If there was one thing Tony regretted about his life, it was programming Jarvis to play chess. It was a stupid thing to do, after all, since the AI was supposed to be paying attention to the perimeter of the house, keeping track of all his information, and making sure the diagnostics (that were currently taking place) were running smoothly. Then again, he thought as his ego took another hit, Jarvis wasn't exactly breaking a sweat.

He had played 52 games. It was a much larger number than he expected, but that was probably because he kept quitting and restarting three moves in. Someone once told him that you could tell whether you were going to win or lose after making just three moves. Judging by his track record, the theory held weight. 52-0. At least he hadn't programmed Jarvis to gloat.

Not that that was really stopping him.

"Would you like to play again, sir?" It wasn't technically possible for him to sound smug, but damn did he manage it.

"Yeah." Tony threw the rest of his scotch against his throat, and grimaced as it stung on the way down. Maybe the alcohol was impairing his ability to think strategically, but he hadn't started drinking until he'd reached the 30 mark. It was just...pathetic. He moved his center pawn two spaces forward, frowning as Jarvis's knight rushed to meet it. Not even a second. He'd sit there for ten minutes contemplating what to do, and Jarvis just sprang up. It was unfair. "You know," he began, as he moved another pawn. Useless. "-since I created you, I've technically won all these games."

"Of course, sir." Jarvis rang out patiently, but amusement tinged the words in ways it shouldn't. It only took five more moves for Tony to give up and restart. He just needed to win one game. The diagnostics would take another half hour to finish (approximately), and he really didn't want to waste any more time on such a stupid, insufferable game. He poured himself another glass, silently thanking every deity he could think of that he was alone during this shameful time.

And, of course, he wasn't. One of the deities that hadn't been fortunate enough for a mention in his gratitude made his presence known by a low chuckle. Tony swung, eyes rushing to adjust to a world beyond a flat computer screen. When they finally registered the figure approaching, he quickly made to press the button that would alert his fellow Avengers. Being alone with Loki was never good. Last time he'd had the pleasure, he'd been swung through a window.

The god made a lazy gesture with his hands, and the entire room flickered. The engineer knew even before his index finger slammed against the button that his call wouldn't be heard.

"I am in no mood for more company."

"Oh, what a coincidence." Tony responded, unconsciously rolling his chair closer to the desk. He only noticed the action when his elbow touched the counter. "I'm actually doing the whole 'solitude' thing tonight, so can we rain-check the play date?" Loki crinkled his nose in a way that suggested he didn't understand half of the statement. Tony figured he should have known- if Thor didn't understand anything he said, his brother probably wouldn't, either. Loki ignored his comment, and continued in his stride.

"You are very poor at this game." Tony raised an eyebrow, twisting to face the screen. The 53-0 score in the corner of the glass blinked at him, and he shook his head.

"No, the object of the thing is to get as few pieces as possible. It's like Uno, or golf." Loki smirked as if he knew very well what the object of the game was- but he didn't contradict Tony's claim.

"You are alone." Tony felt a creeping sensation traverse up and down his spine.

"No," he lied easily. "-didn't you hear Jarvis? Jarvis, say 'hello'." The room was silent. His brows furrowed, and his heart seemed eager to DJ a rave. It pounded ferociously in his chest. He almost imagined that he felt it thumping up against the metal of the arc reactor.

"Your machine presented a possible connection to your allies. I wished for no such connection." Tony smiled smoothly, but his limbs stiffened in anticipation of violence. He couldn't exactly get to his suit, and, apparently, Loki had figured out a way to make his computer as helpful as a wet rag. Although wet rags were helpful when cleaning a house, so the saying didn't really make much sense. Tony ended the tangent before it could become one. His computer systems, at the moment, were as useful as a wet rag when one's house is already clean.

"Lot of work to get to little ol' me. I'm flattered, really, but I've got plans already. I can maybe fit you in next week, but you know how it is- busy being me, and all. Do you have a Facebook? I'll send you a message, hit you up on chat." He was rambling, and he could feel his lips sputtering out nonsense, but he couldn't really stop them. He was stalling, basically.

Loki seemed content to watch him flail.

"-but for now I've really gotta get back to work. Company to run, world to save- but really, we should hang out sometime. Oh, hey! I've got an idea! If you really want to go grab a bite, I know this great place where you can get free meals every day for the rest of your life! I'll have to pull some strings, mind you, but you're worth it." He didn't so much run out of things to say as he ran out of breath to say it with. Loki arched one brow.

"Are you quite finished?"

"Only if you're about to leave. If not, then I've still got loads more."

"I'm afraid you are no longer in a position wherein you have the power to make me leave." Tony let out an exaggerated groan.

"When was I in that position?" Loki paused, cocking his head to the side.

"I suppose I misspoke- you never were. In this form, you are quite without leverage."

"Geez, make a guy feel special." Tony crossed his arms, letting one hand subtly slip into the pocket of his jeans. He felt for his phone, and hoped it still worked. "So, are you here to do anything other than insult my chess skills and insinuate I'm not so great without my armor?"

"I did not insinuate." Loki pointed out calmly. "It was quite clear to anyone with even mild intelligence."

"Okay, so, point taken. Now that you've proved yourself to be a dick even off the battle-field, mind explaining why you're here? If you're here to kill me, I guess you're pretty close. The boredom is practically strangling me. But I promise that there are more efficient techniques." His fingers rushed through the familiar movements, and he tried to imagine the keyboard. If he were as awesome as he'd always proclaimed himself to be, he'd just sent Clint a message demanding the immediate assistance of the Avengers. And, yes, he had bothered to type out 'assistance'. 'Help' made him sound like a damsel in distress, which was definitely not a look he wanted to explore.

"I am not interested in battle." Loki finally said, watching him with a keen eye that Tony figured was suspicion. "Were I eager for bloodshed, I would have allowed you your armor. There is no honor in murdering a mere mortal as he drinks in solitude. Without your armor, you are no more a threat to me than any other human on this pitiful planet."

"Yeah." Tony stated flatly. "We covered that."

"I am more interested," Loki continued. "-in conversing with you."

"Conversing." Tony repeated the word slowly. He was, to say the least, a little doubtful. "Excuse me for not jumping for joy, but you're not exactly known as the truthsmith. Plus, as enthralling as I am, I don't see why you'd want to talk to me. In case you haven't noticed, I'm actually one of the guys that beat you. People generally prefer talking to friends. Or do you have tea parties with mortal enemies on Asgard?" Loki's lips thinned in annoyance.

"You annoy me."

"Weird. Usually enemies never annoy each other. Listen, unless you're here to give an unconditional surrender, we have nothing to discuss." Tony tried very, very hard to keep his voice steady. Even a small tremor might let Loki see his boisterous responses for what they were: complete bullshit. But as long as he played the part, maybe the guy would treat the situation with a bit of caution. And, maybe, he'd live long enough to see the Avengers burst into his lab. Tony had no interest in dying with a losing score on his screen. Knowing his luck, that's what would be engraved on his tombstone. Right there next to the 1965-2012. 53-0.

"Stop speaking, son of Stark." Loki's voice was cold. Tony disregarded the fear that tickled at his brain.

"Okay, there's the problem. You don't understand the fundamental requirements of conversing: it necessitates talkin-" It was, predictably, the most terrifying thing short of actual violence. When he was thirteen, he'd had strep throat and tonsillitis at the same time. He'd been unable to speak for almost a work-week. It had nearly killed him to keep his opinions to himself for that long. Beyond technology and sexing up random strangers, Tony Stark was known for one thing: talking.

He might have looked more terrified than he had any right to, as his hands leapt to his throat in silent protest. Loki watched, almost amusedly, as he came to grips with the fact that he apparently had a mute button. It was not pleasant. Face squat in annoyance, he quickly spun and began typing, letting the chess screen fizzle into irrelevance.

As expected, he had no access to the outside world. But he did have access to a useless sort of program that read out anything that was typed.

"I believe you have been woefully ill-informed about what it takes to hold a conversation." The voice sounded disjointed and monotone. Loki, looking surprised by it, let out a small laugh, and waved his hand. Tony felt the change in a strange way, and mumbled out a few syllables to make sure. His throat felt raw and unused, as if he had been silent for hours, despite that only a few moments had passed.

"Let's not do that again." He cringed inwardly at the crack in his voice. It was hard to sound casual and not-freaked-out when one's voice needs practice.

"Had you not forced my hand, it might have been avoided completely." Tony didn't really know how to respond to that, so he crossed his arms again and watched his visitor. After a few moments of silence, he raised an eyebrow.

"Well? You shut me up. This is the part where you get to talk." Loki grinned at the admission. It was a predatory grin, and certainly not one that put Tony at ease.

"I am happy to see you have learned your place." And, well, that just set Tony off. It's one thing to magically mute a guy, to break into his house and turn off all his security measures, but you don't say 'learn your place'. It's just rude. "Now, then, we shall commence with the busin-"

"Oh, silly me. I just remembered: I don't take orders from extra-terrestrial nutcases bent on world-domination. Gosh, I'm just so scatter-brained sometimes." It was technically a bad plan (maybe dumb and just a tad bit suicidal), but Tony had never been one to handle intimidation well. He leapt to his feet, adrenaline thumping through his veins, as he half-rolled/half-threw his chair against the god, and made toward the suit currently undergoing diagnostics. Sure, he couldn't exactly put it on, but he could utilize the arm that shot lasers. Which would be helpful.

Incredibly, the really-dumb-and-suicidal plan was successful. He yielded the arm, and aimed it at the god with proud terror. Naturally, only the pride shone through.

"That was not an intelligent course of action."

"In case you haven't noticed, I've got an arm-shaped gun pointing at your chest. I'm not concerned about the plan anymore, because it worked." Loki didn't respond immediately.

"Are you quite certain your armor still works, Son of Stark? How have you come upon such a conclusion, when the majority of your laboratory disregards your instructions? Even your communication device has denied any assistance." Scarlet threatened to burn Tony's cheeks off, but he wasn't quite sure whether it was because of anger, fear (the Avengers weren't coming; not good), or just humiliation that his plan had been found out.

"Somehow I doubt very much that you've got control over the suit," Tony sneered, deciding to ignore the fact that his morale was just as low as his chances of surviving this encounter. "-but maybe you'd like to give it a go?" He tilted the arm slightly, and Loki's minor shifting made his position on the idea evident.

"I did not come for violence." He finally stated, sounding vaguely offended.

"Yeah, but then you basically sowed my lips shut." Okay, he'd heard some myths as a kid and that was probably a low blow (if a phrase like 'low blow' can even be used when you're talking about something said to a psychopathic alien who'd tried to enslave and/or murder everyone on Earth). Surprisingly, Loki didn't seem affected.

"You were being exceedingly frustrating."

"If you weren't looking for frustration, you shouldn't have come to me." Loki gave a slight nod at that, the sides of his lips twitching up.

"I suppose so." He waved his hand, but it seemed more of a gesture than a spell-casting maneuver. "Sit. I have not come to harm you, but any offense against me will force a reevaluation of my intentions."

"I won't shoot if you don't," Tony responded. He wasn't about to sit down and trust the megalomaniac, but he was feeling better about his chances of survival. Oddly enough, the demi-god didn't seem to have much interest in murdering him. Unless it was a trick. Which it probably was. Fuck.

"Very well. Your distrust was..." A pause. "-not unexpected." Tony waited for him to speak, his arms beginning to tremble beneath the weight of the metal. It didn't weigh that much- maybe twenty, thirty pounds- but continuing to hold it was a pain. He rested his elbow against the counter in a way that he hoped didn't project weakness. By the gleam in those green eyes, he'd failed miserably.

"Well?" He snapped. "At this rate I'll die of old age. That's a thing mortals do, by the way, so you might wanna speed it up." Loki gave a slight nod, amusement still painted on his sallow face. Tony felt a reasonless sense of embarrassment, and fought to keep his eyes off the floor.

"I have come to converse with you."

"You mentioned that part." Tony interrupted, with a 'yadda-yadda' sort of tone. "Get on with it. What does 'converse with you' mean in super-villain terms?".

"I will not have you interrupt me." Tony was reminded by the haughty indignation in his tone that he had, at some point, been high-ranking royalty.

"Yeah, well, I'd prefer you not break into my house and threaten me, but I guess life isn't all that fair, huh?" He considered calling him 'princess', but quickly disregarded it as childhood memories of Han Solo came to mind. Sure, demeaning names were fun, but thinking of Loki in a metal bikini only brought forth nauseas feelings. Well, mostly. He was struggling to hide a snicker behind a resolute expression when a spasm of pain wound its way up his leg.

Was that a Charley horse?

"You'll excuse the lårhøne." Loki's voice was cold, but there was definitely amusement in there as Tony fought to remain upright. "I request that you place down the weapon, and sit."

"Well, I request-" The pain was now more pronounced, and not just an annoying setback.

"Excuse my earlier phrasing. I command." Tony ignored the pain that was steadily climbing, locking his calves into a paralyzed cramp. The arm was, of course, open for his tinkering, so the emergency manual buttons were exposed. Figuring that now was as good a time as any to blast the demi-god until he took the hint that he wasn't totally welcome, Tony jabbed his index finger down.

Now would probably be a good time to explain why Tony was working on his suit. Earlier that afternoon- well, technically the previous day as it was currently 4:05 in the morning- the Avengers had been called to Central Park to fend off a few dozen doombots that were terrorizing innocent park-goers- picnickers, joggers, children, old people feeding pigeons: the things had no qualms with blowing them all up. So the Avengers did what Avengers do. Natasha shot them, Clint perched and blew them up remotely with well-aimed arrows, Bruce turned green and smashed anything that shined, Thor banged on stuff, and the Captain swung around his mighty shield. And Tony joined in as Iron Man, and did what he could.

And everything went alright until one lucky doombot ripped a tree out of the ground, and used Tony for batting practice. He crashed through a few more trees, made a sizable ditch, and then suffered through the rest of the fight with sparking limbs. His right arm in particular had collected enough damage to require some major fixing-up, as it kept jamming and sparking and doing generally worrying things.

And we're back.

The limb (which, had it finished its diagnostics, Tony would have known required some serious work) collected energy.

"You can take your command and shove it up your-" Tony was interrupted for the second time in less than a minute. The arm made a low whining sound, and the blue energy which had been growing at its palm began to spark and widen. Tony realized what was going to happen just in time to toss it away and duck beneath the counter, bringing his legs (one of which was still hurting) against his chest.

The explosion racked the entire lab, and Tony's ears rang as he tried to focus. His main thought was moving away from the suit, which had enough explosives to destroy his whole house. Judging by the heat that was probably speeding its way through the suit (because, damn him, he'd left the arm open, leaving its innards exposed to the brunt of the explosion), there were many small missiles that were about to do their job.

He realized it was hopeless just about the same time that he realized his leg had a large piece of red metal stuck in it. In his shocked state, he registered that it was like a little flag settled in new territory. He shook his head and started crawling toward the room he'd built for Bruce. If the Hulk couldn't break the walls, he'd probably be safest there. It didn't seem to matter to him that the room was a floor above him.

When he finally remembered that past the haze of ringing ears, bleary eyes, and agonizing pain (the metal had landed in the leg suffering through a major Charley Horse, of course) he let himself pass out.


And, really, that should have been the end of the whole thing.

But of course it wasn't.


The thing he awoke to was the scent of charred hair.

It wasn't the first time he'd awoken to such a scent. A lifetime of scientific pursuits had left him with many burned-off eyebrows and goatees, and it wasn't too much of a surprise that he'd done it again. What did surprise him was that he was on a chair. Not the ground, not a bed: a chair.

If Pepper had found him, he'd either be in his bed or a hospital bed. If she hadn't, he'd be where he'd fallen: on the ground. A person doesn't catch on fire and stay seated. He shifted, and felt sore limbs protest. One, in particular.

"I regret whatever I did," he told Jarvis, but it wasn't the AI that answered.

"I am glad to know that you are capable of basic thinking." His eyes snapped open in horror, and his memories came crashing back as a small smirk greeted him. He nearly fell off of the chair as he jolted forward, but was pushed back with surprisingly gentle fingers. He opened his mouth to respond, but could think of absolutely nothing to say. He figured his brain would come to him, so, in the meantime, he checked his limbs with terrified interest. "They're all still attached." Loki drawled. "You might thank me for that."

"As soon as I make sure I'm not having a really freaky dream." Tony promised. He came upon his leg with a little trepidation, and could barely refrain from gagging at the ugly wound he beheld. It looked as if someone had hacked at his leg with an ax. He went to prod it, but Loki snapped his fingers away impatiently.

"Are you really so infantile that you must touch everything you see?" He chastised.

"It's my leg," Tony argued, but he was awake enough to admit poking around a wound was probably a bad idea. He finally sat back, then surveyed his lab. His counter was pitch black, and a few broken hunks of metal hung around it. One was actually embedded in it, a jagged slab of red metal that resembled a shark fin. All-in-all, though, the damage wasn't terrible. He finally wound himself back to his visitor. "Okay, you're doing a terrible job at killing me." He announced. Loki sighed, put-upon and ever-suffering.

"It was never my intention to kill you, Son of Stark." He paused, then added, "Today." Tony nodded his approval at the correction.

"Well, it was never my intention to let you." He blinked. That had sounded a lot better in his head. He frowned down at his leg, eager to shake off the blood-loss and get back to normal. How long had he been unconscious?

"Then we have both been successful." Loki returned, letting the lame response slip. That is, he didn't remark upon it. He'd certainly noticed Tony's wooziness and lack-of-one-liners (symptoms, no doubt, of something bad). "How are you feeling?"

"Like I'd love to call an ambulance. Oh, wait. I can't. Too busy being held hostage by a crazy alien." Now it wasn't so much fear that propelled the insults. It was simple crankiness and pain. Although, now that he'd finally grown used to consciousness, the fear was returning.

Shit. Now his situation glared at him clearly. He was wounded, alone, with Loki. No way to contact the team, no last-ditch plans that were suicidal to begin with and would end up being just terrible anyway. He was completely and utterly screwed.

"And by crazy-" he continued, wondering how to mend the problem. "-I mean completely sane." Loki arched a single brow. Okay, mending sucked. "Never mind, you're nuttier than a Payday bar on a good day."

" 'Payday bar' ."

"It's a candy bar with many nuts." Tony said matter-of-factly. "By saying that you are nuttier than it, I am implying that you're super crazy with a side of insane." He braced himself for whatever was coming. Better to die like a man than try to mend things like a man that has a filter between his mouth and his brain.

But Loki didn't make his brain explode, or send a massive Charley Horse galloping through his body. He just watched him with an amused expression on his face, halfway between confused and genuinely entertained.

"You interest me greatly, Son of Stark."

"And can we quit it with the 'Son of Stark' crap?" Tony demanded, deciding to press his luck just because he was alive to do so. "It's Tony, Iron Man, Mr. Stark, or pretty much anything else in the universe. Take your pick." Loki's eyes flashed.

"Is Son of Stark not accurate?"

"Asshole is accurate, too, but I'm not begging for that nickname either. Do you mind if I drink?" He spoke again before Loki could reply. "It's my house, why am I asking you?" He poured the dark liquid, glad that the decanter and glasses had only been chipped, and not shattered completely. Like, well, most of his computer screens. He hid a smirk as he drank. As long as the alcohol wasn't destroyed, who was he to complain? "Do you want some?" Loki raised an eyebrow, but nodded slightly.

Tony poured the drink before he could wonder why he was being hospitable. Hell, Loki hadn't killed him yet. That was reason enough. It's good to associate treats with not murdering people. Loki took the amber liquid warily, and watched Tony drink before he took a sip. Tony expected him to gag or cough, but the man simply pursed his lips slightly.

"It is not dissimilar to certain tonics in Asgard," he finally decided. "Though its potency is considerably duller."

"Duller?" Tony repeated, letting himself grin. "If you ever want to visit again, bring some of that and I won't try and kick you out." Loki smiled. It was wan, but sincere. It was much nicer, Tony decided, than the derisive smirk that usually adorned the man's face.

"I may do so." Tony considered telling him it was a joke, then decided that Loki would have to let him live to visit again.

"I'll find some non-chipped glasses for the occasion," he said with a wink. Loki paused, then frowned down at the billionaire's leg.

"You appear to have an injury."

"Geez, you must have been the Sherlock Holmes of Asgard. I'll call some doctors over after our one-on-one." Loki's smirk returned in full-force.

"It is nice to see you no longer believe this occasion to be the last in your life."

"Well, you didn't kill me when I was lying on the floor like a passed-out frat boy, so I've decided you probably have something way worse planned for me in the land of the living." Loki nodded.

"A reasonable expectation."

"And the absence of a denial is pretty much just an affirmation." Tony observed, pinching the bridge of his nose. His leg was pulsating. Despite that he'd come to believe Loki wasn't here to shoot him in the face, he still didn't want to show too much vulnerability. It was annoying as all hell to be a human around a demi-god.

"Once again, a rational conclusion." Loki sounded pleased. Tony had shut his eyes at some interminable point, but ripped them open in shock when he felt cool hands against his calf. Not just cool, either...Maybe it was because his leg was burning in agony, but the hands felt downright icy. Loki seemed concerned by his reaction. "I did not mean to cause you pain," he said swiftly. "-I meant to assist you." Assist, a small part of Tony repeated gleefully. Not help. He hadn't reached damsel-in-distress quite yet.

"Assist?" Tony felt sluggish. Maybe it was the blood-loss, the probable concussion, or the lack of sleep (unless you counted the ten minute catnap of unconsciousness). He was dreadfully confused.

"Your leg." Loki nodded down at the limb, which was oozing weird colors. It felt awful, and, while the cool actually had a soothing affect, Tony wasn't eager to have the demi-god stuffing his hands into his limbs. He'd probably put chattering teeth in there. It's never a good idea, he felt, to let the god of mischief operate on you.

"I'd prefer someone with a medical degree handle my insides." Tony protested, squirming away. But the gentle hands were back, now firmer than before.

"My skills will elicit far greater results than anything your pathetic physicians might do."

"By 'far greater', do you mean I'll have the leg of a murderer? Go around kicking puppies and children?"

"I mean you will continue to have a leg." Loki responded harshly. "And if you continue to writhe, I will bind you. Remain still."

"I don't particularly trust you." Tony stated bluntly. He could barely think anymore. The entire thinking process seemed a lot harder than it ever had before. He wondered whether drinking alcohol while a liter of his blood rested on his lab floor had anything to do with it.

The only real conclusion he got from the question was that he needed to get a mop and clean this up before Pepper found him.

"A wise decision, but one you should disregard at the moment. Even if you were able to contact your team, your leg requires immediate medical assistance."

"I could get a bionic one. We have the technology." He giggled wetly, surprised when he tasted copper. "Okay, I'm going to get another drink." He fumbled with the glass bottle, cringing when one of the chipped edges sliced the flap of skin between his thumb and finger. Loki looked as if he wanted to roll his eyes.

"If you have the capacity to do so, please resist accumulating further injuries until I am, at least, finished healing your leg."

"Where's your first aid kit?" Tony questioned. He brought the glass to his lips, and concentrated on the heat as it swam down his throat and then settled in his stomach. "And it's just a paper cut." Pretty much, anyway. He wound his hand into his t-shirt to stifle the blood loss.

"I am a god, Son of Stark."

"Demi-god. And Tony." Loki acknowledged his addition by tightening his grip on Tony's leg. The engineer resisted crying out in pain. He succeeded, letting loose only a thin hiss. "Okay, see, real Earth doctors wouldn't have done that." His voice shook, and he hated himself for it. Loki seemed to take pity, and he removed the pressure.

"I mean only to remind you who is in charge." He informed Tony. "As for your previous inquiry, I practice magic. I do not intend to utilize some primitive 'first aid kit'. So long as you hold still, your injury will be nothing more than a small pain in the future." He re-applied pressure, but with no hostile force this time. Tony felt himself begin to drift, and he willed himself to remain conscious. "You may succumb, Son of- Tony. The next few moments will be filled with much pain, and I mean to relieve you of it."

"Ah, the laughing gas of Asgard." Tony cringed a little as his leg protested to some movement of Loki's. "You know what, I'm good to take a KO for the team. Wake me up if I don't die."

When Tony woke up, he had only a vague recollection of anything after the explosion. He had the dim realization that he was probably only alive because Loki wanted him alive, and therefore opened his eyes very warily.

He'd half-expected the lab to be empty. But, no, Loki sat there. He watched Tony with sharp green eyes, as if absorbing every small facet of his enemy. When Tony shifted, obviously awake now, Loki's eyes flickered. He'd been in deep thought.

"Good morning, Man of Iron." Tony moved forward slowly, then tested his leg. It hurt like hell, but a glance down assured him that it no longer resembled a volcano, spewing out important bodily fluids. It was definitely going to have a harsh scar, but he'd never complained about bragging rights. Although, technically, the story of how he got it was a little embarrassing. But that was okay. He'd lie.

"Well, it didn't fall off when I was asleep. So." He was definitely grateful, but had no clue how to express it. After all, Loki had indirectly caused the injury. He couldn't exactly say, 'Gee, thanks, if it weren't for you I'd be dead!' because, technically, if it weren't for him he would have had a perfectly nice evening losing chess to Jarvis.

Besides, it wasn't as if he had much practice saying 'thank you' in general.

"Hungry?" Loki arched a brow. "For, y'know, food?" The demi-god shook his head.

"I do not require food as often as humans." Tony nodded, and pushed himself to his feet. His stomach lurched and he felt like throwing up, but his knees didn't buckle and throw him back, so he called it progress.

"Well, I'm starving. Sure you don't want some pancakes?" Loki had a small smirk on his face.

"If my host insists, it would be impolite to decline."

"Because you're all about manners," Tony agreed, but there was little hostility in the insult. He was too tired to be too malicious. "Come on up, then. Is Jarvis back online or am I doing this old school?"

"Your program is still disconnected." Tony inwardly groaned at that. He hadn't cooked real food in over a decade. Unless you counted that guess-what-I'm-dying omelet he'd made for Pepper, but that hadn't been very good.

"Well, then, we're skipping pancakes and having cereal. I'm a pro at making that." He forced himself toward the door, ignoring the way his stomach jolted. It felt as if it were on an elevator the rest of his body didn't know about.

"Are you well enough to prepare a meal?" Loki questioned dubiously.

"I get over bruises like this fast enough," Tony replied breezily. "As long as you don't make me dodge blasts of voo-doo while I'm pouring the milk, I think we're fine."

"My intention during this visit was never to instigate violence."

"Yeah, you might have said so once or twice. What was the point, though? If you mentioned it while digging metal out of my leg, I guess I forgot." Luckily (if one can call it that), the glass walls of the lab were completely shattered during the explosion. Instead of having to figure out how to open the doors manually, Tony just stepped over the broken shards. Loki followed suit, seeming amused by his disinterest in the damage.

"I was merely interested in conversing with you."

"Yeah, you mentioned 'conversing', too." The stairs were a serious obstacle, so Tony let Loki go first. "Royalty before looks." He allowed his limp to show itself as he dragged himself up the steps, concentrating on Loki's back. When the demi-god glanced back, he nearly tripped in surprise.

"You need not act so secretive, Man of Iron. The wound will take several days to fully heal." Tony ignored the actual meat of the statement.

"Didn't we agree on Tony?" Loki smirked.

"I was under the impression that any title in the universe other than 'Son of Stark' would suffice."

"Yeah, well, I guess we can add Man of Iron to the 'do-not-call' list. And what am I supposed to call you, anyway?"

"Your highness," he drawled. It took Tony a moment to realize he was joking and, when he did, he let out a coarse laugh. Loki, noticing a bit of difficulty on the final few steps, held out a hand. Tony gave him a quizzical expression, and Loki's jaw tensed. "I promise that my patience is not so great that I would suffer through your gawking much longer."

"Well, as long as you suffer through it for now." Tony responded, ignoring the hand in favor of the railing. Loki withdrew the extremity, his lips thinning into a smirk.

"After you. Youth before beauty."

"Not quite the saying, but you're closer than Thor ever is." Tony said, taking the lead a little worriedly. He didn't much like being unable to keep an eye on the guy. Luckily, Loki quickly matched his stride, and walked beside him.

"Ah, yes, my would-be brother. How fares he in the mortal world?"

"He likes our food and loves our women. And you? How do you like Earth? Granted, it's not much now, but this is the rainy season. Stay for summer, work on that tan. You're looking a little pale. Or, if you don't want to stick around, mind explaining how you even managed this vacation? Last I heard, you were being carted off to Asgard for a time-out." Loki's smirk widened, and he was reminiscent of the Cheshire cat: mischievous and unwilling to tell the whole truth and nothing but.

"It is of little importance. I believe you should be less concerned with my escape, and more concerned with what I do with my freedom." Tony breathed out heavily.

"Well, what you've done with your freedom so far just confuses me. You want coffee?" He began brewing the drink as Loki stood at the counter, observing his every move with an unreadable expression on his face.

"No. I had the misfortune of trying it on my first excursion to Miðgarðr, and am not tempted to repeat the experience."

"Weird; Thor loves it." Loki's mouth curled into a snarl.

"We are hardly similar."

"Not disputing that." Tony replied quickly, flashing a disarming smile. The last thing he wanted was an angry god with family issues in his kitchen, especially when he was this close to escaping safely. As the water boiled, he pulled out a few boxes of cereal and a jug of milk. "If you have high cholesterol, I suggest the Cheerios. If you have diabetes, I suggest not having Honey Smacks. Beyond that, go wild." Loki ignored the advice, and Tony quickly realized he expected him to serve him. "Also, as great a host as I am, you're still an enemy. Pour your own cereal. I'd make pancakes, but cereal is where I draw the line of feeding you." Loki seemed amused by the tirade, and promptly began pouring his chosen cereal.

Tony finally had the pleasure of sitting and figuring out what he was going to do. Oddly, Loki didn't seem as though he were going to murder him, or torture him, or do anything particularly villainish. And, as off-putting as that was, he was grateful. He felt as if he had a killer hangover (a mixture of magic and an actual hangover, probably) and really didn't have the patience for a devious plot. And God help him if Loki had an evil cackle- that would probably break his brain.

"What is the thing on your chest?" Tony leapt out of his mulling, before glancing at his shirt. He expected, at first, to see a fruit loop clinging to the cotton. But, no, Loki was referring to the object beneath the shirt, the metal embedded permanently in his chest.

"A t-shirt." He responded, careful to act aloof. He didn't really want Loki knowing an easy off-switch for Tony Stark, regardless of how friendly he was acting (well, not friendly, really, but civil). "It's like a long-sleeved shirt, but with short sleeves." Loki eyed him strangely, but he couldn't seem intimidating while stuffing himself full of Rice Crispies. Well, okay, he could, but the point stood that he wasn't exactly terrifying at the moment. Tony concentrated on his cereal, wondering after another bite whether his milk had gone sour.

"Initially, I was under the impression," the demi-god finally continued. "-that it was a part of your armor. But at your tower-"

"Yes, when you threw me out the window, I remember-"

"-it denied me access to your mind. And it is now quite clear that it is attached to you. I have seen no other mortals with such a device, however, and have become quite curious. Is it of your own design?" Tony paused. That much was safe, right?

"Yep. Made it a few years back to help charge the suit."

"But why affix it to your own being?" Time to improvise.

"Easy access. I figured it'd be better to have a power source than not have a power source. I'm a man of convenience." He grinned, and Loki nodded. He didn't know Tony well enough to doubt such a claim.

"Very interesting. What happens if it is removed?" He practically felt the blood rush from his face, but he fought to remain casual.

"I have one less power source on me. It's a bummer, but I have plenty more for situations where it dies or breaks." Loki nodded again, trusting because he had no reason not to. Eager to leave the topic behind, Tony questioned,

"Is that why you played sleepover? You were interested in this thing?" He tapped it, and Loki nodded.

"I was intrigued both by it and its creator."

"Well, we're both pretty fascinating." He stuffed his mouth full of Froot Loops, then, after a rough swallow, questioned, "So now that you've got the scoop?" Loki nodded, and stood, pushing away his empty bowl.

"I will take my leave. This has been a most engaging visit, but I have work to do."

"As long as that work doesn't involve murdering people, take that leave of yours." Tony encouraged, bobbing his head up and down. He was so close to safety (and, unfortunately, a debriefing) he could taste it. Well, technically, he tasted whole grain corn flour and sugar, but that was close enough to safety. Loki smirked, and it was a predatory expression with just a hint of mirth.

"As if you could stop me." Tony acted hurt.

"Did you not see my fantastic plan last night? I'm chock full of them."

"Well, do refrain from injuring yourself until I am gone. I have no interest in healing you again." Tony's heart was pounding, adrenaline shooting through his veins as he watched his guest approach the door.

"I'll try my best. Have a good one. See you next time I have to beat you up." He was speaking quickly, rambling almost- and then Loki was gone. He instantly grabbed his phone, and practically shrieked with joy when he saw the bars and the missed messages.


Clint rolled out of bed, nearly cracking his skull on the bed-side table in doing so.

"Shit."

"You alive?" Natasha's voice was sleepy, but still alert. She just jumped into the world of the living, didn't she? Clint swallowed the envy as he grappled for his phone.

"Almost." He rolled his eyes at the caller ID. "You can go back to sleep. It's just Tony." Tony was always calling at random hours with random things. He never slept, and seemed to think no one else did, either.

"'Kay." He heard the bed shift as she rolled back onto her side. He smiled, then shuffled into the hallway to take the call. He glared at his watch. It wasn't even six in the goddamn morning. Tony better be calling because he'd made him a suit and just couldn't wait to show him.

"I was sleeping."

"Neat; thanks for the status update. Know what I was doing all night?" He sounded way too awake.

"Ignoring the natural Circadian rhythm?"

"I was requiring some serious goddamn assistance." A pause. "Jarvis, that's not even remotely what I mean." Jesus. He'd called him before the sun even had the decency to crawl out of its hole so that Clint could listen to him argue with his robot.

Clint hung up in time to hear the engineer practically shout,

"I created you, so I technically won all of them!"


Okay, that's it. If it's a little iffy, I blame the lack of sleep. When a specific time was mentioned (4:05 AM), that was because that was the actual time I was writing it at. I figure this will stay a sleep-deprived one-shot, but if anyone is actually interested in more, I'd be happy for the excuse to expand it. Thanks for reading (and reviews would be cool).