"I'm sorry, is this the home of Ms. Skywalker? There was a mix up at the airport, and I took her luggage by mistake." Steve pushed the wheeled suitcase in front of him and smiled sheepishly at the man in the doorway. He didn't look impressed. In fact, he was looking at Steve with all sorts of mistrust, one pale hand splayed across the door frame as his fingers tapped away at it impatiently. Steve frowned. That wasn't a good sign. "...This is the right address, isn't it?"
"I assume you must be Steven Rogers then."
The cultured voice didn't surprise him half as much as how husky it sounded. Steve had heard that voice before. This man sounded exactly like the woman he'd spotted at the baggage terminal, back at the airport. If not for the fact that she'd been long haired and graceful, dressed to the nine in a tailored skirt and pumps, he could almost believe they were the same person. There was certainly a strong resemblance. Family, maybe?
"That's me," pausing only for a split second, Steve held out his hand. "Most people call me Steve." He knew it was a smart idea, writing his name and number on the ID tag of his luggage. Accidents happened. Apparently Loki Skywalker felt the same. Now if he could just meet her, and apologize- "Is she home? I'd like to apologize for this mishap. I know it had to be a real inconvenience for her. There was a lot of stuff in the suitcase."
"You looked inside?" Laurel greens immediately drew into thin slits, a strong match for the lips that curved up at a sharp angle. "I suppose the sight of all that lace was an apparent enough sign that the luggage wasn't your own." The man ignored his outstretched hand and gestured for Steve to follow him inside, showing the elegant arch of his neck, and a well formed backside.
To his credit, Steve didn't stare too much. "I wasn't trying to pry. But I didn't notice the name tag until after I was already home and unpacking." He stepped into the apartment and closed the door behind him, respectfully lingering back in the front hall. It was unnerving, standing there with the suitcase at his feet, but he wasn't going anywhere without confirmation it was ok. Confirmation that couldn't come soon enough. Shifting his weight and fiddling with the suitcase handle, Steve waited-and waited some more. "Is Ms. Skywalker here? I really want to-"
"The name is Loki. I appreciate the sentiment, but it seems a moot point now. They say once you've seen the contents of someone's suitcase, there's no need for formality. You practically know them spiritually." Again that husky voice drifted across him, and the tall brunette reappeared, wheeling a suitcase that was virtually identical to Steve's. "I believe this belongs to you."
"Yeah..thanks." Steve took it with a little frown. There was something weird about all this. The more he looked at this man, with his perfectly sculpted cheekbones and raven hair that were so similar to Ms. Skywalker's, the more Steve's gut warned him that he was screwing something up. The resemblance was uncanny. Almost too much so for it to be as simple as a blood relation. Unless they were twins? That would explain the identical faces and builds...
Though not how he knew what was inside the suitcase he now had at his side. Only one person should know that. The one who had packed it in the first place; its owner. Ahh. Steve grimaced, sheepishly pushing the hefty bag towards him. "You're her, aren't you? You're Loki Skywalker."
"Mmm...and they say the pretty ones aren't smart." Laughter bubbled from those thin lips, which was really all the confirmation Steve needed. This was her. That gorgeous woman Steve had glimpsed in the airport was the man standing before him now, laughing at his expense. Damn.
"I guess it's too late to apologize now, huh?"
Loki smirked. "You are handling this better than I assumed you would. I suppose that does allow for some clemency." He took his suitcase and set it behind him, fondling the handle almost lazily as he met Steve's eyes. "You must have questions. I'd love to stand here and answer them all, but I do have a prior engagement." Pointedly, he reached past Steve and opened the door, quirking a finely arched brow. "If you please?"
That settled that. Steve nodded quickly and backed off, though he was reluctant to leave. There was something about Loki that drew him in, made him want to know more. Not counting the initial gender mishap. "Right. Sorry." Looking Loki over one more time, he turned tail and headed down the hall, wheeling his suitcase behind him.
He didn't get far. "Steven?" A pale hand touched the crook of his arm, coaxing him to a stop. For the first time Steve noticed how perfectly rounded the nails were, lily white fingers soft as silk against his skin. "It was kind of you, bringing my property back. Such charity deserves more than a simple thank you."
"I was only doing the right thing." Steve turned his head and saw that Loki was smiling. Smiling at him.
"That may be so, but you have earned a reward nonetheless." Loki's fingertips scrolled up his arm, then fell away, allowing him to walk back to his front door. Steve was confused, up until Loki called back to him. "I have business until Friday afternoon. Why don't we meet for lunch then? Your chivalry has made me curious about you, Steven. Not many men would have the heart to do what you did."
"That's pretty cynical of you. Plenty of guys would return a lady's luggage. Well," Steve chuckled, "who they believed was a lady, anyway." He wanted to ask what was about Loki's clothing selection, but that was a question best left for another time. He cocked his head towards the dark haired man. "What time Friday?"
Loki hummed, walking into his apartment. "Oh, I'll let you know closer to then." A slip of white appeared between his fingers; the information card from Steve's luggage. It had his name, address-and his phone number on it. "I trust you'll be easy enough to get a hold of. Your current information is updated, isn't it?"
Cheeky. Two could play that game. "Give me a call and find out for yourself." Steve inclined his head to the tall man, unable to stop himself from smiling. "Mr. Skywalker."
"Mr. Rogers." The door shut with a quiet click, leaving him standing there, happier than he'd ever really admit out loud. And an eagerness for the weekend that couldn't be fulfilled, all thanks to a luggage mix up.
