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It is truly a gorgeous evening, Loki has to give it that. The moon is bright, the stars plentiful, and the ambience nothing less than breathtaking.
It is the day of Clint and Laura’s wedding. At this point, they have been together for so long it seems that there is nobody left keeping count. They’ve lived together for years in a house on the countryside, Clint constantly finding new things to fix or projects to embark upon, and it is no secret they plan to start trying for children soon.
Getting married had seemed a logical step to them – making a big production of it had not.
It is a low budget sort of deal. They’d asked everyone to contribute with a potluck dinner (Tony had wanted to buy himself out of that, but Loki insisted they cook something themselves, adhering to the intended spirit of the wedding) in exchange for providing plenty of drinks. The decorations are simply, fairylights and lanterns and vases of wildflowers, and a laptop and a set of speakers (which Tony had insisted on providing) combined with the lawn and the stars to make the dancefloor.
It is cheap and easy, yes. In Loki’s opinion, however, it is no less romantic.
For now, he is sitting on the porch with a glass of wine in hand, taking a break from being directly in touch with the festivities. He is a bit of an introvert; he loves his friends, but he is happy to simply sit here and watch everyone else have fun for a little bit. So are his feet, for that matter. He has been dancing a lot more than anticipated.
He closes his eyes, leaning against the railing of the stairs, and just listens. To people laughing, glasses clinking, the music playing from the speakers, to someone having a quiet conversation and clanking some dishes in the kitchen behind him. It’s peaceful enough that he almost worries about dozing off.
Before he can really decide if falling asleep here would be such a bad idea, someone sits down next to him. It is such a familiar presence that he does not need to look to know who it is.
Sure enough; when he straightens up, opens his eyes, turns his head, there he is.
“Am I going to have to carry you to the car later?” Tony asks. “You looked a little too relaxed for a moment there, babe.”
Loki just makes a soft noise of amusement. “I think I will just about be able to make the trek there by myself,” he responds with dry humor. Tony laughs and pulls him closer by wrapping an arm around his shoulders, pressing a kiss to his hair.
For a few minutes, they’re quietly sitting like that. Loki knows Tony is letting him have just a little more time to prepare for being dragged back into the party. He’s grateful for it.
Tony is happy and vibrant and alive around other people; he works well by himself, he loves the quasi-solitude of being in his workshop with JARVIS. But he is also charismatic and sociable and he easily navigates social gatherings in a way Loki just can’t quite do by himself.
Tony, though, makes almost everything easier to bear.
“Come,” Tony tells him after a little bit. He puts his own glass down, right alongside Loki’s after stealing it, and he offers him his hand to help him up. “Dance with me.”
Loki doesn’t hesitate. It’s a slow song, sweet and romantic and a little familiar, and he’s happily melting into Tony’s arms. They’re swaying together on the lawn, on the edge of the group of their friends doing the same thing.
“Are you having fun?” Tony asks. He likes to come off as a selfish asshole, but he rarely fails to check up on how Loki is doing. Whether that’s a general question about how his day has been or if he is making sure Loki’s nerves aren’t too frayed to stay at a party for a little while longer.
“I am,” Loki promises. He is taller, but still he’s opted for wrapping his arms around Tony’s neck while they dance. He likes to play with the hair at the nape of Tony’s neck. Tony likes the firm, solid feel of Loki’s hips under his palms, like a reminder that he is really there and really present. It works out well; as with anything else, they’re compatible. Like puzzle pieces, no matter how odd their shape. If one is lacking, the other overflows. They fill each other’s gaps.
“Good,” Tony tells him, and his voice is a slightly raspy rumble. It reminds Loki of drinking beer on the hood of Tony’s car back in college, of falling in love and kissing him for the first time a sleepy morning by the ocean.
Then, almost as if Tony knows where Loki’s mind is going (maybe he does), he continues. “Nights like these, they get you thinking, huh?”
“Mhm,” Loki hums. The warmth and affection and tinge of nervousness in Tony’s eyes lets him wordlessly know that, yes, Tony’s been thinking it too.
Surprisingly, Loki and Tony are one of the longest lasting couples in their group of friends. Some have gotten together earlier only to break up, others are newer but stable.
And yet they have never discussed marriage.
There are many reasons for this. Tony has struggled with commitment; Loki has had his own issues about self worth and allowing himself good things; it wasn’t always legal for them; they’re happy to take things slow; do they really need a paper to prove their love for one another; and so forth and so forth.
But maybe the time has come. Loki can see it in Tony’s eyes. He does not doubt it is mirrored on his own face.
But of course Tony isn’t going to get down on one knee and dramatically ask him; especially at their friends’ wedding, no matter how casual.
Which is to say, Tony likes his grand gestures.
But he likes feeling reasonably sure that such a big, emotional gesture would be well received at that.
“Nice as this is, though, we’re not pulling something like this. If we’re getting married, you best believe I’m throwing a lot of money at it to make sure it’s the party of the year, babe.”
Loki immediately knows what Tony is doing. He isn’t asking, and he isn’t assuming either. He’s testing the waters, masking it as a joke despite knowing that Loki knows what he’s doing. Under it all, there’s the question of if I asked, would you say yes, if I asked, would you marry me and spend your life with me? Loki is happy to indulge him.
“Oh, naturally,” he agrees, a small smirk playing in the corner of his mouth. In the background, the song is changing. They’re both too wrapped up in each other, gently swaying and holding each other, to notice. “I’d want to get married in a cape. You could wear a real gold bowtie. And the cake must be utterly decadent and extravagant.”
Tony’s eyes brighten. Loki isn’t accepting a proposal, but he is accepting to accept it once it comes, and that is almost as good.
“We’ll have someone train a bird to bring us the rings when we say our vows. A magpie, you like magpies.”
“We’ll ride down the aisle in matching his-and-his motorcycles.”
“We’ll have blind nuns weave the most delicate lace underwear with our initials on it, and we’ll give them out as wedding favours.”
“We demand everyone do their speeches in skywriting.”
“Oh, how about this, we’ll put---”
Loki interrupts Tony’s next attempt at one-upping each other with ridiculous suggestions by kissing him. Warm, soft, accepting.
“Yes,” he whispers into the scant space between their lips, fitting a smile in there as well. “We will.”