Author's note: And so we have Tony attempting a little more bonding… ^^
It's getting late and he's sitting on the couch reading a book, contemplating whether he should go to bed or finish the current chapter, when Tony suddenly enters the living room with a bottle in hand, in itself by no means an unusual sight.
What is unusual this time around, though – making Loki do a quick double-take – are the two glasses held in his other hand, one more than there should reasonably be. Surely Tony doesn't expect him to…?
Whistling to himself, Tony puts the glasses down on the table and proceeds to pour an amber-coloured liquid into each of them. Without further preamble, he then scoots a glass over to Loki, as if it was the most natural thing in the world to offer a slave a drink.
He looks at the offering in confusion, but makes no move to pick it up.
"Come on, Reindeer Games," Tony says, lifting his own glass. "Have a drink to celebrate that the slimy bastard who fucked around with my company has been found out."
Loki eyes the glass hesitantly. He hasn't been drinking all that much in the last few centuries, not like back in the day at all those lavish feasts held in Thor's honour to celebrate some successful battle campaign or the other. And he remembers them clearly even now, how he'd emptied tankard after tankard, in the futile attempt at washing away the jealous bitterness inherent in the knowledge that no such would ever be held in his honour for all the increasingly difficult and complex spells he'd learnt to master over the years.
Perhaps it's the memories of that time that has kept him away from heavier bouts of drinking lately, or maybe it's the wish to keep his head clear as to not hamper his magic abilities. Whatever the reason, he has not indulged himself much in that regard since those days. Sure he's been drinking beer and mead like everyone else, but only rarely in the amounts necessary to get intoxicated.
"Go on, try it," Tony urges him, sensing his hesitation. "It's not poisonous."
Truth be told, the idea of drinking anywhere near Tony makes him feel a certain unease, because getting inebriated, not being at his full wits, is never advisable for a slave while in the presence of his master, even one like Tony.
Not that such a dilemma would ever be an issue in Asgard, because slaves would never be given alcoholic liquor to start with; they're not supposed to intoxicate themselves for a number of reasons. Good liquor would never be wasted on slaves.
But of course, he can't disobey the direct order. So he empties the glass in one sweep, the resulting burn almost forcing a little gasp from his lips. The drink is a lot stronger than he'd expected, and he blinks a couple of times as the smouldering in his throat slowly subsides.
Back home, liquor would usually not be strong and concentrated like this, but instead made so that it can be ingested in large amounts before the drinker gets to the point of inebriation. But he can already tell that's not the case with Midgardian liquor, or at least not the variety that Tony favours. Then again, perhaps the alcohol is not really as strong as he thinks, his reaction instead caused by his weaker mortal body being more susceptible to intoxication than what he's used to.
The warmth slowly spreading through his innards is not unpleasant at all, but it still makes him wary; relaxing too much around Tony might not be a very good idea, not if the alcohol will make him do or say things he wouldn't have in a sober condition.
He's not sure exactly why Tony wants him to drink with him, and he silently ponders the question as he watches Tony unceremoniously down his own glass. Sure he's known many men who dislike drinking alone, always trying to procure some company whenever they're about to engage in such activities, but Tony never seemed to be the type, judging by the number of times Loki's seen him in close proximity to a bottle or a glass by now.
The man lets slip a satisfied sigh before setting his empty glass down. "Ah, not bad," he comments with a contented look on his face, once more reaching for the bottle on the tabletop.
He'd really have wished for Tony not to be filling his glass again, despite the pleasant warmth that has now reached his limbs, but his hopes are quenched as it is once more filled to the brim with more of the yellow-ish liquid.
But it's not his place to decline, of course. He has a feeling Tony would not like it if he did, and he has long ago come to the conclusion that a pleased Tony is going to be a lot more conducive to his situation than the alternative. And to be honest, it's not like what's expected of him this time is unpleasant in any way, far from it, and under different circumstances he might even have enjoyed it, despite the unaccustomed strength of the liquor. But still, he's not comfortable about getting drunk in Tony's presence.
At the other end of the couch, Tony empties his second glass and then looks insistingly at Loki. "Don't be shy," he urges. "I think some relaxation would do you good."
Well, Loki supposes he can't really argue with that – and the feeling as the contents of his second glass of liquid amber slide down his throat is pleasant. Maybe a little too much.
But he'd be lying if he said there wasn't a part of him enjoying it. Even if the previous torturous strain inside of him has dissolved by now, there's still tension remaining, and getting some relaxing stress relief is not… unwelcome. So if Tony wants his slave to drink because he doesn't feel like drinking alone tonight, he might as well enjoy it and make the best out of the situation.
"You have stuff like this in Asgard?" Tony interrupts his musings, leaning back into a more comfortable position against the cushions.
"Well, not really," he admits. "Liquor is usually not stronger than it can be served in tankards. Like beer or mead."
"Uh-huh. Seems like you have something to learn from us puny mortals, then." And with that, Tony goes off on a long tangent about various liquors drunk on Midgard and their relative merits, but the designations are unknown to him. So he only listens patiently as Tony refills both of their glasses, his mouth never stopping to move for more than a second.
After a while, as another glass has been emptied, Tony's voice is slowly turning into a soft droning, the individual words not fully discernible through the buzz in Loki's head that keeps increasing in volume. But at least Tony is looking pleased, so that should be a good thing.
Then the words abruptly pierce through the haze clouding his mind, suddenly clearly discernible once more.
"Come to think of it, I did offer you a drink that one time you first showed up in my tower, so I suppose it's only fair that I finally made good on that."
Some of the tension that's been slipping away little by little immediately returns at that. Even though he knows that Tony has decided to stay above things like petty revenge, he still doesn't feel comfortable with the topic. It's something he'd rather not have brought up at all, full well knowing that the man has of course not forgotten about the trip out of the window that had followed.
And he wonders if Tony is still angry at him because of that; he would really have wanted to ask, but it's not like he ever actually would.
It's only a few seconds later that he realizes that that's exactly what he's just done, the strong alcohol having loosened the bonds of self-control previously holding his tongue.
Damn.
Tony watches him over the rim of his raised glass for a little while, an unreadable expression on his face, and then shrugs. "Nah. Not anymore. I tend not to bear grudges if I can avoid it. Besides, I'd think that you've more than paid for it with that slavery sentence of yours." He drinks again, eyes closing in pure delight for a couple of heartbeats as the liquid makes it way down.
And Loki feels himself slowly relaxing again, despite his treacherous tongue having gotten the better of him.
There is silence for a while, but it's soon broken as Tony start talking again, and Loki sinks back against the cushions, blinking a couple of times as the image of Tony filling his field of vision swims a little and then slowly separates into two.
He rubs his eyes, really wishing for some sleep, but he obviously can't leave before having received permission to do so, so he resigns himself to the unrelenting barrage of words that wouldn't have made much sense to him even in a sober condition. Slowly, he feels himself starting to drift off, before Tony's voice once more cuts through his hazy mind.
"You know, I think it's bedtime for you." He grins as Loki opens eyes he wasn't aware he had closed in the first place. "Seriously, I expected you Asgardians to be better at handling alcohol than this."
With that, Tony stands up, grunting as he languidly stretches his arms above his head. "Come to think of it, it's probably bedtime for me too," he adds, a yawn following shortly behind the statement.
Gingerly, Loki makes to stand as well, glad to finally be allowed to make for the alluring bed awaiting in his room. His limbs are slow and reluctant to obey him, though, and the room seems to wobble slightly, as if he's standing on a ship softly rocked by the waves of the sea.
He takes a step forward, but his foot catches on the edge of the rug lying snugly on the floor, causing him to trip and fall face first towards the table. Unable to regain his footing in his tipsiness, he can do nothing but brace himself for the impending impact.
Then, lightening-quick, there's an arm around his waist, stopping his fall before the table does. And for a frozen heartbeat, Tony is standing there behind him, his body pressed flush against Loki's as the man straightens him up.
The next heartbeat, the arm is gone, Tony having moved to stand at the edge of his field of vision. "Better watch your footsteps there, Bambi," he says, and only another few heartbeats later, the man has walked out of the room.
He's in his bed, trying to sleep, but it's hard when the memory of Loki's body pressed so tightly against his keeps intruding on his peace of mind.
So he turns, trying to find a more comfortable position. His attempts aren't really making much of a difference, though; the mattress still feels as if it's been stuffed with ping-pong balls.
His idea of arranging a little drinking get-together had been a pure whim, but seeing that the god was still tense, he had thought that Loki could do with some relaxation, and what better way to resolve that tension than with some alcohol? Always worked for him.
Well, almost always.
At least he had enjoyed it, and hopefully Loki had too, though it's pretty hard to tell these things with the god.
Then, as they were breaking the party up, Loki had suddenly tripped, and Tony had caught him before he could hurt himself. And despite the long time – hours? – spent with the god in that evening, it's those few seconds that are filling his mind.
Of course, he'd let go quickly, before his body could react in an… inappropriate way to the sudden closeness. That would surely have been the icing on the cake after what Loki had not terribly long ago been convinced that Tony was going to do to him.
Again, he turns, and again, the resulting position is no better than the previous one.
And despite his attempts to think of the projects awaiting him in his workshop tomorrow, and then a million of other things as well, it's still that fraction of a memory that lingers until he falls asleep, and then stubbornly follows him all the way into dreamland.
Well, at least Tony is making an effort. ;)
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