[TWIG] Chapter 5/14: A day in the life

[terresdebrume]

TITLE: The way it goes
FANDOM: Marvel’s MCU
SERIES: Standing on tiptoes (1/3)
RATING: Teen and Up
PAIRING(S): FrostIron
CHARACTER(S): Loki, Tony Stark, Thor, Odin, Frigga, Farbauti, Laufey, cameos by multiple others.
GENRE: Alternate Universe (Ballet)
TRIGGER WARNING(S): None, although there is some mildly explicit description of violence in the first few chapters.
SUMMARY: Loki is a ballet dancer juggling between two (or three, or possibly four) different lives. Tony Stark is an engineer's son who goes into theatric props to piss his father off. Then they meet, and worlds collide.

STANDING ON TIPTOES ON LJ: [Series masterpost] Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4,


-------------------------------------------------

Loki

Unsurprisingly, Odin starts yelling as soon as Loki answers his professional phone.

How his father got the number, Loki doesn’t know, but there is a reason his two ringtones are respectively an alarm siren and the wail that had Tony so amused about fifteen seconds ago: whenever Loki doesn’t answer his personal phone in time (and God knows it doesn’t happen often, Loki kind of likes to avoid depressing talk-downs), the second one rings, and that’s the signal for the real fun to start.

“Don’t forget about tonight’s diner,” Odin says irritably once he is done berating Loki for not answering his phone (and something about incompetent PAs but Loki learned not to pay attention to that).

“Of course not, father.”

“Good. Your brother has an important announcement for us, and I will not tolerate for you to miss it.” There is a pause as Odin barks something or other at his secretary (fifth of the year, and it’s only March) and then he says: “You know the details.”

“Yes father. Eight o’clock at the Valhalla, like every Sunday for the past twenty six years.”

“Don’t be late.”

And the call cuts.

“Good to speak to you too,” Loki says, and he wishes he could say it comes out of habit more than real disappointment, but he doesn’t lie to himself (too much).

Loki sighs and tries to run a hand through his hair, grunting when his finger catch on the curls (people often ask why he slicks his hair back. Answer: curls look nice, but they’re a pain). He takes his keys out from his back pocket, turns them into the lock, goes in, and swears when he shrugs and there is no jacket to hang.

“Morning,” Thor mumbles on his way out of the kitchen (it’s past eleven and he’s still in his sleeping pants) “where did you sleep?”

“At a friend’s.”

It’s not really a lie, even if it’s not exactly the truth either, but the nuance doesn’t matter because Thor doesn’t push the conversation any further and, as always, Loki wonder if it comes from a respect of his privacy or a simple lack of caring.

(He forces the question out, as always, reminding himself that Thor isn’t Odin, that he cares, however clumsy he is at showing it, and he dives in the shower to drown the wave of anxiety that always comes with this kind of reflections.)

Loki comes out of the shower with the impression of being noticeably lighter, and definitely less cranky than when he entered it. He slides into a white shirt, dark grey dress pants and assorted formal shoes. He hesitates for a minute, then decides to forego the suit jacket and puts on his usual anthracite long coat, his favorite scarf draped around his neck.

A quick foray into the kitchen and he retrieves the two rats he left to defrost, making his way to the large glass-case standing against the far wall of the living room (opposite the TV) and tapping the glass three times with his fingernails. Jörmungandr raises his head lazily, and Loki grins, somewhat proud of himself for instilling pavlovian reflex into a python. Fenrir nuzzle at his hand and Loki scratches him distractedly as he dumps the rats next to his most fascinating pet, before straightening and setting his costume back in place.

He grabs the first necktie he finds in his closet (they’re all green, anyways) and shoves it down his coat pocket, then turns to Thor:

“I’ll be there at half past seven.”

Thor looks like he wants to speak, would like to ask where the hell does Loki spends his Sunday lunches now (they used to have it together, before Thor met Jane and before Loki found something else to do but, like so many part of their brotherly relationship, it has faded into the mist of difference and incomprehension and sometimes misplaced resentment, and it’s just one more point on the bullet list of what they don’t talk about).

The question never comes out (they stopped coming out of Thor’s mouth when Loki was thirteen and stopped answering them) and even after all this time, Loki doesn’t know whether he is grateful or furious for that.

To be quite honest, he doesn’t really know what to do with his older brother, hasn’t known what to do for a long time (since even before he found out).

Of course, he knows Thor loves him, because Thor says so and, cheesy as it is, he just can’t lie to save his life past the tenth beer (and that’s the kind of thing Thor has only ever said in the very rare occasions when he goes further than twenty beers). However, Loki also knows beyond the shadow of a doubt that Thor doesn’t understand him (in his worse days, he thinks he never will) and the gap between those two truths is both amazing and infuriating.

The trouble with his family, Loki thinks as his bus drives through the town, is that he never knows where he stands with them.

It’s like dancing to a choreography that isn’t finished, always three steps behind when you think you’ve gotten the hang of it and try to keep ahead of everyone to prove them you’ve got what it takes (to do what? is a question Loki carefully doesn’t ask himself for fear of the answer, or lack thereof).

It’s a race without a finish line where he is constantly trying to outrun Thor for father’s approval, but never knows whether he is a few yards or a full lap behind his brother… it’s exhausting and depressing and, for a long time (until Tony) his Sunday lunches were one of the few occasions where he could pretend he could live up to his ‘family’s’ expectation... because during those times, he has a different family altogether.

“Just in time,” Raven breathes out when Loki steps out of the bus, fingers digging into the silk of his tie to compensate for Fenrir’s absence. (No dog, ever, Raven said the first time. And no dog hair either.)

“As usual. I see you bought the dress,” Loki says with a nod to the pale blue clothing.

“You were right, it does look good on me,” Raven agrees as she shifts Kurt in a more comfortable position against her hip. “Now let’s go, you’ll tell me about your latest rehearsal on the way.”

Initially, Raven wanted Loki to be an engineer, ‘because it sounds more impressive and ‘serious’ to them’, but it would have made it difficult to justify the months-long absences that will (hopefully) come with the ballet, and so they settled for professional cello player in a classic orchestra, which makes Loki ‘sound like less of a sissy, and stop looking at me like that, god knows I’m not what they want me to be either!’

Loki unfolds himself from behind the stirring wheel (too much legs: no car is ever comfortable for him), picks up the customary food basket and bottle of wine, and lets Raven fiddle with his tie, kissing her lightly on the lips with an enamored smile.

“And here come the family cook,” Cain says with a wry smile as they come in the large hall of the Xavier mansion.

Notice that Cain didn’t say ‘our favorite cook’: it’s not like Raven could be his (or his father’s) favorite anything.

Actually, Raven is a stripper.

It’s not the most orthodox jobs, but it pays well (better than what Loki earned with his first job, and he didn’t exactly start at ground salary) her show is surprisingly tasteful, and it’s more than enough for her to raise her son by herself, like she wants to. However her family –or rather step-family, as her brother apparently refuses to set a foot at the mansion anymore- insisted that she should find a man to provide for her and her kid. At the time, the breakup was still fresh (Loki knows Kurt’s father left her for a guy he worked with) and she thought it would be easier to hire a fake boyfriend than to try and find a real one for her stepfather’s sake.

Loki was finishing his last year of school, fresh out of a part-time job, and very much in need of the generous salary: he volunteered.

It’s been three years, and now he does it more for friendship’s sake than anything, even if he has to battle talks of marriage every Sunday lunch.

{ooo}

Loki kisses Raven’s cheek and exits the car with a smile for Kurt, leaving them to go and see his uncle Charles (who thinks ‘Thomas’ is just a friend who likes to kiss Raven on the mouth and, apparently, doesn’t understand how he is still allowed in his nephew’s house. Raven doesn’t say it, but Loki is fairly sure the guy wishes he could punch him. Loki thinks so long as Charles doesn’t learn about his spending Sunday lunches at the mansion, everything is going to be fine.)

{ooo}

Nobody is really surprised when Thor uses the gap between main dish and dessert to announce that Jane and him decided to tie the knot: not only is the diamond on her left ring finger a dead giveaway, Loki knows Thor: the man doesn’t do things halfway, and if he’s going to be serious about a girlfriend, he’s going to marry her, simple as that.

Loki claps, congratulate his future in-law with more enthusiasm than what was expected of him (because he’s genuinely grateful said future in-law isn’t Sif) and thinks maybe this week he’ll come out of the Valhalla in a not-depressed mood.

(But he should know better by now.)

“So,” Jane says with a happy smile as the desserts are ordered, “your turn next! When do we meet your girlfriend?”

Now, Loki would like to say that, contrary to popular belief, he doesn’t hate Jane Foster (nor is he, as some people insinuated in the beginning, insanely in love with her and therefore jealous of Thor).

In fact, he can even say without lying that he kind of likes her: she’s got a good heart and a mostly good head (she’s marrying Thor after all) and her presence has made his brother noticeably calmer.

Plus, she does her best to ignore whatever Odin has to say about Loki and form her own opinion on him, which earns her a lot of brownie points.

If Loki is to be honest with himself (and he usually is) he must say that he doesn’t exactly make that task easier by spending as little time with Jane as he possibly can. Again, it’s not that he dislikes her, it’s just that time with Jane means time with a Thor immersed in domestic bliss, wanting to spread the love and insisting Loki should hook up with Marcy… no, Lucy? … Darcy! and quite frankly, urgh.

(Loki loves Darcy, Darcy is wonderful and the best friend he has, equaled only by Raven and maybe Tony Stark in the future, but Darcy is also very much in a relationship and Loki, having no death wish, doesn’t want to risk upsetting Natasha Romanov by even suggesting anything outside pure and very platonic friendship. Plus, no amount of awesomeness will ever take Darcy’s boobs and vagina away, so.)

So, anyways, Loki generally doesn’t hate Jane Foster, except right now he really, really does because no sooner does she end her sentence, Thor turns to him with apparently genuine interest for once (which makes things worse, because it means now Loki can’t even resent him) and asks:

“What girlfriend?”

“The one I saw him drive home with,” Jane says, obviously not knowing what she is setting in motion.

“I do hope this isn’t another one of those sluts you seemed to like in high school,” Odin says, and Loki feels his fingers dig in his thigh, because said sluts were actually project partners from his dance club of the time and hearing Odin’s wild theories on his son’s lack of moral was bad enough the first time around, thank you very much.

“Raven isn’t my girlfriend,” Loki answers, teeth gritting with all the things he’s known for years and never said.

“Good,” Odin says, and then he turns to Jane, who looks like she’s like the ground to swallow her (it doesn’t work, Loki tried) “Loki’s morals were practically non-existent at the time, and I do not wish to live through this again.”

Loki knows it is a bad idea.

I mean, he’s reasonably (more like remarkably) smart and considerably thinner than every other member of his family (even if it shows less in Frigga) and he knows exactly how much boxing trophies Odin won before he retired and went into business instead, so he knows exactly why this is a (very) bad idea.

In light of this, he really doesn’t know what makes him do it, but suddenly he finds himself giving a dry, humorless chuckle and spits:

“Like you’re one to talk about morals.”

Obviously, things can only go downhill after that.