The Lonely City - Day Two, evening | Stephen’s apartment within the City | PB-13
A Tale of Two Narratives. After some off-screen intimate time, Loki falls asleep and Stephen starts revealing what’s been on his mind, believing that Loki isn’t listening…
BUT HE IS!.
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Slight mention of sex (no details), mentions of alternative character death.
“You awake?” Stephen skeptically narrowed his eyes while examining his sex partner laying beside him. Eyes closed, breathing peacefully, he certainly looked asleep, but one could never really tell especially with Loki. Chances of him faking it were high, just to see what sort of reaction he’d get. Stephen had half a mind to get up out of bed, but this was his apartment… if anything he ought to be rousing Loki awake with a shove upon the shoulder and a rude Wake up. That last thing Stephen wanted was for them to get too comfy, too casual, too attached. This was supposed to be a purely physical arrangement, sort of like friends with benefits, but were they really even friends?
“Hey, idiot,” he muttered, gently and without any real insult backing his insult. “You look ridiculous as a ginger.” Loki was usually very proud of his appearance, so if he heard the insult and responded, it meant he was pretending to be dozing, but there was no reaction. Stephen rested his head back down upon his pillow but kept his gaze upon Loki. Actually, it was a lie… Loki’s teacher look this week was enamoring, from the shade of his hair, to the studious glasses he wore, to the beard and mustache that Stephen teased was copied after his own.
If Loki caught him staring, that would be embarrassing, so Stephen turned his face to the wall. Again, he contemplated leaving the bed, but he was tired himself, and honestly a little sore, so he continued to stare toward the window at the light of a street lamp reflecting upon the pane. They’d gone out to dinner earlier, a payback that Loki practically demanded, and while the evening had been a ‘success’, Stephen felt restless… ill at ease… anxious. It wasn’t the City: Derleth had plopped them into worse conditions. And it wasn’t his present company: this wasn’t the first time he had sex with Loki. Introspectively, he searched his feelings and muttered, “I never told you about my memory update…”
His voice trailed and he glanced over to peek at Loki who remained perfectly still. If that comment didn’t pique Loki’s insatiable curiosity and elicit a response, then he must be asleep. Stephen looked away once more. Confessing his thoughts and feelings was foreign, his ego prevented him from opening up, making himself emotionally vulnerable. But what was it about confession being good for the soul? Anyway, Loki had already seen him at a low point in Derleth, after his first memory update left him reeling so hard that he sought solace in alcohol to numb the pain. In comparison, this most recent update was… bad… but not bad enough to have a breakdown. All his experience tripping around the multiverse in Derleth had softened the shock… but there were still some very unsettling elements.
“I already told Natasha what happened, but there were a lot of details I left out.” He found himself unconsciously tightening his fist. “I found myself in a universe where there was a group.” Was that the right word? Was it more like society? Group would have to do for now. “Called themselves the Illuminati. Sort of like the Avengers, dealing with high level threats, founded by their universe’s version of me.” Stephen paused, thoughtfully. “I was considered a threat.” His brow furrowed. “In their universe, when Thanos tried to collect the Infinity Stones, my variant turned to the Dark Hold to find a solution. Ended up using the Book of Vishanti to defeat Thanos, but as a result caused an incursion with horrible consequences. The rest of the Illuminati decided he was too reckless and corrupted by dark magic to go on living. So they killed him.`` Stephen huffed a mirthless laugh. “My variant not only agreed, but warned against other me’s showing up and causing incursions. America insisted that I was different from the other variants of myself she’d met. I like to think I am. I like to think I’ve learned. But the variants I’ve met so far don’t have such a great track record.”
Did Loki know what an incursion was? It was possible that Mobius had told him, but he definitely hadn’t been told about America Chavez yet. At this point, Stephen was speaking this stream of consciousness soliloquy and Loki was his silent sounding board . Actually, Stephen remembered conversations that he had with Loki before, where his advice was not to be hung up over being a hero and a villain, and Stephen knew Loki would be telling him this same sort of advice. “I know, I know what you’re going to say. I just… don’t want to be personally responsible for the destruction of another universe.”
Sorting through his memories and feelings, the mention of destroying a universe made him think of what his variant had done while trying to bring his Christine back to life, which then reminded him of the variant Christine he met in the 838 universe. The next thing Stephen knew he was uttering these next words without censor, “I told Christine I loved her.”
Somebody listening to Stephen might’ve been confused. Did he mean his Christine? Or maybe even Christine Chapel in Derleth whom he had taken out to dinner the night before? Since Loki wasn’t listening, he felt like he didn’t need to explain himself or specify that this was a totally different one. “I love you in every universe. I keep thinking about that… plus how that other variant of me was so stubborn that he destroyed his entire universe to resurrect his Christine. But the more I think about it, that’s not love. Not really. It’s obsession.” He lowered his voice even more. “I don’t think I’ve really ever been in love.”
Stephen fell silent while meditating on what she told him. “Face your fears…” he said, then nothing more, lost in his own thoughts.
This wasn’t comfortable. This wasn’t casual. This wasn’t friendship.
This was a distraction. That’s all it ever was. That’s all Loki wanted it to be. And Loki assumed that’s all Stephen wanted it to be either. Falling asleep didn’t happen because he had affection for the Sorcerer Supreme. It didn’t happen because he trusted him. It didn’t even happen because Loki liked him. (He didn’t—not really.) It happened because Loki was tired. And because he was weary of pretending. Pretending like he was okay. Pretending like he didn’t care where Derleth sent them. Pretending like Mobius’s disappearance didn’t matter to him. It did matter. It all mattered. And it all resulted in Loki feeling completely and utterly wiped out.
Sleeping with someone didn’t make it a relationship. It was just an agreement. An accord by two people who shared an unexpected similarity with each other. A failure to communicate with others. A propensity for ego and narcissism. A fear of being alone. And an even greater fear of being with someone. Particularly someone important. Someone who actually meant something.
That’s why this worked. Because the only thing between Loki and Strange was need.
At least, that’s what Loki told himself. And since he had no desire to repeat his own mistakes of the past, that’s what he would continue to tell himself.
So, the sleep was real. It wasn’t a facade or a ruse. Those soft, soothing breaths against the pillow were authentic slumber. Until they weren’t. Until Stephen’s whispering need to de-frock himself of the weights he carried woke him. But even then Loki remained as he was. His breathing didn’t fluctuate in frequency. His position didn’t change. His eyes didn’t open. For all intents and purposes, he was asleep. But he was listening. And his mind was very much awake.
They were both aware of the game between them. The constant pretense to hide their frailties to protect their egos. Perhaps, more poetically, to protect their images. Loki hid his darkest embarrassments from everyone. Stephen, in particular, because he knew Stephen would use them against him. And while Loki had a hard shell where his emotions were concerned, he had a soft one with regards to his temper. And as much as he bantered and bickered with Strange, he didn’t actually want to be angry with him. And so he kept his secrets close to his heart. Buried deep where no one would find them.
He had to give the man credit though. Loki never would have been so bold as to expose his truths the way Strange was doing now. Not out loud. Certainly not with someone else in the room. Definitely not in the presence of a Loki.
It was brave. It was also illuminating.
But Loki wasn’t really interested in the alternate universe. He wasn’t moved by the tale of the Illuminati or the Darkhold or the defeat of Thanos. It was the part about Christine which caught his attention. Because Loki had heard enough snippets during his time at Derleth to put the pieces together. And something tugged at his own heartstrings.
I love you in every universe.
But he didn’t hear those words in Stephen’s voice. He heard them in someone else’s. He heard them in his own. And for a brief second his breath caught in his throat.
Was Strange right? Was that obsession? Had Loki not loved either? Was he simply so infatuated with the idea that someone else might love him that he’d created an emotion that was more delusion than truth? It wouldn’t have been the first time.
But before he could dwell on that too long, a dull ache at the back of his head pinched his thoughts. Deep inside of his mind, there was another voice. A voice whispering falsities. Hypocrisies. Deceptions. A voice that was less interested in Strange’s philosophical tidal wave and more interested in how he could use that information to his own advantage.
Loki’s eyes moved behind his eyelids. Had they been open one might have been able to catch a shift. A darkness clouding his vision and a knowing malevolence peering outward. Not Loki’s eyes. Someone else’s. But his eyes were closed. So, there was nothing to see. And with Strange averting his gaze elsewhere, not even that tiny upward curl of a smirk on his lips would be noticed.