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i.
If a logical mind were to consider the practicalities of hiding in plain sight as an immortal, they’d probably tell you it seems impossible. How do you hide from the government? What about official papers? How would you get and keep a job? How would you avoid the all powerful eye of Big Brother and social media?
Loki, however, would argue that, if you’re a god, you don’t need such pesky things as logic.
Really, if you can ask reality to do what you want and it will shift, bend, and obey? Making a life work without recognition is a cakewalk.
The real challenge? Getting his social needs met. And of course Loki has that all figured out too.
First, you’ve got to understand that many gods are fairly solitairy creatures, anyway. What need have they of others? Other gods make for good company on occasion, a game of chess, a drink, an intelligent conversation. But they’re either gods of different things and have different needs and wants, or they’re gods of the same thing and thus in competition.
Humans aren’t much better. They’re good for worship, they’re good for feeding on their energy, but humans are as fundamentally different to a god as a mouse is to an owl.
Loki, however, has found one very, very good use for them. Humans, he thinks? They’re best experienced in bed.
ii.
This is why Loki has settled down in this beach resort. There’s plenty of energy to feed on from all sorts of people looking to have a good time and even misbehave a little bit. And many can be convinced to redirect that to Loki’s bed.
Yet none ever stay; eventually their escapades come to an end, they return to their daily lives, and Loki has no need to rid himself of his conquests. They do it just fine on their own. It’s the perfect balance.
(But how, might you ask, does he get away with living on a beach resort, undetected and without any responsibilities, not even rent? Well, might I say. Didn’t you pay attention before?)
There is, however, one downside to this method of need fulfillment in Loki’s experience. Resort guests are unfortunately not in the habit of wandering straight into his house, drop their clothes, and ask for a tumble in the sheets. Meaning, Loki has to put in the effort himself.
This is how he, as he so frequently does, finds himself in the poshest bar in the entire resort. Lingering at the edge of the room, doing his best to look alluring and attract some poor, unwitting sod. He’s deigned to come to the bar; he refuses to do any more work than that. He is, after all, a god.
And it works. It always does. Tonight no less than usual. His head is turned, idly watching a bird through the window, when a deep, pleasant voice sounds somewhere next to him.
”Legs like that, it’s a shame you should be standing here all alone.”
The corner of Loki’s mouth curves upwards in a slow, pleased little smirk. Almost leisurely does he turn his head once more to assess his potential suitor. Not too tall, but wide-shoulders and well built. Thick hair, soulful dark brown eyes, a wicked grin on his face.
Oh yes. This one’ll do nicely.
”It is, isn’t it?” Loki drawls, straightening up from where he’s been leaning on the wall. ”What should I do about that, I wonder?”
The other man shrugs, slow, leisurely, relaxed. ”Well, the most obvious solution seems to provide them with company.”
One of Loki’s eyebrows arches. ”That does seem obvious, doesn’t it?” he hums. ”Question is, who’ll take on the task?” He lifts his wine glass for a sip, a challenge in his eyes as he meets Tony’s gaze head on.
The other man shrugs again. He has a goft for making it an entirely seductive and enthralling gesture. His grin takes on an extra sharp, extra flirtatious grin. ”Well. Since I’m feeling in a generous mood, and I’m need of some company to make my vacation a little more bearable…” He lifts his own glass, raises it in a mock salute. ”I’m Tony.”
A thrill of excitement sends Loki’s nerves thrumming. Oh yes. He’ll do nicely indeed. ”I’m Loki.”
iii.
If Loki is going to be honest – and he so very rarely is, this instance being no exception – he can almost immediately tell this this is different to any other boring old human he’s ever encountered.
Tony’s good in bed, first and foremost. Exceptionally so. As in, wow, if Loki weren’t a god himself, this would make him a believer. That much he is willing to openly admit. Why shouldn’t he? Sex is a big part of the purpose he has employed an unwitting but not unwilling Tony to fulfill. His hands are divine (yes, Loki chose that word on purpose, no, he isn’t open to questions or scrutiny), his mouth pure sin… Loki could go on, but he refuses to wax poetic about a mere human.
But there are also moments that show Loki that Tony’s so much more than just a warm body to entertain him for a fortnight. He’s whip smart, for one. He’s wickedly funny. And, most important of all, he’s full of that delicious, delicious mischief that Loki by the nature of his very existence cannot get enough of.
They’re lying in bed, sated and lazy, idly chatting, which isn’t unusual for them, Some people might argue that that kind of thing is too intimate for two people simply engaging in a summer fling. Loki would respond that such notions are ridiculously arbitrary and human. What could possibly be wrong in basking in the glow of a fantastic lay and engaging in a bit of idle chatter with someone he actually likes tolerates being around?
”Tell me a story,” Loki asks.
”What kind?” Tony responds.
”Any kind.” Then, realizing how vague it is, and that Loki shouldn’t be leaving the door open for anything too personal, he amends ”a fun story. About you.”
”A real one?”
”A real one.”
Tony does this thing with his chin that he does when he’s thinking, pushing it a bit to the side. Chewing a bit on his lower lip. Eyes drifting towards the window as he thinks. Loki won’t admit to himself that it’s endearing. Then, once Tony’s finished dragging an appropriate anecdote out of his memory, he grins a bit and focuses his gaze back on him. ”Okay, I’ve got one,” he said. ”New Year’s Eve last year. It was a doozy.”
”Well, by all means, do not leave me in the suspense,” Loki grins. ”I am simply overcome with anticipation.”
”Yeah, yeah, you dick,” Tony grins right back. ”Hold on tight, I’m about to rock your world.”
”Dearie me. Given the previous activities we’ve been indulging in this evening, I daresay world-rocking is becoming a theme.”
”That’s my specialty. Wanna hear the story or not, asshole?”
”I asked, didn’t I?”
”Sure you did, but you’re also incredibly distracting. You should do something about that. Actually, no, I take that back, half the distraction with you is that incredible body, and I’m not willing to sacrifice that for better focus on my showmanship.”
”That’s rich, aren’t you the one distracting yourself now?”
”Right, right. So, the story. New Year’s Eve, last year.”
”So you’ve said.”
”Oh, hush, now you’re doing it on purpose.”
Loki just smiles, so innocent butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth.
The corner of Tony’s mouth twitches in an involuntary little gesture of amusement. Then, he continues. ”It was New Year’s Eve, last year---”
”So you’ve said.” Because of course Loki can’t resist being a little shit.
”And I was in Boston, of all places. I mean, New Year’s, in Boston, right? How the hell am I supposed to be having a good time with that? But there was a conference, tons of tech and geeks ready to worship anyone with a flair for engineering and mechanics. So, of course I go.” Tony barrels on. Not without a smirk lurking in the corners of his mouth, though, letting Loki know that he still finds it funny that he’s being annoying. ”Gotta bond with fellow nerds, right? And I’m the fucking best. You should see me in action, I’m a goddamn god to these people.”
It’s tempting to make a joke about worship and godhood, but, well. Wouldn’t want to risk Tony getting any ideas about who and what Loki really is. ”You say bond, and I hear get laid.”
”Ha!” Tony barks, nothing but laughter in his eyes. ”That is one way to be worshipped,” he jokes.
It sure is. Loki knows.
”Anyway,” Tony continues. ”I meet this woman, right. Never got her name, I sort of just mentally referred to her as Bambi. Had these big brown eyes, couldn’t think of anything but that cartoon deer when I saw ’em. Looks awkward as hell in that place…”
As Tony keeps speaking, Loki finds his mind wandering. Not because the story isn’t interesting, it involves a telescope and a rubber duck, and it does make him laugh. But he only ever takes it in with a part of his mind, his reactions happening on autopilot despite being genuine enough.
The thing is, something is slowly changing in the way he looks at Tony. Or, no. Not changing. Emerging. Uncovering. Clarifying itself to him, forcing him to acknowledge what he already knew but had fiercely tried to deny.
Like the sun that’s rising outside and casting a stunning glow upon Tony’s face and the day to come, Loki’s feelings too are dawning upon him.
Tony’s eyes are bright with the joy of telling a good story to an attentive audience, that sweet, delicious mischief written all over his face making Loki’s gut clench and do flips worthy of Cirque de Soleil.
He should mentally be scolding himself. And at first, he does try. But… well. He doesn’t really succeed, does he? He’s gone and done the unthinkable. He’s gone and started to develope feelings for a human.
”And then,” Tony concludes his story, already laughing at his own strokes of genius and flair for storytelling. And once the punchline comes, he cannot help but join in on the laughter. ”The rubberduck smacked right against the lens! You should have seen the look on his face when it startled him! Bet he thought twice about behaving like that again.”
Loki feels a tug in his gut, like a fish hook, urging him closer to Tony. He chooses to listen, shuffling closer to him, an arm sneaking around his waist and tucking his head under Tony’s chin. ”Yes. I bet.”
iv.
It doesn’t get better after that.
Or rather… it feels better. Like they start to click in a different way.
Loki starts to pay more attention, and it makes him feel warm and fuzzy in the worst possible way. He’s come to love the way Tony barely uses any jam on his toast, because he likes to be able to taste the way it mixes with the butter better. He likes the way Tony always wears sunglasses in all sorts of colors, brights to pastels, the entire spectrum of the rainbow, anything but plain black. He adores the way Tony talks to technology, like it’s humanoid and understands him, and how Tony’s got such a flair for technology that it feels like it understands him.
It was never meant to be this way. Loki never wanted this, especially with a human. But he’s here now, and he can’t help but just lean into it, despite an internal voice screaming at him that he shouldn’t.
On a warm afternoon, about a week and a half after they’ve met, they’re lounging on the patio of the bungalow Tony’s rented for his vacation. It’s a lazy sort of day, and the two of them aren’t feeling up to much except for sprawling out on lounge chairs in the baking sun, chatting idly.
But despite the pleasant atmosphere, Tony’s impending departure hangs heavy in the air between them. His stay was only ever meant to last for two weeks. Two weeks, and then his everyday life calls once again.
Against all odds, all reason, all possible instincts warning Loki to just not, he wants to ask Tony to stay.
He convinces himself that it’s just a temporary urge, brought on by the way Tony looks in the sun, the light bringing out a million different shades of brown in his hair and his eyes. It’s the way he looks so relaxed and at home, right there, within reach, still in Loki’s life, like he was always meant to be there. It’s just future nostalgia; the knowledge that soon, this will be nothing but a memory. That in the future, this very snapshot of their time together will be one that frequently resurfaces with a wistful sort of longing attached to it.
Loki refuses to consider that by justifying the twisting yearning in his gut within the context of his this-doesn’t-mean-anything attitude through the excuse of ’future nostalgia’, he is in fact admitting that this matters enough that he’ll keep thinking about it far far into the future to come. He’s the god of mischief, not logic, reason, or self awareness, and is thus not obligated to care about logic, reason, or self awareness.
But just as Loki’s getting lost in thoughts of pining and denial, Tony suddenly meets his gaze, and time jerks to a jarring, unsettling stop. He cannot tear his gaze away. He feels rooted to the spot. To this moment. Like something monumental is building, like this could change everything…
I don’t want you to go.
The strange gravity of this moment is enough that Loki doesn’t even bother denying the truth of it. He wants to reach out. Please stay. Be here. Don’t go. It’s been but two weeks, and you’ve embedded yourself so wholeheartedly in my very soul that I cannot bear to be without you.
Without his conscious consent, he starts to open his mouth. Why not try? The way Tony’s looking at him too… surely he wouldn’t say no. Right? Surely he wants this too. It would be so easy to give in, just speak those few little words, and he would know for certain.
But then Tony too starts to speak, and Loki immediately shuts up. Could it be..?
The coincdental timing of their simultaneous attempts to bring something up seems to have scared Tony off, though. ”No, go ahead. Did you want to say something?” And damned Loki a million ways to Hel for thinking he detects a note of hope in that low, smoky-gravelly voice he’s come to adore.
He should speak. Now is the time. But Tony… Tony too was trying to say something. And Loki yearns with all his being to learn if he would ask him first. Don’t let me go, he dreams of hearing. Please let me stay.
”It’s alright. By all means. You first.”
Tony takes a moment to chew on that. Then he shakes his head. ”Nah. It was nothing.”
Loki’s heart falls and the moment is gone. Just like that. ”Right. Likewise.”
Something cracks inside him. He will claim to himself it is merely disappointment that the outspokenness he’s always so enjoyed about Tony failed him now. It is not because he cares. It is not because he wishes so desperately for things to be different.
And it most certainly is not because he’s in love.
v.
”So.”
”So…”
This is it. The final goodbye. Tony’s bags are packed, stacked somewhat hapharzardly on the front porch by the front door. A car’s going to be picking him up in maybe ten minutes, complete with a friendly driver to drag his suitcases around.
In the meantime, the two of them are loitering in the pleasant mid-morning sun. (It feels like a curse, that sun; shining so brightly upon them, like it has been for the entire cursed two week relationship, blessing them when they could never be.)
”Back to reality for me, huh.”
”So it seems.”
Fuck, this is awkward.
Loki clears his throat, loathing himself for being so emotionally invested. He can’t even say properly goodbye, for Hel’s sake!
Better yet… He can’t even manage to not need to say goodbye. What the Hel is up with him?
Tony beats him to it. ”It’s been great, you know. Pepper sent me here for a forced vacation, and I expected to be thoroughly bored the entire way through. But, you know… you made it bearable.”
Since I’m feeling in a generous mood, and I’m need of some company to make my vacation a little more bearable…
Loki has to force himself not to swallow around the lump in his throat.
Before they can say anything else, Tony’s driver pulls up.
On pure instinct, they both turn their heads towards the source of the noise breaking up the moment; the low purr on an engine, tires on gravel, a hint of the radio playing inside. Then, just as in sync as when they looked away, their gazes find each other again.
”This is it.” Not a question. Not a statement. Not really anything. If Loki strained himself, he might have detected a hint of a plea in there. Not in his tone of voice but in his intentions.
Loki is absolutely not going to stretch that far to keep his lunatic fantasy alive.
”So it is.” He doesn’t really know what else to say. This is the same vague shit they’ve been exchanging for several minutes now. Neither of them wants to be the first to breach the distance. Neither of them wants to be the one to increase it.
Turns out, they don’t have to do either. Not with words, at least. Because after a moment, Tony shifts a bit on his feet, weighing something in his mind. Doing that thing he does; chin to the side, chewing his lip, though his gaze remains steady. And then, boldly, easily, simply, with so much damned difficulty, he steps forward, pulls Loki closer by the nape of his neck, and catches him in a fierce and feverish kiss.
Only for the barest fraction of a second is Loki startled by the action. Then, all hesitation to the wind, he falls into Tony’s arms with a starved moan.
It’s a kiss that’s saying everything they can’t. Won’t. Can’t. Shouldn’t. Can’t. Aren’t. Fingers wrapped tightly in the front of Tony’s shirt, nails lightly scratching, shivers down spines. Loki’s dizzy, and he simultaneously feels like his whole world is tilting sideways a hundred miles an hour, and like his feet have never been more steadily grounded. He feels like crying and laughing and screaming and hiding and going straight out into the world, open and free and unencumbered by couldshouldwould. Hopelessly, stupidly, exhiliratingly in love.
But he is a god. And this was only ever a two week fling.
And eventually, Tony’ll have to break away. He’ll get in the car, snap something at the driver asking questions about Loki, sulk a bit, hop on a plane, return to his everyday life, and soon forget all about him.
Eventually, Loki’ll be stepping back. He’ll return to his home, drink enough to put down a horse, bemoan his loss, and then pull himself together and continue life as he ever did.
Eventually, this will be nothing but a distant memory, if that.
All of this, eventually.
For now, their walls are still down; for now, they’re pouring every little bit of longing inhabiting their bodies and souls into this goodbye.
For now, there’s only this kiss.
vi.
As predicted, life does go on.
Loki dines upon splendid foods. He sometimes travels when he grows bored. He indulges in drink and song and a healthy dose of mischief, music, and games.
And, of course, he takes new lovers.
He still thinks of Tony, make no mistake. It lessens somewhat with time, and hurts less when it does. But with regular intervals, there he is, popping up in thoughts all the same.
Sometimes, he refuses to to admit to himself just how much Tony and those two weeks meant to him.
Sometimes, he doesn’t.
vii.
Fifty years pass. Not too long for a creature like Loki, granted, who has been around for… centuries? Millenia? At this point, he’s been alive so long. it has long since ceased to matter. Not as long as people continue to unwittingly pay their tributes to the god of mischief – and in the age of the internet, it has never been easier to do that. Many gods have risen and fallen, the fickle nature of humans and their ever developing world first creating and then rendering useless upon a whim.
Of course Loki isn’t hung up on Tony anymore. Thinks of him on occasion, yes. Fondly so. But he knows that was that. This is now.
And yet… he still lingers on it. On what could have been. On what he has never managed to find ever since.
Not that he’s trying very hard. The past fifty years, he’s been engaging in the same old pattern as he always has. Hanging at the bar, lurking until suitable company shows up.
He’s never wanted to replace what he and Tony had. He’s never been convinced he could, nor that he should.
Tonight is no different. He’s bored, leaning against the wall by his favourite window, drink in hand. His gaze is wandering, halfheartedly considering a blonde fidgeting with her purse over by the front door. He has yet to spot anything better.
Until….
”Loki. I should have known.”
Time slows. Stills. Then, Loki slowly turns to the sound of that oh so familiar voice that has somehow successfully managed to sneak up at him.
And there he is, as Loki had known he’d be as soon as he’d heard him speak. Tony. And he hasn’t aged a day.
Instead of letting his surprise show and award that smug smirk any sort of satisfaction (even if said smug smirk also has an edge of pleasant surprise at seeing him that sends a ), he raises an eyebrow. Not giving anything away just yet. Especially about the way his heart is going pitter-patter in his chest. ”Known what?” he drawls. Yeah, that’s right, he’s Loki, a goddamn god, and he isn’t going to get flustered over Tony.
”Your name. Norse mythology. Of course the vikings would have brought you here. I should be ashamed I didn’t catch what you are.”
And then, just like that, something clicks into place, little bits of memory flooding his mind all at once.
...tons of tech and geeks ready to worship anyone with a flair for engineering and mechanics...
I’m a goddamn god to these people.
That is one way to be worshipped.
Tony knows. And there’s only one reason why that can be.
”You’re a tech god.”
Tony’s smile brightens. ”I knew you’d catch on quick. I always loved that about you.”
”Been thinking a lot about what you love about me?”
Tony’s grin takes on a hint of mischief. The memory of missing Tony hits him so hard it aches. ”You have no idea.”
Well. What choice does Loki have but to grin back?
Perhaps this could be the rebirth of something beautiful.