Author's note: Another chapter inspired by AidennQueen. ^^
He has to admit that the mood down in the workshop is a bit weird, as the three of them are gathered around the workbench, watching as he turns a knob to increase the tertiary alpha field. Granted, Loki seems fairly unperturbed, unlike the Captain, who's sitting there with his arms crossed and a faint crease between his eyebrows. The guy's been pretty curt since the incident, and whether it's mainly because of embarrassment or because he still suspects that Tony is a lascivious low-life who thinks only of and with his dick, he can't tell. Probably, it's a combination of the two.
But whatever, it's not like it matters what Steve thinks of him anyway. What does he care? As long as Steve is not going to report his and Loki's private activities to Fury, it makes no difference. There are already far too many people out there to count who consider him either an ass, a bastard, a self-obsessed narcissist, or all of the above for him to bother what Captain freaking America thinks. He's used to people not approving of him and what he does, so why should he care?
That's right, he doesn't.
He flips a switch, ignoring the crossed arms and the cool blue stare, and the air of disapproval emanating from Steve's general direction. It's actually a positive thing, the silence, since it means he won't have his thought processes disturbed by pointless talking when he's busy trying to do science.
So he immerses himself in the scrawlings on the piece of paper lying before him on the desktop, probably wholly unintelligible to anyone else, full of equations jostling for precious space. It's good that Steve's disapproval is serving to keep the man quiet, so Tony can focus on his work, not having to waste his time answering ignorant questions.
Yup, this way he can use all parts of his brain to work out the next step in the experiments at hand without any unnecessary mental distractions draining his cognitive capacity, vast as it might be. Steve can think what he wants to; it matters little. It's not like it affects him in any way. Totally not.
He blinks as his hand's automatic scribbling reflexively comes to a halt. The equation before him doesn't add up; there's apparently been some error along the way.
Muttering between his breaths, he scans the paper, trying to spot where he went wrong. It doesn't take long for him to catch the omission, a simple beginner's mistake that would have made his old professors back at MIT ashamed of their former student. With a grumbled curse, he crosses the faulty equation out, reaching for another piece of paper to start fresh.
He's interrupted by Steve's voice, however.
"Stark, we've been sitting here for over six hours now," the man says, sounding haggard. "I would think a break is in order. I'm sure we're all starting to get hungry and would appreciate if we might have a bit to eat before we continue."
Tony looks to the Captain, and then to his watch. Damn, how did time pass so quickly? Then again, that always seems to happen whenever he's immersing himself in a project down in his workshop, loosing track of time and then being surprised when it's suddenly past midnight already.
Of course, he doesn't miss the underlying insinuation in that voice, whether it's deliberate or not – how typical of Tony Stark, selfishly thinking only of himself and his own enjoyment, not stopping to consider the impact his behaviour has on other people, as long as he's happy. And after the recent little incident, he's certain that whatever Steve was thinking of him before he came here, those assumptions have only been fuelled further.
But what does he care?
"Alright, fine," he says, trying to make his voice sound causal. "It's officially dinner time for everyone! So let's all head back upstairs, kids!" With that, he stands up and leads the way into the elevator, Loki and the Captain shuffling after him.
The ride back up to the living area floor passes in silence. He can sense Loki's gaze lingering on him, but the Captain is looking away, eyes fixed on a spot on the wall. When he looks back at the god again, Loki has taken to picking at his fingernails with a bored expression.
Wow, lively in here.
As the doors open with a faint whoosh, not a second too early, the Captain steps out first, followed by Loki, who is still focused on the nails on one of his hands. At bit too focused, it turns out, as his foot catches on the little gap between elevator and floor, and he stumbles, falling to the ground with a surprised yelp, a hand immediately going down to clutch at his ankle.
He's at Loki's side in an instant, crouching down next to the god in concern. "Hey, are you okay?" he asks, instinctively reaching out at hand for Loki's shoulder, hoping it's nothing worse than a sprain.
Loki nods, biting his lip with a wince. "I'm fine. Just my ankle that got twisted. It's nothing serious."
"We'd better put some ice on that to minimize swelling," Steve pipes up next to them, ever the helpful hero.
"Yeah, I'll handle it," Tony replies, not particularly wanting Steve to butt in; he can take care of Loki by himself. Carefully, he helps the god up into a one-foot standing position, holding one of his arms tightly for support. "Can you put any weight on the ankle at all?" he asks, glad that nothing seems to be broken, at least.
Tentatively, Loki puts his other foot down on the floor, a pained expression fluttering across his face as he shakes his head. "No, I'm afraid not."
Okay then.
He only hesitates for a second. After all, he's wanted to do this to Loki for a long time anyway, and he couldn't really give a fuck whether Steve is watching or not. So he reaches down to hook one arm behind Loki's knees, the other supporting his back, and then he hoists the god up in a classic bridal style position.
Loki gives a surprised little squeak, but he doesn't offer any protests, merely wraps an arm around Tony's shoulders for balance.
He ignores the gaze from Steve that he can feel burning at the back of his neck as he carries Loki off to the couch and carefully deposits him on the cushions. "I'll go fetch some ice," he says, pushing past Steve who's been following right behind them.
At least he thinks there's some in the freezer, so he hurries off to the kitchen and after a bit of rummaging, he re-emerges in the living room with an ice pack in his hand.
Loki's face is tense, but he makes no sound as Tony kneels down and places Loki's foot on his lap, carefully peeling the sock off.
"At least it doesn't look swollen," Steve superfluously comments somewhere above Tony's shoulder. "Though I figure the ice can't hurt."
Tony makes a non-committal sound as he applies the pack, trying not to move the foot around too much. Then he looks around for something that could serve as a suitable footrest, forgoing the temptation to ask the Captain whether he would like to fill in, instead opting for a low chair lining the far wall. He pulls it back towards the couch, helping Loki lift his sore foot onto the seat, hoping that will do for now.
Carefully, he eyes the god sprawled on the couch, trying to judge whether Loki is in more pain that he's letting on. Even if the ankle doesn't appear swollen, it's gotta hurt quite a bit if he can't put any of his body weight on it.
"You doing alright there? Want me to get you some painkillers?"
Loki shakes his head. "I'm fine. Don't worry about it. I just need to rest my foot for a while and I'm sure it will get better soon enough." He offers a sheepish smile. "Sorry about ruining the prospects of any further research for today, though."
"Eh, we got plenty of time," he waves the concern off and then gives Loki's shoulder a gentle pat – or squeeze – before suddenly remembering that Steve is still in the same room.
Reluctantly, he pulls his hand away.
"Alright, I suppose it's dinner time, then." He gives a pointed glance at Loki's propped-up foot. "Hope no one minds dining out here in the living room."
He sets a plate stacked with food down onto the tabletop before the god in the couch, along with cutlery and a glass of water. With ice.
Maybe he could take on a job as a waiter if he ever fell on hard times. He sure knows what kind of tip he would have liked to receive as a show of appreciation from his current patron.
Well, not that that's going to happen with Steve sitting right across the table watching them with a never-wavering stare. And perhaps not for some time to come either, if Loki's foot turns out to be too sore for that kind of activities. If he didn't know any better, he'd say there's someone up there who's doing everything in their power to prevent Tony Stark from getting laid.
But he's had the unlucky foot meticulously wrapped in pretty bandages, at least, so he's done all he can for now. Hopefully, it will soon heal up.
As usual, the conversation around the table is going rather awkwardly, but he's kinda gotten used to it. Even though Loki doesn't seem to find the situation particularly tongue-tying, as he's telling some Asgardian anecdote to a semi-disbelieving Steve. So Tony concentrates on his food instead, glad that Loki is taking care of the conversational stuff. Because why should he even be interested in talking to someone who only considers him an insensitive jerk anyway?
Once dinner is over and done with, and the dishes have been all cleared away, he's about to go get his laptop, deciding he might as well get some work done, but then halts and turns towards Loki instead.
"You want me to go get some books for you?" he asks the god still sitting in the couch, for obvious reasons not having moved an inch from his previous spot.
"I'd really appreciate it," comes the answer, accompanied by a little nod.
So Tony dutifully heads off to the library, picks up whatever books are spread out on the table with little bookmarks sticking out of them – obviously in the process of being read by someone, and it's not him – and returns with his catch to the living room, dumping the heavy stack on the tabletop.
"There you go." He gives Loki's knee a little discreet pat, the touch hopefully obscured from view of the Captain. Despite it not being a secret anymore, it still feels weird showing off any physical evidence of their relationship to their spying visitor.
"Thank you," the god replies, grabbing hold of Tony's hand and stroking the back of it affectionately, clearly not caring in the slightest that Steve is oh-so-obviously watching everything like a hawk.
"Don't mention it," he shrugs, trying to ignore the feeling of Steve's gaze sticking to him like a wet T-shirt.
Then, they all just sit there for a couple of hours, him tapping away on his laptop, Loki immersed in his books and Steve in a newspaper. And that's when his throat is starting to itch with that very familiar feeling.
"Okay, I'm definitely getting a drink," he proclaims, pushing his laptop aside. "You want something, Loki?"
"No thanks, I'm fine."
"No aspirin?" he coaxes. "There are no extra points awarded on Midgard for needlessly suffering in silence, you know."
Loki shakes his head. "I'll manage. It's just a simple sprain."
"Alright. Then what about you, Spangles?" he asks, turning towards Steve." I know alcohol is wasted on you, but maybe a glass of milk or whatever it is you drink for recreation? Apple juice? Carrot smoothie?"
"Some apple juice would be nice, thank you," Steve replies, slowly lowering the newspaper that's been obscuring the lower half of his face.
As Tony makes for the kitchen, Steve stands up and follows, as if he doubts whether Tony is capable of pouring even a simple glass of juice without assistance and needs someone to oversee the proceedings. He chooses not to comment on it, though.
A few minutes later, Tony is making himself a martini, as Steve lounges against the kitchen counter, sipping on his glass of fruitiness while watching Tony with an indecipherable expression. Trying to dispel some of the tension, Tony wiggles the half-empty bottle in his hand at the other man.
"Sure you don't want some in that apple of yours?" he offers lightly. "There's nothing in this world that doesn't improve with a little bit of added alcohol."
Steve clears his throat at that, drawing himself up a little. "I suppose I owe you an apology," he says slowly, ignoring Tony's question. "I mean, jumping to conclusions like that about the state of things, believing you to be uncaring and selfish. It would seem I wasn't… correct about that."
Tony can feel his eyebrows shoot up into his hairline. The great Captain America, apologizing for believing him to be an egotistical jerk concerned with nothing but his own dick?
"Meh, it's fine," he waves it off, deciding then and there not to hold it against the good Captain. "I've been accused of worse, believe me."
And it's not like it matters what Steve's opinion of him is; that little sudden trickle of warmth inside of him is just from the alcohol sliding down his throat as he takes a big sip out of the drink in his hand.
"Well, regardless," Steve insists, clearly uncomfortable. "I shouldn't have simply… assumed things."
"Just forget about it, big guy." Truth be told, he's never particularly enjoyed hearing people apologizing to him in the first place, and he'd rather have it over and done with. "So, BFF?" he asks, holding out his hand as a peace offering.
Steve doesn't bother asking what the no doubt unfamiliar term means; he simply nods curtly and gives Tony's hand a firm, manly shake.
And Tony takes another sip on his martini, enjoying how it's making the previous tenseness inside of him ease up, like the loosening of a too-tight knot.
Yup, a really good brand, this one.
When Steve has finally excused himself and retired for the night, Tony slaps his laptop shut and turns to the reading god at his side.
"So, what do you say, bedtime yet?" Even if it might not be an option tonight, they can at least cuddle, now that they don't have to sleep in separate bedrooms any longer in order to keep up appearances.
At that, Loki leans back, carefully laying down his book on the cushion. "Sounds like a good idea to me," he answers with a cock of his head, his gaze lazily raking over Tony's body. "I am fully in support of the suggested course of action."
Tony makes a little nod towards the chair where Loki's foot is still propped up. "Well, unless things have considerably improved in the last few hours, I suppose we have no choice but to repeat the previous transportation exercise," he says with a grin, moving around the table with the intention to pick the god up and carry him to bed.
Loki raises an eyebrow, his face unreadable. "You know, I don't think that will be necessary." And then, he stands up without further preamble, unperturbedly taking several steps in Tony's direction without showcasing even the slightest trace of a limp.
Tony blinks.
"Hey, when did you get your speed-healing powers back?" he asks, wrinkling his forehead in surprise. "You couldn't even put any weight on that foot just a few hours ago!"
Loki gives him a look so innocent that it's obvious that it's anything but, as he raises his foot a few inches off the ground and wriggles his toes. "You know, come to think of it, I don't think there was anything wrong with it in the first place."
And Tony gapes, the implication of the words slowly sinking on. "You mean you faked the whole thing?" he stutters, utterly confused, now. "But… why?"
The corners of Loki's mouth make a little upwards twist. "Well, I figured the good Captain ought to see the caring and considerate side of Tony Stark that I have the privilege of experiencing every day. And since you were too proud to explain the state of things to Steve or even let me do it, I figured a little demonstration was in order to make him reconsider his rather base assumptions of you." The little tug of lips turns into a contented smile. "And my plan worked, didn't it?"
It takes several long seconds before Tony manages to find any words, or even snap his still gaping mouth shut, for that matter. "Why you devious little…" he finally gets out. "I can't believe you actually planned the whole damn thing!"
"Sometimes a little deviousness can achieve great things. Or simply nudge someone's perceptions into the right direction," Loki retorts, not looking contrite in the least.
At that, Tony bursts into laughter, unable to stop himself. "And here you had me fawning and waiting on you hand and foot all evening." He reaches over to give Loki's backside a little smack. "You naughty thing."
"God of mischief," Loki offers as explanation, still all feigned innocence. Then, a positively lecherous grin starts spreading across his face as he leans closer, breath hot on Tony's cheek. "And you're free to have me punished for it to your heart's content. We've got all night," he drawls into Tony's ear in a seductive whisper, and then pulls back a little, contemplatively eyeing Tony from head to foot.
"But first, however, there's something I've wanted to do for a long time now."
Before he can ask what that might be, Loki slides an arm down the back of his legs and tips him backwards, and a second later, Tony finds himself carried off bridal style in a beeline towards the bedroom.
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