Author's Note: I didn't think I would write more. How wrong I was.


It's been three months since ships exploded in the sky and inhabitants of realms Tony didn't even know existed arrived on Earth to defend the galaxy. The Avengers almost died at the hands of an alien army lead by a power hungry psychopath— again— but somehow survived—again— and Tony's not so much of an egotistical prick that he isn't thankful even though he sometimes wonders why the hell he agreed to be involved in any of this in the first place.

He's happy though— was happy— that things settled down. Peace and quiet were never his thing until aliens, and he's pretty sure everyone else is just as ready for a vacation. Even their normal adversaries were on hiatus, because who in their right mind would fuck around on the Avengers' turf after they defeated a Titan known for eradicating entire planets for fun?

Loki, that's who.

Tony hasn't had to fire his repulsors, not yet. He's only been on the scene for a few minutes and the god hasn't killed anyone even though he's glowing like a goddamned beacon in the darkening sky, power barely contained. They aren't really sure what's going on, because Loki hasn't moved. He just stands there, body as tense as a whipcord with power radiating off of him in visible waves.

It's obvious, at least to Tony, that Loki is struggling, and he doesn't know how long it will be before the god bursts. The strain is there in the dark circles beneath his eyes, in the gaunt paleness that's worse than usual, in the way he's all sharp angles and wild rage. The ragged look is familiar in a bad way. The god's about as put together as he was the first time he showed up on Earth, and that didn't go well for anyone involved.

"So, do we have an idea on what the hell's going on?" Tony asks nonchalantly over the comms.

Before anyone can respond, he hears the thumping of the Hulk's feet hitting concrete in the distance, and he sees the moment when Loki hears it, too. Fear flashes across the god's face, but he stands his ground, digging his heels into the rooftop. If anything, he grows brighter.

No one moves except for Thor, who lands with a crunch of concrete on the roof opposite Loki and advances while swinging Mjolnir. The sky closes in fast, dark, swirling cloud cover blocking out the last of the dying sunlight. Their comms crackle, and the thunder booms so loudly Tony can feel it in his bones. Lightning is sparking out of the hammer and Thor's got that set to his jaw, the set that they only ever see when Loki is involved.

"Are we sure it's a good idea to send in brother dearest when Loki's obviously having a temper tantrum?" Tony asks.

"Get ready to move if it goes south," Steve orders.

"It always goes south with these two, Cap," Tony huffs, but he doesn't think anyone can hear him over the crackle of static.

"Loki," the Thunder calls, "what is it you are doing? You must stop this, I beg of you, before someone is injured."

"I cannot," Loki snarls back, his body incandescent, and Tony's close enough that he hears it. He hears the breaking, the way the words are barely held together behind all the rage. It's not will not. It's cannot.

"You must," Thor says, and that's the wrong thing, because Loki's features contort from painful determination to complete and utter rage.

Tony's pretty sure if things continue with Thor as head of the welcome committee, it's going to get ugly, especially if Loki's feeling vulnerable, so Tony flies forward before Thor can respond, jetting past the Thunder God. He lands a few feet away from Loki and orders, "JARVIS, mute the fucking comms" as the Avengers start yelling at him all at once to retreat. He can't help but let out the breath he's holding when Thor slows the hammer's momentum and the storm subsides. Tony really didn't want to get electrocuted today.

Loki backs up on the roof, taking several long, wobbly steps away from him. Oh, yeah, Tony thinks. Definitely don't want Thor at the front of the pack when the goddamned God of Mischief and Lies is backing away from a man in a tin can.

"Man of Iron," Loki hisses, hands fisted at his sides. Light is pouring out from between his fingers, neon green and poisonous. "Do you approach me to see if you can escape the Lady Death once again? The odds, so far, have been quite in your favor."

Tony lifts his faceplate and raises a brow. "I'm glad you're still lucid enough to make jokes about creepy shit."

Loki's lips twitch, and Tony thinks he might actually be trying to smile.

"Seriously, though," he continues, "what's going on? Tell us what to do. I can tell you're not one-hundred percent in control here."

Loki jerks, startled, and then his eyes glint dangerously. "You can do nothing, you stupid mortal. Step away before I can control it no longer."

"First," Tony says, raising one finger, "I applied some fun new anti-magic polymers to the suit after you let me scan you since Thanos was coming to play, so try me, and two, you're about to go nuclear in the middle of Manhattan. I can't let that happen, and I don't think you want that to happen, so stop being stubborn and tell me how to help you. You didn't show up in the middle of the goddamned city to explode."

Loki laughs brokenly. "He is dead, and still the grip he held on me remains. There is nothing you can do, Stark, even with your mortal genius."

There it is, the brief, almost not-there tremble of Loki's lower lip. Tony's heart is in his throat, but he swallows it down. He's definitely in over his head, except he can't turn back, not now. He knows that look, still sees that look, sometimes, when he goes to the splash water on his face in the middle of the night after dreams filled with desert, blood, smoke, and fear.

"You just admitted I was a genius," Tony says brightly, then takes a cautious step forward. "Don't be stubborn. Let me help you. I know the details of the deal you made with Asgard. I know they'll kill you this time, even if you don't mean to do it, instead of putting you in a cage because everyone knows you'd find a way out. You can't win, and I don't support torture and execution, so let me help." He spreads his arms slightly, palms up, and adds, "I want to help you."

For a millisecond, Loki looks like he might cry, but he pulls his lips away from his teeth instead. "Why would you want to help me?" he sneers. "Do you think me like you, Stark? Do you think I have changed because of my hand in the Titan's death? Do not fool yourself. It was for my benefit, nothing more."

"I'm going to call bullshit, but we can argue that later. Right now, you need to tell me what to do to power you down."

Loki stamps his foot and snarls, "You cannot help me!"

"Listen, Princess," Tony says, trying to keep his voice level, trying not to show how terrified he is of both Loki and his own stupidity. "Why don't you power back down to regular Saiyan mode and we can talk this over. You know I'm good for it. You've seen me work."

Loki's nostrils flare and some color tinges his cheeks. "Your ego floors me. The weapon was my doing."

"I built it."

Loki's eyes widen. "With my aid!"

Tony offers him a winning PR smile. "Still built it."

"You are insufferable," Loki snaps.

Tony goes for it, because he thinks the only way he's gonna break down the walls Loki has up is with surprise. "What did Thanos do you to?"

Loki's face contorts and falls, the muscles in his jaw working overtime as he struggles to stop his lips from quivering. Tony feels a horrible pang of guilt and commiseration at the expression he knows all too well. Except he and Loki are different in a very particular way. Tony deals with feelings by locking himself in his lab and depriving himself of sleep until someone drags him to bed. Loki's a goddamned bomb waiting to self destruct, and right now, his body begins to vibrate, power pulsating off of him in violent waves. The glow emanating from his skin flickers, stutters, and Loki's grits his teeth in a way that makes Tony grimace.

"I cannot control it," Loki breathes out, and then his eyes flare periwinkle blue, Pepper's favorite color. There's blood dripping out of his ears, streaking down his cheeks like red war paint, leaking from his nose, and the veins in his forehead and neck are bulging and pulsing with the strain. The god closes his eyes for a brief moment, head thrown back as he gasps against the energy surge.

"Comms on," Tony snaps, then fires up his repulsers to full power. "Fire in the hole!" he yells over the multitude of voices barraging his ear drum as he charges the god.

Loki's eyes open and Tony watches surprise flicker across his face just before he reaches him. Then he ducks his head, wraps his metal arms around the wiry form, and holds on for dear life as he shoots upwards and away from the New York skyline because he might survive Loki's self destruct mode, but no one else will. He's scanned the god. He knows what he's made of.

Loki gasps, and Tony thinks he hears his name on the strangled breath. He hears Thor shout, too, call for him to stop, and the wind picks up, signaling the Thunderer's pursuit, but then everything goes black and Tony hears absolutely nothing except the thrum of his pulse in his ears. He feels lightheaded and heavy all at the same time, and coldness rushes through him despite the suit's protection.

When the blackness recedes, he feels solid ground collapsing under the weight of the suit and hears the sound of wood snapping. He almost falls, but managed to keep himself upright. It takes him a moment to realize that he's still got his arms wrapped around Loki, and Loki's holding onto him just as tightly. He thinks the suit might be slightly dented from the god's strength.

"Did you just teleport me?" Tony grunts, dizziness making the already blurry room spin. "I might puke."

Loki just groans and Tony slowly loosens his metal embrace. Loki looks down at him for a moment, eyes green and face a sickly gray, then he falls to his knees, his fingers digging into the joints of the suit before one hand splays over the arc reactor's casing. Tony just stands there, wide-eyed, completely stunned, and terrified the god is going to smash the glass and shred his reactor to pieces.

Instead Loki's entire body shudders and he sags. "It is so quiet," he rasps, and then leans forward, forehead pressed to the suit just below the reactor. "So quiet at last."

Tony's chest feels tight, and he doesn't dare push Loki away. He just stands there, settles one gauntleted hand on the god's sweat-slicked hair, and waits.

His vision clears and the nausea abates, so he looks around. They're in some chic loft, and Tony assumes it's where Loki calls home. A lamp on the far sir of the room casts a comfortable orange glow. The place smells like dust, ink, and old paper. The walls are lined with shelves and bookcases, and each one is filled. Some of the books he recognizes, classics bound in leather covers. Some he doesn't, spines titled in languages he doesn't understand or recognize. There are several pieces of furniture— a coffee table, some end tables, a comfortable looking, fabric couch— but there isn't a television, no sign of technology anywhere except for some kitchen appliances and a record player.

"Of course you'd have a record player," Tony mumbles, then freezes as Loki cranes his head to look up at him.

There's a bit more color in Loki's face and his eyes are glassy and green, incredibly green. Tony stares for a few seconds before he shakes himself out of it, and by then, Loki's judgmental frown is back, curling his thin lips downward. He raises a brow and then slowly stands without breaking eye contact.

"Feeling better?" Tony asks with a weak grin.

"Tell me what it does," Loki says quietly and starts to reach for Tony, but then pulls back. "The glowing light in your chest. Tell me, why do you have it?"

Tony blinks and the smile falls away. "It's an arc reactor. You already knew that."

"What need do you have of it? What need truly. I know it is not merely to power your rudimentary suit."

Tony takes a step back, head cocked to the side. "You think insulting me is going to make me answer your questions? And while we're on the subject, why so many questions all of a sudden?"

Some of the intensity drains from Loki's face. He waves his hand and his armor disappears, replaced by a pair of black slacks and a gray, button-down shirt. The sweat on his skin is gone, but his hair is still wild, hanging around his gaunt face in dark waves. With a small sigh, he steps around Tony and settles down on the sofa, stretching his long limbs and allowing his head to lull back on the cushions.

Tony just stares at him. He's seen Loki in normal clothing a few times, but it still screws with his head the same way it does when Thor and Steve are able to follow along with conversations involving 21st century pop culture. Tony likes the mindfuck, though, and really, Loki has great taste in clothing. Tony appreciates that. And what it hints at because, let's face it, being attracted to the God of Mischief and Lies isn't the worst thing he's ever done.

Loki rolls his eyes, like he knows what Tony's thinking, and gestures to the open spot on the sofa next to him. "I will not hurt you, Tony Stark. Remove your armor and sit. We may speak then."

Tony raises a brow. "Forgive me if I'm not totally on board considering less than an hour ago, you were ready to go supernova."

"That moment has passed," Loki replies, and his gaze slides down to the arc reactor.

"What was that moment, exactly?" Tony asks, watching Loki watch the reactor, and the small voice in his head tells him it's probably a bad idea to take off the suit when a god who could kill him in an instant is focused on the tech in his chest keeping him alive.

Unfortunately, he's never listened to that voice, to the displeasure of everyone who's ever known him, so he hits the catch and his armor folds back, precise and quiet, until it sits in a metal cube on the floor. Tony rolls his shoulders and neck, then plops on the couch next to Loki with enough force to jostle the god.

"So," he says, "the moment. Let's talk about it."

Loki turns so he's facing Tony, eyes narrowed. Tony doesn't think Loki will answer truthfully, but then he says, "That moment occurred due to a disturbance with my magic."

"No, please, be more vague," he snarks, because it's better than the startled surprise. He doesn't need the god feeling more vulnerable than he already is.

Loki's eyes narrow all the same. "The Titan is dead, but the anchors he placed in my mind to keep me reigned in are still present. I cannot remove them, not on my own, and the effect of their existence is catalyzing. I cannot control the magic once it flares, and it will continue to do so."

"Okay, okay, back up," Tony says and leans closer to Loki. "What do you mean by anchors?"

"Think of your fishing lures, the complicated pieces with many spines." Loki licks his lips. "Imagine something similar latching to your mind. Much like with a fish, the extraction, if not done precisely and carefully, will cause unparalleled damage. It is a form of mental and magical torture, and it is meant to kill me, over time, but not before damage, both internal and external, is wrought."

"So it's a kill switch."

The muscles in Loki's jaw twitch. "In a sense." He pauses, and something dark flashes through his eyes that not only makes ice trickle down Tony's spine, but also makes heat curl in his belly because Tony is insane.

The god douses that fire easily, though.

"Think of it like the metal shards in your chest," Loki murmurs. "You have escaped Hel, but the shrapnel remains, and it will kill you regardless."

Tony's mouth goes dry. The people close to him, the people he cares about, the people he would kill for, barely know the details. Despite that, he's not surprised that Loki knows— the Trickster doesn't seem like the type not to have intimate knowledge of his enemies. Tony knows that the god is probably just trying to put them on a level playing field, but it still makes his stomach churn. He tries not to show it. He isn't sure if it works because he sees something cause a crease to form between Loki's brows.

He clears his throat. "So you know about my broken heart. Which makes me wonder why you're asking me questions about the reactor when you already know the answer."

"I have a vague notion of what it does," Loki says with a nonchalant shrug, but he's watching Tony carefully from beneath his dark lashes.

Tony places his hands on the cushion between them and leans in, crowds the god's space so he can't look away. "Don't bullshit me."

"I am sure you've figured it out, Mr. Stark, in the last sixty seconds," Loki says smoothly.

"I want you to say it."

Loki's lips curl in a combination of a sneer and a smile. "I was under the impression that you prefer listening to yourself speak."

"But your voice is so sultry."

Loki stands suddenly, propelling himself off the couch, and Tony jerks backwards, nearly biting his tongue off. He opens his mouth to snark, to snap, but he catches a glimpse of Loki's face behind the curtain of black hair. Loki looks wild and afraid, and fuck, but Tony knows that look a little bit too well.

"You said it was quiet," he ventures gently instead. "I remember the day of the invasion, you tried to use the glowstick of destiny on me, but it didn't work with the reactor. It cuts off the magic somehow, I assume? Helps with the mental fishing hooks?"

Loki stops moving, entire body stiff, but he nods, one jerky head movement.

"If you wanted to move in, sweetie, you could have just said so."

The look Loki throws over his shoulder is enough to kill.

"You can have your own room," Tony offers with a grin.

Loki snorts and stops at the window. He rests his hands against the sill and leans forward, forehead almost touching the glass. He doesn't say anything, but Tony knows he's waiting, and he's pretty sure the god expects to be disappointed by Tony's answer. For all intents and purposes, Tony has every right to say no. Sure, he helped Tony build the giant, awesome laser gun that destroyed Thanos. Sure, he's been quiet and relatively mischief free since settling down in his book-infested loft. Sure, when the titles of villains and heroes are stripped off, Tony kind of likes Thor's seriously screwed up not-brother because he's intelligent, snarky, and holds about ten times more baggage than Tony on his this shoulders. None of that excuses what he did the first time around, though. It doesn't erase the dreams Tony still has of the void and falling through it, or Clint's bitterness and self doubt, or any of the other scars left behind on only people Tony can call family, so he opens his mouth to tell Loki to fuck off.

"You look tired, Princess," he says instead. "I'm in. Tell me what you need."

Loki's shoulders hunch forward and he bows his head, and Tony thinks that if he could see Loki's face behind all that hair, he would look incredibly and painfully human.

"I do have a question."

Loki nods. "What is the question?"

"Could they help you in Asgard?"

Loki stiffens again, straightens, and turns to look at him. Tony watches the pieces of his armor fall back into place until his face is a perfect mask of calm indifference. "It is unlikely. I am one of the more powerful sorcerers of Asgard, but even my magic is incapable." He touches his lower lip thoughtfully. "Though, at the very least, they would be able to call favors upon other sorcerers of the galaxy to help remove them without damaging my mind much."

"So why not get their help?"

Loki smirks and pins Tony with a tired look. "I am not very much a diplomat, if you have not noticed."

Tony stands and rocks back on his heels. "Maybe this is gonna sound crazy, but you could go to Asgard, you know. And ask. For their help." Loki looks like he might tear the arc reactor out of Tony's chest, so he holds up his hands and shakes his head. "Hey, just wait a second. Don't get me wrong, I'll happily make you your very own. I'm still going to help you. The thing is, it's just a band-aid for your problem, right? Its not gonna get rid of the hooks, just quiet them down, right? Do you know the longterm side effects, if there are any? The damage could still be compounding even—"

"I will ask the Allfather for no favors," Loki interrupts quietly, and there's so much venom, so much hurt in those few words that Tony doesn't push it. He can't. He feels a little sick, actually, because it just makes him relive his own daddy issues and he hates that.

"I get it," he says, and then, "It's late, and I really need to head back before they all think I'm dead," because he always deals well with feelings.

Loki just nods, a jerky little movement that betrays his otherwise casual stance. Tony turns away, but before he manages to press the button on his wrist sensor, Loki places a hand on his shoulder. Tony stiffens. He didn't even hear the fucking guy move.

"My thanks," Loki murmurs and squeezes gently.

It's a very Thor-esque gesture— touching, always touching, no personal space ever—but Tony doesn't say it. Especially because he doesn't get the good kind of chills when Thor does it. He just nods and pats Loki's hand. "No problem, Dasher."

Loki makes an amused sound in the back of his throat. "I have not heard that one before."

"I'm trying to get creative," Tony says, and then isn't sure what else to say, so they stand there awkwardly, still touching, until Loki finally steps back, his fingers trailing down Tony's shoulder before falling away.

Tony ignores the heat that creeps through him and jabs his thumb against the wrist sensor, glad for the creak of metal hinges to disrupt the otherwise uncomfortable silence. When he's fully suited up, he turns back to Loki and flicks up the faceplate. "If you think you're going to explode before we figure things out, just come over. We'll watch a movie or something. You know, be friends even what catastrophic disasters aren't threatening either of us."

Loki blinks, his lips parted in surprise, and barely shakes it off with enough time to wave goodbye as Tony climbs out of his living room window and takes to the air. He's considering the fact that he's going to need to explain to the Avengers that he agreed to give really important technology to their former enemy when JARVIS's comfortingly monotone voice sounds in his ears.

"You have twenty-six messages, Sir. Would you like me to play them?"

Tony sighs. "Let me guess, they're all from Fury and his band of Merry Men."

"That would be correct, Sir."

"Delete them, Jarv."

"Already done, Sir." A pause, and then, "Should I alert the Avengers of your impending return to Headquarters?"

"You make it sound like the apocalypse. Yeah, let's just get it over with."

Tony lands on the roof and the suit immediately starts to fold back. When he steps out of the boots, he heads for the glass doors, the bar in his crosshairs. He's known for doing risky things, but this will probably take the cake, and he's going to need a drink or seven to explain it to his team. The details of arc technology are still kept under tight wraps because Tony knows the devastation it could cause if placed in the wrong hands. He's pretty sure Loki could potentially count as the wrong hands, so when he reaches the bar, he opts to pour himself a double to start. He's able to gulp down about half the glass before the elevator dings and Steve steps out.

"Tony!" Steve snaps, disapproving-father-face already in place. "We've been worried sick."

"I didn't even miss curfew!" Tony says and gestures to the clock on the wall. "Not even midnight. My carriage hasn't turned into a pumpkin yet."

Steve just stares at him for a moment and then says, slowly, "You went radio silent. For over two hours. After disappearing with Loki."

"Nothing happened. We used protection." He grins when Steve blanches and tosses back the rest of his whiskey. "Seriously, lighten up. Everything is fine. Want a drink?"

"No, Tony, I don't want a drink."

He's pouring himself another when the elevator dings again and the rest of the team arrives. Tony doesn't even get a chance to speak before Thor storms towards him and plants both hands on the bar so firmly that the marble cracks.

"My brother, how does he fair?" the Thunderer demands, mouth set in a firm line.

"He's fine, he's fine." Tony finishes his drink and contemplates refilling his glass again, but Steve grabs the bottle. "Cap, seriously. I'm gonna need that. We're all gonna need that."

"That doesn't sound good," Clint says.

"It's not as bad as you think."

They all just stare at him, and Steve doesn't give back the bottle, so Tony just inhales and goes for it, rattling off everything from his gut instinct when Loki was going supernova on the roof to their enlightening conversation in Loki's loft. Thor's expression ranges from frustrated to shocked to utterly devastated. He doesn't speak, though. No one does. No one interrupts Tony, not like they normally do when he goes on one of his long-winded rants. They just let him talk.

"And so that's how I partnered with the God of Mischief, the end." Tony makes a grabby motion for the bottle and Steve finally sets it back on the bar. Tony pours himself another glass and downs it in one swallow, hissing at the burn.

"So let me get this straight," Natasha says slowly. Neither her voice or face betray anything. "You promised an arc reactor to the god who freely admitted that he was suffering from the effects of some kind of mind control?"

"What was I supposed to do?" Tony asks, throwing his hands in the air. "It's that or let him lose it, and I for one don't want to clean him off the sidewalk along with whoever he takes with him."

"We could send him back to Asgard," Clint says. "If they can fix him, let's send him back. He doesn't belong here anyway. He's a liability, especially if he's a fucking time bomb now."

Tony just shrugs. "He wouldn't go. He'd kill us all, truce or not, before he let us take him back there. And maybe I'm crazy for thinking this, but he belongs here as much as any of us do at this point. Didn't you know Manhattan's become the up and coming place of business for reformed assholes? We've all got skeletons in the closet and a lot of blood on our hands."

Natasha just raises her brows. Tony gives himself a mental high five. Natasha's eyebrows are the most expressive part of her assassiny face, and that was definitely a movement of agreement.

"Oh, no," Clint says, stepping forward. He looks pissed, really pissed. Tony's glad there's a bar between them and that the archer forgot his arrows. "You do not get to put him in league with the rest of us."

Bruce scratches his chin. "Why not? Tony's got a point."

"I've always got a point," Tony adds quickly, but Clint's voice carries over him.

"He mind controlled me and tried to take over the Earth. He almost killed us all. It took months to repair the damage he caused."

Tony just stares for a moment. "Do you not see the parallel to your situation?"

Clint looks like he might dive across the bar. Bruce steps between them and mouths, Not the best route, Tony before he turns back to Clint.

"He's definitely guilty," Bruce states. "I'm not trying to say he's absolved, but we're all guilty, some of us more than others. Intentions change and so do goals. Loki's been harmless the last few months, spare tonight, and he helped us defeat a very real threat before that."

"A threat that he lead to our doorstep!" Clint all but snarls.

Steve sighs like the fate of the universe is resting on his shoulders. "I understand your point of view and agree with you, but Bruce is right. We wouldn't have been able to take Thanos on without Loki and his call to arms."

"The casualty count was low when he invaded."

Clint turns and glares at Natasha. "Tasha, seriously? You're siding with them?"

"I'm not taking sides, I'm just stating facts." She tilts her head and purses her lips. "We were supposed to kill each other once. People can change for the right reasons. They don't have to be good reasons."

Tony leans against the bar and watches the debate flare. He notices that Thor is doing the same, studying his comrades while they argue over where his psychotic, magic-wielding brother belongs in their merry band of heroes. He meets Tony's eyes once and offers this small, discreet nod, and even though he isn't smiling or giving Tony thumb's up, the approval is written all of his face, and Tony has to look away so he doesn't grin.

"Tony."

Steve, arms crossed and face stern, is giving him that look. He hates this look. It reminds him of his father. Tony has to stop himself from sticking his tongue out.

"If this plan of yours goes south, it's on you. Do you understand? You're going to take responsibility since you decided to make the decision before consulting with your team."

Tony's first instinct is to argue that fuck, no, he isn't taking responsibility. He doesn't want the responsibility of a half-crazed god wielding unstable magic. He hates magic. He doesn't believe in gods. He can barely take care of himself without Pepper's guidance and Rhodey's occasionally violent reality checks. He's got a company, and hero duties, and a workshop. He's not the right man for the job.

But then thinks back to Loki's expression, and he just nods and offers Steve a little salute. "Yes, Captain."

Steve blinks in surprise, lips parted, like he didn't expect Tony to just agree. "Okay," he says, almost stutters. "Well, that's good, then." He pauses. "You know I'm going to have to brief Fury, Tony."

Tony gestures noncommittally. "Of course you do, Cap. I'd expect nothing less."

There's an awkward silence, and then Clint turns on his heels and stalks back towards the elevator. The others take that as their cue to disperse, and Tony isn't surprised when he's left alone with Thor.

"You have done a service for my brother today, Tony Stark," Thor says, tracing the cracks in the bar top counter. "Many would not see past Loki's deeds and offer him help in a time of need."

"Don't take this the wrong way, but I don't think I'd have been half as inclined to help if he wasn't a ticking time bomb."

Thor nods. "I understand, and still I am grateful. You have been my only ally, Tony Stark, since my brother's escape from Asgard. Even when he offered his aid against the Mad Titan, the others would not consider him, though you did not suffer from some the same reservations."

Tony shrugs. "I don't usually see things in black and white." And it's true. Sure, heroes, villains, good, evil. They all have a place. But he doesn't think anyone is purely good or evil.

Except Steve. The judicious bastard.

"Loki never did, either," Thor replies with a little smile and claps Tony on the shoulder. "I thank you, Tony Stark. Please inform me if you are in need of aid."

"Will do, big guy," Tony says.

Thor leaves, too, and then Tony's left alone, so he drinks some more and wonders what the fuck he's doing, then he stumbles to bed because he's got a travel-sized arc reactor to make in the morning.