[ It's a weak protest, more habit and humor than complaint. Stephen's attention lifts from the varied stock for a moment, quiet as he looks back at Loki. ]
I should've checked on you.
[ He'd let it go far too long, too unsure of how to navigate choppy waters, then clueless as to how to find the bridge across once the immediacy of Billy's loss had ebbed. All the while, on the other shore, Loki was busy making all this. At least in part with Stephen in mind.
Two remembered years is long enough to have learned how to acknowledge when you've let a friend down. And not so long that he's forgotten how little either of them like to dwell. ]
Thanks. It's the best clubhouse I've ever had.
[ Tongue in cheek and dripping with airy sarcasm? Yes. A thin veil for earnest sentiment? Also yes. ]
[ He's used to feeling lonely, to letting people leave. Billy's loss was awful, and he had to retreat from anywhere he might be seen after Peter vanished home, and it was truly a horrible time, but ...
Those periods of being let down and abandoned never come as a shock to Loki for long. ]
I'm alright. I always am, in the end. [ He looks down at his drink, swirling it. A smile crooks his sombre tone. ] And you're welcome.
[ And isn't that just the way. What choice do they ever have but to be fine in the end? ]
Come on. Let's get a booth.
[ The bar's great, but it doesn't offer a lot of privacy for melancholy if it comes, good humour if it doesn't. Stephen leaves the bar to its tender and wanders around to the front again, pinching the ale back from Loki and tilting his head toward a back corner before heading off himself. ]
[ Mildly pleased Stephen picked the ale after all, he follows behind with a sense of devil-may-care mixed with reassured confidence. Once they find an amber-lit booth he lifts Stephen's hand that isn't holding a drink and drapes his arm around Loki's shoulders, sliding into his side with a wriggle to get comfy. ]
[ Stephen huffs a benign laugh as Loki invades his space but makes no move to counter or slip away, leaving his arm to rest idly around Loki's shoulders as he takes a sip of his drink and sets the glass back down before answering. ]
Drinks on the house?
[ Tongue in cheek. Go ahead, what's the best part of this place? ]
You're a real wit when you have the promise of endless alcohol before you.
[ It may be reminiscent of a cat getting comfortable, arching his back and settling down again until he's exactly where he wants to be. Sipping his drink, he curls idle fingers around Stephen's stolen hand where it lies lax and traces scars. ]
[ Stephen's hand twitches once with first contact, unused to easy touch in this of all places in more lives now than he'd care to count. But past that initial involuntary flex, and the occasional shudder of crooked fingers that never really still, his hand stays where Loki found it, present under idle exploration.
This next huffed laughter is a little delayed, drowned in a swallow of ale, but his voice at least is steady. ]
Remind me the last time an Avenger busted in on you, doors or no doors?
[ His touch remains light, arm crooked up to let his fingers brush under the curl of Stephen's if that's easier for now. ]
... Alright, I'm usually the one doing the busting, [ shut up, wow, calling him out on it, ] but the point is they can't just waddle up with meaty green fists or a shield and bonk you on the head. Anyway, it's fun to watch sorcerers get wasted.
[ Again, while he can absolutely relate on the Keep Out Avengers mood, it's not him who has to worry about being bonked on the head by shields or meaty green fists. But he won't rub that in. ]
Which explains the ale.
[ He's already starting to feel it, the pleasant hum of impending intoxication. But it's a ways off yet. Far enough to take another sip in quick succession. ]
They didn't want me going there anymore. [ He drains a big swig of his drink, biting his lip. Wrinkling his nose. Loki laughs, the sound bubbling up as if he can't contain how funny the mischief was. ] So I made sure there wasn't a "there" for them to keep me out of!
[ Head tipping back on a cackle, he shudders with it and shrinks back into Stephen's arm, bringing his glass up to half-cover his face. ]
They were suddenly in the middle of the street at their tables, they were so mad.
[ What was he expecting? Some kind of dramatic, destructive anecdote full of fraught character dynamics and deadly revenge, probably. Instead... an oversized, presumably permanent prank. It takes him a second or two of Loki's shuddering laughter for the punchline to land, expression travelling from frown through smile through— snort.
Stephen's chuckle runs low and rich, thumping Loki lightly once on the chest in perfunctory reprimand on behalf of another self he's never met and with any luck never will. ]
Idiot.
[ Spoken with enough warmth and enjoyment of the revelation that it might as well be a compliment. Nice job. ]
[ Oh, look at that, it's a peck on the cheek! Stephen tilts his head to look down at Loki, smile small and wry— and takes the moment of distraction to steal Loki's drink, leaning just enough out of the way to sneak a sip. ]
[ The Surprised Pikachu face as his drink is stolen is testament to how tipsy he is already (shouldn't have sipped Asgardian ale and an appletini before Stephen's brew). ]
It is? Just as well the Avengers can't bust in and take me away for my crimes.
[ Here you go, Loki, your glass. Within reach but still resting in Stephen's hand, like a ten-dollar bill on the sidewalk that may or may not be connected to somebody's clear twine. ]
[ The most sus look ever is shot the short distance Stephen's way as Loki eyes the innocent hold he has on Loki's drink. A nervous giggle bubbles up and he curls his hand by his lips, shaking his head. ]
[ He's making a serious face, the picture of innocence! But it stretches a little, play peeking out from the frown he pulls on with Loki's announcement. He may only be a few sips and a hearty gulp into his ale, but for better or worse he's still mortal. ]
You're one of the most powerful sorcerers on any planet and I am nowhere near that stupid, you've done something to my drink.
[ But he takes it anyway, and because he does in fact trust him, he knocks it back and makes a show of downing it in a few gulps, Adam's apple bobbing. ]
[ A smug tuck of his mouth and Stephen leans back, watching Loki with an impressive mock-up of an actual professional sorcerer man surveying his well done work. ]
[ Loki squirms around smoothly as a snake under that encircling arm and inclines his body alongside Stephen's, draping an arm across a lap to rest his glass on the other man's far hip. ]
Can't you, Stephen?
[ Arching a brow, a green gaze flickers under long inky lashes to Stephen's mouth. ]
[ A brief flutter of lashes as Loki deftly changes the state of play. There's an argument to say he should've seen it coming, another to say he did. Whatever the case Stephen's caught for a held-breath moment somewhere between sobering quickly and... not.
Then the forefingers of the arm draped about Loki's shoulders press their tips lightly to the exposed skin of his throat. It's a brief leak. A bright flex of the magic that had once played between their palms on a crowded dancefloor shared instead with the closest bare skin he can find. A warning jolt or a met challenge, kept in the realm of play with the signature of a familiar game. ]
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[ It's a weak protest, more habit and humor than complaint. Stephen's attention lifts from the varied stock for a moment, quiet as he looks back at Loki. ]
I should've checked on you.
[ He'd let it go far too long, too unsure of how to navigate choppy waters, then clueless as to how to find the bridge across once the immediacy of Billy's loss had ebbed. All the while, on the other shore, Loki was busy making all this. At least in part with Stephen in mind.
Two remembered years is long enough to have learned how to acknowledge when you've let a friend down. And not so long that he's forgotten how little either of them like to dwell. ]
Thanks. It's the best clubhouse I've ever had.
[ Tongue in cheek and dripping with airy sarcasm? Yes. A thin veil for earnest sentiment? Also yes. ]
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Those periods of being let down and abandoned never come as a shock to Loki for long. ]
I'm alright. I always am, in the end. [ He looks down at his drink, swirling it. A smile crooks his sombre tone. ] And you're welcome.
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Come on. Let's get a booth.
[ The bar's great, but it doesn't offer a lot of privacy for melancholy if it comes, good humour if it doesn't. Stephen leaves the bar to its tender and wanders around to the front again, pinching the ale back from Loki and tilting his head toward a back corner before heading off himself. ]
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You know what the best part of this place is?
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Drinks on the house?
[ Tongue in cheek. Go ahead, what's the best part of this place? ]
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[ It may be reminiscent of a cat getting comfortable, arching his back and settling down again until he's exactly where he wants to be. Sipping his drink, he curls idle fingers around Stephen's stolen hand where it lies lax and traces scars. ]
No Avengers can bust their way in. Mostly.
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This next huffed laughter is a little delayed, drowned in a swallow of ale, but his voice at least is steady. ]
Remind me the last time an Avenger busted in on you, doors or no doors?
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... Alright, I'm usually the one doing the busting, [ shut up, wow, calling him out on it, ] but the point is they can't just waddle up with meaty green fists or a shield and bonk you on the head. Anyway, it's fun to watch sorcerers get wasted.
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Which explains the ale.
[ He's already starting to feel it, the pleasant hum of impending intoxication. But it's a ways off yet. Far enough to take another sip in quick succession. ]
Any bar fights yet?
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[ That's not technically a bar-fight ... but he's going to look at Stephen and bat his lashes like he could never do anything wrong on purpose. ]
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No, it does not. [ Consider him, as the mildness in his voice would indicate, entirely unsurprised. ] Are you going to regale me?
[ Presumably Loki didn't bring it up just to bury it immediately a moment later. ]
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[ Head tipping back on a cackle, he shudders with it and shrinks back into Stephen's arm, bringing his glass up to half-cover his face. ]
They were suddenly in the middle of the street at their tables, they were so mad.
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Stephen's chuckle runs low and rich, thumping Loki lightly once on the chest in perfunctory reprimand on behalf of another self he's never met and with any luck never will. ]
Idiot.
[ Spoken with enough warmth and enjoyment of the revelation that it might as well be a compliment. Nice job. ]
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I promise not to vanish this one unless absolutely necessary.
[ Look out, Stephen, a peck on the cheek is incoming! ]
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[ Oh, look at that, it's a peck on the cheek! Stephen tilts his head to look down at Loki, smile small and wry— and takes the moment of distraction to steal Loki's drink, leaning just enough out of the way to sneak a sip. ]
... Mhmm. Still got it.
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That's called stealing.
[ - said with great gravitas! ]
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It is? Just as well the Avengers can't bust in and take me away for my crimes.
[ Here you go, Loki, your glass. Within reach but still resting in Stephen's hand, like a ten-dollar bill on the sidewalk that may or may not be connected to somebody's clear twine. ]
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I don't trust you!
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That's mean. I'm just sitting here.
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[ But he takes it anyway, and because he does in fact trust him, he knocks it back and makes a show of downing it in a few gulps, Adam's apple bobbing. ]
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Well? Any guesses?
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You're getting me drunk.
[ Safe bet!! ]
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That's what you get for ordering me Asgardian ale.
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[ Loki squirms around smoothly as a snake under that encircling arm and inclines his body alongside Stephen's, draping an arm across a lap to rest his glass on the other man's far hip. ]
Can't you, Stephen?
[ Arching a brow, a green gaze flickers under long inky lashes to Stephen's mouth. ]
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Then the forefingers of the arm draped about Loki's shoulders press their tips lightly to the exposed skin of his throat. It's a brief leak. A bright flex of the magic that had once played between their palms on a crowded dancefloor shared instead with the closest bare skin he can find. A warning jolt or a met challenge, kept in the realm of play with the signature of a familiar game. ]
I can.
[ So watch your step. ]
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