Author's note: Heh, so many varied reactions to the last chapter. ^^ Maybe this one will make things a little bit clearer. ;)
Truth be told, there are few activities that Tony can see the three of them engaging in together for relaxation, so when dinner is over and done with, he ushers his two lodgers into the living room, sitting them down to watch a movie. He's not in a terribly good mood, so doing something that involves a minimal amount of talking, such as staring at a screen, would be preferable, or he might end up saying something rude.
Steve and Loki both obediently sit themselves down on the couch without comment, Steve to the left, and Loki in the middle.
"So, let's hear it, people. What movie preferences do you got?" he asks with as much cheer as he can muster, clapping his hands together where he's standing in front of the screen, eyeing the discrepant couple on the couch.
"Loki – The Vikings or Erik the Red? How about you, Spangles?" He makes a show of eyeing his impressive DVD collection, a finger tracing one of the rows as he wrinkles his brow in feigned consternation. "Nope, I think you're all out of luck there. No Charlie Chaplin or Greta Garbo. Guess you'll have to make do with something in colour, I'm afraid. Hopefully it won't hurt your eyes too much."
"I think it would be easier for all of us if you just picked a movie, Stark," comes Steve's rather tired reply. "As you're well aware, neither me nor Loki are at all familiar with modern-day movies."
Well, not that he'd ever trust Steve to pick the entertainment regardless.
In the end, he settles for some mindless action flick, turning the cover over in his hands as he's trying to remember if he's ever watched it before. Oh well. It will have to do.
Having plopped the disc into the DVD player, he flips himself down next to Loki, at the last second quelling the automatic habit of putting his arm around the god. Instead, he passably covers up his aborted movement by pretending to yawn and stretch his arms over his head.
They watch the movie in silence, a plethora of explosions and screeching tires and smart-ass one-liners all that fills the room. After about half an hour of this, Tony turns to the gathered assembly of two. "Anyone up for some popcorn?" Not waiting for an answer, he stands up. "Well, I want some, at least. Be right back."
A few minutes and two popped microwave oven bags of popcorn later, he returns with a bowl in hand, placing it on the tabletop. "Help yourself," he says with a sweep of his hand as he sits back down on the couch, grabbing a fistful of corny puffiness before his ass has hit the cushions.
He never bothered pressing the pause button on the remote before he made his way to the kitchen, but he sincerely doubts he's missed anything important. Maybe an explosion or two at the most.
Half-bored, he chews on the popcorns. Too little salt, but he can't be bothered going back to the kitchen again.
Loki tentatively takes a few of the offered snacks between his fingers, biting into them slowly. First time he's eaten any popcorns, Tony reckons, and he doesn't seem terribly impressed. Steve is less hesitant, though, digging out a big helping with his shovel of a hand and proceeds to stuff his face with it.
He has to admit, though, the popcorns aren't very good. But his usual brand of choice was all out, so this is what he got instead. Clearly not a stellar choice.
In the end, it's just Steve eating the popcorns, mechanically shuffling handful after handful into his mouth as the movie plays out on the screen, bathing the living room in florescent light.
Tony draws a leg up, leaning back against the cushions, preparing himself for a long evening. He can see the mop of black hair next to him out of the corner of his eye. And he'd really want for it to be leaning against his shoulder right now, but of course that's not going to happen as long as the good Captain is anywhere in the vicinity. He's made it clear to Loki, after all, that they would keep all that personal stuff under the radar of whatever agent Fury would be sending. He really doesn't want that reported back to the good Director who's already mistrusting both of them enough as it is. No need for him to think that Loki is trying to take over the world again by making a detour through Tony's pants, winding him around his little finger as he goes.
Alright, so maybe Loki already has managed that last part, but it's not as if Tony's protesting, and right now, there are few things he would have wanted more than pushing Loki onto his back, disposing of every single article of clothing the god is wearing. His mind drifts for a while, enjoying an illicit mixture of delightful memories and free fantasies of the two of them doing things that the fifth wheel in their midst probably hasn't even heard of.
A sulking part of his brain – okay, so maybe it isn't really his brain, but whatever – demands to know when Steve is finally going to end his mission and go back home, but he placates it with another vivid volley of sinful and sexy images. So much more interesting than the lacklustre movie playing out on the big plasma screen.
Loki on his knees, mouth half-open and glistening wet; Loki on his back, legs wantonly spread; Loki on his hands and knees, his ass on perfect display; Loki in a whole bunch of exotic positions that would have made the author of Kama Sutra scratch his head in confusion. And, then, simply Loki all cuddled up in Tony's arms.
Eventually, he pushes the alluring fantasies away, though, as they're starting to have certain physical effects that he really doesn't want to be sporting in the presence of the Captain. So he reluctantly lets the images dissolve and returns his focus to the movie, drawing his other leg up as well to make sure than nothing untoward is observable.
He throws another longing glance to his left, to the god at his side. And then he frowns slightly. Maybe it's just his imagination running away with him, but from where he's sitting, it looks as if Loki is leaning over towards the Captain, his head resting mere inches from the man's shoulder. But that must surely be a product of his imagination.
Right?
He clenches his jaws. Yes, definitely his imagination.
Dinner next day is eaten in the living room in front of the TV, another movie on display that none of them is really watching. He digs into the pasta on his plate and twirls the strands elegantly on the teeth of his fork, something that he's learned to do by now, as much as the flimsy food didn't want to obey him at first. Furtively, he sneaks a glance over towards Steve, whose appetite could almost have rivalled even Thor's. It still feels a bit odd having someone else sitting at the table other than Tony; so far that's only happened those times when his brother visited.
And even if the moment is a bit spoiled by the excitable tenseness the Captain's presence seems to call forth from Tony, he has to admit it's quite nice having him around.
It doesn't hurt that the man is attractive; not like Tony, of course, but still. He's well built and strong, looking every inch like a warrior straight out of Asgard; just a change of clothes and some longer hair, and there would have been no visible difference. And from what Loki has seen of Steve – even experienced first hand, all that time ago – his fighting skills, though markedly different, are certainly on par as well.
What's even more noteworthy, though, is that despite all that, he exhibits none of the arrogant bluster and conceitedness that is so common among Aesir warriors. No, Steve is strong and confident in a modest way, without looking down on those who are weaker and obviously less skilful in combat.
He likes that.
And so, he can't help but to flirt a little with the man. Just a few little hints, some equivocal words here, a light touch there. Only small things, and yet is seems like the man blushes and gets flustered merely from these innocent displays. It amuses as well as fascinates him. For that no-nonsense guy he once fought back in Germany, it's such a stark contrast. He's never seen that among any of the experienced, skilful warriors in Asgard, their behaviour as brash and rambunctious as their prowess in battle. He can't imagine that any of them would be fazed by a little flirting.
If he didn't know any better, he'd call it cute, despite Steve being a capable warrior able to defeat probably almost any man in Midgard, and, even more impressive, hold his own against many of Asgard's own swordsmen, despite being a mortal.
He smiles inwardly. Midgardian men sure are different from their Asgardian counterparts, and he has to admit that he approves of that.
Of course, he doesn't actually mean anything with the little jokes and casual compliments. He wouldn't have proceeded further even if the Captain had been willing; Tony is more than enough for him. It's just a way to have a little bit of fun, to pass the time while Steve is here and until Tony will once more bestow his favours on him again.
He glances from Steve over to Tony, who's chewing mechanically, making lacklustre conversation with Steve between mouthfuls. There's an obvious sulkiness in his voice, and Loki wishes he could reach over and do something that he knows from experience would put Tony into a much better mood.
But he doesn't, since Tony has made it clear that they're not to show off any of those parts of their relationship to whatever agent Fury would send over, just to be on the safe side. So he's not going to do anything to contravene that, as much as he'd like to.
Still, Tony hasn't touched him at all since Steve came here, and even though it's fully understandable, it doesn't mean that he has to like it. So until the current circumstances change, he might as well amuse himself a little, play around for a bit. Seeing the Captain blush and bluster is funny, and it's not like he would ever go any further than that.
Also, he has a feeling that the Captain might not actually be into men, but that just makes it even more fun. And it's not as if he hasn't been able to bed a few men in Asgard back in the day who were laughably certain that they were only ever interested in women.
Well, he's not about to go there with Steve, so instead he just sits there watching the very much unrealistic and exaggerated fighting scene playing out on the screen before them. Not that anyone in Asgard would ever have asked his advice for anything battle-related, but even he can see the ineffectiveness of the odd techniques on display.
"Surely this is not how men in Midgard usually fight?" he can't help but ask when the travesty has gone on for long enough. "Nobody would ever win a fight employing techniques like that."
"It's only a movie," Steve answers patiently. "It's not supposed to portray how anyone fights in real life. I can assure you, neither I nor anyone else who knows the first thing about fighting would ever use any of these moves, they just wouldn't work."
Loki turns his head to him and smiles. "Oh, I never thought that you would, Captain. No doubt a man like you would know better and carry himself much more impressively than this."
And he can't help it, but he does enjoy the slight blush he gets in return.
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