[ The mottled orange-red of the backs of his eyelids makes a good viewing platform for sensation, teeth and cool air and tongue and the ever-present thrill of magic. But finally his recently caught finger escapes the lure of Loki's mouth, hand shifting to a cradle for jaw and chin so he can place a firmer thumb this time just below the god's mouth.
It's still in the danger zone, but what can you do? Baby steps. ]
I don't think I will.
[ His eyes open again, blue darkened by the blow of his pupils but clear enough at least to speak of resolve. The twist of his expression still leans toward the soft: a sparring partner bested quickly and calling time. ]
[ Loki grins, eyes crinkling, and pokes his tongue out with his jaw held firm. I win, is the sentiment there, delighted and brimming with mischief. He would push his luck as far as it could go, but he settles for the trophy of seeing desire in those blue eyes. ]
Make me another drink to keep my mouth busy, then.
[ The loss feels fine. And a few sips fewer, the memory of the manner of Loki's victory a little less fresh, Stephen might've simply done as he was bid. The mischief in that flicker of tongue through a grin may never have set off a similar impulse.
Loki's jaw is caught in his hand, proximity making everything a little too easy. With a telltale twitch of his own mouth and a shift of his thumb to tilt Loki's head just so, Stephen leans in and ghosts a smirk over the outer corner of that grin, close, close enough for warmth and soft breath to leap the gap—
And then he's entirely gone, along with Loki's glass, with only the dry rumble of his voice talking at Frank behind the bar mingled amongst the general hum of the clientele to indicate where he's got to. ]
[ Oh. He tilts into the not-kiss, lips brushing as his eyes close and he drinks in every detail; the feel of a beard against his smooth skin, hot breath, the nudge of a nose by his cheek ...
And then Stephen, the filthy tease, is off making Loki that requested drink like he didn't just almost short-circuit a god's brain. There's some kind of thin line being trodden and Loki doesn't want to overstep, but in the same vein he absolutely wants to throw everything he has at getting him right back where he was a minute ago. He licks his lips and sits back, loosening his tie further as he watches Stephen flitting around, annoying poor Frank. He opts for patience, even if he sees no point in hiding how he's undressing Stephen with his eyes. ]
[ It doesn't take long to finish the mix, even making a nuisance of himself between ingredients. He walks the return journey, unhurried and un-self-conscious under an attention he can see as easily as feel, one new bright green monstrosity in a martini glass soon set down delicately in front of Loki.
Stephen then slides, with impressive grace for a man (very) steadily making his way through a glass of something fit for gods, into the booth bench across the table from Loki. Liquid sloshes precariously with the imprecision of the spellwork as he summons his own drink across to him with a gesture of his hand. ]
[ The other side of the booth table? Boo, you whore. ]
Afraid I'll get hungry and bite next?
[ Mmm, his new drink is very moreish. He'll have to be careful or he'll lose his head and he's been way too drunk around Stephen too often for his liking already. ]
[ Frankly, that would be a serious underestimation of Loki's capacity for capriciousness. But he doesn't look like he's taking it too seriously, another sip of his drink down. ]
[ Being kept at arm's length (literally) is like having a carrot dangled at a safe distance, and while he might whine and complain Loki never tries to take back any ground Stephen puts between them. He isn't above raking back his hair and making himself look as inviting as possible, if only to push buttons that Stephen can take home and examine later when all he has are memories. ]
I was raised with a prince's set of manners, you uncouth wizard.
[ It doesn't go missed, that articulate swipe of hand through hair and the picture it leaves behind. Not that it's rare for Loki's actions around him to trip into a lack of calculation, but in current context it's easy to tell nature from design. A design he can assess in more detail when he's at less risk of leaning too far over a line he doesn't intend to cross tonight.
For now, showing absolutely no sign of any customary deference shown to royalty, he unceremoniously changes the subject. ]
Did I tell you what I did for a living before the bar?
[ Because he sure is about to, in full confidence that he can kill the mood dead at his very own expense. ]
[ He bites his lip, covers his mouth to keep his smile down, and waves from Stephen to go on. Far be it from Loki to stifle any confessions or admissions made while soaking up the best of the bar's offerings. ]
You did not, go ahead. What did you do in that other Earth's dimension?
[ A lift of one brow, the pinch of a smirk. Where's your princely decorum now? But it's allowed to pass without comment, because he can do one better. ]
Kids parties.
[ One better? Sorry, that was one worse. He looks like he's enjoying the reveal though: he absolutely did not appreciate anyone finding out at the time, but in hindsight it's pretty funny. ]
[ He's settling back into his seat with a gleeful little smirk at Loki's reaction - tearing one's own hard-won Serious Sorcerer reputation to shreds is a dish best served in good company. ]
I did other events, but once you've done one party for one kid, every parent wants you. [ A pause. He squints, gaze drifting upwards as he tracks through the insinuation he's just made, deciding whether he's going to cut it off before it can start - ] Yeah, no, you can take that however.
[ It's silly things like this that make Loki feel relaxed around Stephen, shit such as entertaining children at birthday parties would be galling to the very core of Earth-616's Strange and the differences between them are made all the more apparent when Stephen can laugh at himself. Well, smirk.
Resting his chin in a hand, he sips his drink and gestures casually with it. A leery eye rides his twitching, teasing smile. ]
Speaking as a parent, I can heavily relate. [ Badumpsh. ] How long did you do that sort of thing?
[ Hah. A huff and a brief involuntary sharpening of his smile as his eyes lock with Loki's, laughter with the barest voice, I see what you did there, but he otherwise doesn't break stride, expression slanting sideways as he sifts through his layered-up lives for the answer to that question. Then it occurs to him he can check, and for a few seconds something in the focus of his eyes shifts and flickers as he accesses his implant, information on an invisible screen.
He refocuses on Loki with a blink before giving his answer. ]
Six months, give or take, then occasionally after that for special appearances. As you can imagine [ Loki knows more than one of him, he can only assume they all have their pride, ] it took me a little while to get into it, but I woke up one day with a performance licence, a website and a social media following, and trying to play entry-level neuroscientific researcher wasn't working out for me. So what're you going to do?
[ What you're going to do is take the jobs where they come to keep the lights on, and accept it as one of many begrudging lessons in humility. ]
Ran out of time for it eventually, but I didn't completely hate it in retrospect, so I'll call it an overall win.
[ It honestly looks like Stephen is spacing out a little from too much Asgardian ale, so Loki (similarly tipsy) doesn't notice anything weird. He does find it impossible to look away from him as Stephen talks, mildly unable to believe he did party tricks to get by in a dimension where everything was so fucked they didn't need his greater prowess in the field as a hero. ]
I was in that other world, you once said. Is it a win finding me again?
[ He lets that question hang in the air for the length of another swallow (he should stop soon, really), peering at Loki over the glass edge, alight with incoming mischief. Then his face scrunches a little, nose wrinkling, gaze drifting to the side, indecision's picture. ]
I don't know about a win...
[ It's a very bad performance. Which is both inevitable and the point. ]
[ He slides his drink to one side and hoists himself up on the table, leaning over on a bent elbow to do nothing so much as display his long lean body and tilt a look up at Stephen. ]
Because it took you months to want to share a private booth in this bar with me, so you can't have been halfway to that with him. I like to think you're not interested in Lokis in general, all evidence speaking to the contrary.
[ A lopsided stretch of his smile into a grin, wonder mixing with pride and an odd tenderness that causes him to clarify: ]
I knew him for two years. The two of you are as different as you are alike. I'm not the me you know, am I? Not even the me you knew two months ago.
[ He frowns as the meaning in that clouds around the edges, then shores up his smirk ready for the final clarifying blow. The barlight turns it softer at its corners: blade turned butter knife. ]
The draw's not between you and him. The draw's between you and me. I found you here, and here I am. You're welcome.
[ The alcohol strips out the kinder core of the point that had him voice any of this in the first place, but he doesn't notice. The message wrapped up in there somewhere: I'm a joy and a delight, (and a nightmare and a pain), and the quality of company exchanged in the finding of Loki Laufeyson here is fair and equivalent. A win for both parties. Draw. ]
That's a long-winded way of saying I'm your BFF in this dimension.
[ He's not sure what he should be grateful for, though he is, because he can sense the sentiment even if he's too far gone on drinks to follow up with some smart wordplay. The Silvertongue could, the immortal god could, but the twenty-something wondering why he can't just be told Yes, you're my Favourite Loki by anyone (save to himself) just sits up on the table and leans on his folded knees. ]
Which could be part of my diabolical plan, you just don't know.
[ A shrug, easy. Anything being possible, there may come a day he's given cause to seriously doubt Loki or his intentions. At this point he thinks it about as likely as being given cause to doubt Tony or Damian. Nothing that needs planning for.
He sets his glass down, finally, to one side of Loki. ]
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It's still in the danger zone, but what can you do? Baby steps. ]
I don't think I will.
[ His eyes open again, blue darkened by the blow of his pupils but clear enough at least to speak of resolve. The twist of his expression still leans toward the soft: a sparring partner bested quickly and calling time. ]
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Make me another drink to keep my mouth busy, then.
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Loki's jaw is caught in his hand, proximity making everything a little too easy. With a telltale twitch of his own mouth and a shift of his thumb to tilt Loki's head just so, Stephen leans in and ghosts a smirk over the outer corner of that grin, close, close enough for warmth and soft breath to leap the gap—
And then he's entirely gone, along with Loki's glass, with only the dry rumble of his voice talking at Frank behind the bar mingled amongst the general hum of the clientele to indicate where he's got to. ]
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And then Stephen, the filthy tease, is off making Loki that requested drink like he didn't just almost short-circuit a god's brain. There's some kind of thin line being trodden and Loki doesn't want to overstep, but in the same vein he absolutely wants to throw everything he has at getting him right back where he was a minute ago. He licks his lips and sits back, loosening his tie further as he watches Stephen flitting around, annoying poor Frank. He opts for patience, even if he sees no point in hiding how he's undressing Stephen with his eyes. ]
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Stephen then slides, with impressive grace for a man (very) steadily making his way through a glass of something fit for gods, into the booth bench across the table from Loki. Liquid sloshes precariously with the imprecision of the spellwork as he summons his own drink across to him with a gesture of his hand. ]
Since you asked so nicely.
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Afraid I'll get hungry and bite next?
[ Mmm, his new drink is very moreish. He'll have to be careful or he'll lose his head and he's been way too drunk around Stephen too often for his liking already. ]
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[ Frankly, that would be a serious underestimation of Loki's capacity for capriciousness. But he doesn't look like he's taking it too seriously, another sip of his drink down. ]
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I was raised with a prince's set of manners, you uncouth wizard.
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[ It doesn't go missed, that articulate swipe of hand through hair and the picture it leaves behind. Not that it's rare for Loki's actions around him to trip into a lack of calculation, but in current context it's easy to tell nature from design. A design he can assess in more detail when he's at less risk of leaning too far over a line he doesn't intend to cross tonight.
For now, showing absolutely no sign of any customary deference shown to royalty, he unceremoniously changes the subject. ]
Did I tell you what I did for a living before the bar?
[ Because he sure is about to, in full confidence that he can kill the mood dead at his very own expense. ]
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[ He bites his lip, covers his mouth to keep his smile down, and waves from Stephen to go on. Far be it from Loki to stifle any confessions or admissions made while soaking up the best of the bar's offerings. ]
You did not, go ahead. What did you do in that other Earth's dimension?
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Kids parties.
[ One better? Sorry, that was one worse. He looks like he's enjoying the reveal though: he absolutely did not appreciate anyone finding out at the time, but in hindsight it's pretty funny. ]
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[ Loki leaaaans forward, lips parting on a fascinated, delighted smile. ]
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[ He's settling back into his seat with a gleeful little smirk at Loki's reaction - tearing one's own hard-won Serious Sorcerer reputation to shreds is a dish best served in good company. ]
I did other events, but once you've done one party for one kid, every parent wants you. [ A pause. He squints, gaze drifting upwards as he tracks through the insinuation he's just made, deciding whether he's going to cut it off before it can start - ] Yeah, no, you can take that however.
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Resting his chin in a hand, he sips his drink and gestures casually with it. A leery eye rides his twitching, teasing smile. ]
Speaking as a parent, I can heavily relate. [ Badumpsh. ] How long did you do that sort of thing?
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He refocuses on Loki with a blink before giving his answer. ]
Six months, give or take, then occasionally after that for special appearances. As you can imagine [ Loki knows more than one of him, he can only assume they all have their pride, ] it took me a little while to get into it, but I woke up one day with a performance licence, a website and a social media following, and trying to play entry-level neuroscientific researcher wasn't working out for me. So what're you going to do?
[ What you're going to do is take the jobs where they come to keep the lights on, and accept it as one of many begrudging lessons in humility. ]
Ran out of time for it eventually, but I didn't completely hate it in retrospect, so I'll call it an overall win.
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I was in that other world, you once said. Is it a win finding me again?
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I don't know about a win...
[ It's a very bad performance. Which is both inevitable and the point. ]
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I'm taking back the bar.
[ He reaches for Stephen's glass -! ]
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[ Pulls his glass back and raises it... vaguely level with his head! Thank you for your service as obstacle, table. ]
It was a draw.
[ ??? ]
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[ He slides his drink to one side and hoists himself up on the table, leaning over on a bent elbow to do nothing so much as display his long lean body and tilt a look up at Stephen. ]
Because it took you months to want to share a private booth in this bar with me, so you can't have been halfway to that with him. I like to think you're not interested in Lokis in general, all evidence speaking to the contrary.
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Are you jealous?
[ Mild wonder, mingling with disbelief and the beginnings of childish delight. ]
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[ ... That came out way too drunk. ]
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I knew him for two years. The two of you are as different as you are alike. I'm not the me you know, am I? Not even the me you knew two months ago.
[ He frowns as the meaning in that clouds around the edges, then shores up his smirk ready for the final clarifying blow. The barlight turns it softer at its corners: blade turned butter knife. ]
The draw's not between you and him. The draw's between you and me. I found you here, and here I am. You're welcome.
[ The alcohol strips out the kinder core of the point that had him voice any of this in the first place, but he doesn't notice. The message wrapped up in there somewhere: I'm a joy and a delight, (and a nightmare and a pain), and the quality of company exchanged in the finding of Loki Laufeyson here is fair and equivalent. A win for both parties. Draw. ]
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[ He's not sure what he should be grateful for, though he is, because he can sense the sentiment even if he's too far gone on drinks to follow up with some smart wordplay. The Silvertongue could, the immortal god could, but the twenty-something wondering why he can't just be told Yes, you're my Favourite Loki by anyone (save to himself) just sits up on the table and leans on his folded knees. ]
Which could be part of my diabolical plan, you just don't know.
[ Siiiip. ]
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[ A shrug, easy. Anything being possible, there may come a day he's given cause to seriously doubt Loki or his intentions. At this point he thinks it about as likely as being given cause to doubt Tony or Damian. Nothing that needs planning for.
He sets his glass down, finally, to one side of Loki. ]
The reward justifies the risk.
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