XVI

"You forgot Elsa." Loki had to blink several times before realizing Sherlock was actually talking to him. The detective must have caught this and repeated himself. "You left Elsa in the pumpkin when we left. She may still be too small to get herself out."

"Mrs. Hudson will take her out eventually. Might even try to put her in some silly outfit," he responded, running his jittery fingers along the faded scars on his lips. Sherlock took that hand, pressing a surprisingly tender kiss to it and keeping it close to him.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." They both knew that was a lie. The pair had only been at Stark's party about an hour and already the god felt tense. This was Loki's first time out since his nightmare with Thanos so the crowd only made the trickster more nervous. There were so many people in masks present that they had not had a chance to encounter any of the host Avengers yet. Loki was actually more than grateful for that as Thor would probably start acting like an overprotective father if he suspected anything was wrong. Now, he knew his lover was well aware of his increasing tension but Sherlock actually knew when to back off as needed. "It almost reminds me of the masquerades back in Asgard. Only the women are wearing a bit less here."

"Their costume options rarely range outside the 'sexy' parodies unless they can sew themselves. In fact, I think I saw a 'sexy' version of your armor at the Halloween shop…" The sleuth almost immediately regretted telling the Walking Mischief about that. Loki, on the other hand, felt no guilt whatsoever for the next comment.

"As if such alterations are even necessary. I have it on good authority that my armor is quite an attractive sight."

"Oh really? And one who's authority, Captain Modesty?"

"Why yours of course, Sherlove." The god smirked as his lover blushed, a frown forming on his face. "And your rather imaginative fan base seems to believe so as well."

"'Fan base?' What 'fan base?' I don't have a 'fan base.'"

"Oh yes, you do, Sherlove. I rather enjoy interacting with them." Loki's fingers began to run along the scars on his lips again. "They actually had some interesting ideas for us and Molly…"

"Stop that."

"Stop what?"

"You look fine. Leave them alone." Sherlock trapped both of his god's in his, pulling him onto the technicolored dance floor. "Now dance with me, handsome." The nervous trickster smiled.

"Why, Sherlock, you can be affectionate in public!"

"Only when you need it. You actually make it a puzzle worth solving and practicing." Loki found himself grateful for the dim lighting on the dance floor as he felt heat rising up his neck and cheeks. Now the god of mischief was not one to blush at the most subtle flirts but such public affections were very, very rare from his stoic logic driven mortal. Even in private, Sherlock was not an obviously affectionate person. Thusly, the god was never expecting it when his lover said such sweet nothings. So Loki simply smiled, leaning closer into Sherlock as a slow love ballad began to play.

"And they say you don't have a heart…" Sherlock chuckled, swaying to the beat as he wrapped his arms around the god's waist protectively.

"Don't tell anyone. It would ruin my reputation."

"Would never dream of it, my love." Loki buried his face into Sherlock's neck, inhaling the strange concoction of sterile labs and peppermint that always seemed to overpower any cologne he wore. To date, Sherlock Holmes was the only one who could possibly manage to make such an odd scent attractive. "I love you…" he carefully whispered into Sherlock's ear, not expecting a response back. The god felt his lover smirk.

"I love you too… My king…"

"How adorable." The flash and shutter of a camera caused the canoodling couple to quickly jump apart. Behind the camera was a blonde bombshell sporting what appeared to be a World War II field uniform that had been jimmy rigged to fit a woman. Of course, Loki really did not know much about Earth's history besides the little bit of research he had done for Sherlock's costume. For all he knew that could be a genuine female uniform. However, he was too unnerved by the wearer's mischievous grin to focus on her costume too much. "Not really that accurate for your costumes, mind you. Not to mention completely inappropriate for Mr. Holmes' uniform. But I figure if you don't care to steal Captain America's suit, you wouldn't be motivated to adhere to proper military uniform etiquette."

"And who are you?" Loki asked before his precious dork could start deducing who she was and risk over deducting. The last thing he wanted was to be kicked out just because Sherlock's brain-to-mouth filter didn't block an insulting deduction. He was fairly certain Sherlock already knew who they were talking to anyway. The woman just smirked and looked at Sherlock.

"Why don't you let your boyfriend here tell us? I can smell the smoke coming from his ears from the effort to keep quiet."

"Carol Danvers," the now somewhat excited consulting detective answered before the woman finished her syllable. Not many people actually asked him to verbalize his thought processes. "Formally of the US Air Force, currently of The Avengers. Better known to the general public as Captain Marvel, or more colorfully 'Princess Sparklefists' to some of your fans." Danvers nodded approvingly.

"Sounds about right."

"Not many would own up to such a nickname."

"Hey, few can make such a nickname badass. I wear my titles with pride." Sherlock frowned a bit when Danvers did not come off impressed enough for him. "Sorry, bud. I already knew you were good. I just wanted to see it in action. You must piss people off on a regular basis."

"He does. So why are you taking our picture?" The god was never comfortable with people taking his picture without asking him. Vain as he often portrayed himself, he was extremely particular with who took his portrait when for the sake of Sherlock's reputation. Even more so now that the Mad Titan had managed to curse him with scars impervious to his magic. Midgardians had a tendency to automatically assume that Loki was back to his wicked ways and any new bruises even indicated towards such wild theories. The ones on his lips had been buried into his lover's neck but there was a particularly jagged memory that peeked out of his collar.

"Costume contest, boys. Each of us Avengers picks our own winners in couple and individual, and then we pick another winner in each category as a group." Carol beckoned the pair closer, her voice dropping to a conspirator's whisper. Or what could pass for a whisper on a booming dance floor. "Don't tell anyone, but I hear you two are favorite to win Captain Marvel's vote. I mean those scars are certainly a nice touch." Loki stiffened at the mention of his scars. "So be honest. Magic or makeup?"

"Wha-what?" Did she really think his scars were faked? Considering the real Captain America did not have any such disfigurations due to the supersoldier serum, Loki would have thought it would have been obvious. "Uh… well… they're…" The last thing he wanted was to retell the nightmare he went through to achieve said scars. He hadn't even told Sherlock all that had happened.

"Makeup," was Sherlock's answer. "One learns many surprising skills in the field of crime fighting as you no doubt have learned, Colonel Danvers." There was a twinge of recognition in Danvers' eyes that told Loki and no doubt Sherlock as well that she didn't buy the makeup excuse. So why did she bother to question they weren't real?

"Which translate to you watched a ton of Youtube." Yet another frown found its way onto Sherlock's face which managed to entertain the god. There was something ironically satisfying in seeing his mortal's pride being bruised. "No shame in that. I would have never learned to sew if not for Youtube. Now I think I'm late for judging. Please feel free to resume your regularly scheduled makeout session."

"We were not making out," Sherlock and Loki denied in unison. Of course, Loki was indeed hoping for something like that to happen. Maybe they would even create a scandal in Stark's bedroom.

"You were getting there!" Danvers called over her shoulder. Loki had to laugh at the incredibly scandalized confusion painted on Sherlock's face. For someone he knew to be well versed in bedroom fun, Sherlock always seemed so shocked when someone mentioned the act in polite conversation. The god was beginning to think this would be a very fun celebration after all.

And indeed it was. Sherlock and Loki did win Danvers' choice as well as Count Tony-cula's in the costume contest. However, debates on how legal Loki's acquisition of his costume actually was prevented them from winning the Team's award. Not that Loki cared too much. Stealing the suit from under Cap's nose was far too fun and tempting to resist. And really he had no intention of keeping the suit anyways. The colors were far too much for his subtle tastes. To be fair, Loki was also fairly certain he and Sherlock only won what they did due to guts rather than how well-done their costumes were.

The true highlight of the evening for the god, however, included quite a rare sight. The ever controlled Sherlock Holmes hammered drunk. It never ceased to amaze Loki how terrible his precious detective was at holding his liquor. While he found it quite adorable, it was actually quite annoying to other people, prompting an early exit for the pair. "Wha-what are ya doin'?" Sherlock asked as Loki began to aid him out of the mansion. An intoxicated smile crept onto his face. "You *hic* can't 'ave your… your way…"

"You're far too drunk to be of any use and enjoyment right now. You, sir, are going straight to bed."

"I can't."

"And why not?" Loki began to fold the sloshed sleuth into the cab. "What do you think you're going to do?"

"I… I'ma clueing…"

"You're clueing? Baker Street please," he ordered, setting their prize bags, as of yet unexplored, in the floor where Sherlock's feet should have gone. However, the mortal had decided Loki's lap would make a good pillow instead.

"I'ma clueing for looks…"

"Well, you're not going to find any looks or clues in my lap, Sherlove." His fingers found their way into Sherlock's hair, gently twisting in the soft curls. Sherlock didn't fight it but rather nuzzled into it, the only other motion he'd make being the occasional flinch of a hiccup.

"Yeeeeesss… You'reee…. Boooored….. Considering *hic* a trip back to Assgaurd….. Oh. No, dat's *hic* me…" The gently massaging motion Loki had begun on Sherlock's scalp stopped.

"You wish to go to Asgard?" This was certainly new to the god. But perhaps it was only coming out because of the alcohol. Odin had made it very, very clear when he handed Loki over to SHIELD that the trickster was in no way welcomed on Asgardian soil ever again. So despite how often Loki fantasized about Sherlock in ceremonial armor, such a trip was highly unlikely. The slowly falling asleep sleuth nodded. "Well… perhaps one day… When you're not busy 'clueing for looks'."