BEFORE (PART II)
Loki listened quietly as Anthony explained his plan; as plans go, it wasn’t a bad one. Oh, there were holes, of course there were- the other man had had maybe ten minutes to come up with one; this, though, this was better than the fear and panic that had been radiating off of him once he’d learned what Loki had done to save him.
This was Anthony Stark, the genius, the hero, the man who always had tricks up his sleeves and iron will in his heart. This was the mind Loki had fallen in love with some five odd years ago when they had quite literally crashed into each other during some rather boring charity gala Loki had been forced to attend in order to better learn the more political side of Midgardian interaction.
***
“Ow, fuck!” The smaller man looked up from his inelegant sprawl on the ground, fire dancing in his eyes.
“Do try to watch where you’re going,” Loki sniffed, gazing down his nose at the vulgar little mortal with disgust in his eyes.
“Wha- me?” The man struggled to his feet and Loki merely watched, mildly amused as the mortal swayed and stumbled in his attempt, clearly drunk out of his mind. “I need to- no, no, you’re the fuckin’ giant, you watch where you’re going.” His voice got quieter as he grumbled to himself. “No respect, these damn politicians.”
“I assure you, I am no politician,” Loki flashed a sharp smile with too many teeth. “Diplomat, if you must.”
The mortals lip curled as he ran his eyes over Loki’s person- and then his whole demeanor changed, shoulders shifting backwards, head raising higher, hands tucking delicately into his pockets, back going straight despite the open and relaxed posture he still held, eyes alight with something else, something sharper, something...burning.
Loki took this all in stride, eyes sweeping the man for a name tag that was not there, head tilting slightly to view the rather confusing mortal standing before him as an entirely different man that he had been just moments before, melting seamlessly into something much more than the uncoordinated, vulgar drunkard, something stronger, something warmer and brighter and sharper, shrewd in ways Loki had always admired.
Clearly, the mortal knew this song and dance well, the delicate balance between condescension and falsified respect that those in any position of power were required to learn.
“Diplomat, huh?” the mortal asked, voice pitched lower, almost husky, and Loki’s brows shot up towards his hairline. “Well, that I can get on board with. What do I call you, sweetheart?”
Loki made a face, nose scrunching slightly in distaste. “Certainly not that. You may call me Luke. Luke Silverstone.” He motioned to the name tag stuck just above his breast pocket, disdain curling his lip, obvious in his motion to say ‘can’t you read?’.
“Luke, huh?” The other asked, ignoring the gesture in favor of waggling his eyebrows with an obnoxious grin. “I think we both know that’s not your real name, though, don’t we?”
Loki felt himself tense, surprise and a hint of anger stiffening his spine.
“Excuse me?” He asked coldy, muscles coiling tighter when the mortal simply laughed at his question.
“No, no,” the mortal said with a grin once he’d caught his breath. “Not laughing at you, I swear. Well, okay, maybe a little. You just-” He waved a hand. “Nothing, no, nevermind. Well, when you figure it out…” The mortal pulled an empty stick on name tag from his breast pocket and scribbled something on it before folding it in half and handing it to Loki.
He eyed it warily for a moment before delicately tucking it into his pocket.
“Don’t look so scared,” the mortal said, shooting him a wink. “It won’t explode or anything, I promise. I know I have a reputation, but I’m really not that bad.”
“Oh?” Loki raised an unimpressed brow.
“Oh yeah, things only explode about seventeen percent of the time in my presence,” the mortal said as he nodded sagely.
That...wasn’t entirely comforting. Loki said as much, earning himself another bright laugh.
“Oh, I like you,” the man crooned.
“Lucky me,” Loki said dryly.
“You should feel that way,” the other man said with a chuckle. “But really, I’d love to talk shop. It’s not often I get to meet off-worlders, and I’d love to discuss magic with you. Which, by the way, I absolutely do not believe is in any way, shape or form related to science, understood or no, thank you very much. But if it is, by any chance, even a little bit related to what I do, I’ll figure it out.”
The mortal spoke confidently, ignoring the jolt of surprise and suspicion that Loki knew made his eyes flare an ethereal green for the half second it took him to regain control.
“Very few mortals can...do what I do,” Loki spoke slowly, still unsure as to how much he should (could) share with this mortal.
The man laughed in delight, tossing his head back to expose the muscled line of his throat, bright eyes wrinkling at the corners, callused fingers coming up to splay over his chest. It was...perhaps more pleasant a sight than Loki would care to admit.
“Don’t you worry about that, sweetheart.” The man grinned and there was something behind it, something sharp; something calculating and intense and just on the right side of dangerous. “Not many can do what I do, either.”
And with that, the mortal was...there was no other word for it, he was sashaying away, the crowd parting wordlessly before him and closing seamlessly behind him once he was through.
Loki’s tongue darted out to wet his lips as he watched after the mortal long after he was gone, confusion, lust, caution, and delight warring for attention within him.
Finally, he pulled the paper from his pocket and unfolded it, a startled laugh pulling from his throat as he read it.
Written on the note was a phone number, address, and, right beneath it in an elegantly messy scrawl;
“You Know Who I Am.”
***
And so Loki listened until his lover had finished speaking his ideas; the two spent hours debating and arguing and polishing off their plans until they had A through D thoroughly discussed; and even then, Loki felt his doubts and fears wash restlessly through his mind.
Anthony watched him closely for a moment before saying,
“You’re unsure.”
Loki took a moment to gather his thoughts, parse through what he thought he wanted to say versus what he actually needed to say; to find the words that usually came so easily to him but then, it wasn’t often his mind was as chaotic and messy as this. His recent time in Thanos’s less than delicate hands made it difficult to sort through the jagged edges of his mind without getting cut.
“No,” Loki said finally. “No, I am not unsure. I am hesitant.”
“Is there a difference?”
“In this instant, yes.” He nodded. “I have no doubts we can make this work, especially if we manage to get the backing of your Avengers and of Asgard.”
“But…?”
“But,” Loki sighed, shook his head. “Do you truly trust me to wield the power of all six Infinity Gems?” He looked up, met Anthony’s eyes head on, and waited.
Anthony was silent for a moment, likely gathering his own thoughts and carefully phrased words, before finally speaking.
“I trust you to want what’s best.”
“And if my...goals do not align with yours?” Loki asked cautiously.
Anthony smiled, as if he’d been expecting this.
“They don’t have to. Not all of them, at least. We both agree Thanos needs to be stopped, yes?”
Loki nodded.
“And do we both agree his army needs to be taken out as well?”
Loki nodded again.
“And that we need need to try to make it out of this alive so we can start our life together again?”
Again, Loki nodded, warmth washing over him at Anthony’s words, pride and happiness coloring his cheeks faintly pink.
Anthony’s smile brightened, warmed, and he took Loki’s hands and squeezed soothingly. Loki didn’t let show how much he truly needed the comfort.
“Then, unless you’re planning on trying to take over any planets, all of our goals don’t need to align. Just those ones.” Anthony shrugged, added, “And if you go haywire? I’ll stop you.” It was spoken with such conviction, such simplicity, as if it were merely a fact, not a near impossibility.
“You think you could stop me when I have all of the gems at my disposal?” Loki asked, not threatening, never towards Anthony, but genuinely (morbidly) curious.
“Yes.” Anthony nodded, words falling easily from his tongue. “Because if it’s the fate of my universe on the line, I’ll always find a way.”
And Loki Laufeyson, Trickster, God of Mischief and Lies, had never heard anything ring so true.