Once again, Loki sleeps soundly. It would be nice to believe it was due to the hard day's work, but he knows that's only part of it. As he wakes up on the third day of having found his soulmate, he finds it's getting harder and harder to even think of the excuses anymore. He feel comfortable with Tony, more comfortable than he's ever felt next to anyone. Why should he even try to pretend he doesn't?

The early morning light shines around the edges of the lowered blinds, just enough to not make the arc reactor in Tony's chest unbearably bright by comparison. Loki studies the human more closely as he sleeps: the subtle variations in color in his hair, the way his eyes flicker behind closed lids, the subtle lines just starting to form around his eyes.

He could get up, perhaps start breakfast, begin discussing the day's plan with the Captain (he can tell the man is likely an early riser), but that would mean leaving the warm bed and his soulmate. The world could wait for just a few more minutes.

He does, however, sit up, gently maneuvering Tony's head from his chest to his lap. Holding out a hand, a book appears: "The Hobbit" by one JRR Tolkin. Banner had said it was a classic of modern Midgardian literature, so it seemed a good idea to read.