“Close your eyes and hold out your hands.”
we’re going to pretend you just sent this and it hasn’t been in my inbox for god knows how long okay? okay.
(we’re also going to pretend this fic is halfway decent just so you know)
It seemed like the ultimate trust exercise.
Just close your eyes, Loki said, and hold out your hands. The thought made Tony’s stomach crawl up into his throat. But Loki had been with him for nearly half a decade now—loyal, if not always stalwart. Loki was a fickle creature that would disappear for months at a time, only to show up in their bed one morning, drowsy in the pink sun and blinking like nothing had happened.
They’d fought, sometimes side by side and sometimes face to face, and Tony could count on both hands the number of new scars he had because of Loki. Which Loki would wave away like a bad smell, claiming the number of times he had saved Tony’s life was recompense enough.
(Though those nights found Loki paying extra attention to every mark, kissing them and running his tongue over the bumpy flesh, that dawn might see them fade a little more.)
And now this.
The scar on Tony’s shoulder twinged. It was a result of Loki driving a spear into him, and, while most people could tell the weather with their knees or joints or scars, this mark acted more like a mood ring for deciphering Loki.
So Tony closed his eyes and held out his hands.
Loki grabbed his left, the long fingers calloused from a thousand years of gripping spears and dagger hilts. But Loki’s hands themselves were tender as he wrapped something around Tony’s palm, then slid a ring onto his fourth finger.
“There,” Loki muttered. “Mine.”
“I—” Tony stared at the shiny golden ring. “You… you could have asked.”
Loki shrugged, because he never asked for anything in his life. He raised Tony’s hand and kissed the knot he tied. “Would you have denied me?”
“We do spend half of our time at war with each other.”
“I hate and I love,” Loki said.
Tony couldn’t stop his laughter because god, did he know that feeling. Hate and love, and too fickle to settle on one. He touched Loki’s cheek. “Until death does us part, I guess.”
Loki’s smile was sharp, lovely. Full of promise. “Not even then, my Stark.”