Reach
When he wakes it is to a scent he is with familiar that brings the name ‘Loki’ to his thoughts, as he shifts a bit, confined, by limbs curled around him keeping him in this solid, warm embrace, his face to pulsing soft flesh, Loki’s warm neck. Hardly conscious Tony burrows into the warmth arms tightening round the figure whose own squeeze him in turn,
surely awake and Tony panics slightly eyes widening. Then Loki retreats so he feigns briefly sleep, before he feels the mattress puff with the loss of the god’s weight, peeks to see Loki stand, the sheets by magic fixing in place as though he’d never slept there, just as the door clicks open.
He turns finds Thor entering hears Loki argue: “Is it truly so difficult a concept to grasp? Knocking,” settles into the armchair. Thor paused to take in the scene, Tony’s weary form straightening and concedes:
“My apologies. I meant not to disturb. I understand Tony requires rest.”
“It’s okay. I’m up.”
“How do you fair?”
“Good. Better,” he glances at Loki, who is looking at him.
“That is excellent. Come join us for breakfast.”
“Yeah, give us a bit. We’ll be right out.”
“Of course,” he leaves and shuts the door this time. Loki stands.
“Coffee?”
“Uh, yeah. Yeah.” Loki nods and exits. Tony settles in place leaning back against the headboard,
trying to process, recollect, what’d occurred the prior night,
remembering Loki’s voice and Loki’s soft strokes, remembering his wake in his friend’s embrace the intimacy that is unmistakably felt, and he asks himself, like often he does where Loki is concerned, just what he’s doing.
He and Pepper were on a break again this time possibly definite, is a thought that occurs to him each time they are
but this time, there feels a certainty to it, in how he’s quick to discard the thought in favor of other,
in favor of pondering like often he does how he perceives the mage the former war-criminal, that reenters the room and rejoins him in bed, handing him coffee exactly how he drinks it he can’t recall when Loki had memorized this, when even had he cared to know. When had he cared when had he started to care that this care would show, the way it had in the heart of the night and Tony says after some moments: “…Sorry I uh. Woke you, last night.”
Receding the mug from his lips Loki glances his way, head shook faced forth. “I was already up.”
“…Yeah, well. Didn’t make sleep any easier did I?” Loki’s answer this time is louder, a firmness to it Tony doesn’t expect in response to the humor.
“I don’t know what you’re accustomed to, but apologies or gratitude I won’t have,” eyes fix on him resolute and somehow, warm, a warmth to the stern tone. “You will stop with the nonsense. And you will let me help you,” leave him stunned. An absent smile blooms in his eyes that watch Loki sip at his coffee disgruntled. Warmth pools in his heart that raced as he faced away blushing fiercely. He teased:
“Pretty demanding, Lokes. You know that doesn’t take well with me.”
“We’ll see,” the god answers in absolute mischief, infectious and Tony grins wide, shakes his head sips. The quiet grows comfortable swiftly like always between them.
Like always they are seated adjacent whatever the room, like always they’re murmuring amongst themselves wicked grins and smirks worrying, as if they plot behind turned backs, which they were but at night, when they retire to their room lay in bed planning their sneak out. They could just up and leave and do as they please, who was anyone to say no? But the trick is part of their fun, just as is to gossip and mock and talk, talk on whatever nonsense.
Like always when Tony works Loki’s just by him, reading or on his phone, teasing or even helping sometimes. As he sits with his laptop Bruce brings to the desk his tablets, the smith waves off. So the doctor turns to the god, who takes it so he leaves. And when he leaves Tony looks, where his hand lay now in Loki’s, another pill placed into his palm and a daring look in green eyes, daring to refuse him so Loki’ll plays his next move.
And how eager Tony is, to be subject to his next move, is precisely why he complies promptly. Because there’s eyes and ears around them, and his thoughts are unhelping the images prompted. After everything, Tony never thought himself for the matter. But this pestering obstinate part of him, wants Loki to make him. Not just but for knowing that Loki will.
He never thought he’d grow eager to find sleep let sleep find him either, as he easily shares his bedspace with the god of mischief,
the one that wakes him in the middle of the night to medicate him, the one that stays up and plays with his hair till again sleep takes him, the one he wakes up in the arms of, the one he drinks his morning coffees with. How easy this is how natural it feels, sometimes scares him.
How quickly and intensely these buried feelings surface how he fails to recall sometimes one single reason, not to reach out, like Loki keeps reaching for him.