Tony wakes up to the scent of bacon and eggs and sausage.
When the smell hits his tongue he feels his salivary glands start to weep with joy.
When that scent hits his stomach it curls into a little fist and he groans in pain.
"How long has it been since you've eaten?"
Tony opens his eyes and sees Loki sitting cross-legged on the bed beside him with a silver tray of food in his lap and a glass of milk resting against his thigh.
He's wrapped in a purple Kimono that gapes open at his collar bones and folds under the tray. The way light filters in through the mostly drawn blinds causes shadow to pool in the hollows of his collar bones and his long dark hair to gleam and-
"Will you ever stop gawking?"
Tony suddenly registers that his mouth is awkwardly hanging open and he closes it.
"You always look at me like you've never seen me before."
Between two people with too much shame to ever be bashful Freudian slips are different and more intimate.
Tony blushes hot and Loki's sarcasm evaporates in the air.
"Eat your eggs." He says softly and offhandedly stabs a bit of yellow fluff with a fork before sliding it between Tony's lips.
When their eyes meet it's by accident and neither say anything until half of the portion of eggs are gone and Tony feels like his stomach is about to explode.
He picks up a spoon and carves the end of a sausage link off before holding it out to Loki. Loki looks at the unfortunately mangled bit of sausage like it's a UFO dragging a banner behind it insulting his mother.
"This is called a sausage." Says Tony slowly, in the manner of a kindergarten teacher. "It's food. You eat it."
Loki looks entirely unimpressed and Tony laughs.
"For me? Just a little?"
Loki somehow manages to look even less impressed without moving a single muscle.
"You're not the only one that worries."
Tony knows he's won when something in Loki's eyes softens. He watches as Loki bites the piece of sausage off of the fork without letting his lips touch it.
"Atta boy!" Says Tony with an absolute overload of painfully bright enthusiasm and Loki flicks his ear.
Tony watches as Loki chews on it slowly, as if pondering the heady and complex flavors of the bite of cheap, F-grade, hotel breakfast sausage. Tony swears it takes him ten years to swallow. He watches the muscles in his jaw and neck shift beneath the skin.
"Now I know why you're so skinny. It probably takes you a hundred years to eat a sandwich."
Tony is about to start laughing at his own joke when Loki picks up the glass of milk and guzzles half of it in the time it takes Tony to blink.
He almost imagines he can see it sliding down into Loki's gullet as he drains half of the glass dry. His neck seems miles long.
Tony groans.
"Really, Tony?" Loki takes the glass and the tray and puts them on the nightstand. "Children drink milk. How perverse."
The way Loki says 'perverse' it rings more like 'Bang on fucking job that one deserves a star'.
"Have you met me?" Asks Tony and when Loki takes his hand and slides it up his chest, so it grazes both the silk and his skin, Tony glides so their joined hands are entwined in Loki's long dark hair. "I'm disturbed."
"I hadn't noticed."
When Tony pulls Loki down by his hair and angles him for a kiss Loki lets him, and their lips meet with a languid, sharp sort of clarity.
They lay side by side, lost in a gentle push and pull, hands wandering in the lazy doldrums between passion and saccharine softness. Hands wander without direction, idly feeling everything but mapping nothing and naked ankles and feet tease as they hook about each other and break apart only to come together again.
Tony feels the low beginnings of a simmering arousal, the kind he's never felt before, start to curl in his gut.
It is not blinding and all-encompassing but another thing he feels in the context of soft hair, a gentle mouth, and miles of warm skin.
Loki really only smells like sweat and skin and a mediocre breakfast, and somehow the bone-melting comfort of it all makes Tony want to weep.
The moment shatters into a thousand pieces when something in the bathroom crashes onto the floor.
"Fuck!" Cries Loki and before Tony can breathe he's disappeared into the bathroom and locked the door behind him.
When Tony climbs out of the bed to follow him he's stopped in his tracks.
"Don't!" Loki calls from the bathroom. "Leave for the day! I've got to write!"
Tony wants to ask.
But at the same time he doesn't.
He puts on a pair of maroon corduroy bellbottoms and a purple shirt with a collar sharp enough to kill an unsuspecting dumbass before quietly tiptoeing out of the suddenly cold and empty hotel room.
Nyann: DON'T BE CONFUSED. I BELIEVE THAT YOU HAVE SCENTED THE SWEET SCENT OF PLOT.
Nev: Because this shit heavy as balls. It's like fraught with ups and downs and an airport of emotional baggage.
Plastic Cello: I checked out yo shit. I looked at the first few chapters. I liked it, and I honestly don't even read that much Frostiron fic anymore, as I have fallen in mad passionate love with Destiel. I believe I have drafted you as a lieutenant in my retro army, though. Jussayin.
Loki: Gracias.
Jen: Oh dude, I know the feel of the triad of OTP's. Holmes/Watson in any incarnation, Destiel, and Propera/Ariel from the recent version of the Tempest just like fill my holy triad of OTP's with feels. ugggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. And maybe it's all just a dream within a dream within Dicaprisun's empty oscar shelf within a dream. It's where Dicaprisun would put an oscar...IF HE HAD ONE.
Stormy: What didn't just happen?
Dragon: Coke-induced nightmares are a bitch dude.
Chibi: I am not the marrying kind. I want to ride through the glen with my hair flowing in the wind, shooting arrows off into the sunset, but I am flattered sir and/or madam. And like I want to engage in conversation with the people who read my things. It is what best pleases me and I find best pleases everybody. I am always mad intimidated by like everyone all the time, and if I can not add to the general intimidation felt by the people such as myself on the intertubes I will gladly ramble at you POOR FOOLS.
OMG PLEASE DO A FANVIDEO THOUGH ANYWAY OH MY GOD THAT WOULD COMPLETE ME AS A WRITER OF FIC AND A HUMAN BEING AND LIKE I WANT TO BE THE BACON IN THIS MAD EKPHRASTIC ORGY OF FANDOM POR FAVOR OH MY GOD I WOULD DIE ALL OVER MYSELF I FUCKING CAN'T OK. SOME FLY ASS MOTHERFUCKER MADE QUALITY FAN ART AND I CRIED. LERHFOQIWREHF[QOWIRHQOIRHFOQIRHFOEF