Author's note: Another impromptu chapter, this time inspired by comments from Potkanka and Sergeant Hiddles… ^^
After his too-long convalescence, it is an unaccustomed feeling to be serving himself food again, as opposed to having Tony bring his meal on a tray so he can eat it in bed. Still, despite the weeks that have passed, everything is in the same place as it used to be – the Cheerios, the milk, the bowl, the spoon. He places the familiar items on the table and then sits down to chew down another helping of the crunchy little things.
His gaze drifts around as he eats, trying to notice if anything has changed since he last set his foot in here, but nothing seems to be out of the ordinary. The kitchen table and the chairs, the crumpled mat on the floor, the sink and the cupboards, even the little brownish stain on the far wall – it's all like he remembers it. And, of course, the Cheerios taste just like they always have.
He wonders if perhaps his mind is trying to latch onto all those familiar, unaltered things as to not have to contemplate what actually has changed since the last time he was sitting here eating at this table. It was weeks ago, but even then, those old feelings of fear and dread in regards to Tony had already dissipated. And yet, things had still been very different from… now.
He watches the spoon stir lazy, haphazard patterns in the milk while strange, inexplicable thoughts are in turn stirring inside of him. The image of Tony standing in the hallway is still lingering before his inner eye, and he doesn't seem quite able to shake it. And he's well aware that there was a time when he would have found Tony's nakedness disturbing, even frightening, and this kind of encounter would have left him tossing and turning between the sheets the following night, dreading what would be in store for him. Even now, he still remembers the vivid and horrible nightly terrors that used to plague him about what Tony was going to do to him. Somehow, they seem very far away now, like those childhood nightmares about monsters and dragons and frost giants chasing after him, brandishing sharp weapons and even sharper fangs.
Under normal circumstances, an encounter like that should have been uncomfortable for someone in his position, it shouldn't have stirred up… the images that it had. But of course, since he's long ago stopped worrying about Tony exercising the rights always belonging to a master in regards to his slave, the absence of fear and worry is perfectly understandable and reasonable. But the natural reaction should in his case have been an absence of reaction, not that which had instead taken the place of the expected empty indifference. After all, nudity has never been a noteworthy thing in itself where he comes from, and strong and well-built warriors in particular would never be shy about displaying their naked bodies – some even enjoying the opportunity to show off their rippling muscles and proofs of virility.
And judging by what he saw today, Tony certainly has nothing to be ashamed of in that regard. Come to think of it, it's actually rather strange that he hasn't seen Tony unclothed until now, considering that this is the man's home which makes him free to be in any state of dress or undress that he likes.
Then again, from what he's learned of Midgard during his stay here, it would seem that humans are quite a bit more modest in such matters compared to Asgardians. That would certainly have explained Tony's strange reaction back there, how he had almost seemed embarrassed by someone encountering him in a naked state, and the way he had quickly slunk off to the bathroom, as if he was eager to shield his unclothed body from view as quickly as possible.
It still won't explain his own, even stranger reaction. He twists in his seat, suddenly uncomfortable as he remembers the images in his mind left in Tony's wake.
Because really, why should he entertain such thoughts about a mortal, about someone he once tried to kill, about someone who is now his appointed master while he has been reduced to the position of a slave?
Yes, why indeed should he entertain such thoughts about… someone who's come to serve him his meals for weeks as he lay injured in bed, who has time after time sat at his bedside and played his favourite board game, who has laughed at a story of his and made him laugh in turn?
When did he ever start caring about such sentiment? When did someone ever show such sentiment on his behalf?
He can't really answer any of those questions for now. Perhaps he will be able to eventually, but right now there seems to be more questions than answers.
He stands for a long time beneath the spray of hot water, doing his best to relax as the warmth is spreading through his body, loosening his tense muscles.
Great going there, Tony, just great.
Because that was surely the first sight that Loki wanted to greet him after finally making it out of the bed that he's been stuck in for weeks. Not.
He's glad that Loki had at least not looked terribly disturbed or concerned by the surprise nudity that had assaulted him in the hallway. And he supposes he should be grateful that he hadn't sported a hard-on too while he was at it – now wouldn't that have been the icing on the cake.
He groans, a hand going up to the wall for support. Perhaps it was a good thing he had taken matters into his own hands before going for a shower, so at least he hadn't been in that condition. And that he had also had the good sense to wipe the sticky residue off before venturing outside.
At that, he groans again, placing his forehead against the arm that's resting against the cabin wall. Maybe the encounter wouldn't have left him feeling so bad if his morning fantasies hadn't been centred on him getting a blow-job from the god only minutes before almost walking into him in the hallway. Sure, Loki can't read minds – not as far as he knows, anyway – but it had still felt as if his doings had been written all over his face. And how disturbed and disgusted wouldn't Loki have been if he had known? Possibly even terrified, given his previous expectations.
Yup, indeed great going there, Tony. Really considerate and sensitive.
He remains in the heat of the shower cabin until the enclosed space is so steamy that he can barely see his own feet. That's when he finally shuts the water off and steps out, snatching the nearest towel from the rack.
Once he's passably dry, he makes sure to put on a full set of clothes before heading out the door, or the universe will no doubt gleefully send an unsuspecting Loki right into his path again. He can't really remember the last time he was so concerned about being clothed when having a houseguest staying over. Most of the time he would have pranced around in his boxers, having already showed everything off the night before.
Then, he pushes the bathroom door open, instinctively turning his head both right and left before stepping out. Next time he sees Loki he doesn't want to be taken by surprise, or who knows what kind of stupid reaction he might have. He can at least try to act normal and unperturbed, despite the recent awkwardness-inducing events.
There is no god of mischief lurking in the corridor this time, though, so he heads down to the kitchen, intending to grab some breakfast. Even if he often skips that particular meal of the day, in his experience, some food tends to help with the morning-after headaches.
He almost startles as he reaches the doorway to the kitchen, having not expected to see Loki sitting there at the table, munching away on his usual Cheerios. It's a sight he hasn't seen in weeks now, but that he has to admit is welcome nonetheless.
Despite that, a part of him would like to turn on his heel and leave to come back later, the recent embarrassment fresh on his mind. But he's had enough of sneaking around in his own tower trying to avoid his unwilling houseguest, so instead he walks in, hoping he's not looking half as moronic as he's feeling.
He makes straight for the refrigerator where the leftovers of yesterday's salami sandwich are waiting for him, and, having provisioned himself, he flops down at the table at his usual spot.
"So, already well enough to be up and running, huh?" he says as casually as he can manage, taking a big bite out of the sandwich in his hands.
Loki is sitting rather more stiffly than usual and it's obvious that he's still not back in his usual shape. Tony is glad he has already stuffed his mouth full with food, or something thoughtless like 'don't you still belong in bed?' might have slipped out. Somehow, speaking the words 'you' and 'belong in bed' in the same sentence to Loki doesn't seem… appropriate, not after what just transpired.
Loki swallows down the mouthful of Cheerios he's been chewing on before answering. "I'm much better now," he replies. "There is no need for me to stay in bed any longer."
"Alright, just don't do anything stupid and overexert yourself," Tony says, quickly stomping out the light-hearted continuation – 'unless you want me to tie you to the bed until you're actually well enough to leave it' – automatically forming on his tongue. Not an in the slightest appropriate or witty thing to say, given the circumstances.
Quickly, he takes another huge bite out of his sandwich, just in case his big mouth should decide to be uncooperative.
Tony leaves shortly after breakfast is finished, going out on some business errand or the other. And Loki is left sitting at the window, gazing outside.
Of course, he's not really well enough yet to go for a walk, but he can at least watch the sky and the fluffy clouds drifting by. And it's a relief to be out of bed, no longer being confined to a single room anymore but having the freedom of the tower again, even if he's not going to be moving around overly much in the next couple of days.
Still, he would really have liked the opportunity to breathe some fresh air after having been coped up for all these weeks. Just a gust of wind on his face would have been… nice.
Not quite able to stop himself, he gets up from his chair and walks over the few steps to the window, placing his palm against the pane, letting the chill of the air outside seep into his skin. It's a poor substitute, but it will have to make do for now.
A little sigh escapes his lips as he stands there, suddenly acutely aware of the four confining walls around him. Yes, he knows it's only temporary until he gets better, but still…
Automatically, his hand goes for the window handle, fingers closing around it. How many times didn't he use to do this, before Tony finally let him outside? Only to be met with disappointment every time, despite being fully aware of the pointlessness of his attempts.
And yet, his hand can't help but make a little upwards tug, perhaps more out of habit than anything else.
To his surprise, the window slides open, fresh air suddenly rushing in through the widening crack, caressing his face with the sweet fingers of a lover. Cool and soothing like the sea on a hot summer's day, invigorating and refreshing like a drink of water after a long stretch of strenuous work beneath the blazing sun.
He stands there at the open window for a long time, with the wind in his hair and fresh air in his lungs.
And, with a smile on his face.
Please review. :)