"Call your mum, can you bunk over?"
Grinning, Loki clicks his fingers, magicking Tony's Starkphone into his hold. With a few taps to the screen, making sure Tony can't see, he raises the phone to his ear. Tony can only watch in confusion, as he lays fully on top of the God's body and arm firmly around his waist. Both hold a delicate pink blush, hot and filthy, as they come down from the high of their post-coital make out session. Confusion quickly takes a sharp turn to utter amusement when he hears Loki's imitation of a stereotypical American accent for that of a teenage girl.
"Hey mom! I know my curfew is like, midnight, but can I like, totally stay round Tony's tonight?"
Pause.
"But Mom! I promise to behave, I haven't been grounded all month!"
Another pause.
"Thanks Mom, you're the best!"
Loki ends the call and returns the phone to its place in the pocket of Tony's jeans, which lay crumpled on the floor beside Loki's own leather garb. Tony looks from Loki, to the phone, and back to Loki inquisitively.
Loki shrugs nonchalantly, with a small grin on his face. Tony knows that look in his green eyes — mischief — they sparkle brightly in the dim light of early evening. The genius raises an eyebrow wanting to know what his trickster had just done. Shrugging again, his lips barely able to control his joy in a stoic expression.
"Fury."
Tony freezes before he rolls onto his back, laughing harder than he ever has before. He almost can't believe that Loki would have done that to Nick Fury, but then he remembers: God of Mischief! The image of the scary man in his infamous black trench coat fills his mind, his one eye twitching in pure exasperation as he gives into yet another demand of the being he had, only a few years previous, locked in his impressive cage on the Helicarrier.
Still laughing together, Tony rolls back towards Loki, kissing him with glee, "I love you so much, you loon!"
They grin again, as they fall into each other's arms, putting to good use the time Fury has spared them together.