Strangefrost Oneshots

part fourteen ~ the market (2)

{set after Avengers: Infinity War. AU where the Avengers defeated Thanos the first time and no-one dies. takes place in the Sanctum Sanctorum in Greenwich Village, New York. part two of three}

"I don't think this is a good idea."

"I know, Loki. But what were you planning on doing? You can't stay cooped up here. They've defeated Thanos. The Avengers' next target is you. Don't you want to be a step ahead of them?"

"Stephen, they're not going to even hesitate -"

"You don't know that!"

"Oh and you do?"

"Let me talk to them. I'll tell them everything you told me."

"I didn't tell you anything, remember. You invaded my thoughts."

"Oh, stop being salty. You're here and safe because of it."

Loki sighed. "You're right. I'm sorry."

"It's fine," Stephen told him, puffing his cheeks out and dragging his hands over his face. "You're getting cabin fever."

Loki tucked his knees into his chest and put his face in his hands. He fidgeted the soft scarlet blanket draped over him and Stephen. He hadn't been outside in weeks, trying to stay under the radar. He and Stephen had forged a bizarre relationship; unnamed and quiet... Neither ever left alone. Loki was especially grateful for that. He found immense comfort in the other sorcerer and for the first time in his life, Loki felt that he belonged somewhere. Not to a place or a family, or even a state of being, but to a person. 

Stephen had kept his promise and thankfully, the mighty team of broken heroes hadn't thought of coming to the Sanctum. Loki frowned.

"Why haven't they thought of coming here?" He asked quietly, peeking at Stephen next to him on the couch.

"I told them I hadn't seen you."

Loki scoffed. "They trust you?"

"What, you don't?"

Lifting his head, looking at Stephen right-on, Loki's eyes held trickles of bewilderment and fire. He had a little temper, that one.

"You truly think that I, the one currently sitting on your couch and curling up in your arms every night, do not trust you?"

Stephen flushed and crossed his arms. They hadn't discussed it. Their sleeping arrangement. A tangle of limbs in Stephen's bed. Not once had their intimacies been voiced - not that they had to, of course. Sorcerers have their tricks. To say that neither of their thoughts were private would be an understatement.

"Tea?" Stephen asked, clearing his throat, pushing down the temptation to read Loki's mind like pushing a balloon through water. 

"Coffee would be divine." Loki gave him a mischievous grin, dripping with smugness. 

Not bothering to react to the behaviour he had so quickly adapted to, Stephen stood, dropped the blanket over his shoulders and with a little magic, flicked it over Loki's head.

"Arse!" Loki's muffled voice scowled as he scrambled up from the couch.

With a chuckle, Stephen whistled a chirpy tune on his way to the kitchen. When he'd arrived there, however, Loki appeared. Leaning on spread fingers atop the counter and a fluffy-slippered foot crossed over the other on the cold, tile floor, he placed his hand delicately on his hip.

Stephen smirked. Without the couch blanket smothering him, Loki just had Stephen's sweatpants and a long-sleeve shirt on. Both black. He'd refused to wear any other colour. He stepped towards the god, blinking his eyes every so often to break the intense eye-contact as his feet drew nearer. Loki tilted his head up, looking down his nose at Stephen's advances. He bit his lip.