Hello my peeps! I hope y'all are jolly good in this festive season despite the whole pandemic shebang. I bring you my little Christmas present. It was very hard to write, don't know why, and I can't say I'm totally satisfied with it but hey, it's here. It's done. I hope you like it ;) And heads up, there's some M-ratedness, just saying :/

PREVIOUSLY ON ASAF:

Tony burrowed himself deeper under the covers. Loki was right about one thing though. He was fucking exhausted. And the soft feelings coming from Loki's side were all sleepy-feeling too, so that didn't help him feel any more invigorated. What gave him a spike of energy, though, was when he realised that the bond felt normal again. Not broken or numb or empty or dark! Just your regular old soul bond. Just the way it should be. Somehow, he'd repaired the broken Jötunn! It was the warmth of that thought that finally lulled him to sleep.

CHAPTER 36

Tony was rudely awoken by his nice cool pillow disappearing from under him. He groaned, face planted in the sheets, as the remnants of a very nice, hot dream vanished into the elusive mist where dreams lived. The bathroom door slammed, and that jolted Tony properly awake all right. If Loki equalled pillow, and hot dream equalled an obvious tent in Tony's pyjama bottoms, then said tent plus Loki's leg could only equal to not good. Laying very, very still, Tony gently examined the bond for clues of said levels of not good. They'd finally managed to get the bond working properly again with yesterday's heart to heart, and their – well, Tony's – grudging acceptance of forever being forced to think of Loki in situations in which he might not want to have to think of Loki. But once again, the bond revealed nothing. At least this time, it was the normal shielded nothing.

Tony rolled over onto his back and looked at the artificially brightening ceiling. He felt heavy all over, like he'd slept too much, and he also itched to do something about his erection, but without a shield there was no way. He should think of unpleasant things, and not about what Loki was doing in the bathroom – maybe he was taking a shower. Taboo thoughts, those. Especially since Tony had seen ninety percent of Loki's naked body already. And of course the missing ten percent had to be the most interesting part. Wait. Since when was another guy's junk the most interesting part? God, Fate's thought-nudging was going too far here! And also, he'd been thinking too much of Loki already – his own dick was throbbing with heat and he had to fist the sheets to stop himself from doing something about it. And Loki had to be feeling the lust coming off of him in waves. Fuck, he was so screwed—

The shield on the bond popped like a bubble, and the flood that smashed into Tony like a tsunami had him moaning like some kind of fucking porn star. His heartbeat sky-rocketed and he almost came in his pants when it hit him all at once; Loki was pulling himself off in the shower. And given the impressions he was getting, he knew Loki had been at it for a while – longer than the increasing lust Tony had been sending over the bond, he was sure. As for the way the shield disappeared, and the timing of it – Loki had done that on purpose, he could feel it in his core.

This was revenge. And a challenge too. This was a 'hey, if we gotta live with our own hands forever, let's make the most of it' challenge. A 'hey, we've done this before no need to be embarrassed' challenge. An invitation, really, to a very pleasant new wake-up routine. But. This wasn't right. It wasn't. Tony just couldn't remember why in this moment, but he knew there was a catch. It was just that his hand had found its way into his pyjama pants and his brain was short-circuiting. So whatever the very good reason was not to do this, fuck it. Quite literally.

Somehow, it was even better than yesterday. Perhaps it was because the image of Loki in the shower moving his hand at the same rhythm wasn't his imagination, but reality. Maybe it was because he was doing the forbidden, on purpose, because stopping would just be a crime at this point. He'd deal with consequences when they came. They wouldn't come to haunt him before Tony came, and Tony coming was the only thing that mattered in this crazy universe right now.

Could people die from pulling themselves off? Tony certainly felt like he was going to die if he didn't come soon – unless he was going to die from coming itself. His skin was on fire, licked by the flames of the most ardent of infernos; he could feel the ghost of icy fingertips traveling over his stomach and chest and teasing his nipples, and in his minds eye he could see Loki's fingers trail over his dark blue ridges, cold under Tony's own fingers that were clawing the sheets. And the other hand – God, the other hand. It was like while he was fisting his own blazing length and at the same time Loki's cool, ridged one – ridged! Loki's frigging blue alien dick was ridged, Tony fucking knew it, and hadn't even seen it yet! This was crazy, and amazing, and did he mention amazing? He never wanted this to end, but also, he really, really needed this to end, because there wasn't enough air in the room and his throat felt rough from his embarrassingly loud moaning that he didn't give a fuck about and God he wished he could be touching Loki for real and—

The universe blanked out, and Tony rebooted. Turns out that a soul-shattering orgasm is exhausting, and it seriously does a number on your brain. By the time his mind was somewhat back online, his breathing had gone down from the oh-my-God-I-almost-drowned category to the wheezing-for-breath-like-an-old-man-after-a-marathon one. He was drenched in sweat, but that barely registered; the wetness in his pants and on his hand that still hadn't made it out past the elastic band took the lead in the sensation department, now that his spent dick wasn't front and centre anymore. Overall though, there was a very pleasant lethargy that kept him staring at the ceiling – and given how his cheeks ached – smiling at the ceiling like an idiot too.

It was only when the bathroom door opened that reality truly came crashing down. His first instinct was to pull up the covers that had slid down to his thighs all the way up, over his head, like a teenager caught in the act, but he managed to override the impulse, only covering himself to mid-chest. The only, teeny-tiny little problem with that was that his face was in the open. If he hadn't been the incarnation of a red-hot chilli pepper before, he sure as hell had to be now.

It all happened in slow motion. Loki sauntered into the room casual as you please and looking oh-so-hot, drops still gliding down those chiselled pecks in stop-motion, dribbling from one little ridge to another, following the etched patterns. His hair looked longer, straight, heavy with water. He didn't look Tony's way, seemingly intent on going straight to the walk-in, and that was a good thing because Tony's disobedient eyes had made their way down to the towel wrapped around those gorgeous blue hips. Who on Earth had decided to buy towels that small? Oh wait, that was one of the towels with Tony's initials embroidered in red that he used to dry his hair with. Perfectly good sized. For someone's head. But hey, Loki was an alien, how would he know which towel size was used for what? And he probably hadn't seen the initials either – there was a pile of plain white ones there too, courtesy of Dum-E. A mischievous little voice – created by Fate's thought-nudging, no doubt – whispered exactly what he didn't want to think about. What if Loki chose that towel on purpose? To see how much of a drooling mess Tony could become at the hands of the soul bond's nudges— the soul bond's shoves, really. The towel barely held; it might fall at the next step. Maybe at the next one— damn it! The left thigh, the thigh closest to Tony, the one he could see perfectly, was almost entirely exposed when Loki took a step with that leg, and if the fluffy fabric could just gape open a few inches more… Yeah, a good thing Loki wasn't even glancing his way because Tony's refractory period hadn't been this short in years.

Time accelerated exponentially as Loki walked past the bed, and Tony thought it might just start to fast forward. Mercy from the universe no doubt, so that he might not die in his bed from a heart-attack – surely no normal human heart could sustain this rate without exploding into a bloody mess. But then time stopped, and Tony had a heart-attack for real. Loki wasn't walking anymore. Worse, by the time Tony had dragged his eyes back up to Loki's face, his soulmate had turned his head towards Tony – just his head and shoulders mind you, so that the arch of his back and his towel-clad backside were to die for – and that damned sharp eyebrow had gone up, and those stunning eyes were ablaze, and how was Tony supposed to breathe in that situation? Or not look like a mouse in front of a lion – no, bigger, scarier, a T-Rex. Thank fucking God for the thought-nudging of the bond, because how else would Loki, handsome magic prince of a Viking planet, ever be able to look twice at someone as pathetic as Tony?

"Anything you wish to say?"

It took everything Tony had not to start laughing his head off – or become a sobbing mess. It was a coin toss, really. But the universe was still on Tony's side, and the coin landed, perfectly balanced, on its edge. Tony managed to inhale without choking – yay! He managed to get the deer-caught-in-headlights look off his face – yay! He managed to not too awkwardly clear his throat – yay! He managed to say "nope" with a strong P that sounded passably nonchalant – yay! But he was thinking 'you have no idea how much there is to say about this fucked-up situation', and there was no doubt that in his single-worded response his thoughts had been telegraphed over the wide-open and unshielded bond, and that the lie-detecting alarm was going off in Loki's head. But Loki was a magnanimous blue god, because he answered: "Good."

Although, perhaps magnanimous wasn't the right word. Because Loki hadn't resumed his previous walk-in heading. Worse, his whole body turned back towards the bed. Catastrophe – or was it a miracle? – Loki put a knee on the mattress, and as he started crawling over, towel magically not falling off – surely nothing but magic could hold that hellish piece of fabric in place – Tony scrambled back, covers clutched to his chest, until his spine was flush with the headboard and his scalp was digging into the wall, and surely the Apocalypse was now upon him – though if it was Heaven or Hell that awaited him he didn't know, because his mind was a blank canvas waiting for Loki's brush stroke.

Loki's hand darted forward, grabbed Tony's wrist – fireworks went off when their bond connected fully – and he pulled the unresisting limb down until Tony's arc reactor was exposed; the buttons of his flannel pyjamas had come undone during Tony's earlier self-exploration. And that was all Loki wanted, it seemed; Tony's shining magic core. He put his cool palm on it and closed his eyes, and Tony's disappointment – why was he disappointed, for fuck's sake – must have been rung very clearly because despite his obvious concentration, Loki had the nerve to smirk widely. Tony's flash of anger must have been even funnier if the twitch of Loki's lips was anything to go by. That anger didn't stay though. The disappointment was back for a second wave, because that lovely shade of blue was leeching out of Loki's arm, up his shoulder, his neck, and when Loki opened his eyes, the whites were actually white and the red was bleeding out of his green, green irises. There was a challenge in those eyes, but Tony wasn't suicidal. Yes, he had taken a strong liking to all the blue, and he wished Loki would truly embrace it too, but at the end of the day it was Loki's body and Loki's choice, so he kept his mouth tightly clamped shut.

Tony didn't move when Loki elegantly rolled off the bed. Tony didn't move when Loki resumed his course towards the closet. Tony even managed not to move when the towel slipped down one smooth hip to expose half a porcelain cheek – not held by magic after all, that towel – but Loki's hand was, unfortunately, very fast, and the door of the walk-in crushed any hopes he could have had of seeing the full moon.

It took Tony a whole minute of stunned silence to process the overload of information that had been dumped into his unsuspecting caffeine-less brain this morning, and the first rational conclusion he came to was that he needed a shower. His legs even took him to the open bathroom, but bless his newfound capacity to overrule his reptilian brain; the warm humid air smelled like soap, like someone had just taken a shower, and since that someone was Loki, and since that Loki had been jerking off in said shower, this was not the place to wash the evidence off Tony's skin and rid himself of the heavy, half-stiff condition he was currently in. So away from his own bathroom it was, out of his room where forbidden thoughts lay, and straight through to Pepper's blessedly not-damp, not-soapy en-suite.

It wasn't until Tony was thoroughly shivering from the cold spray that he could say he finally felt more like himself. As in, he was fully grasping reality now. They'd done it again. They'd jerked off at the same time. Together, almost, given the ghosts of sensations that he'd felt on his hand and on his chest in places that he didn't remember touching. And Loki… Loki had instigated it this time. On purpose, if the way the shield fell away was anything to go by. It was a challenge, plain and simple. This is our new reality. Any objections? And Tony had said, nope. No argument for the opposition, your honour. And that was that, unless Tony wanted a repeat from the disaster that was yesterday. Anything but that, your honour. I'll take the mind-blowing synchronous masturbation, thank you. Where was the fun in being just plain straight anyway? That would be so common. So boring. And Tony Stark was anything but boring. No, Tony Stark was going to explore xenosexuality from the safety of his own mind – sure, it might be bond-nudged, but who cared, right? – and it was all going to go peachily.

Once he'd reached that cheery, and not at all ominous conclusion, Tony fled the ice-cold water and vigorously dried himself off in the hopes of not catching pneumonia. One little insignificant thing needed to be dealt with still; the shield. He'd noticed that, while Loki wasn't broadcasting his feelings, he wasn't hiding them either, and that only meant one thing. The shield was still up for grabs. Perhaps Loki had forgotten— who was he kidding, this was Loki we were talking about. No, this was a gesture. Loki had stolen the shield yesterday, pulled it so tightly around himself that he'd even found a way to hide his location, but now he was leaving himself exposed. This was a 'here, it's your turn now'. No, it was a 'go ahead, you need it more than me'. Because self-doubt was not a feeling Tony could feel coming from Loki's side. Loki was fine with his decision this morning. Though Tony's currently churning thoughts seemed to be causing a ripple of worry on Loki's side. Tony had no idea what he was broadcasting himself, but… He knew one thing for sure. He hated that fucking shield. Oh, yes, the theory had been great – being able to go back to a non-empathetic existence sounded lovely on paper. But when it was one-sided, it was hell for the one who stayed exposed.

Tony had the opportunity to grab the shield of ultimate power, but there was no doubt whatsoever that it would be the biggest faux-pas of his life, and that was saying something. Unshielded he was, and unshielded he would stay. There. That was that. The rest – the shield, this possibly new morning routine, Tony's life and sanity – was, as always, up to Loki. Boy, this was gonna be fun…

XXXxxxXXXxxxXXXxxxXXXxxxXXX

Loki sat on the sofa in Tony's room, in the exact same spot as yesterday evening. The remnants of their dinner were still exposed on the small table, but to Loki the contrast with yesterday could not be starker. Certainly, Tony had not accepted any feelings towards Loki – even if those feelings were only lust – as his own, but he had accepted their existence. The proof was in his soulmate's lack of utter embarrassment or anger at what they had done. Yes, Tony did not like this development per se – though he was not averse to the tremendous pleasure their connected sexual endeavours procured – but he had not voiced any complaints. Loki had given him ample opportunity to protest. Tony might still do it later. For now, however, they seemed to have reached a tentative agreement. Tony had not even taken their bond's shield yet.

Loki was very tempted to take it for himself – a knee-jerk reaction to the fear of sharing the affection he had been trying to hide so hard before, except… While he had not shared the depth of his feelings, Loki had already confessed his attraction yesterday in a bout of utter madness – or in a spell of reckless bravery that he despised so in others. He did not know what he would have done if Tony had scrambled out of bed or laughed in his face. He did not believe his soulmate to be so uncouth, of course, yet the fear of brutal rejection remained. Tony's current disposition made him hopeful, however. Loki would not have to hide his fondness as much as he had, now that Tony would assume it came with the soul bond. He could afford to be more open even if such a thing went against all his ingrained instincts.

He felt Tony move out of the bathroom in the room opposite theirs and stop on the threshold, not entering the corridor. A short spike of awkwardness and annoyance later and Loki's heartbeat picked up – was Tony still intent on avoiding him? A burst of exasperation and Tony was on the move. The door banged open and Loki stood, embarrassment erupting in him in turn now that he could hear the reason of Tony's reaction.

"It's not you," Tony said unnecessarily. "Be a dear and go annoy my guests to death, will you?" Tony gracelessly walked over to the closet, rolled up as he was in a large towel, smelling like sandalwood and spring dew. Loki could not stop himself from following him with his eyes. Tony turned around when he reached the closet door and eyed him pointedly. "I'm not artfully almost dropping my towel like you did, so you can go steal Clint's breakfast or something." He made a shooing motion with his hand and Loki snorted. Fine. If his soulmate needed more space to digest the evolution of their dynamic, he would go. In all honesty, Loki would not mind the distance either, especially with the image of Tony freshly showered in his head.

Rhodey was standing in front of the open door with lifted eyebrows, and he stepped aside when Loki arrived. "What's this I hear about artfully dropping towels?" he asked while they headed towards the stairs.

"I did not drop my towel."

"Right. I think you should have. That might have woken up Tony's stunted feelings, all right."

"That will not be necessary."

"Oh? Did you do something even more drastic?" Loki glanced at him from the corner of his eye. "Wait. Don't tell me. I bet I don't want to know."

"A wise decision."

"I see you've changed colour."

"What an astute observation."

Loki would have thought being back in his own skin would be a relief – familiar, normal. Changing back to his Áss skin had been a spur of the moment decision. When he had been in the shower, looking down at himself, feeling things differently in his Jötunn body… It had been distracting. Not that the pleasure had been dampened by it, especially after he closed his eyes, but it rekindled his longing for seeing his own face in the mirror when the thing he saw once he stepped out of the shower was a very wet Frost Giant that shared his hair and jaw line. The over-blown pupils in those red eyes looked nothing short of terrifying. Lust in his green eyes, though, was a sight to behold – and if he had the chance to give Tony a glimpse of that in all impunity, he should take it. Therefore, despite the sluggishness of his empty magical core and the risk of turning back to Jötunn-blue against his will at any moment, Loki had seized the chance of being fully himself when the opportunity – as in, Tony's lack of immediate rejection after he stepped out of the bathroom – presented itself.

"God, you've got the same snark as Tony. Remind me to never chat with both of you together."

"I certainly will. It would be my pleasure to remind you never to engage with us again."

Rhodey stopped short and gaped at him, affronted, until Loki let the smirk show on his face. "Damn it, you're both horrible. I don't know why I bother being friends with people like you two, seriously."

Now it was Rhodey's turn to walk on while Loki's steps faltered. He recovered quickly and made certain no emotion showed on his face, but inside he was reeling. Tony's friend – his best friend, even – had accepted him and even called him a friend in his own right. He pushed away the immediate thought of 'why would you care what a mere mortal thinks of you' because that was the Allfather's voice in his head, and concentrated on following said mortal into the packed kitchen.

The table was set with, once again, a variety of foods. Doctor Banner and Captain Rogers were at the stove, while Romanoff, Barton and Coulson were already seated. Barton was spoon-deep in a bowl of colourful sweet cereal. Loki was definitely not following Tony's suggestion of stealing his food.

"Where's the other one?" Coulson asked Rhodey. "I sent you up instead of Captain Rogers so you could get Stark down here."

"Am I not enough for you, Deputy Director?"

Coulson's eyes landed on him, and stayed there for a moment, assessing. "As delightful as it is to have you come to breakfast as requested, it's no fun if Stark isn't here too."

"Yeah, Tony's always the star of the show. Maybe I should have dragged him down in only his towel. That sure would have made breakfast fun." Rhodey chose a seat and Loki sat down next to him. Coulson did not even acknowledge the man, keeping his eyes fixed on Loki instead.

"I see you lost the blue. Just a bit of advice from your favourite babysitter; you might want to put it back on tonight for the fundraiser. That's how the public knows you, after all. You and Stark are the talk of town – blue-you, that is. There're going to be very disappointed if they don't see you on the red carpet; of course Miss Potts had to make this into the fundraiser of the year. S.H.I.E.L.D. has done its damned best to squash any pictures of previously-evil-you from reaching the media, but if your current face is plastered on the front page of every tabloid tomorrow, who knows how many iPhone pictures of the invasion are going to pop up on the internet. Sure, you could say that people are going to find out about the whole shape-shifting thing someday, but it would be better if that day wasn't tomorrow. And it would go even smoother if the whole world fangirled all over Frost Giant-you first."

Loki clenched his jaw and nodded. Pretending to agree was the best approach – it would keep the Deputy Director in his good books until tonight. Norns, he had completely forgotten about this ridiculous ball. Was this really the time to host a celebration? Yes, the Midgardians might see the swift end of this invasion as a victory – it certainly was better than a long and painful battle – but had not many civilians recently died? He could understand the will to throw a parade for their victorious heroes; it was Asgard's custom to do so as well. A custom Loki had loved as much as he had despised it. It all depended on who said heroes were.

The fundraising pretence was truly in bad taste, though. Anyone could give money for a good cause – one should not have to be wooed for it with an expensive feast. You may call it a victory ball if you wanted. A celebration of life, where anyone could attend; not just a party for the rich elite. Fundraising in this form was truly a product of the corrupt money-oriented societies.

Also, Loki did not want to expose himself to such crowds with his magical core so depleted. And he did not want to watch Tony sweep his gaze over all the women in frivolous dresses when his soulmate's eyes should only be on him. And he definitely did not want to have to watch Tony danse with anyone.

"Loki, you're one for the eggs and sausages, right?" Bruce asked as he put a plate piled high with some kind of fried bread on the table.

"Is that French toast?" Rhodey asked with wide eyes. At Bruce's nod he stole four of those toasts from the pile. "Sorry, is it okay if I take so many? That's my favourite."

"Sure."

"Man, you're a saint. Can I become your best friend instead of Tony's?"

"Uh— I—" The colour red really did not suit Dr Banner's face. He cleared his throat. "Uhm, Loki, did you want eggs, or?"

"Yes, thank you."

"You're welcome." Bruce smiled, and it turned into a smirk a second later. "I'm not the one frying them, so. Steve, Loki will take the eggs and sausages."

"Is four of each enough for you?" Steve asked without turning from where he was handling numerous pans.

"Yes, thank you." Loki certainly was not going to abuse Captain America's bountiful hospitality. Who knew what would happen if he did. What if someone thought it funny to force him to cook for them in retribution – no magic, unfamiliar appliances and ingredients? The perfect way to humiliate him. No, staying impeccably cordial was his best bet. That and making certain to look, at moments, utterly clueless. Such a strategy always seemed to work so well for Thor. And as long as Thor wasn't here to see Loki borrow one of the dishonourable little tricks that the golden prince of Asgard never told anyone about…

Feeling Tony approach, Loki quickly threw one of those toasts on his empty plate and attacked it with a knife and fork just before his soulmate made his great entrance.

"Good morning, peeps!" Tony sounded very jovial. The feelings whispered over their bond did not concur.

Loki was torn. Should he look up? Should he act like nothing had changed, even though to him if felt like today was so far removed from yesterday that a whole century must have passed unnoticed? In truth not that much had changed; the slight glimmer of hope – the one he was trying to keep from growing into an unwarranted wildfire – was not that much better than the lack of hope – the black abyss of the void – of yesterday, and yet… He felt renewed. Reborn, somehow, with the sentiment that someway, some day, Tony could choose to think only of him. If they lived that long, of course. That was still a rather distressing situation, their current extreme mortality.

Tony sat down, and Loki had been too slow to act. Because Tony had decided to sit in the chair the furthest removed from Loki's, and that was rather telling, was it not? Loki quickly fished another of those disgustingly sweet, soggy, lukewarm slices of bread from the dish and did his best not to saw his porcelain in two with his dull knife. Where had all his bravado from this morning gone?

He had been bold – and why should he not have been? Loki of Asgard did bold very well. Except his boldness usually was part of a good plan or thirteen, and contingencies behind those. Those plans worked more often than not, especially when he knew the targets of said plans well, but now… It was like he knew Tony by heart, while all at once he was the greatest mystery in all Nine Realms. This morning he had chosen bold, with only one poorly made plan, no backup, and it had been nerve-wracking. It still was, even though everything seemed to have worked in his advantage. Up until now, that was.

The bond twanged, just once, like a short pull on the invisible string between them, and Loki looked up. He met Tony's eyes and waited with bated breath for whatever happened next. And waited. And waited. Tony ended it with a short nod, and addressed Barton, asking for some lucky charms – which appeared to be the name of a highly processed cereal. Loki was slightly befuddled by the exchange he had just had; Tony had 'called' him, but then, nothing. No words, neither spoken nor sent via the bond, no specific emotions sent over or shown on his face. Just an indefinable look that had held his. An acknowledgement of some sort. Loki wished he knew what it meant, exactly. Interpreting this incorrectly might lead him to wrong conclusions – he had gone down that road too much of late.

"Here you go," said Steve Rogers before lowering a hot pan close to Loki's plate. He tilted the pan. "Can you—" Loki helped the eggs and sausages slip out of the pan with his fork. "Thanks," Steve said before disappearing back to the stove, and Loki realised he was too late to echo the words. He really had to pull himself together. He could not appear to be as boorish as Thor, for Yggdrasil's sake!

Loki polished off his plate at a more sedate pace, and with much more decorum than he had used for those disgusting toasts. Tony was not chatting with his neighbours anymore. The Deputy Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. was talking to him about the fundraising gala, and Tony was dutifully nodding at appropriate intervals, but Loki could see he was not listening at all. He did not seem deep in thought, and his feelings were a steady muddle that did not suggest any concern about this morning, and yet Loki could not shake the impression that everything was very far from being all right. Apart from that one stare, Tony had not acknowledged his presence at all. The others had noticed, given the frequent glances going around. And Loki must look like a fool in love, staring at his soulmate with Norns knew what expression on his face.

He quickly swept his gaze over the available dishes on the table. No one seemed keen to eat the pile of varying thin slices of meat, so he took the platter and put half of its contents on his plate. Most of the meat was unnecessarily salty, but it was palatable. It did not matter at the moment, but he thought this kind of meat would have been quicker to eat with his Jötunn teeth – he would have piled the slices together to reconstitute the original slab of meat or sausage and bitten through it with ease.

Loki had just finished imitating Bruce's round bread with a hole topped with a creamy cheese and smoked fish, when conversation around the table halted as strange music began. 'Ah, ah, ah, ah! Staying alive! Staying alive!' a voice repeated, holding the last note the second time around, and all eyes were on Coulson as he finally reached for his pocket. "Sorry, new ringtone. Completely forgot I changed it." He glanced pointedly at Loki before tapping the screen. "Hello?" He stood up and left the room at a quick pace while Director Fury rattled off a staggeringly long string of expletives.

"That was Fury, wasn't it?" It took Loki a second to realise Tony was addressing him. Finally. Loki nodded. "Hear anything interesting?"

"Interesting is not the word I would use for such colourful language."

Tony grinned, and Loki realised this was the first time since his shower that he had not felt cold. It didn't last long, though. Tony clapped his hands together and stood. "That reminds me I need to get you a Stark phone ASAP. And it needs quite a few modifications, so… See you later, folks!" Loki stared after him as he made his way to the lift. And he continued staring in that direction while Tony's presence plunged downward to his workshop.

"That was… weird. Did you two argue again or something?" Rhodey asked. "I thought you made up yesterday, what with the way you two were… when I came to fetch you."

Loki took a bite of his round bread – it was rather palatable – instead of answering. He was not certain himself of how Tony and him stood. Tony was avoiding him, that was quite obvious. It was different from yesterday, however. An avoidance because… yes, he had the distinct feeling that Tony did not want to talk with him. Not in the general sense of having a conversation, but in the very specific sense of not having a very specific conversation. Loki relaxed in his chair. Yes, the bond was so wide open Loki had been able to glean these impressions; Tony and him were fine. Loki would prefer for them to be more than simply fine, however he could not force Tony into the conversation or Norns forbid, seem clingy. Tony needed 'space to process'; those were Tony's words coming to him, he was certain of it. More than an impression, at this point it was almost like receiving… a thought. A terrifying notion. Loki dreaded appearing so transparent himself. And yet he had to risk it – drawing up his shielding was out of the question.

When Loki became aware of his surroundings again, there was no one at the table. Without his core thrumming with magic, his alertness to those around him dimmed dangerously. Another terrifying notion.

The clanging of dishes and sloshing of water paused. "Loki, if you're done could you put your plate and things in the dish-washer?" Steve asked.

Loki did just that, and watch the mortal scrub a pan. He eyed the table, still full of half-eaten dishes and open packages. Everyone had left Captain America to take care of it – Steve had probably been doing this for days. And Steve had even cooked half of his breakfast. Loki had not really cleared a table by himself before – what else were servants for – but this was his chance to show the leader of the Avengers that he, at least, did not have to be a complete oaf.

"Can I help you with anything?"

Steve's head whipped to the side, eyes wide, and his face slowly reddened. "I, uhm. It's okay, I can do it. I like washing up."

Loki pointedly looked at the table. "Do you also like clearing away all the food?"

"I— well, if you want to do that then thank you."

Loki walked back to the table, and only then realised the error in his plan. He neither knew where things went – what went into cupboards, and what did Midgardians keep in their refrigerator? They seemed to keep things in boxes too to keep things germ-free – there was no magic to keep food in stasis – and Loki did not know where said boxes were kept. He rather looked like a fool now.

"Mr Friggason, if I may?" J.A.R.V.I.S. said very quietly, but loud enough for Loki's ear to catch, and he nodded in relief. Thank the Norns for Tony's genius.

With J.A.R.V.I.S.' thorough instructions, Loki cleared away the unfinished victuals, either to be kept of thrown out; he divided the waste according to strange recycling rules; he filled up plastic boxes and stretched very fine and fragile plastic over plates; he wiped down the wood with a cloth. And all the while he kept on a brave face as he caught Steve's gleeful smiles and twinkling eyes every time Loki had to ask J.A.R.V.I.S. for clarifications.

Honestly. The things Loki did for his soulmate. And, well, his own continued safety. Still, if it were not for Tony, he would not be here drying off a table by hand. At least Thor would not know of it. That was his only solace. Yes, Tony had better be grateful for how low he allowed himself to stoop.

Well. There you go. This thing is dragging on like crazy. I thought I'd have reached that gala by now, but my characters' drama gets in the way. Next chapter though, there will be music; I'll get them to that damn ball. Not saying I'll actually get them inside, mind you, but I'll get them to the door at least XD

Merry Christmas everyone!

Spread the luv! (And stay safe!)

LL