Let's get this started boy
We're moving up, we're moving up
It's been a lot to change
But you will always get what you want

Took a little time to make it a little better
It's only going out, just one thing and another
You know, you know

- Something Good Can Work by Two Door Cinema Club

Tony comes to school the next day with a mission: he's going to find out everything he can about this Loki person, and that means talking to Thor.

Tony is a social butterfly. He usually eats lunch with Clint and Bruce, though. Steve, however, likes to switch between eating with Tony and his friends from the football team. For some reason, Steve had even more friends than Tony. Maybe it had something to do with his not being a conceited asshole.

"Hey, Steve," Tony says as he approaches their lunch table.

"Hey Tony. You, uh... you eating with us today? You don't usually-"

"Variety is the spice of life, Steven. Scooch your ass." He taps on Steve's well-muscled shoulder and slides in between him and some other, equally fit tall kid. "Hi, Thor," he adds, waving at the blonde stuffing his face across the table. Thor Odinson could be called many things. Dainty was not one of them.

"Hello, Stark!" Thor practically shouts, food flying out of his mouth. "What makes you join us for lunch today?"

"Actually- no offense, Steve -I came to talk to you."

Thor smiles, and that's when Tony can tell why Steve hangs out with him so much. It's a smile that is totally, completely genuine, and you can immediately see that Thor doesn't have a bad bone in his body. Both he and Steve are so trusting, their faces so open, hearts worn on their sleeves. No wonder they got along so well.

"What can I do for you, Stark? How may I assist you in your endeavor, whatever it may be?" This was the reason Steve was Tony's friend and not Thor- although Steve's slang was at least sixty years out of date, someone talking like they came out of a seventeenth century romance novel was only tolerable for a few sentences.

"I'm here to talk to you about your brother, Loki."

Suddenly, Thor's grin falls off his face, replaced by an expression so shattered that he looks like a different person. Thor leans forward, and his voice is quiet and grave. "What has he done?"

Tony is so surprised by this reaction that he takes a moment to respond. "He hasn't done anything."

Thor furrows his brow, confused. "Then what is it you want with my brother?"

"I was wondering what you could tell me about him," Tony says slowly. Steve shakes his head very subtly next to him, but Tony ignores it.

Thor's usually open expression is wary, untrusting. "He is someone you should not associate yourself with."

Tony's curiosity was always one of his biggest downfalls. "Why? What happened?" Steve bumps his knee urgently, head shaking getting less subtle with every sentence.

Thor's face is dark, pained. "I'd rather not speak on the matter."

"Aw, c'mon- ow!" Steve stomps on his foot. "Tony, enough." His blue eyes are large and pleading.

Tony plows on, ignoring Steve. "I'm just curious. He doesn't seem anything like you."

Thor's friendly, clear eyes cloud somberly. "He and I do not get along. He is... difficult to understand."

"How so?"

Steve, obviously giving up on his efforts to steer Tony away from this topic of conversation, gets up to get more food.

"He has no concern for the effects his actions cause for others around him. I would try to avoid him, he only ends up hurting the people he knows." This last statement is delivered in an almost-whisper, Thor's eyes boring desperately into Tony's own.

Tony searches Thor's face, but he has apparently given him as many details as he's going to get. "Well, Thor, thanks for the tip. I'll keep away from the guy." He stands, grabbing his empty lunch tray.

The blonde gives a small smile, somewhat reassured. "That is good, Stark. I wish the best upon you."

"You too, buddy," he says, patting Thor's huge arm.

On his way to class, Tony ponders what Thor said. It gives him an uneasy feeling, though he's not sure why. His phrases had been oddly familiar.

Someone bumps into him, apologizing. He recognizes the voice,, and when Tony turns, he sees the face of Pepper Potts.

"Tony," she says, somewhat breathlessly.

"Hey, Pep," he responds awkwardly.

Though it was nearly three months ago, his and Pepper's breakup still left scars that throbbed whenever he saw her around school. Theirs had been deemed a perfect relationship; everyone in their year had just taken their togetherness as a fact of life. But the breakup had been unexpected, at least on Tony's part, and had changed his world. Maybe it had been the first time someone had broken up with him rather than the other way around. Either way, it had taken a few weeks, a pile of terrible action flicks, and an ungodly amount of ice cream to get him back on his feet (courtesy of Clint, Bruce, and Steve).

"How are you?" she asks, and Tony can tell she still feels a bit guilty. Good.

"Oh, you know," he says, shrugging nonchalantly.

"Ok," Pepper responds, unsure. "Listen, I- um, I've got to go."

"Yeah, okay," Tony says, giving her a measly wave. "Bye."

"Bye," she says quietly, turning with a swish of her skirt.

Back on his way to class, Tony stalks past the beige lockers, hands in pockets. Suddenly, it hits him. The reason why Thor's phrase had been so naggingly familiar.

Tony, you never think about other people, you only care about yourself! You never think about what impact your decisions have on everyone around you. I can't live with this anymore. I can't deal with you anymore, Tony.

He stops walking, leaning against the lockers. Pepper. Pepper had said nearly the exact same thing to him before they broke up, and now apparently Loki had the same problem. Maybe they should form a little club, with shirts that say Caution: emotionally dangerous. Keep away.

The bell chimes through the hall. He jumps nervously: he's been late six times already (this month). Ms. Hill is threatening detention if he makes it seven.

He breaks into a run to the math hallway.

Loki arrives to English late, a pass in hand. He hates being late. It means you have to walk in, all eyes on you, and find a seat usually next to the person you wanted to sit with the least.

That was exactly the case when he strode purposefully into the classroom, handing crumpled pass over and scanning the desks for an empty seat. He catches sight of one, but it's next to the brunette boy from yesterday. After a brief and futile search for another spot, he sighs quietly and slides into the chair.

He watches from the corner of his vision as tawny eyes search his features for slightly longer than necessary. As soon as he sees the brown-haired boy turn his gaze, he slides his own green eyes to look more closely at this curious stranger.

The first thing he notices is that this boy has an apparent incapability of brushing his hair at all. It looks like he slept on it, sticking up at awkward angles and tufting from the back of his head. Despite its messy appearance, it looks soft, Loki's fingers twitching to touch it.

The other boy also has a well-trimmed beard; rather impressively full for a high-schooler. Paired with long, thick brown eyelashes and a devilish smirk, he's exactly Loki's type.

Loki scowls. It's unfair, he's always been attracted to the ones he can't have.

"-Loki, are you listening?"

"What?" he says, gaze snapping up to the teacher. "I wasn't listening."

"Yes, I can see that," she responds, irritated. "I was explaining the activity that will take up the remainder of the hour as well as this weekend. We'll be analyzing some poems from various well-known authors. You'll be working in pairs."

"Can we choose our partners?" brown-haired boy asks.

"Yes, but-"

Suddenly there's a mad dash, friends racing across the room to sit next to each other. Loki doesn't move; he doesn't even know anyone's name, let alone want to work with them. If he's lucky, he'll get to work by himself.

"Is there anyone left without a partner?" the teacher asks as soon as the classroom has settled.

Immediately Loki raises his hand. To his dismay, however, so does the brown-haired boy.

"Perfect," the teacher says, "looks like you two will be working together."

Brunette boy looks over to Loki with a satisfied smirk. Loki's scowl deepens.

"So," brunette boy says, holding out his hand beneath a satisfied smirk, "I'm Tony. Tony Stark, as in the son of Howard Stark. You might have heard of me."

Loki raises one eyebrow scornfully. "Am I supposed to be impressed?"

"Actually, yes," Stark says, unashamed. "This usually works."

"Mmm," Loki responds.

"So, poetry," Stark continues. "What are we supposed to be doing?"

Loki pulls the sheet of paper towards him, scanning the printed words. "We have to annotate this poem and then write an analysis over the weekend."

"Ugh. I hate poetry."

"My sentiments exactly," Loki lies.

"What poem?"

"Do not go gentle into that good night by Dylan Thomas."

"Sounds boring." Stark snatches the sheet of paper from his hand, eyes scanning the page. Once he finishes, he pushes it over towards Loki and leans back in his chair, closing his eyes. "Here, you read it. I'll wait."

Loki does as he's asked. He reads it twice, the words washing over him in a familiar flow of meaning.

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on that sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Stark cracks open one eye, giving Loki an expecting glance. "Well?" he says. "I have no idea what the hell it's about, personally. "

Loki doesn't hear him, his eyes distant. The words and phrases tumble around in his mind, filling the holes in his thoughts and teasing out ancient memories. Flickers of images appear in his mind's eye: a razor, white lilies. A bottle of fat white pills, half empty. A neat row of scars, thin and barely healed.

A fiery crash. A piercing wail, a whispered promise.

"Yo, hello? Earth to space cadet." Stark waves his hand in front of Loki's nose, snapping him out of his reverie.

"It's about death," Loki says quietly.

"Aren't most poems about death or something depressing?"

Loki gives an exasperated sigh. "This one's not depressing."

"But you said it was about death."

Loki examines Stark with scathing green eyes. "Death is not always depressing, Stark. This poem is about resisting death, about doing all you can to escape it before it consumes you."

Stark nods his head solemnly, looking like he's pondering something. "So that's the 'rage, rage against the dying of the light' part. Huh."

"Exactly."

"It's still kind of a downer," Tony says, and the expression on Loki's face is hilarious. He looks like someone just stole his parking space. "So we need to write an analysis this weekend, right? We can just explain what it's about. Will we need to meet or something?"

"I suppose," Loki replies. He looks like he's not listening, like his brain is elsewhere.

"Cool. You can come to my house on Sunday; my dad's getting back from his trip on Saturday and he'll be gone again by then."

Green eyes snap back to reality. "Your house?"

Tony smiles as reassuringly as he can. "Yep."

Loki looks somewhat pained, but agrees as the bell rings.

Just as Tony's about to leave, he feels a gentle touch on his elbow. Looking down he realizes the black-nailed hand belongs to a certain green-eyed boy.

"What time should I arrive? On Sunday?"

Tony grins at Loki. "Two."

Loki nods, pushing past him and into the hall where he is swallowed up by students.

Hello, fabulous readers!

So I've been plotting this story, and I have to tell you: you guys are in for the long haul. I'm talking like 30 plush chapters here. Woah.

I've also decided to keep my chapters pretty short and update more often.

Finally, every chapter from now on will be named after a song. At the end, I'll post a full list, so it'll be a playlist! Yay! Though, as a fair warning, I have an eclectic taste in music.

This week's song is Something Good Can Work by Two Door Cinema Club. I'll usually put lyrics or something at the top.

Love you!
RagAndBones

P.S. More reviews = faster updates. Please review! They put me in the writing mood!