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"Sorry I'm late" Steve said with a grimace, the moment Loki opened the door. Spelled it open, for he was in the kitchenette. The sound of food sizzling and the smell of pork and onions filled the air. In the adjoining living room, the television was on, volume set to a low murmur.
Steve raised his eyebrow at the sight of Loki cooking, hair tied up and eyes narrowed at the hissing pan. A cook book, with what seemed to be soy sauce dripping from a corner, was opened and abandoned on the counter. Loki and cooking was a surprisingly lethal combination, they both found out. Loki was too impatient to wait for the food to cook and sometimes refused to follow the instructions.
"You... cooked. Are you okay?" Steve asked. He stood beside Loki, leaning against the counter, surveying the mess dumped in the sink. Nothing looked broken at least.
"Darling," Loki purred, turning to give him a kiss. "You are very late."
"Mm, yeah," Steve replied, momentarily forgetting everything as Loki sucked on his bottom lip. But then he remembered the time, pulled back and winced. "Sorry."
"Yes, I believe you've expressed that already. Be a dear and get the plates." Loki turned back to the food, flipping the pork, the sizzling drowning out the sound from the television. Steve did as he was asked and set them on the counter, where Loki placed their food while Steve got the utensils from the drawers. He got a couple cans of sodas from the fridge and joined Loki, who had taken the plates and the utensils over to the couch.
"You had an exciting day, I presume?" Loki asked, a hint of a smirk in the tone of his voice, as Steve sank next to him. He inclined his head towards the television, where a news channel was showing him, in costume, along with Hulk and Hawkeye. In the video clip, they were tearing down the remaining columns of ice while a group of teenagers waved cheekily at the camera when they realized they could be seen.
Steve groaned. He would have arrived on time, if that hadn't happened. He was, in fact, on his way out of Avengers mansion when Coulson had called for them. Ice had suddenly started sprouting all over Central Park, long columns that threatened to break and fall on civilians. They'd been asked to help evacuate the people. The ice was harder to deal with because it kept coming back.
"I swear, it was weird. It kept appearing all over the park. Good thing Hulk was there because between Clint and I, I don't think we would have been fast enough. And then, it just stopped."
"I'm surprised you aren't being held back. Isn't a mandatory meeting usually the next step?" Steve gave him a look, conveying that he's pretty sure Loki isn't supposed to know that. Loki blinked back innocently.
"Got out early. When I left, we concluded it was probably magic. I did promise you..." Steve trailed off, feeling bad again. Loki laughed.
"You forget my title as a Liesmith. Broken promises are nothing new to me." Steve looked at him sharply.
"I'm joking, Steve."
Steve dropped the conversation, to poke at the food Loki had cooked. He cut a piece and made a show of inspecting it from different angles. Loki smacked his arm.
"It's not going to kill you," he said.
"I'm sure it won't. But remember the one time you set water on fire? I just don't want this spontaneously combusting when I've eaten it," Steve replied with a grin.
"That was boiling water, in case you forgot."
"And you were cooking instant noodles." Steve popped the food in his mouth and an appreciative groan. "This is good."
"Hmm. Good to know it didn't kill you," Loki said, feigning indifference. Steve leaned and trailed kisses from Loki's shoulder to his neck, to his mouth.
"I mean it. This is good. Thank you." He smiled against Loki's lips before pulling away. "How long did this take you?"
"Long enough." came the vague reply. Steve frowned, an idea forming in his mind.
"Were you the one responsible for the incident at the park?" he asked, pointing his fork at Loki.
"I may have needed more time preparing supper." There it was again, that hint of a smirk.
"Next time, just tell me to drop by a bit later," Steve suggested, fond exasperation in his voice.
“God of Chaos. Where would the fun of that be, if I’m not doing that?”