Patience came easily to a being that lived for millennia. While that rule wasn't always true when it came to Thor, it did apply to Loki, and even more so than usual when it was about Anthony.

The mortal had an incredibly complex, fascinating mind. He was smarter than most of the Aesir Loki had met in his long life and some of Alfheim's and Vanaheim's most renowned scholars. He was fast, he picked things up and understood them more at ease than Loki had ever seen anyone doing it. When he said that the man had a beautiful mind, there was not the slightest bit of a lie to it. But even more wonderful than watching (or, due to his habit of doing it out loud, hearing) Anthony think was seeing him laugh.

When Loki had seen him on that market for the first time, a laceration on his temple, his back full of whip marks, his eyes wide and crazed with fear as soon as someone did as much as stepping up to him – he wasn't as good of an actor as he seemed to think he was – barely daring to ask even the simplest questions, laughter had been something that was nearly impossible to draw out of him. There had, of course, always been this spark of rebellion that came to live in his insolent answers and his habit to pick up arguments with others (especially one boy from the kitchen, Finnobarr, if Loki remembered correctly. He had never quite understood why the two of them were so hostile towards each other). Smiles like the ones he gave Loki now had been something impossible.

Back then, during their first few days, Loki had been careful around the mortal. He had paid attention to his words and done what he could to ease Anthony's badly concealed fear. In the beginning, it had admittedly been for the purpose of finding out what the device – the reactor, as he had learned by now – in his chest was, how its energy could feel so startlingly similar to that of magical sources that were older than Asgard itself. Although he had still not learned the whole story about why Anthony had needed to create it, he had understood how it worked by now, and couldn't help but be impressed by the fact that what others had tried to do for millennia, Anthony had managed in a cave full of scraps.

But that was not the reason why he was still here. Yes, he was a seemingly never-ending source of information about the frankly astonishing progress of Midgard's science, but if he only wanted to know something about that, Loki could as well visit the mortals himself. He had wanted to know something back then at the market and he had understood that he would need Anthony's trust to learn about it if he didn't want to resort to lower methods like torture (which was not his way to approach things, thank you very much), but that had stopped being his reason for 'keeping' him in only a few days.

Now, it was about fixing him. About putting back together what others before him had broken. And while Loki knew that he wouldn't be able to recreate who Anthony had been before – he didn't know who that was, he had never met Tony Stark, only Anthony – he hoped to be able to make this new beginning a success for his mortal. When he had managed that, when Anthony could live on his own again (although some selfish part of Loki didn't want the genius' dependence on him to end), then and only then he would maybe indulge his wishes and approach Anthony with something more than the offer of comfort.

He didn't allow himself the question of whether Anthony would want that. He had seen the hope in the mortal's eyes when he had realized what a possibility the Bifröst was, and Loki had no illusions about Anthony's wish to return home. Although it filled him with an almost ridiculous amount of elation, yes, pride almost, whenever he saw his mortal smile or laugh instead of longing and crying for Pepper and Rhodey and Yinsen or screaming at Obie in his sleep – all of those were names that Loki didn't know, names that came from a time where Anthony had been Tony Stark.

Loki wasn't sure if he wanted to know more about this life or shut it away in a corner and forget it because this Tony wasn't and would never be his as Anthony was. Some part of him feared that if he let Anthony go, he would never come back. And usually, his premonitions were very accurate.

But he would make this a home for Anthony, he promised himself. There would be no need to him to return to somebody else. He just needed time for that. He had time.

Still, he knew that the question would come up eventually and he also knew that he would hate that moment – because something between them would shatter when Loki openly denied Anthony the wish to leave. Hope was a fragile, yet powerful thing and Anthony wouldn't understand that Loki couldn't let him go, that he was already too far invested for that.

The most painful thing about it was that Loki understood why he would want to return home. He didn't want to hurt Anthony, he really, truly didn't, but letting him go, possibly forever? Letting him be Tony again? He wanted the mortal's happiness, he really did, but maybe he was just a little bit too selfish to give him up for that. There were (had to be) other ways to make Anthony's life worthwhile. Ways that would allow Loki to be part of it.

"Lokes? You okay?" The prince blinked when Anthony waved a hand in front of his eyes. "You've been awfully quiet there for a few minutes." He had an almost concerned frown on his face and his hair fell in loose strands into his face.

"Yes, of course, I am... fine", Loki answered distractedly, folding his hands in his lap to keep himself from reaching out, brushing those soft, errand curls out of his eyes and kissing the worried expression away. Not the right moment. Definitely not.

"Good", Anthony replied with a grin that didn't seem quite convinced and gestured towards the scroll in front of him. "Because I forgot how to pronounce this... thing. Again." He made a strange, slightly strangled sound in the back of his throat and shook his head. "How the hell do you do that?" Chuckling, Loki spoke the syllable for him, which resulted in another desperate head-shake from Anthony. "Yeah, well, never gonna do that. I swear, I've got at least five twists and knots in my tongue by now."

"I have faith in you", Loki responded with an ironic half-smile.

"Wow, that sounded so encouraging", Anthony muttered and crouched over the scroll again, causing his hair to fall over his eyes again.

Without thinking, Loki extended a hand and brushed one of the strands behind the mortal's ear (hadn't he told himself not to do that?), pretending not to notice the shudder that went through Anthony's body when the prince trailed his fingertips over his cheek a little more deliberately than necessary. Quietly, he asked: "How do you feel about getting those cut?"

"I, uh... what?", Anthony stammered and followed Loki's gaze. "Ah, those. Yeah, sure", he continued with a hasty nod when he understood what Loki was referring to. Dear Norns, was he blushing? He was adorable. "'Course. That'd be..." He cleared his throat. "Great idea, that." He nodded again and Loki bit his lip to prevent his grin from breaking out.

One day, he told himself. One day.

They had time, after all.