"Get off this sofa!"

"Leave him, I told him to come here," Tony bursted out laughing when Fenrir jumped on him and licked his face.

Loki rolled his eyes, "Why did you?"

"Fight!" he exclaimed starting to tickle the puppy, who whined happily wagging his tail.

"So get off. Both of you."

"You're joking."

"No, I'm not. No fights or wrestling on the sofa, for the both of you."

Fenrir flattened his ears for the reproach and Tony stroked him tenderly.

"My house, my rules."

"My children, my rules."

"My house, my rules," he reaffirmed.

"Get of the sofa."

'It's my sofa!"

"I'll make you if I have to…" he hissed resembling Jormungandr, who was perched on a plant brought there just for him. Loki approached stealthily and jumped on the sofa himself, starting to fight against Tony to make him fall down, but soon they lost the desire to fight, distracted by the friction of one body on the other.

They stopped just in time, hardly remembering the children's presence, and they gazed at each other, in a silent promise implying a soundless 'later'.

"No more fights on the sofa," he got up from Stark's waist, which he was straddling, causing a not so little problem to the both of them.

"If the outcome's this I can't swear to this."

"I'll come up with something to convince you."

"Do I have to worry about that?"

"Maybe. Or maybe not," he bent down to look in Fenrir's eyes, "Not on the sofa, okay? You can beat him wherever you want, but not on the sofa," Loki explained with an imperious, but at the same time soft, voice.