Chapter Text
The sun blazed down on the newly conjured beach, casting long shadows over the sand as waves rolled, no one was really paying attention to. No one was asking questions either, just floating through the day as though this was entirely normal. The banner above, crafted from clouds and winds, read: "Summer Chaos: Battle for the Best Beach Body!" in the boldest letters possible. Nobody also knows where that came from, or why it's even there.
Adam Warlock stood at the edge of the water, hands on his hips, scanning the chaos around him. His lifeguard uniform clung to his frame. (When the hell did he wear this.) He was ready for a mission, but it seemed that there was none to be found here.
This was... what? A vacation? He wasn’t sure, but the constant movement of heroes and villains all around him made his head spin. The Avengers were on the beach playing an incomprehensible volleyball game, their teamwork as chaotic as their powers. Captain America was arguing with Stark about which side of the net they should be on. Thor, not in his usual regal armor, but rather in a simple t-shirt and shorts, was arguing the rules in his booming voice.
Loki was, surprisingly, dressed for the event. A light breeze tousled his hair, and despite his usual stoic expression, his tropical-themed shirt hung open just enough. However, unlike his typical regal outfit, he had swapped his heavy trousers for a pair of dark green shorts, the same shade as his jacket.
It was absurd. But the absurdity of it didn’t bother Adam. What bothered him was how much attention his eyes kept drawing back to Loki. He stood by the refreshment stand, sunglasses perched on his nose, a glass of something in hand that Adam couldn’t identify. Loki’s gaze scanned the crowd, and for a brief moment, his eyes met Adam’s.
Adam quickly averted his eyes.
Nearby, Mantis was happily bobbing around in her ridiculous duck floaties, looking completely content. “Hey, Mantis! You look great in those!” Peter called, as if the floaties were a part of her normal attire.
“Thank you dear friend!” Mantis responded brightly.
“They really should’ve given us more sunblock,” Squirrel Girl said casually, as though she’d spoken nothing out of the ordinary. “I think the devs messed up.”
Adam’s brows furrowed, his attention briefly snapping toward her, “..What?”
“What?”
Before Adam could respond, Peter sprinted up, waving his arms in an exaggerated motion. Adam sighed, his lips pressed into a thin line. “If you’re going to swim, at least don’t drown each other...”
He was about to retort when a voice from behind him caught his attention. “Ah, didn’t expect you of all people to be here.”
The voice was smooth, casual, but there was an underlying sharpness to it. Loki stood a few paces behind him now, his arms crossed, a smirk curling at the edges of his lips. “Laufeyson…” Adam started, but his words trailed off, uncertain of how to reply.
“Is this what passes for fun around here? I’ve seen more chaos in my own mind.”
Before he could speak again, Squirrel Girl raised her hands in mock defense. “You knowww, Loki, the sunblock here really is a tragedy.” Loki shot her a look, not even acknowledging the ridiculousness of her statement. Instead, he turned to Adam, as though he were the one who should answer the question.
Hr was about to respond when Peter, ever the whirlwind of distraction, appeared between them, waving his arms dramatically. “Kay' enough of the staring contest... we need you both at the volleyball net. There’s no way anyone’s winning unless we get some actual strategy here.” Adam blinked, unsure how to process the sudden shift in focus. Loki simply raised an eyebrow.
“Volleyball? Seriously?” Loki asked, though it wasn’t really a question. “Is this really how we’re spending our time?”
Before Adam could answer, Peter grabbed him by the arm and started pulling him.
Adam resisted briefly, his gaze flicking back to the one who’d been watching him, but he was already in motion, swept up in Quill’s relentless enthusiasm. It seemed futile to try and get out of whatever strange reality they were all trapped in, and in truth, Adam had a feeling he might end up with a much worse situation if he tried to avoid it.
“Alright,” Adam muttered, allowing himself to be tugged along by Quill. He glanced over his shoulder.
The god was simply staring at them with an almost bored expression. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he adjusted his loose tropical shirt, the bright floral pattern mocking the intensity of the beach’s sun.
“I am sure you can manage without me,” he drawled, then added, “I’ve got better things to do than to throw a ball around with heroes.” wrinkling his nose at the word as if it were something sour on his tongue, distasteful and half-rotten.
Quill was already leading him to the makeshift volleyball court, which was little more than a net strung up between two beach umbrellas. The sand was littered with towels, chairs, and various items, a mishmash of superheroes (and villains) ready for an entirely different kind of battle. Some of them, like Stark, were lounging with drinks in hand. Thor and another person? were deep in conversation, nothing out of the ordinary.
Adam’s eyes darted around the beach as they approached the volleyball game, the sounds of laughter and trash talk filling the air. He glanced over at Quill, unsure how to even begin in a game that clearly didn’t follow the usual rules. He looked at the field again, where a strange mix of players was warming up. On one side was Moonknight, in full armor. On the other side, there was an oversized figure who could only be the Hulk, his massive frame dwarfing the others. “Is this really what you consider fun?”
Peter gave him a hearty slap on the back, “It’s all about the team spirit bud'! And don’t worry, I’ve got your back. Just stay out of Hulk's way .. okay...?”
ദ്ദി (๑>•̀๑) 🏐💥
Adam sat by himself, the volleyball match long over and forgotten, (He did NOT stay out of hulk's way. Fuck.) save for the faint shouts still echoing near the nets. The tide was crawling higher on the beach now, pulling threads of white foam up the shore. He let the water reach his feet without protest, letting the sand stick to his skin as he stayed firmly planted on the driftwood he’d found earlier.
Silently, he glared down at the sand forming around his feet. He ground his heel into the driftwood, snapping his jaw shut and trying not to frown. He felt a faint, persistent warmth spread behind his eyes (embarrassment mixed with irritation,) and a quiet anger at himself for losing his usual composure.
The others had insisted on playing. That was the worst part. Against every better instinct, he had agreed- not because he wanted to, but because someone (Peter, most likely) had yelled loud enough that declining would've drawn more attention than accepting.
And he wasn’t... bad at it. He just didn’t see the point. Hitting a ball across a net while a squirrel-themed woman made sarcastic commentary and a metal man tried to spike it into the sun?
He scowled slightly at the memory. The sea rolled in, again and again, chewing up the shore and spitting it back out. He barely looked at it.
The game was over (mercifully) but the noise from the rest of the so-called "summer event" still grated on him. Faces he recognized crowding around drink stands, laughing like they hadn’t spent the past hour pelting each other with a ball like fools.
He exhaled sharply through his nose. The sand shifted beside him, too rough to be the wind.
"You’re sulking," said a voice.
Adam didn’t bother looking. "I am not."
From the corner of his vision, he saw green— the unmistakable shade of Loki's linen shirt, loose against sun-bared arms. Shorts. Sandals instead of his usual boots, though somehow it made him look no less absurdly regal.
"Could have fooled me,"
He turned his head just slightly. Enough to see the smirk playing on the other man's face. It wasn't friendly. It was the kind of look someone gave a particularly interesting crack in a mirror, curious how far it could splinter.
"They made you the darling of the match," Loki went on, as if commenting on the weather. "I think I counted five different times your teammates screamed for you to save them. Six, if you include Quill's impressive dive into the sand." he tilted his head, studying him. The sunlight caught at the edges of his black hair, made his smile look sharper.
"You hate it," Loki said, sounding pleased.
"I dislike disorder," he replied. The words were clipped, "I dislike being treated as a... spectacle."
Loki gave a low hum, as if tasting the words. "Strange, You seem built for it."
Adam strode off across the beach, leaving deep, sharp footprints behind him. Loki sat there for a moment longer, letting the tide creep even closer. Then he rose to his feet, brushing sand from his palms with careful, theatrical precision. His gaze followed the line of Adam's retreating form.
Interesting, he thought, faintly amused.
Very interesting.
(ᵕ—ᴗ—) 🍹࿐ ࿔
"—he drank how much?"
"IS HE FLYING THE JET?!"
"Somebody get Thor. NOW."
Adam didn’t move. Not his concern. Whatever the man of iron had unleashed on himself by sampling Thor’s Asgardian brew, it was a fitting punishment. The soft scrape of footsteps pulled Adam’s attention downward. Loki was crossing the sand toward him, weaving slightly.
Loki’s shirt hung open at the throat, his sandals half-lost in the sand, and his hair —usually so precisely arranged— was a careless, wind-tangled mess.
He had a drink in one hand, some concoction bright enough to be a chemical hazard.
"Warlock!" Loki drawled, smiling as though they were old friends. His drink sloshed over the rim, staining the sand with something neon.
Adam wrinkled his nose at the smell. "What are you even drinking?"
"Hmmm." Loki tilted the glass toward him, "...something Thor traded for six coconuts and a promise not to summon lightning near the volleyball net."
The blonde shifted his weight slightly, the sand cold now under his bare feet. Loki watched the movement, "You, are very serious for a man in a place like this."
Behind them, someone shouted something about fireworks and not aiming them at the medical tent. Another crash from the bonfire area— someone dropped a whole platter of grilled food, a chorus of groans following. Adam barely flicked a glance over.
Loki moved closer, close enough that Adam caught the scent of smoke and salt on him, the lingering trace of something bitter and strange. "You’re always brooding," He said, nudging him lightly with an elbow. "Even here. In paradise."
"This," Adam said flatly, "is hardly paradise."
Loki gave a dramatic gasp, pressing a hand to his chest. "Blasphemy!" stumbling theatrically a step back. "You wound me." Adam watched him without moving, unimpressed.
"Come now," Loki said, voice dropping lower, almost conspiratorial. "Dance with me." Adam stared at him. I’m serious!" Loki said brightly, "Everyone else is too busy dragging Stark out of a grill pit. We could be tragic figures together. Very poetic."
Loki pouted (an exaggerated, theatrical thing) and then immediately dissolved into soft laughter. "I expected nothing less," he said, still chuckling under his breath. "You have the soul of a man who's allergic to fun." The fire nearest them popped loudly, sending a shower of sparks into the air. Loki tilted his head back to watch them drift upward, a strangely boyish look on his face. "Besides, you’re the only interesting one here."
Adam frowned. "What?"
Behind him, another firework went off sideways into a stack of coolers, and Quill's voice cracked the night with a loud, panicked, "That wasn't me this time, I swear!" He just stood there, drink dangling lazily from his fingers, his hair a wrecked halo around his head, watching Adam like he was trying to solve a particularly difficult riddle.
"You know," Loki said suddenly, almost thoughtful, "you have a very... admirable chest."
Adam frowned, suspicious. "What are you talking about?"
Loki tilted his head, considering him with the kind of slow, predatory amusement that should have been more alarming than it was. Then, in the most casual, drawling tone imaginable, Loki said; "Can I fuck your chest?"
Adam nearly spat out his drink.
He choked instead, coughing once, twice, the sharp burn of it stinging the back of his throat. He stared at Loki, utterly thrown off balance. The god only grinned wider, as if he’d said something charming instead of deranged.
"I—" Adam started, then stopped, because what response was there to that?
"Just a thought," Loki replied breezily, taking a sip of whatever radioactive liquid he’d been nursing. "You’ve got that whole... solid, thing going on. It’s practically an invitation."
In the distance, someone screamed about losing a game of limbo. A cooler exploded in a spray of ice and cheap beer. Thor was roaring with laughter. Adam fixed Loki with a look, the kind of look that had stopped intergalactic wars before they even began. The others had known for a while, about their 'relationship', of course. Adam couldn’t even remember when it had started to become so obvious.
Thor had been the first, dropping hints with the subtlety of a brick to the face. Sometimes an elbow to the ribs, sometimes a wink thrown over the table like a weapon. Rocket, naturally, had made some crass joke Adam had tuned out on instinct.
Even Quill, who somehow managed to be worse than both of them combined, had cornered him one evening with that infuriating dad tone- trying to offer ‘advice’ like Adam was some kid fumbling his first crush.
Adam had expected it all to come to a head eventually.
He had braced himself for the inevitable confrontation. Thor pulling him aside with that heavy, good-natured seriousness, laying out the ground rules; how Loki was still his brother, how Adam was expected to behave responsibly, how boundaries needed to be respected. He'd rehearsed the conversation in his head so many times he could’ve given both sides himself. But it never came.
Instead, Loki had gotten the talk.
The blonde god had pulled Loki aside, clapping a hand to his shoulder, his voice low and firm in a way that made Loki’s usual smirk falter (just slightly), just for a second. It had been a few words, a few sharp looks exchanged between brothers, and then nothing more.
Adam could still feel the burn of the words in his chest, his heart trying to find its rhythm again. He wasn’t sure if he should laugh, scream, or simply run off into the distance. But that didn’t seem like a good idea with Loki standing right there, watching him with that smirk. It was the smirk of someone who knew exactly what he was doing—teasing, yes, but also pulling Adam into some game where the rules were as unclear as the sky above them.
“Just a thought, really!” Loki repeated again, as though Adam wasn’t already rattled enough. He took another long sip of his drink, watching Adam intently over the rim of his glass. "You seem the type who could handle... a suggestion like that."
A suggestion. Adam's head swam. He tried to piece together something coherent, but his mind was still caught on the absurdity of it all. The way Loki had said it, so offhand, like it was just another casual request, like they weren’t standing on a beach in the middle of a party where everyone could see them.
And Loki didn’t seem like he was joking. He was completely, terrifyingly serious, and Adam couldn’t help but stare.
Loki’s grin never faltered, the kind of smile that said he knew exactly how much he was getting under his skin. It felt like he was only saying this because he knew he could get away with it. Or, perhaps, because he wanted to see Adam squirm.
Adam’s gaze darted around, looking anywhere but at Loki, but that only made things worse.