Author's Note: Sorry for the late update guys. Life has gotten extra busy lately (mostly work related stuff, and I was out of town briefly) so I haven't had as much time to work on this as I'd have liked. The first scene also gave be a lot of hang ups, and I changed pov about three different times before settling on this. The original version may be posted on tumblr later as a deleted scene, as I did like it, but unfortunately had to sacrifice it to make this work.

Loki is not sure what he was expecting when he finally met the Avengers, but what he finds waiting for him in the kitchen is definitely not it.

Thor had described them as protectors of the realm, and Loki had thought to perhaps find warriors of some kind, not the five astoundingly normal looking mortals he sees waiting for him instead. They all look up at his arrival, tense and silent, and right away Loki understands what his brother had meant when he said that the team may be wary of him.

Wary is an understatement.

There is tension now, among the mortals, where there had not been before. Where they had, prior to his arrival, been lounging and relaxed and talking softly amongst themselves, there is silence now, and narrowed eyes, and a subtle aggression in their postures so much so that Loki can maybe see where his brother had been coming from in describing them as 'protectors of the realm.'

He clears his throat and looks between them, his eyes finally landing on the lone woman of the group, who appears to be loading a bag with an almost alarming number of weapons. She gives him a tight lipped smile that does nothing to put him at ease, and he finally looks to where his brother sits, next to her.

Thor beams at him from the table, rising to his feet. "Brother! It is good of you to finally join us." He appears to have all but forgotten Loki's earlier rudeness to him, and is more or less back to his usual self. Thor comes over to him, clapping him hard enough on the shoulder that he stumbles forward a step and very nearly loses his balance.

"Brother, please!" He hisses under his breath, casting a half-nervous glance at the gathered team, who continue to stare at the two of them with a myriad of expressions, and somehow, Loki has the distinct impression that he is unwanted here.

After another long moment of silence, one of the men detaches himself from the rest and strolls over, grinning.

"Tony Stark," he says, and Loki assumes that this must be the man's name. Tony stops in front of him, hand extended, and Loki stares at him blankly, unsure of what to do. The moment that follows is possibly as awkward as the prior silence, and Loki looks over the man's shoulder to where his brother now stands, watching and still grinning too big, but offering no real support.

At last, Loki takes the offered hand, unsure of what to do with it, and forces a small smile. "It is nice to meet you, Tony Stark." And even as he says it, he remembers something that the man he now knows to be called 'Fury' had said to him the night before. "Are you, perhaps, the namesake of this tower?"

Stark chuckles, pulling his hand away. "The one and only. You like it?"

Loki frowns. "I awoke in a cell," he tells him, "And I have since had little chance to familiarize myself with the place. I have only seen little of it so far."

"Yeah, sorry about that. You weren't exactly yourself when we brought you in–"

"So I have been told."

Stark's smile falters before returning full force. "Anyway, I'll give you the grand tour later or something if you're up for it."

Beside him, Thor shifts, awkwardly, and interrupts the brief pause that follows. "Anthony is the Man of Iron I spoke of last night, Loki," he tells him, and Loki stares at him, confused, because certainly his brother jests, or perhaps he has misheard him. The hand that he had shaken was flesh and bone, as much as his own, and surely this man can not actually be made of iron?

He opens his mouth to say as much, but Stark grins, cutting him off. "It's a nickname," he explains, "We've all got 'em. Part of the whole secret identity thing, you know? 'Course, mine's not exactly a secret anymore, but whatever. You get the gist of it." Then he glances over his shoulder to where the rest of the team is. "Come on guys, come say hi, he doesn't bite anymore."

Loki stares at him, bewildered at the turn of phrase. "I– Pardon me? Of course I do not bite, I am not an–"

Stark smirks, clearly amused, and Loki shuts his mouth quickly, realizing, belatedly, that this must be some sort of strange Midgardian phrase.

"Oh, this is great. This is just perfect," Stark says, "Like Thor and Steve all over again." Loki has little chance to ponder on what he means by this, as the woman of the group chooses this moment to finally approach, followed closely by a man who had previously been perched on the counter.

She introduces herself as Natasha Romanoff, giving him a crooked smile that is as unnerving as the previous smile she had given him. Behind her, her companion makes no move to introduce himself, and merely stands looking over her shoulder at him with a scowl on his face. There is a brief moment that follows, when she looks over her shoulder at him, sharing with the man a look that Loki can not see, before introducing him as Clint Barton. He doesn't say a word after, and merely nods at him with a frown, leaving Loki to wonder if perhaps the man is just unfriendly or has something against him in particular.

He nods back, and then looks to the bag she has slung over her shoulder, just as she hefts it higher up. "Clint and I have a mission," she explains, and Loki has to remind himself that these people are warriors, despite outward appearances. Barton, at least, carries a bow, which he holds now in a white knuckled grip. So perhaps his first impression of this group had not been entirely accurate. Lady Romanoff, even, appears dressed for battle, weapons he does not recognized tucked into holsters at her sides.

"A mission?" he says, looking between them.

Barton steps forward. "Averting an international crisis, pretty much the usual, actually. And as much as we'd love to hang around, we really need to get going. We needed to have left twenty minutes ago, actually." Loki does not miss the sarcasm.

Natasha clears her throat. "Barton's rudeness aside, he is right, actually. We're running a bit late, so-"

"I am sorry that my late arrival has kept you from your mission, then, Lady Romanoff. My apologies."

She nods and, as she steps by, she drops a hand onto his shoulder and leans in slightly to whisper to him. "Little bit of advice, Loki. Don't call me 'lady.' I'd hate for you to have to learn the hard way like your brother." She pats his shoulder and then continues on her way, leaving Loki to stare after her wide eyed.

Tony grins beside him. "Don't worry. She's always like that."

Barton still lingers in front of him, looking him up and down with a strange expression on his face. "You really don't remember anything, do you?" he asks at last.

Loki looks back to him, not entirely sure what to say. "I do not."

"Great. That's great," Clint tells him, and it is part sarcasm and part honesty this time, but he looks considerably less defensive and on edge even as he says it. Still, Loki is taken aback by his words, and he looks briefly to his brother, who appears less than happy with what he has said to him.

"Have I, perhaps, done something to wrong you?" he asks, after an immensely awkward pause, and Barton gives him a huge grin.

"A whole list of somethings, actually," he says, "But no, this is much better, actually. I definitely prefer this."

Loki has no chance to ask him to elaborate on what he means, as Thor finally interrupts them.

"Are you not late for your mission, Clint? Should you not be joining Natasha?" He presses a heavy hand against Clint's arm and he is a towering presence standing behind him.

Clint sighs and shrugs him off, following in the direction that Natasha had left in. "Yeah, yeah," he says as he leaves, "I can take a hint. See you around, Loki." And with that he is gone as well, leaving Loki once again frustrated with his brother.

Thor is eager to keep the extent of what he has forgotten from him and Loki levels his brother with a glare. The god ignores him, gesturing for the two remaining strangers to join them.

"Steve Rogers," the taller one says, shaking his hand just as Stark had done, and Loki pushes his frustration aside, wondering, instead, at this peculiar Midgardian custom of touching hands so frequently. "And this is Bruce Banner." Steve indicates the man behind him, who gives him a small smile. He is quiet, as Barton was, but lacks, considerably, the defensive, angry posture he had possessed. It is a welcome change, he finds.

Still, there is an air of uneasiness about them, just as there was with everyone else.

"You hungry?" Stark asks, "We got cereal and ummm, I think we have some eggs as well." He moves to poke his head into a large white box that stands against the wall, and his brother explains to him, in a hushed voice, that it is a device for storing and keeping cold food. A 'refrigerator,' it is called. It hardly surprises him after the level of technology he has already witnessed since waking.

"Food would be nice," he says, and realizes that he does not know when he last ate, as he no longer remembers anything beyond the night before.

Stark barks for Steve to make them breakfast and almost immediately the two fall into mild bickering, and just like that, the tension in the room is gone.

Loki finally relaxes, and he hesitates only briefly before joining his brother where he has returned to his seat at the table.

Breakfast is made and, while he waits, his brother explains to him the different abilities of the team, and regales him, loudly, with tales of their triumphs. His brother is less than thorough in his explanations, and the others chime in, frequently, with their own version of things.

Eventually, after a plate of food has been set before him and mostly eaten, Bruce excuses himself politely.

"I have work to get to," he says apologetically as he goes, and Loki realizes, watching him go, that no one has spoke of what abilities he possesses, or what his role on the team even is.

He looks after him as he leaves, and Tony props his arm up on the table, following his gaze.

"Wondering about Bruce, huh?" he asks, and Loki nods without thinking. He catches himself and stops, looking back to Tony.

"I do not mean to be rude, but what purpose does he serve on this team? I have heard no mention of him in your tales."

Tony gives him a strange grin. "You have, actually. He's kind of– He's typically not exactly himself in battle," he tells him, "Not as you met him, I mean."

"And what is he, then, if not himself?"

"He is the Hulk," his brother supplies, just as Tony chips in with "An angry green rage monster."

"A monster." Loki echoes softly, his stomach churning at the word. He pushes his plate away, suddenly no longer hungry. "And you say he is not himself as this 'Hulk?'"

They explain it to him in turns, and by the end of it he is as confused as he was at the start. He is given all, 'what,' and, 'why,' but no 'how,' and he thinks perhaps it is a magic of some sort that could cause someone such as the man he has just met to change into something that is best described to him as large, angry, green and almost invulnerable.

"Not magic," Tony says, "Science. It was the result of a failed experiment."

And that makes even less sense. None of this quite resembles the product of science as he knows it on Asgard, and he frowns but nods along, and supposes that he will have to witness the transformation for himself to fully comprehend the magnitude of it.

"How peculiar," he murmurs, but he does not hear his own words. 'Monster,' still rings in his ears, above all his thoughts, and he stands abruptly, looking around at those who remain gathered at the table. Only Steve and Tony and himself and his brother, now. They all still stare at him strangely, his brother, in particular, watching him carefully, and he feels shaken and unnerved by the eyes on him.

"Is something the matter, brother?" Thor asks softly, and for a brief moment he forgets that anyone else is in the room, and it is just him and Thor and monster. And then just as quickly he snaps from it, but the uneasiness is not gone.

"No, nothing," he says, and it is as close to the truth as he can get. There is nothing wrong, and yet– "If you would all excuse me, I think I will return to my room now." He nods at Steve as he turns to leave. "Thank you for breakfast."

And he leaves as quickly as he had come, thankful for the return of quiet and the familiarness of isolation as he returns to his room.

He is curled in a chair in the corner, reading by the light of a window, when his brother comes to him again. He announces himself through a knock at the door, as he had that morning, and Loki sighs and vanishes the book to where it had come from, calling for him to enter.

"Is there something you need, Thor?" he asks, as his brother steps into the room, and Thor looks at him with the same expression he had at breakfast.

"I merely wished to check on you, brother," he says softly, "Are you certain that everything is alright?"

He nods, but does not answer, regarding his brother as he stands, out of place, in the middle of the room. "Yes," he whispers, finally. "Yes, everything is fine. I am fine." The room falls silent in the wake of his words, and he looks idly down at his hands where they are folded lazily in his lap. Moments pass like this and, at last, his brother speaks again.

"I was banished." His brother's words are barely more than a murmur, and he thinks, for a moment, that he has misheard him. He looks up to find him perched on the edge of the bed, staring at nothing in particular, a spot on the wall, perhaps.

"Pardon?"

Thor moves his gaze to him. "You told me I had changed, but you do not know why," he tells him, "I was banished, cast out to Midgard to live as a mortal as punishment for my misdeeds."

"Misdeeds?" Loki thinks of his own past transgressions, those that he can remember, and of his own punishments, as well, but even he, the least favored son, had never been threatened with exile. "What did you do, Thor, that father would cast you out?"

Thor lifts his eyes to the ceiling, and Loki wonders, briefly, if Heimdall is watching them now. He looks up as well, the expression on his brother's face paining him. "I betrayed his trust," is all Thor says, and Loki does not push for details at the strained sound of his voice. He does continue eventually, though. "It is how I came to be on Midgard."

"And how you came to change," Loki supplies.

"Yes, I was made better through my experiences here. I did change."

It is not the long tale Thor had promised him, but it is something, and Loki nods, content for now with the explanation. Once again, though, his explanation has left only more questions than when he had started. "And are we still here for that reason, Thor? Do you remain because you are not welcome on Asgard any longer?"

"No, I have a place on Asgard, once more. My wrongs have been made right, and I have proven myself worthy of return."

"Then why are we here, Thor? On Midgard?" he asks at last.

"We are here to protect it," Thor tells him, and Loki eyes him warily.

"Yes, Thor, but why. What does Midgard mean to you? Or to me? What do we owe this place and these people?" Even as he says it, he is aware that the unspoken parts of Thor's tale must somehow contain the answer to this, and he wonders what happened to Thor on Midgard that he would now value the place so.

All of it is a harsh reminder of how very different his brother now is.

Thor looks at him, and Loki meets his gaze. There is something there that he can not quite place, and he shifts in his chair, leaning forward. "Answer me, brother," he says, voice low, "Why are we here?"

"You miss Asgard," Thor says instead, and it is not a question. There is no seque, he just says it, and there is the understanding there that he has no answer to Loki's question, that there is nothing for him to say in response that Loki would accept.

He knows the heart of the matter and possibly he understands and Loki scowls at him, falling back into the cushions. "I do," he murmurs softly, more to himself than to his brother, and he does not want to. His mind screams at him no and even thinking of home aches in a way that does not quite speak of homesickness so much as it does uneasiness and anger. And he does not understand, and he knows of no way to voice this that would make Thor understand, so he continues instead. "I do not know of the changes that have occurred there, I do not remember, but I do miss Asgard. I long for home, and for Mother and Father."

It occurs to him, as he says this, that he does not long for home so much as he longs for the comfort and the familiarity. He wishes for home so as to be away from this place, and the people he has met who welcome him with strange looks and false cheer and smiles.

He is not welcome in this place. Somehow he knows this deep inside, and it burns.

And Father. That is another word that now burns his tongue, that incites anger and hostility, and he bites back the feeling, watching his brother carefully, and pushes the thoughts from his mind.

"I am sorry," Thor says, and Loki has to fight back, also, the urge to strike him.

"Leave," he tells him, and he finds he no longer cares about his own rudeness, "I wish to be alone."

Thor stands. "I understand, brother," he whispers, and with one last glance at him, he leaves him alone to his thoughts. And that he should be so cruel to his brother, repeatedly, even after his time spent helping him adjust to this place and the kindness he has shown him, dominates those thoughts, and he rises angrily. Angry at himself and at his brother for nothing other than his understandable desire to be near him, and angry at his misfortune to have lost so much of himself in losing his memory.

He curses everything around him, and, most of all, this place.

He makes himself scarce for the rest of the day.