Birthdays weren't a completely unheard of concept to Loki. Plenty of cultures in the Nine Realms celebrated birth dates, name days, life days, and so on. A day of worship in the name of someone simply being; Loki liked the idea, but what was he going to celebrate? Abandonment day? Kidnapped and held hostage and lied to for the rest of his life day? He didn't even know if the Jotunn celebrated such things, while the people of Asgard in their sparkling and fertile land celebrated everything and it all blended into one anyway.

There were limits to what he could do for Peter, while still in hiding from the TVA in the Midgard boy's bedchamber, but fortunately he had somehow found himself cared for by the least materialistic being in all the universes. Magic still didn't cease to impress Peter and, that, he could give him a never ending supply of.

Magic and his body. They were the gifts that Loki had at his disposal. Not the first time they had been given, but still fresh and not worn down yet.

It took some thought; considering books and comics, shows they had watched together on Netflix, games they had played, the posters and figures in Peter's room. Loki had it in his power to give Peter his ultimate fantasy, he just wasn't certain what that was.

The magazines hidden in the bottom of his wardrobe made a compelling case, an equal share of swollen breasts and huge, thick lengths that didn't surprise Loki in the slightest. But ultimately, Loki wanted something more specific, something that he'd heard Peter talk animatedly about even when Loki clearly wasn't interested. Something he knew from evidence time and time again that Peter loved.

That was why when Peter came home from school on his birthday he walked in to his room to find Darth Vader wrapped in a bright green bow and breathing heavily on his bed.