Chapter 21 - Wink Wink, Nudge Nudge, Say No More

AN: The conversation Loki and Bruce have in this chapter might push the boundaries of this fic's Teen rating a little. At one point I had rewritten it entirely, but then I decided it would be fine so long as they didn't use the word "orgasm" more than twice. (In all seriousness, I did tone things down a bit from the rough draft. I guess what I'm saying is that it could have been worse.)

"I can teleport only with the aid of a magical artifact that I stole—I mean, that I obtained recently," explained Frigga.

"Are you drunk?" asked Stark. "Where the heck were you, by the way?"

Loki growled and gnashed his teeth at the mortal. Stark could threaten him all he wanted, but how dare he speak that way to the All-Mother—who gave him a look that wasn't the look but was still unmistakably a "cease and desist" warning. "Calm yourself, Loki. I was capable of defending myself long before I became mother to thunder and mischief."

Loki blanched as he heard his own words and realized that somehow, his mother had heard his stupid, desperate attempt to call for her—and still had not come until nearly an entire day had passed. Why? Then he remembered the time on Sanctuary when she had attempted to speak with him, and he had pushed her illusion away. And the last time he had dispersed the illusion she had sent to him even though Odin had forbidden her from contact with him. Perhaps he had deserved to be ignored at least once.

"You haven't answered my question," said Tony. "You know, you could have left us some way of contacting you before you just dumped your kid on us and ran off."

"I apologize if Loki has failed to behave himself," Frigga told him, not sounding sorry at all. "He has always been spirited, to say the least."

"He hasn't exactly been an angel, but that isn't the problem," Tony told her. "He's been sick and miserable for the past two days, and he's been asking for you."

Frigga stared at the mortal blankly. "I take it he hasn't been too close to death," she said.

"No, but—"

"And a healer has seen to him?"

"Bruce gave him a shot of antibiotics—"

"In that case, I hardly see why I should have been concerned enough to come back before my errand was finished. Loki is a big boy, Lord Stark. Big enough to have led an invasion of your realm all on his own, if you recall. He does not need his mother to hold his hand whenever he is feeling a little under the weather."

Tony just blinked at her. Then he laughed. "Wow. You know, I'm not sure why I didn't expect that. For you to be as cold as—" Tony didn't finish that statement, but blundered on. "I mean, as screwed up as the kid is, it couldn't have been possible for him to have at least one decent parent, was there?"

Frigga nodded. "I see; as little as you know about my husband or myself, you are blaming my son's deficiencies entirely on us."

"Oh, stop right there, lady. His deficiencies? That's kind of harsh, don't you think?"

"Do we not all have flaws? You seem quite intent on pointing out what you perceive as mine."

"Sorry, but the way you said it, it just sounded like you meant that there's something fundamentally wrong with—"

"Tony, stop," said Natasha. "You're just transferring your unresolved issues with your own parents onto Frigga."

"I don't have unresolved issues."

Natasha's eyebrows crept upwards.

"Alright, I get it. Everyone knows I have issues. You don't have to be a jerk about it, Nat."

"Tony, actual children aren't as inconsiderate as you are when it comes to dumping their emotions on everyone else. There's a difference between being open and vulnerable with people and having no boundaries. You want to work this kind of stuff out, do it with your therapist or your girlfriend, not with your coworkers or guests from other planets."

"Is that all we are—coworkers?"

Natasha's expression was apologetic, as if she pitied the man for thinking there was something more to their relationship. "The Avengers aren't a family, Tony."

"I never said we were, but excuse me for thinking we were at least friends. And I'm sorry, but what do you know about being open and vulnerable with people?"

Listening to them bicker, Loki became struck by the idea that perhaps his scepter was close by, or at least a shard of the stone it contained. He hadn't heard any of the Avengers fight with one another since the incident on the Helicarrier. Then again, it could have just been him. He had always had a talent for sowing discord without so much as meaning to—between his parents, among his brother's friends, among the palace staff, the Einherjar, and even the general citizenry of Asgard on a few occasions. He had often wondered if he was cursed. Perhaps he truly was the God of Chaos, and now that he knew his true parentage, didn't it make sense?

He decided it would be best to remove himself from the situation. He had not been granted permission to venture beyond the common room, but he had often operated on the idea that it was better to ask forgiveness than permission. His stomach had begun to sour anyway, and it felt like something was swelling in his head, pressing up against his skull—was it possible for the infection to have spread to his brain? Perhaps he ought to seek out Doctor Banner. Loki stood, pulling the blanket he had been huddling under around his shoulders, and started looking for the stairwell.

"Kid, where are you going?" Tony called after him.

"I need to find Doctor Banner." Loki tripped over the end of the blanket and landed on his knees. Oh well, he could just crawl the rest of the way. Now where had they moved the elevator?

"You need to go lie down and let Bruce come to you. JARVIS, get Bruce. Loki, are you going to hurl again? Because if you are, it would be great if you could do that over a toilet, or at least find a trashcan—or yeah, okay, that works. Better than the rug, I guess."

There hadn't been much in Loki's stomach to evacuate. It had mostly been phlegm, but what there was had been deposited at the base of a small ficus plant that he thought stood somewhere between the seating area and the kitchen.

A few seconds later, Natasha had pulled him to his feet and ushered him back to his room and into the en suite bathroom, where she thrust his toothbrush in his hand and turned the faucet on for him. Then he was crying and apologizing, and Natasha's face was just as blank as ever. He brushed his teeth, and she pushed him back out into the room, steering him to the bed. Once he had crawled under the duvet, she stood there with her arms crossed in front of her until the bedroom door opened. Then Loki heard her speaking with someone else in hushed tones, but he could not pick up the individual words.

;:%:;

\_/ _(:Ⅰ)|￣|_

"I think it's just stress," Natasha told Bruce, as they huddled just inside Loki's door. She had already given him a rundown of the events that had led up to Loki spitting phlegm into a potted plant in the living room. "Until Frigga showed up, he seemed to be doing a lot better." Bruce was willing to bet she was right; after all, Loki's temperature had been normal the last time he'd checked, or he would have insisted he stay in bed.

As soon as Natasha left, he turned his attention to Loki, pulling his hair back away from his ear so he could take his temperature. "How's your stomach right now?" he asked. "Any better after you threw up?"

"My stomach is fine now," Loki admitted. "But my head still hurts."

The thermometer beeped, and Bruce looked down at the display. "Your temperature is normal. I'll give you some ibuprofen for your headache, but you should be okay with some rest." Bruce had left the ibuprofen bottle in Loki's bathroom, so it just took a moment for him to come back with the pills and a glass of water. "Is there anything you want to talk about? With either me or Doctor Samson?"

Bruce shook two pills out into Loki's hand, which he swallowed dry before Bruce could hand him the water. "There's nothing you can do."

"About what?"

"About my curse."

"Curse?"

"The one that makes people fight with each other whenever they're around me."

"That's—" Ridiculous, he wanted to say, but Loki wouldn't appreciate that.

"I don't mean to do it. It's like Thor with lightening, but I can't always control it."

"Loki, you don't even have any powers right now."

"Then why—?"

"Because Tony is Tony, and Nat is Nat. Their personalities have clashed at the best of times, and this week has been stressful for everyone."

"Because of me."

"No. Well, not all because of you."

"I am the God of Lies, Bruce. Don't think you can lie to me. I've never seen any of you argue. Not since the Helicarrier, and that was me too."

Bruce had theorized that the infighting on the Helicarrier might have been caused by the presence of the scepter, but it had never occurred to him to blame Loki himself. He doubted it had happened because Loki was "cursed." And the idea that the Avengers always lived in perfect harmony with one another? Bruce was left struggling to keep a straight face. "Trust me, we argue. We're just usually on our best behavior when other people are around." He set the thermometer down on the bedside table and reached out to give Loki's shoulder a light squeeze, hoping that he would find the gesture reassuring and not a violation of his person (if Loki had had his magic, he wouldn't have been so bold, but the worst he could do at the moment was push him away). "Look, I understand. When I was a kid, my parents used to fight a lot, and it always felt like it was my fault, even though that was completely illogical."

"I'm not a child," Loki snapped.

"I know you're not," Bruce assured him, even though if there was one thing he was sure of, it was that Loki was a long way off from being able to function as a mature adult. "That wasn't my point."

"What was your point, then?" Loki demanded.

"That what you're feeling is normal, I guess. Maybe you should talk about this with Doctor Samson."

"Why—because I have issues? Like Tony?"

"It's not just Tony. Everyone here has issues."

"Even the Captain?"

"He's lost everything and everyone that mattered to him at least once, so yes." A common theme when it came to the residents of the tower, now that he thought about it.

"And you?"

Bruce arched an eyebrow at him. Loki had to be kidding; of everyone there, he had to have the most impressive laundry list of psychological issues. He didn't really want to get into what dissociative personality disorder was with the kid. "You mean aside from the 'anger issues?'"

"You seem fairly on top of that, actually."

That was true enough. He'd had to get on top of his "anger issues" for the safety of those around him. "It took years of work, but it's starting to be okay. It's never going to be completely okay, but I've sort of come to terms with that."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not alone anymore, but there are still limits to how close I can get to anyone."

Loki scrunched his eyebrows at him, but then the muscles in his face relaxed. "Oh," he said. "So, you can't—"

Whoops. He wasn't sure why he had thought that would go over Loki's head. He wasn't that young, but he was still young enough that Bruce didn't think it appropriate to discuss his sex life, or lack thereof, with him. Suddenly, he was having a flashback to the sexual harassment training that all Culver employees had to go through every couple of years to beat it into their heads that no matter how innocent it seemed, sex was never an appropriate topic of conversation with students. And while that was meant to extend to even the older grad students (and to colleagues, even though hardly anyone took that seriously, at least in his department), everyone knew that the real danger was getting too relaxed around the undergrads, because they (or their parents) were the ones most likely to slap the university with a lawsuit just because a professor had said something within their hearing that might lead them to the shocking revelation that they were anything other than celibate monks, or that they might exist outside of their offices and classrooms.

In a way it was understandable that the illusion should be maintained. When you were eighteen or nineteen years old, the thought that your wrinkly old cellular biology professor might be getting it on with your graying molecular genetics professor might just be horrific enough to be psychologically scarring. And while technically a thousand years his senior, Loki seemed to be relatively younger than the students in the general biology courses he had taught as a new professor. "I can't do anything that would get my heart rate up," he said, and hoped Loki would let it rest at that.

"I see," Loki said, looking sympathetic. "Before your accident, did you wish to have a family? Was there someone you wished to begin it with?" Bruce blinked, surprised that Loki was perceptive enough to lock on to the real tragedy of his inability to "get excited" without turning green. Tony was aware of his problem but seemed mostly to pity him for not having seen any "action" in the past decade. Before he could think of an answer, Loki nodded. "Perhaps you should speak to Doctor Samson about that."

Bruce sighed, and the words came out of his mouth before he could stop them. "Doctor Samson knew her too, I can't talk to him about it."

Loki arched an eyebrow at him. "And when you say he knew her, would that be in the biblical sense?"

Bruce could feel the blood rushing to his face. Loki could be way too perceptive. Then Bruce found himself wondering if Loki had actually read the Bible, but that thought was just a delaying tactic on the part of his brain. He desperately tried to think back to that sexual harassment training. "Loki, this isn't an appropriate subject of conversation for us."

"Because I'm a child?"

"Child or not, you're a lot younger than I am, at least in a relative sense."

"So you're saying that you can't talk about sex with me, because that would make you a creepy old lech?"

Bruce looked him dead in the eyes. "Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying. If you were human, I'd be old enough to be your father." (And wasn't that a depressing thought for so many reasons?)

"Would you? You do not seem so old as Odin. But then again, you might be of an age with Frigga. It is my understanding that she and Odin wed when she was younger than I, and he already a seasoned warrior nearing his autumnal years. Do you suppose that makes Odin a creepy old lech?"

Bruce swallowed nervously. He couldn't say yes, but he also couldn't help thinking it. "Obviously, things are a little different in Asgard," he said, trying for a non-committal answer.

"Sex is certainly not so taboo a subject there," Loki told him. "Although, I suppose it makes sense that you mortals should have different feelings about it, when engaging in sexual acts might very well be deadly for you."

Bruce remembered then that there might be things he needed to clear up for Loki in that regard. "Loki, just so you know, I am happy to talk to you about sex in an educational capacity, and will try to answer any questions you have so long as they aren't personal in nature."

Loki's lips quirked up at that, and Bruce found himself regretting what he had said almost immediately. "In that case, what is an orgasm supposed to feel like?"

Bruce's eyebrows flew up. "You've never—" He caught himself, because what he had been about to ask would definitely have counted as a personal question. But Loki had to be messing with him, right? Even if he hadn't been sexually active with another person, surely—

"Come now, Bruce, that isn't a personal question."

"I don't see how I could answer it without drawing on personal experience, so it kind of is," Bruce told him.

"Okay, let me rephrase it then, because what I really want to know is, what is it supposed to feel like for a woman?"

"How would I know?"

Loki rolled his eyes. "What's supposed to happen, though? Normally having the ability to be either biologically male or female, I can tell you that satisfaction is more difficult for me to achieve in one form than the other when I, you know—"

"Self-pleasure?" Bruce winced as the words escaped his mouth.

Loki nodded. "So I'm wondering, is the female orgasm a myth?"

"Of course it isn't a myth—" He should have known Loki would find the worst possible not-personal sex related question to ask him. When he had told Loki he could ask him about sex, he had thought he might have questions related to STDs.

Then again, maybe Loki had asked a legitimate question. Sexual dysfunction could be the sign of an underlying health condition, though more likely, Loki only suffered from not having the proper information about the body he currently occupied. As much as he didn't want to ask what he was about to ask, as a medical professional he felt obligated. "What have you been doing to try to achieve orgasm?"

Loki's eyes widened, and it occurred to Bruce that he had likely expected to be shut down before this point. Then Bruce realized that Loki wasn't even looking at him anymore, but at something behind him. He turned to see Frigga standing in the doorway. Fantastic, she had probably shown up just in time to hear a creepy old man asking her child the question he had just asked with absolutely zero context.

There was a tense moment in which Bruce was certain he was about to be struck dead before the Hulk could take over and save him. "I am beginning to see," Frigga said, after the moment had passed. "I have been gone three days, and I have been completely usurped as Loki's parent, up to and including giving advice that a mother would only whisper in her daughter's ear the night before her wedding."

He heard muffled giggling, and turned back around to see Loki with his face buried in his pillow. "Oh, Mother! You shouldn't tease Bruce so. He might think you're serious."

"And who says I am not? I must say, Loki, I am a bit disappointed you would not come to me with such questions."

Loki sobered up at that. "Ack, no. You would be too explicit." Right, Loki had just told him that sex wasn't a taboo subject in Asgard—though apparently, that didn't make it less gross when it was your parent going into too many details about it. "Besides, I was only teasing the good doctor. If I'd actually needed the answer to a question like that, I would have referenced the mortals' Internet."

Frigga made a humming noise that might have indicated disbelief. "I trust you are feeling better, Loki."

"Yes, Mother. Bruce gave me a curative, and it seems to be working. My skull already feels considerably less like it is going to explode." It hadn't really been long enough for the Ibuprofen to start working, which led Bruce to believe that the distraction he had provided by stumbling onto an inappropriate subject had done a lot more for Loki than the pills he had given him.

"Good," Frigga said. "Loki, I do apologize for having been away. But know that if you had truly needed me, I would have returned."

Loki bit his bottom lip and nodded, though he—or she, possibly (Bruce thought the lip biting was more of a "Lady Loki" quirk)—seemed a little uncertain.

"You should also know that I have succeeded in finding someone who may be able to help you regain your magic, if not your immortality."

Loki darted upwards in the bed. "Mother?"

"You should get some rest, Loki. I have arranged a meeting for you with this world's Sorcerer Supreme, who will arrive on the morrow."

(*≧▽≦)ﾉｼ)) ( * ﾟ~ ﾟ *);;

"You feeling okay now, Bambi?"

"I'm fine, Stark. Are you here to flog me with a hose for damaging your floor?"

"Still not funny, kid. I came to apologize for what happened earlier. I shouldn't have yelled at you, and I shouldn't have tried to start something with your mom in front of you like that. I also brought you dinner."

Loki narrowed her eyes at the tray Tony had brought. "You didn't make it, did you?"

"I did, actually."

"So you are here to punish me."

"For your information, I cook one thing really well, and this is it." Tony put the tray down in Loki's lap. On it, a bowl contained noodles and some kind of orange muck with chunks of something. "Chicken paprikash. Trust me, it tastes better than it looks."

"What's in it?" Loki asked, still suspicious.

"Chicken, paprika, and sour cream, mostly."

"You used cream that's gone sour?"

"No, it's got sour cream in it. It's—JARVIS, what is sour cream?"

"Cream that's gone sour, Sir."

"Ha, ha. Cute, JARVIS."

"Very well, Sir," said the AI, and Loki could have sworn she heard him sigh. "In that case, it is cream that has been fermented by the addition of bacteria."

Loki wrinkled her nose as she poked around in the orange mush with her fork. "It has bacteria in it?"

"Er—I'm sure it's the good kind of bacteria, right JARVIS?"

"The bacteria most commonly used in the production of sour cream is Lactobacillus lactus, which is a probiotic that assists with the digestion of lactose and may boost the immune system. It is not the kind of bacteria that causes illness."

Natasha had mentioned something before about good bacteria. "But why is it orange?"

"That's the paprika," Tony told her. "Just try a bite, okay?"

Loki put a forkful of the mush in her mouth. It was creamy and a little spicy, and the chicken was some of the most tender meat she had ever had. "This is—" It wasn't just good. That Tony had been the one to prepare the dish defied reason, when the man couldn't make frozen waffles without burning them. "It's excellent," she admitted.

"Told you. The key is making sure the paprika is fresh, because it's one of those spices that loses its flavor really quickly once you've opened it. You also have to take the pan off the heat when you add the paprika, so it doesn't scorch."

"This doesn't seem like something I should be eating when I'm sick. Doesn't cream have a lot of fat in it? Bruce said—"

"Doctor Stick-in-the-Mud doesn't need to know, alright? You're mostly better anyway. Besides, I ate this stuff practically every time I was sick growing up, and it didn't kill me."

"That sounds like anecdotal evidence to me. Is this your mother's recipe, then?"

Tony hesitated. "Yeah, sort of."

Loki wondered how the answer to that question could be "sort of," but thought it might be rude to ask.

********Ana Jarvis's Chicken Paprikash*********

***************( ὅ ◡ ὅ )_==~~ *************

(makes 3-4 servings)

- 1 lb boneless skinless chicken thighs

- 1 tbsp butter

- 1 medium onion, diced

- 1 medium red bell pepper, diced

- 1 clove garlic, minced or crushed

- 8 oz canned diced tomatoes

- 2 tbsp paprika

- salt to taste

- 1/2 tsp black pepper

- 1 c chicken broth or stock

- 1/3 c full fat sour cream

- 2 tbsp heavy cream

- 2 tbsp flour

In a 3-quart saute pan with a lid, melt butter,

then add chicken and brown on all sides.

Remove chicken to plate, then add onions and

saute until brown. Add bell pepper and

garlic and saute 2 more minutes. Remove from

heat and mix in paprika, salt, and pepper. Return

chicken to pan and add chicken broth and tomatoes.

Bring to boil, then simmer on low for 40 minutes

with lid on. Mix sour cream, heavy cream, and flour

together in bowl; remove chicken to plate, then

whisk in sour cream mixture. Cut chicken into

bite sized pieces before returning chicken to pan

and simmering two more minutes. Serve on top

of egg noodles or rice.

'*****************************************

There was only a lingering bit of soreness in Loki's throat when she awoke, the orange light of the polluted Midgardian dawn streaming in through the blinds. The first thought to enter her head was, What does one wear to meet the Sorcerer Supreme of Midgard?

What would such a creature be like? Some white haired, bearded old man, most likely. Then again, this was Midgard, and Midgard's Sorcerer Supreme could be someone completely unexpected. Some blustering, egotistical American that would remind her a little of Tony, perhaps, with the same sort of facial hair, but with a fair amount of magical power at his fingertips, and probably taller—right, that was quite specific, and she might be allowing her imagination to get a little carried away there. Loki would find out who she was dealing with soon enough.

As for clothing, she didn't have a lot to choose from. Midgardian clothing was comparatively bland to begin with, or at least the clothes she had been provided with were. She had pajamas and lounge wear which were appropriate only for wearing around the tower. Obviously, she could not meet the most powerful sorcerer in Midgard wearing sweatpants. In another drawer were several pairs of jeans in light and dark washes, and the drawer next to it was full of soft "t-shirts," both long and short sleeved and in various colors, which would hardly pass for underthings in Asgard. In her closet, there were sweatshirts and "hoodies" to go over them, the latter being her preferred form of Midgardian outerwear at the moment for want of anything nicer.

Loki could have asked Frigga to use magic to dress her, but the memory of the green scaled unitard was too fresh in her mind.

She rather missed the tailored suit and overcoat she had worn in Stuttgart, but that had actually been a glamor she'd placed over her armor, which she missed more. She had hastily stuffed a few important pieces of it into her pocket dimension, which meant they were lost to her so long as she lacked magic. The rest had been cut or torn off by the healers who had seen to her before her imprisonment. She imagined that those pieces were locked away in some vault on Asgard now. They would not have been disposed of, she told herself, even in the condition they'd been in. The materials had been too valuable. Someone might have tried stripping it down to reuse them, but if they had, they would have gotten a nasty surprise in the form of several enchantments she had placed herself all literally blowing up in their face at once.

She settled on a soft long sleeve shirt in celadon green, with black jeans and a black hoodie made from a thin material. The sleeves went down to her knuckles and there were holes in the cuffs for her thumbs, turning it into something of an outer coat, fingerless glove combination. She pulled on a pair of solid black high top tennis shoes and did up the white laces in the pattern of a pentagram, which was something she had picked up from YouTube.

She examined herself in the mirror, frustrated by her washed out appearance, her recent illness having done her no favors. What she had to work with might indeed be fixable, but she hadn't worn any face paints since she had come to Midgard and hadn't asked for any to be provided. If she wanted them this morning, she would need to find some way of procuring them.

Of course, there was only one resident of the tower that would be in possession of such a thing, unless one of the other Avengers happened to moonlight as a drag queen. (She doubted it, though she imagined Steve would look fabulous in false eyelashes and a red, white, and blue miniskirt.)

He found Natasha in the common kitchen, where she stood in front of the microwave as if in a daze, watching her breakfast burrito rotating around inside. She must have just woken up, given that she was not wearing makeup yet herself, and her hair was still in curlers. "Natasha, might I borrow some of your cosmetics? I have a very important meeting with—"

Natasha didn't even take her eyes off the microwave. "I don't share makeup, especially with someone who's just been sick. If you take anything from my room without asking, I'll know."

Well, damn. What was she going to do now? She then recalled that the Man of Iron had a girlfriend, who had been on some sort of "business trip" ever since they had arrived in Midgard. Loki couldn't help but think that might not have been a coincidence. She wondered if the woman knew about her and was avoiding returning herself, or if Stark had made sure she was kept busy.

Invading Natasha's personal space in order to take things without asking would likely prove a suicide mission were she to be found out, and she would definitely be found out given that the evidence would be on her face. Whereas the most helping herself to the cosmetics of a woman who wasn't around was likely to garner her was another hold on her electronics access were she discovered. It made for an easy decision.

Loki pulled her hood down over her eyes (as if it were any sort of disguise) and took the stairs up to the penthouse. With any luck, Tony would still be in his workshop.

,

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lipstick

[##]

When Pepper woke up, her first thought was that she was still in her hotel room in Toronto, and her second thought was that she needed to get out of bed soon so that she would have time to put herself together before she was late to—where was it she was meant to be this morning? Nowhere, she remembered, a kind of bliss falling over her. Her business had already concluded, and she had returned to the tower the night before. Furthermore, she was currently in Tony's king and a half sized custom bed, which she currently had all to herself.

It had been after midnight when the SI helicopter had touched down on the landing pad on the side of the building. Tony had been in his lab, and she had assumed everyone else had been in bed. Being too tired herself to do much of anything but fall into bed, she had done her best not to wake anyone, and had gone directly up to the penthouse without alerting even Tony.

Today was a day off, an event that happened once in a blue moon. She intended to take advantage of it—by sleeping through it if she could help it. She cursed her own internal clock for having woken her up at such an ungodly hour (it was still dark out, for goodness' sake), and pulled the soft white satin sheets back over her head.

She must have dozed for a bit after that, but when she opened her eyes again, the light was on in the en suite bathroom, and she could hear drawers and cabinets being opened.

（*/◡＼*）

Author's Note:

If you've been watching Loki on Disney + you know that bisexual/pansexual MCU Loki is now explicitly canon (it was already canon in the comics, although I'm not sure it's been addressed since Agent of Asgard). I've always considered him to be bi/pansexual in this fic, though it isn't addressed. (He's still also gray-ace, as had been discussed in the comments on Ao3.)

I felt the need to label my lipstick ASCII art in case anyone thought it was something related to Loki and Bruce's earlier conversation. At least Loki finally got to have some fun in this chapter, even if it was at Bruce's expense.

I'd love to hear about it if any of you actually try the recipes. Bruce's turn to cook is coming up. Any suggestions for what he should cook? I'm pretty sure I've seen more than one story where his specialty is curry, so I'd like to make it something different. I still think it ought to be something exotic, since he has lived in a lot of places.