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Loki walked into the ship’s canteen with purpose. He ignored the waves and calls of others to go to a table in the corner.
“Stark,” Loki greeted, standing opposite the seated man with the table between them. “My translator is broken.” He dropped it on the table in front of the engineer. “Fix it.”
Stark raised his gaze, his eyebrows quirked. “And here I thought Mr I-speak-twelve-dozen-languages wouldn’t use a translator. Also,” he gestured with his fork at the plate in front of him. “I’m eating.”
“You have your toolkit with you,” Loki pointed out, gesturing at the brown satchel at Stark’s side. “And you prefer to eat while you work.”
Stark’s lips curved into a smile and he pointed the fork at Loki. “You know, just because you’re the Commander’s brother, doesn’t mean you get special favours.”
“Of course not,” Loki dismissed. “I get special favours because I craft lucrative trade deals in metal and tools for the benefit of your lab.”
Stark’s smile pulled even wider and he let out a loud, dramatic sigh before pulling open his satchel and rolling out his tool kit. Loki smirked in triumph and took a seat opposite the man. He also reached out and stole a piece of toast from the engineer’s plate; Stark barely noticed, already intent on the translator.
“What happened to it?”
“Thor,” Loki answered mid-bite.
Stark snorted but didn’t ask for further information as he started prying it apart, forgoing his breakfast to concentrate. It made Loki frown, pick up the man’s fork and tap his hand with the handle. “Keep eating.”
Stark missed too many meals, and Loki wouldn’t be the cause of him skipping another.
The engineer didn’t respond verbally, but he absently reached for his plate and grabbed his half-eaten toast, shoving it in his mouth even as he started pulling the translator apart. Loki shook his head fondly before letting his eyes skim the canteen.
The Avenger was a large interstellar ship with three hundred crew members who were military officers, diplomats or scientists. There were even a few that were both or all three. Loki was a diplomat and officer, specialising in smoothing over inter-realm incidents (usually caused by his fool of a brother).
Stark’s chief area was engineering and invention, but he was a brilliant diplomat when he needed to be. He could even hold his own in a fight, mostly due to the weapons he had crafted for himself in the lab.
Normally, Loki’s rank and expertise would rarely find him crossing paths with Stark, but he’d first met the man when Stark was convincing Thor out of a foolish venture that would have destroyed half the ship. Stark was a civilian and a genius, and he’d convinced Thor with nothing but his persuasive tongue and strong arguments.
Loki had been impressed.
He’d searched the engineer out after that first meeting and much to Loki’s surprise, he’d found a brilliant man with wry smirks and a sharp sense of humour. He'd found himself with a friend, and five years later, Stark remained his closest confidant.
“How Thor manages to run a ship is beyond me,” Stark grumbled, drawing Loki’s attention. He had the translator in pieces. He took the fork from Loki without looking, stabbing some bacon and shovelling it in his mouth without moving his eyes from the wiring.
“That is gross insubordination,” Loki remarked, with a smirk.
Stark snorted. “I’m a civilian and I keep this bag of bolts in the air. I’m not going anywhere.”
The sharpness of Loki’s expression softened and deepened. His good humour making his rarely seen dimples show. Stark was indeed an asset, and furthermore, even should Thor lose his temper over Stark’s flouting of authority, Loki would never let his brother fire him.
Stark was his favourite, and Loki always protected his favourites.
Finishing his toast, Loki considered Stark’s plate; the other man didn’t eat enough fruit. Yogurt would do him well too. Loki was preparing to rise and seek out something for himself and some more for the other man when he was stopped by a friendly call of his name.
He turned to find James Rhodes approaching with Bruce Banner and Val Kyrie at his side. Banner was a scientist while Rhodes and Kyrie were military officers; all three of them were friends of Stark’s.
“We’re still orbiting the planet tonight;” Rhodes began. “Val says she’s found a good, respectable bar to visit. We’re hoping you’d both like to join us?”
“A good bar that Val is actually telling us about?” Stark teased, lifting his head from the translator to flash them a smile. “Count me in.”
“What about you, Loki?” Rhodes asked, turning to him.
Loki hesitated. While he enjoyed the company of Stark’s friends, he usually avoided socialising with the crew.
His indecision was obvious and Stark quickly tried to sway him, “Come on, Loki. I still owe you a drink.”
Loki looked back at the other man, catching Stark’s smirk. It was a long standing joke between them. The first time Loki had visited Stark’s lab, the engineer had offered him scotch, but Loki was on duty and had declined; ever since, Stark always complained that he owed Loki a drink.
It was ridiculous, but Loki enjoyed sharing a secret joke with the man.
Stark’s hopeful brown eyes crumbled Loki’s resistance.
“Fine,” Loki grumbled, his displeasure fooling no one.
“Six o’clock at the transport deck,” Rhodes told them, before adding for Loki. “Civilian clothes.”
Loki nodded absently before he was pushing up from his seat and heading over to get food. Banner had already taken a seat beside Stark and was asking about the translator. Loki knew his quiet breakfast with Stark was over, but he didn’t let it bother him.
The more distracted Stark was, the less likely he would notice it was fruit he was eating and a glass of water he was drinking.
As a general rule, Loki ignored rumours. They were rarely useful, often ridiculous, and on a crew their size, they changed as frequently as the wind.
Yet, when his messenger went off in a meeting, he was surprised by the content:
He checked it surreptitiously and found it was Stark.
Did you know the crew thinks we’re dating?
Loki raised his eyebrows. I was unaware our personal life was so interesting.
Apparently, it’s a hot topic?? And has been for years??? So, you’re saying you didn’t start this rumour??
Why would I start this rumour?
Chaos? Amusement? Because it was Tuesday?
Loki bit down on a smile. Hmm. That does sound like me. Sadly, I am not the mastermind of this piece of gossip.
Bummer. Here I thought I’d owe you a second drink for conning the entire crew.
Well, Loki answered, the spark of excitement igniting in his blood; it is only morning. I might be able to conjure something by afternoon that would be worthy of a second round.
Oh? Bring it on, Mr Mischief.
Chuckling under his breath, Loki closed his messenger and turned his gaze back to the meeting. His eyes might be on Thor, but his mind was far away, running through ideas and pranks that he could implement.
Stark would regret challenging him so blatantly.
Loki chose something simple, but no less devious. The crew thought he and Stark were a couple, therefore, it was only fair the crew gained some romance.
He chose twenty of the worst romance melodies in the universe and hacked the ship’s mainframe to have them play from every speaker.
It took all of a minute for Stark to message him: EVIL! SON OF A BITCH! YOU! DICK! MY EARS!!!!!
Loki was in his office at the time, his feet up on his desk and a satisfied smirk on his face. Stark’s message had him cackling madly. He almost fell off his precariously balanced chair he was so delighted.
I have no idea what you mean, Stark. But, I believe something is wrong with the speakers. Shouldn’t you be fixing that? It’s quite dreadful.
THE DRINK IS GOING DOWN YOUR SHIRT. YOU. DICK.
Loki’s next chuckle was softer, but his smile still couldn’t be wiped clear from his face. The music was terrible, of course, but the reaction from Stark had well been worth it.
Stark managed to rid the ship of the code an hour before they were due at the transport bay to head down to the planet. Stark had spent the time fixing it cursing Loki fluidly and sending him messages of hate, revenge, and compliments laced in frustration and complaints.
Loki couldn’t stop grinning all day.
When he arrived at the transport bay a few minutes to six, he found everyone was already present. They were all dressed casually, but it was Stark who caught Loki’s eye. He was in a deep red shirt with a charcoal jacket and pants. He looked...good. Surprisingly good. Loki had rarely seen Stark outside his engineering clothes or formal attire.
Yet, his admiration was cut short by the shorter man noticing him.
He glared and pointed at Loki with accusation. “You!”
Loki widened his eyes in mock confusion. “Me?”
Stark stalked over to him, still pointing a finger at him. He didn’t stop until they were chest to chest and the tip of Stark’s finger was almost touching his chin.
“I had to deal with crappy music all day.”
“As did most of the crew,” Loki answered. “Clearly, you should have worked faster.”
Stark spluttered and gaped at him. Loki just chuckled and took Stark’s hand, pulling it away from his face. “But, your efforts were valiant. Perhaps, I shall get the first round as a reward?”
Stark’s expression was conflicted, but eventually he conceded, letting out a huff of breath and relaxing. He still muttered a soft, “Asshole.”
Loki just smiled.
It put him in a position to watch as Stark blinked and ran his eyes over Loki’s clothes; a green silk shirt and tight black pants. He didn’t think Stark had ever seen him out of his uniform. Stark look surprised and, when his eyes flicked back up to look at Loki, it made him realise exactly how close they were.
It made Loki realise he was still holding Stark’s warm, tanned hand.
Loki found his smile fading; he felt something... different as he looked at the other man.
But, before he could try and work it out, Stark was pulling his arm back and glancing away. He looked suddenly awkward, and a little confused. “Uh, yeah. Anyway. Drink?”
“Yes.” Loki nodded, feeling that same unbalanced perplexity. “A drink.”
“Right.” Stark smiled and it almost looked natural. He turned and walked back over to his friends and Loki was close on his heel. He shook off the strange feeling to focus on the conversation and the transportation down to the planet.
Hopefully the odd moment would dissipate once they were at the bar.
The bar was softly lit, had a dancefloor and had a good crowd without being suffocatingly claustrophobic. There were a few other crew members at the establishment, but none of them approached and the group were able to gain an empty booth and order some drinks and light food.
Loki was at the end of one side of the circular booth with Stark at his right. Rhodes was beside the engineer followed by Banner and then Kyrie. It was a relaxed, comfortable arrangement and Loki was surprised to find he was enjoying himself.
Stark was pressed against the length of his body and every few moments he could smell the engineer’s fresh, spiced cologne. He was being lulled into a full sense of security. It was the only reason he could be so easily manipulated.
He was listening to Banner tell a story, completely oblivious to the music playing - but Stark wasn’t. He stiffened in his chair before swivelling his head to the side. “No way.”
“Oh, man,” Rhodes said with an amused smile. “One of Tony’s favourite songs.”
Stark started shoving at Loki almost making him spill his drink. “Stark!”
“Up, up!” Stark said, unconcerned. “We have to dance!”
“What?” Loki was half out of his seat. “Dance?”
Stark ignored his protest, continuing to push him. Loki barely got a chance to put down his drink before he was grabbed and Stark was starting to pull him. The engineer looked at the table. “Guys? A classic, come on!”
“Nah, we’ll sit this one out,” Rhodes answered, waving them off.
Stark rolled his eyes, but didn’t seem to care not when he already had Loki captured and was pulling him into the crowd. Loki grimaced as he was dragged to a clear bit of floor. “Stark, I don’t dance.”
“The hell you don’t,” Stark argued. “I’ve seen you fight. You’ll be a killer on the dancefloor too.”
“I don’t-”
Before Loki could protest further Stark’s hand moved from Loki’s upper arm, down to his wrist and ending palm to palm. Stark had twisted to face him and was smiling with happiness and laughter.
“Backing down from a challenge, Lokes?” His eyes twinkled. “Do you need me to dance with you?”
Loki opened his mouth but Stark was already tugging him forward and then they were moving. It was a clumsy jerk, an awkward sway, but then Loki caught his footing, grabbed Stark’s shoulder and their bodies suddenly aligned.
It wasn’t a slow dance or even a grind of pelvises. Stark was bouncing in place and rotating his hips. He was lost to the rhythm and had his head tipped back and his eyes closed. He looked happy and sensual. He even laughed; like there was nowhere else he’d rather be.
The realisation hit Loki like a tonne of bricks.
I’m in love with him.
Loki came to a sudden and abrupt halt. Stark noticed it in an instant and opened his eyes, confusion puckering his brow. Loki didn’t know what expression was on his face, but it made concern flood Stark’s eyes and he stopped moving.
“Loki, are you okay?” He took an unnecessary step closer. “We can stop, if you want.”
Shaking his head in a negative, Loki couldn’t think of anything else to say. He felt completely blindsided and yet, it also seemed the most obvious thing in the world.
No wonder the crew thought they were dating. Loki already cared for Stark as if he was a spouse. Stark already listened to Loki as if he was his other half.
I am such an idiot.
“Loki?” Stark asked again, worry written on every line of his face.
“If I was to tell you,” Loki began, swallowing nervously, “that I think I’m in love with you.” Stark’s eyes flew wide. “What would that make you do?”
Stark sucked in a sharp, startled breath. His face rushed through emotions too fast for Loki to catch, his eyes also darted down to their joined hands. He swallowed.
Loki’s heart was racing and he had no idea if this would be a terrible decision, but when Stark slowly shifted his hand, turning it so that their fingers would align; so their fingers would link. Loki felt his breath escape him in a rush.
“I think... that’s something I’d want to explore, Loki,” Stark told him, raising his eyes. He looked mystified, but a shy happiness was curving his lips into a smile. “I also think, that explains a lot, for both of us.”
“So, you’re saying...?”
Stark’s grin spread even wider. “I think I love you too.”
Loki smiled and it was wide and joyous. He bent down and Stark met him halfway. When they kissed, it was like a puzzle piece slotting into place. It made him realise exactly what he’d been missing. He groaned into the kiss and tugged the other man closer, pressing their bodies together, unable to get enough. Stark moaned softly and wrapped an arm around his neck, his fingers curling into Loki’s hair.
It was beautiful and perfect – and it was getting a little bit too deep for a public embrace.
Loki pulled back with a gasp and turned his face from Stark’s searching lips. They found his jaw and skimmed it. Loki shivered.
“Stark-”
“Tony,” the engineer corrected.
“Anthony,” he instantly parried.
The other man laughed, but conceded with amusement. “Fine.”
Loki grinned and tucked his face into the other man’s hair, breathing him in. He also wrapped an arm around Anthony’s waist, pulling him snug against him. It was perfect, it was right and he couldn’t believe it had taken five years.
It made him wonder... it made him realise.
“What are the odds your friends brought us here to arrange something like this?”
Anthony chuckled. “Yeah, they probably did. Can’t say I’m complaining though.”
“Nor I,” Loki admitted.
There was a moment’s pause, a few seconds to enjoy the wonderful, new feeling of Anthony in his arms before the other man said with a smirk: “I hope you know. I’m using that playlist you made for our anniversary.”
It was so unexpected, so completely Anthony, that Loki burst out into laughter. He couldn’t believe he had ever been so oblivious; clearly this man was perfect for him.