, finding himself trying to deduce what Tony Stark must look like naked (as in, you know, the fine points), didn’t do a thing to make anything feel more normal (what the fuck, man?). A horrible possibility presented itself. What if he got stage fright? How fucking humiliating if, after all this talk, he couldn’t fucking get it up. Aaaand, great, now the idea was in his mind. Shit, had he jinxed himself? Maybe he should call it off...

Okay, all this thinking wasn’t helping, and what would they think he was doing in here? Take a deep breath and get out now. This was your idea in the first place, dude.

When he got back, he noticed that the kitchen table had been tidied up and cleaned while he was away (thanks for that). He took a seat. Everyone was quiet. It was awkward. Loki shook his long hair off his face. A perfectly innocent gesture, unselfconscious, but it drew the eyes of the other two men in the room like a magnet. Loki rolled his eyes as if it all was supremely tiresome, even as his cheeks flushed. Tony kicked him playfully under the table. Tony’s and Loki’s eyes met, and… There. That, right there, was a moment, unspoken thoughts and feelings traded in the air, passing Thor by. It was an unusual experience, to see your boyfriend flirting with his other boyfriend in front of your very face, and feel... pretty much alright about it. Fascinated, even. Thor was not at present dancing at that party, but he was invited, welcome to attend, shown around, told to make himself at home; he got to witness another weave of the kinds of intimacy Loki was capable of. And with Loki always so reserved, so secretive, always guarding his true feelings so close to his chest, Thor knew it for the rare privilege it was.

And yet, he wasn’t satisfied. Tony and Loki seemed to be trying for discreet in front of him, their flirting subdued, their touches clean. A discretion which Thor understood and sort of appreciated, or appreciated the thought behind it at least, but he also… Hell, he wanted to fucking tear it all down with a bulldozer. He wanted the weirdness gone, all gone --the good manners, the uptightness, the correction, that reserve bordering on insincerity that deformed and strained their interactions in front of Thor. Same about his own interactions with Loki in front of Tony.

If they were going to do this, this three-sided relationship, it was not going to be timid and reserved, discreet and proper, hell no. None of this tip-toeing around so as not to tread on other people’s turfs. Fuck turfs! He wanted all that stupid, tight-assed propriety out the fucking window. He didn’t want to feel fettered or burdened by awkwardness, ever. Let’s all get naked and fuck, goddammit, let’s be utterly improper, indiscreet, and open with each other, to the point of fucking obscenity. Let’s run a fucking combine harvester over Loki’s fears and doubts, and our own. If this was going to work out for Thor, they were going to have to relax, take themselves less seriously, act naturally, and just be. So it was all about communication, wasn’t it? Oh, there was going to be some communication here today, alright.

His leg was bouncing. How about we just bulldoze through those jitters as well.

  “So, are we going to do this, or not,” he blurted out.

The other two turned to him. 

“I’m up for it, sure,” said Tony, still unruffled, always a spark of humour in his eye. “Loki?”

Loki looked from one to the other, then lowered his eyes to his fingers, which were worrying at the hem of his shirt like those of a fidgety little boy.

“You’re not feeling it, Loki?” asked Tony gently.

“It’s not that,” he said. He looked at Thor. “I know you feel you’ve had a vanilla sex life. But you don’t have anything to prove, you know.” 

“That’s not what this is about,” said Thor. “It’s not a bid to get into the cool kids’ club or get a ‘Kinky’ badge.”

“No? What is it then?” challenged Loki.

“Lots of things, but, right now? It’s about fucking you, plain and simple. Now that it’s gotten into my head, I am very keen on the notion of working you over with Tony. It’s a very hot prospect, and it’s making me pretty fucking horny. Looking forwards to it.” A bright, wholesome grin.

Loki shifted slightly in his chair, with a quick blink that showed he was affected. Satisfied perhaps that Thor’s intentions were, um, pure, he moved on to the remaining affected party.

“Tony?” he prompted.

“Me? Oh, I’m all for helping a young couple in love find balance and establish a good line of commun-…”

“Tony…” cut Loki.

“Do I want to double-team you with a golden Viking god? Is that a serious question? Don’t you know me by now? I’m almost offended that you have to ask.”

Thor laughed. 

“What about Pepper?” asked Loki.

“What about her?”

“Is this part of your agreement?”

“Again, serious question? ‘Course it is. I wouldn’t entertain the thought if it wasn’t. You know how I play and how I feel about this. So, Loki,” he slapped the table, to emphasise the change of focus in the conversation, “what about you? Do you feel like it today?”

Loki looked at Thor, then at Tony, then at Thor again.

“What did you have in mind?” he asked, his voice muted. Shy?

“Uh, whatever you want, baby,” said Thor. “We just want you to have a good time. So it’s up to you, really. You call the shots.”

Loki listened to that with a poker face that gave Thor nothing.

“Kinky or sweet?” offered Tony, keen to help things along.

Loki didn’t reply for a moment.

“Kinky,” he said, at length. 

“Alright with you, Thor?” asked Tony.

“Sure.”

“Wrong answer,” snapped Loki. “‘What do you mean by kinky’ is what you should have said.”

“Okay then, what do you mean by kinky?” asked Thor, choosing to not take exception to the patronising tone, which he ascribed to Loki’s nervousness, on top of his usual little-shittiness.

“What do I usually mean by kinky, Tony?” deferred Loki.

“He means a bit of light bondage and domination, some spanking, and a bit of sexy funtimes, I presume. Right? ”

A nod from Loki. 

“And what do you feel like today, pet, top or bottom?” asked Tony.

“Bottom.” He was keeping his eyes low as if he wanted to be left out of the conversation.

“Loki is not crazy about the talking part. He thinks it kills the mood,”  explained Tony to Thor, perhaps reading the concern in Thor’s expression. And in a confidential tone, “And he’s a little bit embarrassed. You know, about asking for this kind of thing out loud. He’d rather things just... happened.”

Loki threw him a caustic glower, which Tony met with a toothsome, disarming smile. It didn’t really disarm Loki, but it defused some of his attitude. Tony was only trying to help, after all.

“But not too rough, eh?” said Tony, picking up the previous thread. “ Thor’s new in Kinkytown.”

“Not too rough,” acquiesced Loki. “He said he wants to see what we like to do together.”

“Uh, yeah,” admitted Thor. “I think it might help. Me. And Loki. To, you know… Oh dear.” He gave up.

“Fine, no problem,” said Tony, perky. “Thor, I assume I’m not doing anything to you, or you to me, right? We focus on Loki?”

“Yes.” 

“Can I touch you at all? Not your junk. To position you, for example?”

“Uh, sure.”

“What about sexy touch? Your body? Kissing? Think about it for a moment. Take your time. There’s no rush.”

Thor didn’t really know how to think about it, but fine, ok, he’d give it a minute. 

“Just say no if it’s uncomfortable,” said Tony.

“I-I don’t know yet,” confessed Thor. “I’m really not sure.”

“Sometimes Thor thinks more clearly with a hard-on,” said Loki, smirking, the smarmy little shit.

Tony laughed. Thor pretended he hadn’t heard a thing.

“I’ll let you know,” he said.

“Very well, then,” said Tony. “And what do you think, Loki? Would it be a problem for you if I touched him? Or if he touched me… Which you’re totally allowed to do, Thor, by the way. Help yourself.” Another bright grin.

Thor blushed a little.

“Thank you,” he said, with a chuckle.

Loki, for his part, was looking from Thor to Tony, and back to Thor.

“No problem,” he said, at length.

“You sure, pet? Because, well, you have been known to get, well, possessive. Jealous, even.”

“Are you going to second-guess everything I say?” snapped Loki, clearly a little bit tense.

Thor thought that was hardly what was happening, but bit his tongue.

“I would like reassurance that you mean what you say before I just go ahead and start making out with your boyfriend, and unwittingly cause a diplomatic conflict,” said Tony. “If you could expand your answer...”

Loki huffed. He spoke slowly and articulating clearly, as if Tony was stupid. 

“I am not sure what I will feel if I see you two touching each other, and yeah, I may flip out for a moment, but since my rational side knows that Thor has the hots for me, not you, and that it’s unlikely that there is a risk of losing him to you, I’m confident that I’ll be able to deal with it. And the naughty side of me would like to see him getting it from another man, because I think he’d get all flustered and shy and cute, and that it would be very hot. That comprehensive enough, or should I elaborate further?”

Thor harrumphed, feeling his cheeks light on fire. 

“Yeah, happy with that,” said Tony, with a shrug. And to Thor, “Then, my friend, we go with the flow, see where it takes us, yes?”

“Okay,” said Thor. What the hell was he getting himself into...

“Right, then,” said Tony. “I have one thought I’m going to throw in there, because I think it’s important. Loki, you have had group sex before, but you were always topping. And you never bottomed very much at all before last year. So, anal sex. Do you want to be fucked today?”

“Yes,” said Loki, very quickly. He cleared his throat. “Yes, I’d like that.” The size of those pupils, whoa. His eyes were almost entirely black. 

“This is kinda closer to those fantasies you sometimes talk about, being used by several men,” said Tony, calmly. “You’re aware of that, aren’t you?”

“Of course,” said Loki.

“And you’re also aware that these fantasies remind you of that incident in college.”

“Yes.”

“And you have no qualms about that today?”

Loki rubbed his forehead nervously.

“I have no problems with that,” he said. And he added, in a little mutter, “Not with you, the two of you. I-I trust you.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, it doesn’t have to be too heavy or dark. I’m not in a demon-fighting mood today.”

“I think it would help right now if you said explicitly what you’re expecting from today. For Thor, too, right?”

Thor nodded. Loki looked down at his hands, took a breath.

“Just… use me. Do whatever the fuck you want with me. I fight you, you overpower me. Treat me like I’m a thing, a toy, a slave. Call me names. Tie me down. Rough me up. Fuck me hard. Make me take it.”

Loki’s voice was slightly rough; Tony’s eyes were glazed; Thor’s pulse was rushing. 

“Thor, what say you about that?” asked Tony.

“I think I want to get started,” he growled. 

He was talking from his groin. It wouldn’t be sincere to say he had run any of that through his brain. There was something dizzying about Loki right now, which appealed both to Thor’s basest impulses, and to others that originated higher up, more protective, and very tender. Loki must be feeling so vulnerable, so exposed, his defences down, trusting them both with something so intimate, wide open. Thor wanted to get in there while he was welcome, and stay in this place where Loki didn’t keep his wants and needs masked, but simply spoke them out. More than that, he asked for what he needed, and he asked for it from them. It was both a rush and something much, much warmer and softer.

Thor noticed that Tony was observing him with bright eyes. He flustered a little. Well, Thor had been mooning like a loved-up fifteen-year-old. His first impulse was to look away, deflect, and hide, avoid being caught in such a candid moment, but he went with his second impulse --to meet Tony’s gaze with a direct, sincere smile. He had nothing to hide, did he? Tony returned the smile.

And since there was a gap in the conversation begging to be filled, Thor thought it was time for himself to make explicitly known what he was expecting from today. 

“I thought you could, uh, guide me, Tony. I mean, you could tell me what to do. To Loki,” he said.

Tony raised his eyebrows with surprise, the rest of his face still perfectly composed.

“I could do that, yes, no problem,” he said, sounding unfazed. “What do you feel about that, Loki?”

Loki had a mischievous grin on his face now. (That’s more like it, thought Thor.)

“I’d like that,” purred Loki.

“Am I domming you too, Thor? Or would you rather a partners-in-crime situation?”

“I haven’t got a clue what I would or would not like. I’ve never been there before,” he confessed. “Advice?”

“I think Thor has a dominant streak,” said Loki. “I don’t think he has a submissive bone in his body; or if he does, he hasn’t found it yet. I think the partners-in-crime approach will fit him more easily this time.” 

“I’m fine with that. Does that sound fine with you, Thor?” asked Tony.

“Yeah. I’ll defer to the experts.”

“Ok, one last thing,” said Tony. “To avoid misunderstandings, we use the semaphore code. ‘Green’ for okay, go, I’m fine, more. ‘Yellow’ for slow down, take it easy, hang on a sec. ‘Red’ for stop this particular thing you’re doing, change this, move on to something else. And the safeword stops the scene altogether. Is that clear?”

“Yes,” said Thor.

“Right, safewords. Mine is ‘iron’. Loki, you’re sticking with ‘kingdom’?

“Uh-huh.”

“Thor, we need a word you can easily remember that you wouldn’t normally use during sex.”

“Apples?” he suggested after a moment. No idea where that had come from.

“Good one. So, ‘iron’, ‘kingdom’, and ‘apples’ stop the scene, and the color lights modulate it. We’re all clear?”

“Yup.”

“Yes.”

“Now, word of warning, Thor. Our Loki here, he has a bit of a mouth on him,” said Tony while staring at Loki, whose eyes were low, demure, his smile getting more and more smug, anticipating what Tony had to say about him. “He’s not a submissive bottom. He’ll say no to pretty much anything you ask or tell him to do, he’ll thrash, he’ll fight you, he’ll challenge you, he’ll cuss you a rainbow. But he doesn’t want you to stop, okay? Quite the opposite. Unless you hear ‘yellow,’ ‘red,’ or ‘kingdom,’ you’re doing great, no matter what he’s screaming at you. If he’s fighting you, he’s asking you to overpower him and give him more of what you’re giving him. If he’s getting too talkative, he’s probably trying to talk himself into a gag.  It’s all part of it. He’s playing. He’s acting. And he’s not in any real distress, even if he sounds like it. Will you be alright with that, Thor?”

“I think so.”

“But we’re all supposed to enjoy this, so if it’s really bothering you, you can stop it, okay? Use the words. If you want him to tone it down, say ‘yellow.’ If you want him to shut up, say ‘red.’ If it’s making you really upset, and you’ve had enough, say ‘apples.’ You’re totally allowed to do that, okay? Even if it’s Loki’s scene.”

“Okay, I get it,” said Thor.

“But you won’t make it too heavy, will you, Loki? Take it easy. It’s Thor’s first time. Light on the ‘please, no’ especially. Personally, I really struggle with that.”

“Sure. I’m not in that kind of mood today anyway,” said Loki. And he added, with a grin full of mischief, “I’ll be a good boy.”

“Oh, that reminds me,” said Tony. “Thor, another thing. Some people are in this for the reward - they like to be asked to do things and then get praise for behaving. Some people like to hear how hot they look, how perfect they are, how well they are doing. Not Loki. Loki is in it for the punishment, and he likes to hear, uh, degrading language while he’s getting it. Now, the punishment I can deal with, but as for the name-calling, that is something I really suck at. But if you find it in yourself to call him a filthy slut and that kind of thing, I think Loki would appreciate it, wouldn’t you, Loki?”

“Yes. I would.” Loki had quite an expression on him right now, loaded, fixed, eyes glazed.

As for Thor, his throat was parched dry, and he was fucking sweating. Maybe he was into this kinky shit after all.

“Anything you’re particularly hoping to hear? Anything you don’t want to hear?” asked Tony.

“Slut, whore, bitch, they’re all good with me, but no homophobic slurs, please. And I don’t mind you calling me pretty or praising me for doing well or whatever, but don’t expect me to take it lying down. I might spit and bite.”

Tony laughed. After a second, so did Thor.

“Okey-dokey,” said Tony, slapping his thighs, as he seemed fond of doing these days. “Anything else?”

He looked from one to the other. They both shrugged. What a flashback to school days. They usually did have questions back then, but Thor wasn’t thinking hard enough to know he had them, and Loki would die before he admitted ignorance out loud. Which is why it helped doing homework together. Anyway, he was digressing. Good job Tony was there with his mind in the game.

“Here or the bedroom?” he asked.

Thor’s stomach did a flip. Suddenly, shit felt very real and present. As in, shit was fucking here.

“I-I don’t know. The bedroom’s not very big.”

“Living room it is, then. Thor, we’ll need a couple of belts, ties, whatever you’ve got.”

Thor gulped.

“Ok, hang on a sec.”

“I’ll get the lube and condoms. Loki, have a drink of water, stay here, and look pretty.”

Loki smirked, a champion shit-eating grin that only made his demure posture, all prim and proper —legs crossed, hands on his lap— look like even more of a piss-take. Thor wondered how prim and proper he would look once they were done with him. His stomach continued to do troubling things, tying itself into knots. The ideas you get into your head sometimes, man.

When Thor came back from the bedroom, the first thing he noted was Loki’s bare feet —he had taken off his shoes and socks already. Thor wouldn’t have expected it would have such an effect on him, but it made his insides twist another knot. Thor pictured him carefully unlacing his shoes and putting them aside, thinking about what was going to happen to him, his heartbeat perhaps speeding up already. 

Tony was pulling the veil curtains shut so that light could still get through, but the neighbours across the street would not get an eyeful; it was the middle of the afternoon after all (Thor had thought about the curtains when he was choosing belts and ties, while thinking how he would feel about wearing those to work after today, but had got side-tracked by Loki’s feet, no less).

Loki looked up at him, and then his gaze trickled, heavy, loaded, down to the improvised bondage gear in Thor’s hand. Thor’s heart was beating hard. He put the stuff on the table, next to a strip of lube packets and condoms. He sat down stiffly and he crossed and uncrossed his legs, no idea what to do with his hands. He so wanted to look cool and relaxed, like Tony, but yeah, slim chance of that. Loki’s stare wasn’t helping, unflinchingly fixed on him, trying to drill a hole in the middle of his forehead. Thor tried stretching his neck and rolling his shoulders to loosen them up. 

“Well then,” said Tony when he was finished with the curtains, after taking a seat too, “seems like I’m running the show. Two life-sized hot toys to play with, early birthday present, yay…!” He grinned sweetly, his tone so light. Then he fixed on Loki. His expression became focused, intense, and his voice acquired a hard edge. “Loki, sweetheart, stand up. Let us look at you.”

Loki rolled his eyes and dragged himself up, like a lazy teenager asked to tidy up his room. Posing, of course. In spite of his confident stance --back straight, shoulders back, chin up--, Thor would bet Loki had put his hands in his pockets because they were shaking. Tony’s expression was definitely changed now, as he observed Loki from head to toe, charged, and so was the atmosphere. There was a strange vibe, hot, ruthless. Thor hadn’t felt it since the first days of Loki at Shield, and in the early days of their affair. It was an adversarial energy, thrumming with a dark, animal undercurrent.

“Look at him,” drawled Tony, “so haughty, so proud. Will you believe all he really wants is to be on his knees?”

Loki crossed his arms, eyes narrowed, defiant. Treat me like a thing, a toy, a slave. The vision of Loki’s body, his very posture, struck Thor as if it was the first time he laid eyes on him, all harmonious proportions, slight, elegant, poised to the point of arrogance. Use me. Do whatever the fuck you want with me. The contrast was both baffling and intoxicating. God, to subjugate that prince. To make him kneel. 

“Come here,” said Thor.

Loki turned his head with surprise. Thor stretched his arm and grabbed for him, forcefully dragged him over. Stumbling, wide-eyed, Loki fell on his lap and clutched onto Thor’s neck. While Tony watched in silence, Thor helped himself to Loki’s body, going straight for his crotch. Loki gasped, still stunned. Groping him ruthlessly, Thor kissed him, deep and rough, feeling Loki’s cock getting hard in his hand. Even as Loki’s eyelids got heavy, Thor kept his eyes open and looked on. He wanted to see that composure as it crumbled. When Loki moaned softly, that’s when Thor broke the kiss and pushed him away.

“Stand up,” he said, thick voice, affected himself but not wanting to let it show.

Back on his feet, Loki straightened up, trying to regain some of his self-possession, but his clothes and his hair were a mess, his mouth already blushed, thoroughly kissed, his breath short, and his expression... He was disheveled, off-balance, he had lost his cool. And yeah, confirmed, that definitely did things to Thor.

Tony seemed pleased, smiling vaguely. 

“You’re going to let us have a proper look at you now, sweetheart. Take your clothes off. Make it sexy.”

“No,” said Loki, cutting.

“Oh,” said Tony, his smile getting wider, predatory, while his voice oozed with honey. “I see. You’re going to be difficult, then?”

Loki squinted at him with a cocky, crooked grin.

“I said, strip,” repeated Tony.

“Make me.”

Tony’s smirk became wicked.

“Thor, grab him,” he said, calmly. “Arms behind his back.”

Loki seemed to freeze like a deer in the headlights. Thor hesitated for but a moment, then he surged up and grabbed  —biceps, then wrists. Loki’s breathing hitched. His muscles were tense. He wasn’t fighting it, but he wasn’t compliant either. With one single hand, Thor could hold both his wrists. Loki gave an exploratory pull, checking his strength, so Thor tightened his grip. Loki whimpered ever so softly. Was it pain? Could Loki feel Thor’s heartbeat where his chest connected with Loki’s back?

Tony had approached; he was standing close in front of Loki.

“I hope this shirt was not an old favourite,” he whispered, eyes fixed on Loki’s. And he ripped the shirt in half, collar to hem. Loki startled, suddenly tense against Thor’s body. Then Tony got busy with Loki’s flies, and Loki began to twist and squirm, struggling against Thor. Without being prompted, Thor wrapped tight around Loki’s body and arms, and held him aloft. Loki touched the floor only with the tips of his toes. He twisted even more in his arms, groaning, while Tony pulled his pants down and off with a few strong tugs. 

“On the table,” said Tony.

Groaning against the weight and Loki’s struggle, Thor put him down on his front, legs dangling over one edge of the table top, his head hanging over the other. Loki didn’t lose one second before he started to squirm again, as if he really wanted to pull free. But there wasn’t any talk of colors or kingdoms --no words, really, just a muffled groan of effort as he struggled-- so Thor pinned him into place with a claw around his neck. He leaned hard on him, one hand splayed over his back, weighing him down, crushing him against the table, and Loki was still at last, his breath shuddery. He was shivering a little too. He looked so helpless, naked there, not strong enough to get rid of him. For a moment Thor was about to let go and comfort him. 

Tony stood in front of Loki’s face. One hand on Loki’s hair, a rough, deep caress, and then raking down his spine, wakening goosebumps from Loki’s neck all down his back, his ass.

“Shh, shh…” cooed Tony. “It’s ok, pet, we’ve got you…”

Thor let go of him to be able to stroke him too. Immediately, Loki began to struggle madly.

“Get off me,” he groaned. “Get the fuck off me…”

Thor froze.

“Thor, his wrists,” said Tony, cutting. He had picked up the belts. “Fold his arms. He needs to be holding his elbows.”

Thor fought the impulse to take three steps back. He did as Tony said, and in a moment Tony had Loki’s arms expertly tied behind his back with a combination of both belts. All Thor had to do now to keep him still was put weight on him.

“Leave me some room,” whispered Tony, standing behind Loki. 

Thor shifted to Loki’s side. Without a moment of hesitation, Tony raised his arm and swung it down. A sharp smack on Loki’s white ass. Loki jumped; his skin immediately started to bloom pink. Another slap. Another. Another. Loud and hard. Beneath Thor’s hold, Loki startled and gasped every time. Thor startled too. It seemed that watching that was even more affecting than doing it. Every fibre in Thor’s being was demanding he step in and stop it. Loki couldn’t fight back or defend himself, for fuck’s sake! Deep breaths. Should he call ‘yellow’?

A pause in the beating, and Loki’s breathing filled the room with noise. It was quick and shallow, shuddery, and it definitely sounded like arousal. He wasn’t fighting. He seemed entranced, oddly peaceful, his eyes out of focus.

“Have you been wicked, pet?” purred Tony. “Do you deserve it? Is that why you’re taking it so nicely?”

Loki smirked hazily.

“Fuck you,” he purred.

Tony turned to Thor.

“This boy needs a lesson. Your turn.” And he said very very softly, as if not for Loki’s ears, “Never above this point.” And he dealt him another loud smack for illustration, harder than the previous ones. Loki gasped.

Tony’s hands replaced Thor’s on Loki’s bound arms and on his neck. Thor took his spot on the business end of things. Loki beneath him, panting, one eye straining to see what was going to happen, shivering with anticipation. Thor’s cock in his pants gave a strong tug, flooding.

When he had done this before (luckily in the right area, the fleshy, softer half, how about that), it had not been easy. Not just overcoming the mental barriers, but the technique. Everything had been so much more difficult than he had thought, from the angle, to using the adequate strength, to making contact at the right moment of the swing, to just fucking hitting the area you aimed for. This was an art, goddammit. At least this time he had some basic experience to fall back on. He raised his hand, hesitated. (What a moment to have a flashback from childhood; his mom’s voice, “It’s wrong to hit, Thor, we don’t hit.”)

“What, you can’t do it, big guy?” chided Loki, his one visible eye full of contempt.

Tony smirked darkly, and sunk his nails into Loki’s neck.

“You like to push it, sweetheart?”

That exchange had an undeniably theatrical feel. A realisation: this was a fucking game. He liked games. Thor felt a strange jolt, as if the costume that had been too big for him before had fallen into place, and now fitted more comfortably. 

A quick inhale. He dropped his hand sharply. Smack!

Loki hissed, his back tensing. 

He slapped again, again, again. Loki squirmed on the table, whimpered softly.

“Look at him, he fucking likes it…” purred Tony. “Feel him, feel how hard he is.”

They both touched Loki’s cock where it hung, stiff, by the edge of the table. He was very hard, wet at the tip. Loki tried to kick them off.

“Get your fucking hands off me!” he was grumbling.

“Shh, shh, shh…” hissed Tony, a warning hair pull. He leaned closer to Loki’s face, and whispered, “What else do you like, pet? You want to get us both off, is that what you want? Want us both to use you? Greedy boy…”

Loki’s reply was a groan. He started thrashing again. And his eyes, goddammit. Feverish, burning. 

“You’re so pretty like this…” sighed Tony.

“Fuck you!” 

“Oh, you have quite a mouth. Such a waste. Let’s put it to good use, shall we? Thor, hold him.”

Tony stood in front of Loki’s face. He was undoing his pants. At the other end of the table, between Loki’s legs, with a perfect view, Thor didn’t know where to put his eyes. He tried to concentrate on the pink blush of Loki’s ass cheeks. But his attention didn’t stay there, of course not. He was too curious. Tony had his cock out, nice length and girth, at least when hard, as it was now --really hard; veiny, cut, dark, as well-groomed downstairs as he was upstairs, and he was stroking the deep pink tip on Loki’s lips. He had one hand in Loki’s hair to keep his head tilted back at a sharp angle. And he wasn’t paying Thor any attention at all, all his focus on Loki, whose face Thor right now could not see from his spot between Loki’s legs.

“You want it,” Tony was purring, “god, how you want it… Beg for it, pet…”

“Fuck you,” spat Loki. 

Tony twisted a handful of hair and thrusted in. Loki’s entire body tensed up. Tony was fucking Loki’s mouth slowly but deeply. Loki’s muffled sounds were turning into moans, and he was shifting his ass, seeking contact, or friction, or pressure, any sort of stimulation to his groin. Thor moved to the side to get a better view. Now he had them in profile. Tony was burying himself all the fucking way in, Loki’s jaw hanging wide, his face tense, drool dripping off his lips. Thor’s hand clenched tight on Loki’s arm. His cock had jerked very fucking painfully, straining against the crotch of his jeans. He had had no fucking idea of what it would feel like to see that, Loki taking it from another man in front of his eyes, cheekbones made sharper by the pull of his jaw, eyes fierce, neck tense. Shit, it was hot. Thor was aching and panting.

During a break for Loki to breathe, Tony felt Thor looking. 

“You want him?” offered Tony. He pulled Loki’s hair to show his face to Thor. Loki looked destroyed. His lids heavy, mouth gaping, drooling, eyes glazed. Treat me like I’m a thing, a toy, a slave. Jesus fucking Christ.

“Move,” said Thor, all but pushing Tony away. 

He began to undo his pants. He was not as hard as he should be, considering his arousal. A quick look at Tony, whose eyes were on Loki. Thor gulped, and pulled his cock out. He grabbed Loki’s hair, angled his face higher up. Loki stared up, mouth hanging half open, wanton, indecent. Thor got himself closer, and Loki sealed his lips around his cock. Thor groaned low, quickly growing completely erect on Loki’s tongue, as Loki’s cheeks hollowed around him, sucking hard. Thor began to pump his hips, slowly. 

“He’s so good at this, he takes it so fucking well,” said Tony, and Thor realised he had forgotten he was there for a second. Their eyes met, and shit, it shook him up.

At the sound of that bit of praise, Loki began to struggle again. Tony held him down.

“Deeper,” urged Tony, eyes hungry. “Fuck his throat.”

Loki was still struggling, but his mouth was so fucking tight around his cock. Thor pushed. He met the end of Loki’s mouth, and kept pushing.

“Fuck…” he moaned. Because Loki had deep-throated him before, but Thor had never fucked his mouth like this, and Loki was straining against his binds and swallowing around him at the same time, and god, fuuuuck…

He let him breathe after only a few pumps, although with Tony he had just seen him take many more. And he tipped his chin up to see him. Loki’s eyes heavy and hazy, and a weak, sweet smile.

“Green,” he muttered.

And he began to thrash and struggle again, growling, making Tony press his weight on him to make him be still.

Thor grabbed a handful of Loki’s hair once more, threw Loki’s head back, opening his throat, and pushed his cock inside his mouth. He was less hesitant this time. Loki’s sounds became more urgent as Thor got rougher. He kept trying to hump the table, so Tony grabbed between his legs, to torture him with what to Thor seemed like light touches and sporadic pulls, that had Loki whimpering desperately, the vibrations in his throat driving Thor fucking insane. He had to stop, so close to coming already.

One hand always on Loki’s arms, Tony ran his hand over the sensitive skin of the back of Loki’s thighs, above his ass, then between his legs, up the crack of his ass, and his eyes wandered madly, looking his fill. Thor was looking too. Loki’s body was pale and flushed in patches, his ribs rising and falling with his breathing.

“He’s beautiful, isn’t he? Fucking perfect,” sighed Tony.

When Loki began to squirm and thrash again, both Tony and Thor were ready for it, already holding him tighter. They watched him wrestle helplessly for a moment, his groans of frustration turning into little, breathless whines. He was absolutely helpless, powerless. If he really wanted to let go, he would have to trust them to release him. He could not outfight them. That part was not acting; it was very real. 

Thor felt Tony observing him. He knew how obviously aroused he must look after watching Loki struggle, subjugated. Why was that so fucking hot.

With the encouragement of Tony’s stare spurring him on, Thor crouched closer to Loki’s face, and played the game.

“Don’t you like to hear what a pretty, perfect slut you are? How fucking gorgeous, lying there, begging to be fucked?” he whispered, as he gently massaged Loki’s scalp, which must be throbbing by now. Loki’s eyes fixed on him, still defiant. Thor spoke sweetly, but with a hint of cool iron just beneath. He whispered, “You’re our bitch. We fucking own you. We can do whatever the fuck we want with you. You’re going to take whatever we give you, and you’re going to like it, like the sweet, filthy little slut you are. And there’s not a thing you can do about it. Nothing. We’ve got you now.” 

Loki whimpered, devastated, mouth gaping, eyes heavy, glazed. Thor kissed him, deep and rough, still raking deep into his hair, fucking his mouth with his tongue. Loki sighed as he returned the kiss, a little sound of deep gratitude. Thor didn’t close his eyes, even as he felt the sensation and the whole situation going to his head. He didn’t want to miss a single blink.

At the other side of the table, he spied Tony going down on his knees between Loki’s legs. Then Loki moaned into the kiss, and his lips slowed down and stopped moving. Thor pulled back to have a better view of Loki’s face. Tony was eating him out, maybe fingering him too, hard to tell. Not that it mattered much right now. Loki half opened his eyes to look at him, lids droopy, brow tense, holding back his breath before releasing it in a moan. 

Thor stroked his scalp again, but now he raked his nails in too, not enough to hurt, just adding an edge. 

“Don’t think you’ll just get to lie there and enjoy yourself. You have to work for it,” whispered Thor, lacing his sweet tone with menace. He was finding it easier and easier to slip into the part. He stood up and held his cock in front of Loki’s face. He rubbed it on Loki’s lips. Loki opened his mouth.

“Oh no, no, no, baby, I’m not doing your job for you. Use your tongue.”

Loki strained to look up, unmoving, defiant. Thor grabbed the scruff of his neck, making him hiss.

“Lick me,” whispered Thor, threatening.

Smack! Loki startled. 

“Do what he tells you,” said Tony from the other end of the table.

Panting hard, shivering, wanting more, Loki refused to obey.

“Go fuck yourself,” he hissed.

Smack! Smack! Smack! Three slaps in quick succession. Loki’s breath hitching, his back tense. Then Tony put his mouth on him again, and tension fled his muscles and his face, with a long, desperate moan. He was melting.

Thor rubbed his cock on Loki’s lips again, couldn’t help it. So appealing, puffy and blushed, parted in a languid gesture, looking soft and used and wet. Finally, Loki pulled out his tongue. Thor held himself still. The hardened, hot, wet tip of Loki's tongue flicked against the underside of the head. Thor seized up, hissing. Loki’s expression was mischievous again now, perhaps enjoying the sudden exchange of power. While gasping and sighing with the pleasure of what Tony was doing, he licked like a playful kitten lapping cream from a bowl - slight touches, torture really. Thor hoped he wasn’t going to get bitten. He tried to stay still and not miss any of the action at the other end, Tony lavishing love and attention on Loki’s ass with tongue, fingers, lips. Every now and then, Tony opened his eyes to look at Thor. It dealt a bolt of lightning down his spine. Fuck, whenever Loki closed his lips around the head and gave it a good suck, making him moan plaintively, begging almost, that’s when Tony’s stare got really heavy. And Loki would then turn his head just so as he sucked, to see Thor’s face, and let him see his own languid, smug smirk. He was dizzy...

And he wanted to fuck.

“Is he ready?” he asked, panting, Loki kept away from him by the scruff of his neck.

“Like a bitch in heat,” said Tony, with a couple of fingers still working inside Loki. He stood up, wiped his mouth. 

Thor moved to take his place at the other end of the table, one hand on the small of Loki’s back, the other on himself. Tony walked around the table too, and crouched to get his eyes down to Loki’s level. He stroked roughly Loki’s hair and face, slipped his thumb inside Loki’s mouth.

“Are you ready to take us both? We might get a bit rough. You’re so fucking hot, and you take it so well. We might not be able to hold back.”

Loki was panting, his back tense, anticipating. Then he growled, and started to thrash with his legs. Thor pressed his body between Loki’s thighs, holding them easily. He grabbed his ankles and folded Loki’s legs up. Loki didn’t stop thrashing, twisting his upper body. Thor was achingly hard. One arm pressing on Loki’s folded legs, he reached for the lube and the condoms with his free hand, ripped the packets with his teeth. He had to let go to slip the condom on, and man, did Loki take the chance. He wasn’t going anywhere with his arms tied and Thor between his thighs, but he fucking tried with all his strength. But Thor was hard enough, and Loki relaxed enough, that all Thor had to do was find the right spot and push to get inside. And Loki was still thrashing, whimpering, sobbing as he felt him pushing in, helpless to stop it. So many voices in Thor’s head screaming how very wrong that was. He was in balls deep, and he was aware of Tony’s gaze fixed on his cock, where it disappeared inside Loki’s body. Thor had never been watched fucking before. This was the most intense penetration of his life. He wasn’t afraid of coming too quickly, with the mess in his head, but he was fucking shivering. 

Finally, Loki stopped squirming. He was stuffed full of Thor, sobbing softly.

“Fuck him,” said Tony.

Thor started to move.

“Harder,” said Tony. “Come on, he fucking loves it. Fuck him hard.”

Thor obeyed. Loki’s sobs became more rushed, breathy sounds turning into pleading moans. 

“Harder,” insisted Tony. “Let me hear it.”

Thor slammed himself in, slap-slap-slap-slap, and there was no mistaking the sounds coming from Loki now. Wanton, lustful, sustained, pleading, a cat in heat.

“That’s it,” whispered Tony softly, eyes fixed on Thor, petting Loki’s hair. “That’s it.” 

Now Tony pushed his thumb in Loki’s already gaping mouth, parting it wider, and drove his cock deep and rough inside his mouth. Loki’s sounds became muffled, then gurgling, as Tony began to fuck his throat. 

“Don’t slow down,” said Tony, breathy. “Come on, give it to him.”

Thor continued to thrust fast and hard. Loki was being shaken and jerked between the two of them, his moans becoming more urgent, high-pitched, muffled by having his mouth stuffed with cock, hn-hn-hn-hn…

Tony let him breathe for a moment. Loki whimpered and sobbed, still undone by Thor fucking him. All Thor could see was the back of his head, the tension of his back and arms. Not good enough anymore.

“I want to fucking see him,” growled Thor. He pulled out, released Loki’s legs. “Let’s roll him over.” 

Loki was pliant like a doll. On his back now, a deep dark pink indentation in the creamy skin of his groin and hips where the edge of the table had been digging in, a blush where he had been squashed. His back was arched over his arms, still bound behind him. He was panting, squirming as if charged with sensual electricity, as if pleasure still ran in his limbs. His face, eyes and mouth puffy and red, cheeks tear-streaked, and an expression of being away in a blissful trance. Thor stroked him all the way from his face, down his neck, over his chest and stomach, to his crotch and the inside of his legs, avoiding his cock. Loki blinked, as if returning to consciousness. Breathing hard, he looked around as if taking stock of the situation. His stare focused on Thor, and he groaned, throaty, hoarse.

“Green,” he coughed. “Fuck’s sake, green…”

He lazily started to strain again, although by now his shoulders must be aching. Thor pulled him down towards him, ass hanging over the edge. He slammed himself in. That stilled Loki, frozen. It was a different angle, and seemingly change was good right now. Loki was holding his breath, jaw hanging, waiting for developments. With a good hold of his hips, pinning him into place, Thor pulled almost completely out, and slammed in hard. 

Loki threw his head back, arching dramatically. 

“Fuuuck…!” he gasped. 

Tony leaned closer to Loki.

“God, look at you, pet, just look at you…” He kissed him, stroking his face with tenderness. Loki was pliant. “I want to eat you…” Tony’s kissed down his jaw and neck, down to his nipples. Rubbing and twisting and pinching the one with wet fingers, sucking and licking the other. Loki just took it and took it and took it, arching his head back, pleading, overcome by it all. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna come,” grumbled Thor.

“Don’t,” said Tony.

Thor was not in the habit of being told when to come, but he pulled out, panting hard, shivering deep.

Tony moved to take Thor’s spot between Loki’s legs, Thor stood by Loki’s side. He watched Tony lube up, slip on a condom. He watched him pushing Loki’s knees up, exposing his ass. He watched Tony hold himself in hand, and with an eye on Loki’s face, push inside him. Loki drew a long moan as Tony worked his hips, slowly and deliberately, aiming for the gold. Loki was holding his breath, being fucked by his other boyfriend in front of Thor’s eyes, and Thor was fucking dizzy with arousal. He too leaned in to kiss Loki, feeling him shaking and jerking as Tony’s thrusts became rougher. Loki moaned into his mouth, and Thor knew it was because of Tony’s cock inside him. Fuck. Just… fuck. 

“Thor,” panted Tony after a while, pulling out, his face blushed.

Thor got into position. How fucking weird, to put his dick where another man had just been. Not weird enough, clearly. Thor went at it like a man possessed. He was right on the fucking brink, and he just wanted to burst now. He gave it to Loki quick and dirty.

“Stop,” said Tony. “Let me.”

Thor was this fucking close from telling him to go fuck himself, but he didn’t. Pulled out, ruffling like a bull, and went straight to Loki’s side, to ravish his mouth. He was stroking himself, not enough to come, but unable to go without any stimulation at all while he waited for his next turn. Loki was smiling blissfully, with his eyes closed, kissing back lazily, moaning softly as Tony fucked him.

“Come on,” said Tony, after fucking Loki for a few minutes.

Thor shakingly slipped it in, sobbing from how very fucking close he was. He went for it, table legs screeching on the tiles from his push. Loki stared at him hazily, still smiling.

“Fuck… fuck…” he sobbed.

Thor felt Tony’s hand cup his jaw, turn his head slightly. Under Loki’s watchful eye, he leaned closer. His eyes dipped to Thor’s lips. Never stopping his thrusts, Thor muttered,

“Green.” 

Tony kissed him. Very lightly at first. One hand on Thor’s shoulder, then beginning to descend down his back when Thor didn’t stop him. And he didn’t stop him either when Tony’s hand was cupping his ass, or when he slipped his tongue inside his mouth. Loki wasn’t missing a beat, his gaze heady and fixed. Tony’s lips moved to Thor’s neck, his hands still touching, taking obvious pleasure from groping muscle and tracing sinews with greed. Thor was still moving, but he had lost pace.

“Come on,” whispered Tony close to the skin of Thor’s neck. “You can come now. All over him. Mark him. He’s yours.”

Sobbing, Thor pulled out, slipped the condom off, and took himself in hand. With Loki’s eyes on him, and Tony’s lips still on his skin, he came so fucking hard, a long, drawn out moan, painting Loki’s stomach and chest, white on white. He watched Loki beneath him, muscles strained from the bindings behind his back, his eyes hazy, but still piercing. He touched reverently the stripes of come on Loki’s body. 

And he took a step back, moving out of the way.

“Come on,” he muttered to Tony.

Tony didn’t waste a second. He grabbed Loki’s ankles, wrapped those long legs around himself. Started fucking him, whiplash moves. Thor was standing behind him now, watching the muscles of his back and ass tensing and bulging as he thrusted. Over Tony’s shoulder, he could see Loki’s face, his devastated expression. He pressed a kiss on Tony’s neck, and moved to stand by Loki.

He bent down to kiss Loki’s forehead, beaded with sweat, his lips, and then slipped his hand low to take Loki’s cock in his hand. He kept close to Loki, only far enough to be able to look at him and for Loki to see him. There were no more words, just another kiss on Loki’s lips, and Loki’s gasps becoming more urgent, more desperate. Suddenly Loki shuddered, shook up, and hot come started to dribble between Thor’s fingers. Thor slowed down and milked him well, twisting the head, Loki’s sounds so sweet, so relieved, his face serene. 

“Over him,” said Thor, when the tension in Tony’s face, and the stuttering in his thrusts, told him he was about to come. 

He heard Tony’s gasps as he came, but Thor didn’t see it. He was looking at Loki, and Loki was looking at him. 

He kissed him when there was silence, Loki’s mouth barely moving. Then Thor moved away to let Tony kiss Loki too. They both observed him, sprawled boneless on the table, pink splotches all over his white skin in all the places he had been squashed and roughed up, hair matted with sweat against his face, covered in their come and his own, breathing heavily, skin tensing on his ribs when his chest heaved, eyes hazy, out of focus.

“Fuck,” was pretty much all Thor could say.

Tony smiled, and he grabbed Loki’s arm gently.

“Help me sit him up,” he said, his tone very soft, as if he didn’t want to startle Loki. “Hold him while I untie him. Make sure he doesn’t fall to the side.” He got busy with the belts. 

And indeed, Loki crumbled against Thor’s body almost immediately, sagging like a bag of flour. 

Once he had untied him (deep pink indentations starkly visible on Loki’s white forearms), Tony eased Loki’s arms from the back to the front with huge care and rubbed the shoulder closest to him, pressing only very lightly. Loki groaned without words, his eyes droopy. 

“Okay, baby?” said Tony, though he didn’t seem to expect an answer. He kissed Loki’s temple. “Okay, let’s get him to the bedroom.”

Thor put one arm around Loki’s back, the other under his knees, and lifted him up. He was heavier than he seemed. He carried him bridal-style to the bed, stood by for a moment while Tony pulled back the covers. Thor put him down. Loki sluggishly rolled onto his side.

“Hang on, let’s clean you up,” said Tony, whispering as if Loki was a recovering patient. “Wait here with him,” he told Thor.

Thor kneeled on the floor by the bed, stroking Loki’s hair, while Tony disappeared into the bathroom. He returned with a box of wet wipes. 

“Wonderful things,” whispered Tony, as he cleaned Loki’s chest and stomach, his cock, balls, pubes, between his legs. 

“They’re Emma’s,” muttered Thor, grinning. It seemed like a funny joke to him.

Tony grinned too as he finished up. He looked tired. He was tucking Loki in, wrapping him up warm.

“Can you get us some water? And maybe some aspirin.”

Thor fetched a jug and three glasses, because there’s sharing, and then there’s sharing. 

Tony had curled up under the covers at Loki’s back when Thor returned, big spoon, holding him close to his body. Loki was docile, his eyes only half open, out of focus. Tony straightened up to take the glass Thor was offering.

“Baby, sit up a bit,” muttered Thor, helping Loki up to drink. He patiently waited until Loki had drained his glass in little sips, looking absent, and helped him lie down again.

Tony patted the bed in front of Loki.

“Snuggle up,” he whispered to Thor.

Thor drank up and slipped under the covers, facing Loki. Went to hug around his waist, and found lots of limbs under there. Between muffled giggles, they blindly manoeuvred with Tony to make room for each other. When they were done, Loki was cocooned between their bodies, wrapped in arms and legs, and looking so very peaceful, perfectly content. 

The light outside was dimming. Almost November already, short days. Loki’s gentle breathing. Tony’s gentle breathing. Thor’s own.

Thor thought Loki had gone to sleep, but then Loki twisted his neck to kiss Tony behind his back, a lazy kiss, taking all the time in the world. Tony closed his eyes in bliss, his expression full of love. Thor looked on -- his feeling of satisfaction and calm didn’t flicker, didn’t alter one breath. Loki looked so beautiful when he kissed. It was even better appreciated when he was kissing somebody else. Then Loki turned to Thor, eyes open a tired sliver, and tilted his face up to kiss him too. Thor gave it all he had, slowly, tenderly, and felt Loki’s body relaxing in his arms, as he let out a quiet hum. 

Loki broke the kiss, burrowed against his chest, face on the crook of his neck, the warmth of his breathing on Thor’s skin. Thor pressed his lips on Loki’s forehead. Again, there were no words. They weren’t needed. Soon after, Loki was asleep.

Thor met Tony’s eyes above Loki’s head. He was smiling. Thor smiled back. They stayed as they were for a long time. Their breathing fell into step. 

Thor would have thought he’d be too wired to sleep, that it was too early, but the warmth of Loki’s body, the bone-deep exhaustion that had seized him, and the light changing to twilight outside, were making his eyes heavy, his bones soft.

Tony disentangled himself, careful not to disturb Loki, and sat up. Thor noted again that he had a beautiful back. He had already thought that when he was watching him fuck Loki.

“I’m gonna head home,” whispered Tony.

With Loki’s arm around his waist, legs entangled and ankles hooked, and beginning to doze off himself, Thor wouldn’t be able to see him to the door, but perhaps they were beyond playing proper hosts at this point. 

Thor heard Tony in the bathroom, then the living room. When he came back into the bedroom, he was fully dressed, his hair a bit tamer. He looked at them with an expression that could be best described as fond. He leaned over Thor to press a firm, lingering kiss on Loki’s hair, with his eyes closed. Then he offered Thor a hand. Which Thor took, having to twist a bit, but managing a firm, lingering, meaningful shake. 

Thor had already closed his eyes when Tony put a kiss on his head too, just before he left.

* * *

Thor woke up to a silent apartment. For a moment, he did wonder where the hell he was (he hadn’t been here long. It still happened). The day was clear outside. His alarm clock said it was just gone nine. He had slept right through the night, no interruptions, no dreams, and his mind was rested and clear. How about that. 

Thor rolled to the other side, and smiled when he smelled Loki on the pillow. Tony's scent was there too, and that was alright. The events of the last two days reeled in his mind. The highlights of yesterday afternoon made his pulse ramp up. Well, he had one thing to say about his new life so far: it certainly wasn’t boring.

“Loki?” he asked, in a hoarse croak. Dry mouth.

No answer.

There was still some water in the jug. He got up sluggishly, stretching back and arms, and poured himself some.

“Loki?” he tried again, after a sip.

Nothing. Thor dragged himself up, yawning, and shuffled his feet to the dresser, for a t-shirt and some clean pants. Then he shuffled on to the bathroom. 

When he got to the living room, he found Loki sitting cross-legged on the couch, his back to Thor, an empty mug on the coffee table. He was fiddling with his phone, fingers nimble, working systematically: reading, scrolling, reading, typing, reading, scrolling again. He was wearing Thor’s bathrobe, which for some reason made Thor all fuzzy inside, and his hair was up in a messy bun, half coming undone. So fucking sexy already...

“Is Lakeside a good area?” asked Loki, without turning. His voice sounded raspier than usual. Which was no wonder, and put some flashbacks in Thor’s mind. Harrumph.

“Hm? Yeah, not bad,” he said.

The hell was he on about? Thor yawned, he scratched his hair.

“Hm,” acknowledged Loki.

“Why?”

“The rental prices are sky-high, though,” he said, as if he hadn’t heard him. “Completely obscene. And I rent in central London,” he noted, still not turning.

The what?

“Buying sounds more sensible,” sentenced Loki. “How are the schools there?”

Thor froze in astonishment. Only the wish to see Loki’s face to find out if he was taking the piss got him to move. He walked around the couch, stood in front of Loki with a stunned look, and ogled. Loki raised his eyes from the screen for a moment. His lips were still slightly puffy, his eyes too, but he had the sexiest little smirk, and he was just so fucking beautiful, goddammit. And was he really fucking house-hunting, and inquiring about schools? What was this, the Twilight Zone?

As Thor kept on ogling, Loki just rolled his eyes, and didn’t comment. He focused on his phone again. But the wider Thor’s smile became, the harder it got for Loki to reign his own smile in. He still made a most stubborn attempt, pursing his mouth to a cute pucker that only made Thor’s love-sick expression get worse. How he wanted to squeeze the living daylights out of his boyfriend right now. 

“How are your shoulders?” Thor asked softly.

“A warm bath and a nice rub with something soothing some time today wouldn’t hurt,” mumbled Loki absently, eyes on the screen.

“You got it,” said Thor. “What about… the rest?”

Loki looked up, a barely-there smirk.

“No rubbing for a while,” he said, with a naughty emphasis. “Soothingly or otherwise.”

Thor tried not to laugh this time. Not that he would be laughing at him, but you know, Loki.

Thor fell into a bit of a spell watching again. He was… ah, he ran out of words. He just wished he could stand there looking at him the whole day through. Or for the rest of their lives, probably. He opted for kissing his hair as he walked to the kitchen.

“Coffee?” he asked, already taking two mugs out of the cupboard.

“Had some already, but yeah,” answered Loki, still sounding like his mind was only half there.

Thor observed the mute back of Loki’s head for a moment. Considering the jumble of half-formed thoughts in his own mind right now, surging to the fore whenever the immediate present left them a gap, he wondered about Loki. The last couple of days had been a roller-coaster, the colossal rise and fall yesterday afternoon had been only the final turn of the screw. Loki seemed light, untroubled. Then again, he had a habit of hiding behind a mask, didn’t he? The more he felt, the more he hid. Thor guessed they should talk about it all more seriously at some point today, though perhaps not before coffee. Maybe while Loki was soaking in the tub, with Thor’s hands unknotting the kinks in his neck and shoulders? Yeah, good plan. 

They’d be talking about this later, but perhaps, for Thor’s peace of mind, they could touch on it just a little bit right now? 

“So… no baking?” Thor said, testing the grounds.

“There is no flour, no sugar, no raising agent of any kind,” chided Loki, shocked and appalled. “Who doesn’t have a miserable packet of sugar in the house?”

“I don’t take it.” 

“Unbelievable,” grumbled Loki.

Thor chuckled. 

“But you… you’re okay?” he said. “You’re feeling, uh… Are you okay?”

A brief silence from Loki.

“I’m good,” he said, mutedly. “I’m great.”

Thor wasn’t sure whether the quiet tone was insincerity or shyness, but asking “are you sure?” didn’t feel like the wisest move right now. He would have to trust Loki on this, and trust him too that he would say something if he wasn’t okay, when he was ready for it. Right? 

“Good,” Thor said. The matter was adjourned. “Have you had breakfast?

“No. I wanted something sweet. You don’t even have cookies or a pot of jam!”

“I have bananas.”

“Fuck off.”

Thor laughed heartily.

“I don’t go to the gym as often lately,” he explained, “and when I’m left to my own devices, I’ve been known to pig out in front of the TV. I have to be careful with what I keep in the house, what with nobody policing me in the evenings when I’m bored.” He patted his stomach. “Not so young anymore.”
“Yeah, clearly, you’re in terrible shape,” mumbled Loki sarcastically.

Thor laughed again.

“Well, you won’t be left to your own devices anymore,” said Loki, definitely sounding a bit shy now, under the fake curtness. Then, in a more suggestive purr, “And I guarantee that you’ll be getting plenty of exercise in the evenings from now on.”

Thor laughed some more. Everything was wonderfully amusing this morning.

“I need something sweet. Get me something sweet,” demanded Loki, bratty.

“There’s a deli a couple of streets down.”

“Excellent.” And when Thor didn’t rush to the door, Loki urged him, “So? Do they deliver or something? I was hoping to get it some time this week.”

Thor chuckled, completely unfazed. He had a long gulp of coffee, humming in celebration, welcoming the drink in his system and the boy on his couch into his daily routine, which had just become a hundred times better. He put Loki’s cup on the table, coffee with a good serving of milk to temper the bitterness, as he preferred it himself. They needed sugar to make it Loki’s way.

Thor had finished his first cup in a couple of gulps. He went to make himself another. Leaning against the breakfast bar, behind the couch, he could see a sliver of Loki’s neck, exposed between the fluffy collar of the bathrobe, and his silken black hair up in a bun. The dip at the nape was irresistible. He drew close to kiss it. Loki smelled wonderful. Thor pressed and brushed his lips there again and again, as he breathed him in, humming with delight.

“Get off…” grumbled Loki, squirming to shake him, although his skin was pearled with goose pimples.

“Hmm… Don’t you like it?”

Loki grumbled some more.

“Too much,” he admitted, reluctantly. “But I’m in no condition to do anything about it right now. I’m fucking shocked that you are.”
“With you? Always.”

“Yes, well, I’m not,” declared Loki severely, with one last wiggle of his shoulder. “Get me my chocolate.”

“I’ll go for a shower first. Join me?”

“In this naughty mood? Hell, no. Besides, I’m busy.”

“House-hunting,” said Thor, unable to leave the tone of disbelief out of his voice.

“Well, I can’t leave it to you, clearly,” Loki gesticulated to their surroundings.

Thor laughed, his mood soaring.

“Anything else besides chocolate?”

“Flour, sugar, raising agent of some sort, vanilla extract, syrup, blueberries, eggs if you don’t have them… Do you have a waffle iron?”

“Um, no.” And he wasn’t sure the shop would stock half of that stuff either. Mentally, he was already driving to the supermarket in the mall...

“We need one,” declared Loki. “Kids love waffles.”

“You mean, you love waffles,” he teased. “Emma doesn’t even have teeth yet.”

“Chocolate, Thor!” snapped Loki.

“Okay, okay, going now…” he chuckled. 

He risked a little detour to leave one more kiss on his boyfriend’s hair. When he felt him, Loki threw his head back, lips pursed, eyes closed, waiting. Thor couldn’t refrain from staring at him with a look of adoration of such unabashed cheesiness, it was guaranteed to turn the stomach of any potential spectators, which luckily they did not have. He kissed him, his eyes closed in bliss. And practically melted when he heard Loki hum in content. 

It wasn’t easy to tear himself apart. Loki did it himself.

“Chocolate, now,” he demanded, although he didn’t manage to sound half as bratty this time.

Thor was smiling from ear to ear when he stepped under the shower. He threw his face up for the spray to hit it fully. He sighed deeply, walking on air. A stray thought came to mind. What a year he’d had.