BEFORE (PART. V)
As their future battle drew closer, Loki saw less and less of Anthony.
Any time they spent searching for the final Infinity Stones was easily doubled by that which Anthony spent in his lab.
Anthony dodged easily, whenever Loki pondered what had stolen his attention so thoroughly, so he quickly learned not to ask, lest he find himself distracted by his lover folding to his knees with a mischievous smirk, purring “don’t we have better things to do with our time, Snowflake?” and, well, that certainly wasn’t something Loki could argue with.
This time, however, had been the longest Anthony had ever stayed in his lab since Loki’s return.
It had been five days since they had gotten the Time Stone, and Loki hadn’t seen his lover for four and a half of them.
Loki had even taken to pestering JARVIS, who had apologetically stated that Anthony was on full lock down and was not to be bothered for anything less than life threatening- which unfortunately included annoyed (lonely) gods.
After his latest failed attempt at drawing his lover from his lab, Loki sighed and wandered into their bedroom, drawing Anthony’s favorite, god awful pink blanket around him. It really was terribly soft and warm, and a good substitute for his lovers arms, despite its bubblegum shade.
Quietly, Loki let his magic flow throughout the room, idly straightening small messes or folding strewn about clothing, windows opening to let in the cool air and the scent of saltwater, soft pink and orange light from the setting sun warming the room, the lamp flickering on beside the puffy chair he had settled himself onto.
His newest novel was drawn from his pocket dimension and, whilst he waited for his absent lover, he began to read.
***
It wasn’t the first time, Loki knew, and it certainly wasn’t going to be the last that he waited for days upon days for Anthony to return from the lab.
Whereas before, Loki would have been beside himself with concern (Anthony had spent most of the time in his lab drinking and drunkenly tinkering, when he had first returned from Afghanistan), now he only felt mild loneliness and exasperated fondness.
Anthony had healed, slowly but surely, the broken cracks filling in, the fire returning to his eyes, the laughter to his soul, the very warmth he had radiated growing stronger with each passing day until Loki was drawn in, irrevocably and unequivocally, like a moth to a flame, his own fear of burning long since passed.
This time, Loki had not seen Anthony for three days and it grated on him, the need to hold his lover, to kiss him, but he could not find it in himself to bother, not when he knew this only happened when it was something truly important.
And so he waited, unhappy but content enough, moving quietly through his daily routines, idly chatting with JARVIS, reading, working; anything, really, to pass the time.
It was peaceful, in a way; Anthony was fire and he was passion and he was curiosity and so incredibly bright, that sometimes Loki found himself blinded in his light.
Having time alone, safe and in their home, was something both of them often needed, even if they longed for one another- a way to reset, to restart, to breathe without fear of breathing down the others neck.
But three days was more than enough, and just as Loki was debating asking JARVIS to have his love come up at the soonest possible opportunity, he heard the familiar stumble of a sleep deprived Anthony making his way up the stairs.
Louder than a herd of elephants, that was for certain, but Loki couldn’t help but smile anyways, looking up from his book as Anthony entered, hair standing every which way, clothes splattered with oil and charcoal and an indecent amount of white foam.
“You look absolutely dazzling, my love,” Loki teased, unable to keep the delighted grin from his face, and Anthony scowled deeply.
“It wasn’t even a fire, Lokes,” Anthony mourned dramatically. “I changed my hologram color from blue to orange and Dummy was on me before I knew what hit me.”
Loki tossed his head back and laughed.
In hindsight, he should have seen it coming. Truly, he should have.
Hindsight, however, did him no good when not two seconds later, he had fire extinguisher foam in his hair.
His laughter died slowly, the look on his face turning murderous and Anthony stared at him, wide eyed, hand still raised from where it had tossed the foam at him, before he abruptly shrieked and raced from the room.
Loki couldn’t help the dark smile that passed across his face as he took off after his lover, book laying forgotten in his chair, the need for revenge and the undeniable urge to cause mischief surging him forward, a hand darting out and turning cool and blue without a second thought, ice forming along the floor beneath Anthony’s feet.
Anthony went down hard, yelping in shock, before springing back to his feet and taking off again- and with a laugh of delight, Loki followed.
And so the game had begun.
Anthony may not have been as strong or quick as Loki, but he was clever, twisting and turning his way through their home, evading Loki at every turn, leaping over ice patches and ducking to avoid snowballs.
But even the mighty fall, and their chase came to an abrupt end in the kitchen, the pair facing off against one another, Loki armed with a ridiculous amount of snowballs and Anthony aiming the sinks removable nozzle at him with one hand on the tap.
“Truce?” Anthony asked with a cheeky grin.
Loki eyed him for a moment before nodding, carefully dropping the snowballs on the ground.
“Truce,” he agreed, and Anthony grinned in triumph, putting the nozzle back and stepping away from the sink- and that’s when Loki made his move.
With a fierce battle cry, Loki flung himself forward and stuffed his single remaining snowball down Anthony’s pants.
Anthony shrieked from the cold and danced around, attempting to remove the snow, and Loki laughed openly, happiness and delight warming him to his very core.
“You-!” Anthony spluttered, racing at him and now armed with a pair of tongs, but Loki merely grinned and took the assault head on, using Anthony’s momentum to spin them and pin him against the wall.
“You should have known better than to trust the God of Mischief, dear heart,” Loki purred.
Anthony’s eyes darkened, and his tongue darted out to wet his lips, Loki’s eyes tracking his every movement.
“It would appear you’ve won,” Anthony murmured. “What do you want from me?”
Loki grinned, leaning in to kiss Anthony fiercely before nipping along his jaw towards his ear, whispering;
“Everything.”
***
When Anthony does finally make his way from the lab, he stumbles his way over to Loki and collapses into his lap, hardly seeming to notice the book he had almost crushed beneath his weight.
Loki says nothing, merely runs his fingers through Anthony’s hair, a frown furrowing his brow at the press of fever hot skin against his own, but waits for his love to speak.
When he does, he sounds exhausted, fingers curling loosely in the blanket still wound around Loki’s shoulders, a smile in his voice.
“I knew you liked this thing.”
Oh, Loki had hated it at first, and the way Anthony insisted they be wrapped within it every night- his mind had struggled to get past the retina blinding bubblegum pink, a small voice in the back of his mind hissing familiar, dark words (a prince of Asgard should never be swathed in such a color), but that point in his life had long since past, and Anthony had been showing him for years just how backwards Asgard had been.
“Yes, well,” Loki sniffed haughtily, but his fingers never stopped their gentle travel through Anthony’s hair. “Someone decided to leave me alone for nearly a week, and this blasted thing has always brought you comfort.”
Anthony huffed a soft laugh, murmuring, “I know. But it’ll be worth it. Promise.”
“Something to use in battle against Thanos?” Loki asked curiously, though he was certain he already knew the answer- now, the only times Anthony locked himself away for that long was when he was working on his suits.
Anthony hummed softly in response and burrowed closer to Loki, tucking himself fully against him.
Loki smiled fondly, listening as Anthony’s breaths evened out in his sleep.
It was small moments like these, Loki mused, that made the upcoming fight worth it.
Moments like this, that reminded him of all he still had to lose, and all that he desperately wished to hold on to.
Anthony was fighting for them, for the world, for the universe, but Loki? He had never had such a strong moral code, no loyalties to this world, no urge to do good simply for the sake of doing good. He acted only within his best interests, but perhaps that was...changing.
Anthony loved this world and its people, felt a responsibility to them that he, perhaps, should not, but that had never stopped him.
Anthony would fight for everyone.
But here, bathed in warmth from the setting sun, his lover sleeping peacefully in his arms, the comfortable silence broken only by his steady breathing, the scent of motor oil and metal and coconut in the air, something so purely Anthony that Loki found himself pressing his face into his lovers hair and breathing deeply…he knew they would win.
Because, while Anthony would fight for the world, Loki would fight for them.
For snowball fights and petty little arguments, for sleepless nights and passion-tangled limbs, for moonlit talks and harmless pranks, for knife sharpened words and sleepy morning kisses.
Loki had not found something he so strongly held onto in longer than he would ever care to admit, and so he would hold on.
There was much Thanos had taken from him, but he would never have this.
And Loki would make sure of it.