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Chapter Text

        As much as Loki loves the rush of a victory well earned, the noisy, idiotic parties that followed were not as favorable.

        Cheers and congratulations filled the room, echoing their victory throughout the entire village as the team of six settled down for a late night celebration. Peter Quill and Luna ran just about everything, of course, keeping music playing and drinks flowing till the team of 'morons' (affectionately named) were completely incapacitated. As they began to grow and work together as an unconventional team and learned how to function as a unit, their successes and therefore parties also grew in number.

        To the disappointment of the new king of Asgard; Loki.

        They had a room in Tokyo 2099 given to them for free, on account of their victory. Peter Quill may have ran out of bullets mid fight, but he never quite seemed to run out of alcohol, thankfully. Loki felt great pity for whoever lived next to the alcoholic superheroes resting here.

        There weren't a whole lot of options for his own entertainment during these nights. Peter and Luna often ended up doing karaoke while black out drunk, or something even more ridiculous. Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes would be nearby, the two soldiers engaged in their own intimate conversation and watching the other two in amusement. They were...fine enough, not too annoying, but couldn't hold his attention for long.

        It almost always ended with him in the corner, being stuck there until it was an acceptable time to steal a drink and dip. He found himself on this night resting by the doorstep that led to the outdoors porch, watching over the party and practically picking his poison when it came to socialization. Which, of course, was not at all what a proper celebration should be. Typically, he was already dead drunk by now, with plenty of beautiful men and women to keep his company, and entertainment to last the whole night. Never once has he been stone cold sober and standing in the corner like a hermit, waiting for it to end. Midgardians truly had no class.

        Reminiscing of Asgardian parties of the past, he realized that the warm feeling on his back wasn't just from the fond memories.

        “Not a wise idea to sneak up on the god of mischief, Golden Boy. Unless you'd like being turned into a snake.”

        Adam took a step back at Loki’s irritation. “Didn't mean to, Laufeyson. My apologies.” Unconsciously, he drifted forward again. Not one for personal space, Loki was realizing.

        “Are you not one for these sorts of events? I've noticed you wander off most times.”

        Loki scoffed, and turned to face him, leaning on the doorframe. “Noticed me, have you? I'm truly flattered.” The simple waiting in those glowing eyes unnerved him somehow, and he continued. “But ‘these sorts’?" He rolled his eyes. "Those cheap drinks they buy can't even get me drunk.”

        Warlock tilted his head, like a curious dog. “These sorts? As opposed to the ones you had in Asgard, yes?”

        He sighed in exhaustion, moreso annoyance at his obvious sobriety than Adam's obvious questions. “Yes, and furthermore, the Asgardian alcohol. Sometimes I wonder if it's the thing I miss most.” He sneered, and drifted away from the noise and chaos of the other four and went to the edge of the balcony, overlooking a dangerous cliff that several incapacitated people probably shouldn't be anywhere near.

        “I doubt that.” Adam responded softly, with a disgusting amount of genuinity.

        Loki looked back at him in disbelief. “For Odin’s sake… The one thing I can't tell yet is if you're really that naive or just playing them all. If so, I must say, you're doing a grand job.”

        Adam shook his head, laughing gently at the thought of it. “I don't think I could fool the god of mischief with an act like that.” He came to stand beside Loki, the golden light he seemed to naturally emit warming his conversely cold self. His blue skin seemed to blend in, matching the cool night of the city, while Adam stood out like a newborn star.

        “Well of course, but… you're so damn earnest. Can't blame me for suspecting.” His sly gaze slid over to the mortal’s, who was watching the bright lights of the city flash and flicker.

        “I wouldn't expect much less from you, Loki. I only hope time can change that.” Loki's shoulders tensed, and before he could even begin to process whatever that was, Adam quickly followed it huffing “And I'm really not as ‘naive’ as all of you claim.” Way easier to respond to (a mercy to him or Adam, he wasn't quite sure).

        “Don't worry, golden boy. We all find your innocence rather adorable.” He teased. It wasn't a lie. Poor Warlock was treated like a child by practically the entire team, ignoring the fact that he's saved them many fights before.

        “Meaning you as well?” A soft smile appeared, and Adam almost looked smug. As smug as he could look, that is. “Maybe I have fooled you indeed, Laufeyson.”

        Loki was momentarily stunned. Again? Twice in one conversation? The man he assumed to be nothing but simple fun was starting to look like a threat, and he was not a fan of it.

        “Hardly, mortal. I can see right through it.” Loki shakily attempted to regain his footing. It didn't really work, if Adam's small chuckle was anything to go by.

        That's was the worst part, wasn't it?  Adam left Loki fumbling for a grip like a fool while he himself hardly seemed phased. He hated the hint of amusement in his eyes, the one Loki usually has when messing with mortals. There has to be a dent, an insecurity somewhere in Adam's holy facade as to unnerve him as he's unnerved Loki.

       "Does it not anger you how our team treats you? You're hardly a danger to me, of course, but compared to them you might deserve a bit more respect. Take it." The last two words are whispered like the tempting sin they are, begging him to bite.

        But of course, Adam shook his head, a holy saint loyally refusing a snake's apple. “My teammates aren't meant to be intimidated. I'm here to support them.” He looks back at their fun, watching Star Lord mock the opposing team’s Iron Fist crudely (as if he didn't get wiped out by him three times). “Besides, it's not entirely their fault. The majority of their Midgardian jokes don't make sense to me.”

        Hardly an exaggeration. The sheer amount of snide remarks and dirty jokes that flew over his head were almost impressive. He wasn't exactly simple minded, as Loki may or may not have called him a few times, just… innocent to an extreme.

        Loki rolled his eyes, scoffing at his unshakable sympathy for the morons he called allies. “Really? You're telling you don't want to put them in their place, make them regret underestimating you?” He leaned in a bit, eyes reverently watching every last detail of the man’s unchanging expression to gage a reaction. Any twitch or shatter to his demeanor was a reward to him, addictive. 

        “Do you feel underestimated, Laufeyson?” Warlock turned to him, simple curiosity evident in his face, oblivious to how he once again pulled the carpet from out under Loki's feet. The searching in his eyes proved too much and he folded his arms, shifting his body away from the golden boy.

        “Well... I suppose these mortals could stand to treat me like a god, and not just someone to bother for healing.” He rolled his eyes, recalling the annoyances of battle. “After all, it'll do them no good to disrespect the god of mischief…None of your business anyhow.” He meant to close the uncomfortable topic off there, but Adam was never really one for social cues.

        “I didn't exactly mean them. I'm well aware of your stance there, but when it comes to Thor, I've noticed you seem to overcompensate-”

        “That's enough, Warlock. I suggest you stop now, if you'd like to live another day.”

        His heated glare seemed to stop dead at Warlock’s light, kind expression and fall flat. How on earth could he still pleasantly smile at him, almost amused, was unknown to Loki. “As you wish.”

        To his credit, he did quiet after, leaving the two of them to watch the bright night sky and the constant movement and flow of the city. The noises of the bustle were serene from this far, and seemed to cloud the air in their lungs and put them at peace if just for a moment. The great distance from the heart of the city also resulted in more stars to be seen in the sky, twinkling dimly but still there. The chaos of the team behind them had faded, Starlord and Luna most likely knocked out on the couch (or floor) while Steve and Bucky retired to their room. The rumors spread about the two tomorrow would be intolerable, but for now, the brief calmness would at least do in cooling him off. Loki briefly wondered if it was part of his powers, like Mantis. 

        There was something else in the air, besides the smell of bad whiskey and fresh sakura blossoms. Loki always prized what was the very opposite of himself; the shiny, the pristine, the golden. Something that was perfect, untouchable. Something begging to be both worshipped and ruined. That exact force seemed to emanate from Warlock in his playful innocence, drawing him in hypnotically. On any other night, Loki might've envied him, might've even hated him for all he was, but on this late night, he was curious about the mortal.

        “Warlock.”

        He startled slightly, turning to Loki. “Hm?”

        “You were curious about Asgardian gatherings earlier, yes?” Adam only nodded, the gentle curiosity back. No apprehension at what the trickster was up to. Absolutely foolish, but it made his face warm stupidly nonetheless. “Have you ever drank before, dear?”

        “Only once. Peter insisted, but I must say, I was… not a fan of the experience.” Loki wrinkled his nose. Quill, cheap beer, and one's first time drinking are a recipe for disaster.

        “I can only imagine.” He stood up smoothly, waiting a moment for the other to get the memo and join him, before walking back to the house. “So, I've decided to celebrate my victory by giving you the true Asgardian experience of a celebration.”

Chapter Text

     “I assume you were not able to reach past sobriety during your first time, yes?” Loki questioned while pouring the two of them glasses, Adam’s being half the amount of his. “One of the reasons I can tolerate you is because you're somewhat better than a mortal. But, a drawback is you will need something stronger.”

     Adam watched him speak like a disciple, nodding along. “That explains it then. I was only given a mild headache.”

     Loki sneered, amused at the Star Lord’s idiocy. Of course the golden being himself wouldn't be affected by his Midgardian drinks.

     “Then this truly is your first time, isn't it? I await with bated breath to see what kind of a drunk you are.” He snickered to himself. One must wonder, was he really all that perfect when finally intoxicated? Was he messy? Was he bolder? What cracks in his perfectness will finally show themselves?

     Caught up in his own excited thoughts, he nearly missed the small crease between the other's eyebrows. “I hope you didn't make me go all the way to get this and then back out. People who waste my time often live to regret it.”

     Honestly, it wasn't that much of an ordeal, and he was planning to treat himself anyways, but Warlock didn't need to know that. He simply asked Heimdall to take him to his old quarters, where he had a stash that could rival Quill’s. He, of course, didn't want to throw away his best wine when Adam’s palette was nowhere near developed enough to properly appreciate it, but he picked a strong and pleasant tasting one to ensure it was a good time for the both of them.

     “No, no, of course not. It's just…” He glanced over at the passed out Luna Snow that was snoring away on the couch. “I doubt I'll like it if it's anything like what I experienced.

     Loki raised an eyebrow. “You 'don't think you'll like it?’” He runs a hand over his face, before putting a drink in front of each of them. “My dear Adam, I promise you…” He looks at him from underneath his eyelashes, words sliding off his tongue hypnotically (this method of seducing, of course, being reserved for when he really needs someone to make up their mind). “Being intoxicated is one of the best feelings in the world. You'll feel higher than anything, relaxed, and less… inhibited as you might be normally.”

     “You think I'm inhibited?”

     “Drink, Warlock.”

     He nervously grabs the small shot glass, biting his perfect golden lip in apprehension.

     “We could switch if you believe it's poisoned.” Loki chuckles, watching the man fidget in amusement. “You wouldn't be the first to accuse me.” 

     “I know you wouldn't do that.” Loki’s smile drops, just as Adam tips back his head and drinks the whole thing before sputtering and coughing at the harsh taste. “Y-you didn't exaggerate the strength, trickster. Do Asgardians really drink entire glasses of this?”

     Downing his own glass effortlessly, Loki tilts his head with a mocking grin. “You'll get used to it. If all goes well, I might've found me a drinking partner for my time here.” Pouring them both another glass, Adam is shocked to find that he's excited, a sense of thrill running like an electric current through his heart. In the bitterness of the taste, there's an undertone of sweetness that coats his mind very thinly, so thinly that he takes his next shot even quicker. He's growing addicted to this new feeling alone.

     He coughs again, clearing his throat. “So how long does it take?” Now that the high of the first drink is gone, he's looking forward to all Loki had promised him.

     That visible anticipation greatly amused Loki, a desire never before seen from Adam and something he could easily watch for days. Maybe the drinks are already fogging up whatever part of his brain keeps his actions as spotless as his gold skin.

     “Patience, Warlock. You’re still a lightweight, it won't take much for you. Which is why I recommend you take it slow. Enjoy it.” He advised, as much as he'd love to see Adam drink himself silly and fall apart right in front of him. No, not today at least. He was going to take this slow as well. Savor it. Savor the perfect human’s descent like the richest wine in all of Asgard.

     . . .

     Neither remembers when, or even why, but somehow, they ended up outside again.

     A strange sight to see, the feared god of mischief and the perfect human being laying out on the back porch, unconsciously close for warmth and laughing together softly in between slurred jokes and stories as the bottles got lighter and lighter.

     An even stranger sight would be the ease in Loki’s shoulders or that sweet soft murmur of Adam’s beginning to stumble over itself as time passed. It was well past midnight, but the lights of the city continued to illuminate them in half cast shadows. The illusion of an intimate privacy was created by the small amount of trees framing the area and the wafer thin door slid shut.

     Adam felt looser, like a knot had been slowly undone, not all the way, but enough that a strong tug would send him falling apart. It'd be clear to anyone who knows him that it's his first time, his laughter less suppressed (though still as soft as usual),and those golden eyes of his were hazy and shifting all around Loki’s face in a searching quest with no set goal in mind.

     Handling alcohol wasn't typically a problem for the trickster, but for the first time in centuries, he was slurring his words like a juvenile. He could've gotten drunk enough on how drastic the change in Adam was though. Even the small differences, his lowered eyelids or how he'd move a bit closer every now and then, didn't slip past him. He's kept a close enough eye on him to notice anything by now.

     But he's been staring for too long, as their eyes meet.

     “Why are you watching me like that, trickster?” Adam asks with that curious voice again, the one that doesn't accuse him at all yet leaves him feeling see-through. The sweet innocence in his voice relieves him of the duty to bite back all too suddenly, but his teeth on guard just in case it was a ruse.

     “You don't assume it's because you're thee perfect being?” He rolls his eyes, only out of memory. Oh to be revered like that, like his brother. Like Adam.

     Adam thinks to himself, not noticing or not pointing out any animosity Loki may have. “I… am aware some may stare because of that. The other guardians joked it was worship." He laughed lightly at the end, like it's a ridiculous thought. Which it really wasn't.

     No matter what he said about striving to reach perfection, most would argue he's pretty much there. He's seen teammates and rivals alike look at him reverently, like he's hung the stars, himself shamefully included. And he has the nerve to question it. Loki should've felt absolute rage at this, at such a gift being given to someone else, a mortal nonetheless, but he didn't. He's never worshipped anyone besides himself, but this feeling might be the closest thing.

     These are all dazed thoughts that somehow emerge as “Have you been stared at during parties, Warlock? The ones with Quill?” He's only heard of these disastrous times, and he's only inferred that Adam spent the entire time in the corner obliviously missing all attempts at flirting, and he's only hoped Adam turned them down.

     “Of course. My appearance must catch some eyes, since it's such a dark room.” 

     So wise yet so clueless. “Do you really think that's all there is to it?” He puts a suggestive emphasis on it, praying he'll finally catch on. In the swimming mess that was becoming his brain, the lines of curiosity were starting to blur dangerously with flirting, but that's alright. A little harmless flirting never hurt him, as long as it stayed that way. Plenty have tempted his eyes (and more importantly, his hands) here, and who was Loki not to give into temptation.

     “...” Adam only looks at the distance between them, the grass lightly ruffled by the pleasant breeze barely keeping the heat in their cheeks muted. “I think I know what you mean, I just don't entirely understand yet.”

     Loki chuckles. “What's there not to understand, 'Golden Boy?' You're attractive, people are drunk, and they want you.” His voice slurs on the last sentence, and Loki sees a shiver go through Adam. It's plenty to see his words affect him like that, but it's nowhere near enough. He's only just gotten a taste of the golden gladiator, and he can't find it in him to quit.

     “And just what do they want from me, Laufeyson?” He asks, and if Loki hadn't been talking with him for a while now, he wouldn't have known he was playing coy.

     Loki tilts his head, a small smirk playing on his lips. He expected to be entertained by the mortal, but he was starting to have fun. “I'm starting to think you're not the naive man everyone thinks you are. There's something underneath that shimmering skin, isn't there?” Oh, he's long known, but the act of being caught, of being uncovered, is just too good.

     “Caught once again. Can't fool the God of lies, can I?” The teasing tone was light and barely there, but there was something behind it that spurred him on far too much. “Yes, I know their intentions. I've never allowed them to have their way, however.” His eyebrows furrow a bit. “I figured it'd be wrong to do so when I don't feel the same desire.”

     Loki froze in his tracks, sweat turning cold thrillingly on the back of his neck. Was he misunderstanding the situation, exploiting Adam’s naivety? Or worse, was he, the King of Asgard, about to be let down gently?

     Ready to retreat, he asked cautiously “So, you have never felt that desire. Ever?”

     Adam seems to think a bit, breathing heavy. His perfect golden cheekbones turn a light dusting of pink when he whispers back softly “I didn't say never.”

     And, damn it, for all his caution and carefulness, seeing the shy yet expecting look in Adam’s eyes seemed to throw all logic out the window and replace it all with barely concealed impulse. He doesn't feel a morsel of regret in his body when he (desperately) asks “Would you let me kiss you?”

     The seconds that Adam took to process that felt like years, horribly long and dreadful years spent waiting on the edge of his seat. It's all he can do not pounce on him when Adam finally nods with a beautiful juvenile excitement in his eyes.

     His hand tilts his perfectly crafted chin up towards him, and he takes the chance to take him in, like an artist their sculpture. Briefly map out his defined cheeks, straight nose, fluttering eyelashes that blink up at him expectantly, hair that spreads out around his head in a glowing halo when he pushes him onto his back. Perfect indeed. The only flaw must be that those perfect lips, sharp as an archer's bow, aren't on his yet.

     He must've taken too long, for Adam lunges forward to capture his lips first.