A/N: (I'm just beginning to get the hang of this site. It just got rid of all my edits and author's notes and then had me re-login.)
What I really wanted to say is thank you to everyone who has reviewed my story so far! I am so glad that you are enjoying it and that I've managed to stay in-character with Tony and Loki. I will do my best to continue to do so. I will also update fairly regularly. I tend to have more written than I post because I end up reviewing it a lot before uploading it.
Any comments, critiques, and suggestions are always appreciated!
I hope you continue to enjoy my story.
Chapter 2
"Take a seat," Tony slumped into the comfy, yet fashionable couch and patted the spot next to him. Confusion flitted across the God's expression before it was replaced by false (or maybe not so false) haughtiness. "What? My couch not good enough for you? Sit your fancy ass down or I'll take you to Fury."
The God of Mischief reluctantly obeyed, sitting so far on the other end of the couch that he was nearly on the armrest. He looked like he was going to run away at any moment, perched precariously on the edge of the cushion, although where he thought he could go Tony had no idea.
"Why so skittish? This is hardly our first date," Tony teased, watching the villain beside him stiffen and shoot him a nasty look. Loki had his fair share of pummeling by the Avengers and it was quite obvious that he was a sore loser. It was easy to read the thoughts flickering through the God's expression—Tony noticed the trademark 'you-insufferable-mortal' look of which Loki was so fond, as well as a few others that would have earned the mischief-maker a punch to the face had they been spoken out loud. Tony tossed the writing materials at him in response. Loki didn't pick them up right away, but when he did, Tony could have sworn he saw the Trickster's fingers shake.
"You do know how to write English, right?" He waited for Loki to respond and when he didn't, he started reaching for the bolt cutters on the floor. There was a hurried scratching and then the pad of paper was nearly shoved into his face.
Of course I know how to write English, you stupid mortal.
"Good. So why don't you tell me why you're here?" Tony could make out the words "car", "idiot", "trunk" and a few choice expletives before he elaborated on his question. "No, not here in my house, I mean here as in Earth. I thought we'd beaten you enough times that we wouldn't see your face around here for a while. Unless of course you're looking for another beating. I'm sure I could arrange something." He'd let the God take that any way he wanted.
This wasn't exactly a planned trip.
Tony pulled his legs up on the couch and shifted so he could better watch the God of Lies as he scribbled on the pad of paper. "So I see," he replied, "You know, if you wanted me to pick you up, you should have just asked."
Loki looked flustered as he scratched at the page, viciously crossing something out before flipping the pad over and showing it to him. I'm not here to see you.
"No, you're here to show the world how wonderfully silent you can be!" He teased. The colour was rising in the Trickster's cheeks. Something about this was too easy, it was a little unnerving. Not to say that Tony didn't enjoy it.
You're loud and obnoxious enough. Wouldn't want the humans to suffer too much now would we? The God of Mischief rolled his eyes.
"As if you've ever cared about humans!" Tony scoffed. "I would have thought you'd be begging me to cut your mouth open just so you can start filling the world with all that verbal garbage you constantly spew. This really is a treat—Loki keeping himself quiet, all of his own accord."
The God scribbled and scratched out the page, taking minutes to start and re-start sentences before obliterating them all and tossing the paper across the room in frustration. He looked like he was ready to kick a puppy or start crying or something. It was so outside the realm of normal Loki that Tony wasn't quite sure what to do. He could handle Trickster Loki or Deceiver Loki or Mischievous Loki—Villain Loki. This was...he didn't know what this was. It was just sad. Tony extricated himself from the couch and picked up the paper, glancing at the scorch-like scribbles but unable to decipher any of the words. He handed it back to the distraught man (there wasn't anything God-like about him) on the couch.
"Why don't you want me to cut the cords?" he asked, the teasing tone gone completely. He had never been good at sounding like he cared, but he didn't have to be a jackass about everything. Tony Stark had some compassion.
The words were wobbly, as if it had taken a great effort to write them. It wouldn't make any difference.
"Sure it would. For one, I wouldn't need to feel like I have to pinch myself out of a nightmare. Seriously, Hellraiser, you have no idea how creepy you look." Loki gave a slight shrug, and something about the way his eyes creased told Tony that the Trickster wanted to smile but couldn't. "If anything, do it for my sake. I'm not sure how much more of this I can handle."
You make it sound like I have a choice.
"Well, I suppose all things considered you don't have a choice. Not unless you want to starve. From the amount Thor eats, I'd say that Gods need food too. He eats me out of house and home whenever he's here. Pepper's been complaining about the shopping." Tony slumped back into the couch. "But I'd rather not have to hold you down. I might end up taking out your eye by mistake and then Fury would have a field day. He thinks he's the only badass cyclops around here. You'd have to watch your back."
More scribbling. Loki eyed him suspiciously over the paper. He flipped it around slowly, fingers covering the bottom of the page. I don't trust you
He removed his slender fingers, revealing the rest of the message: but if you hurt me I will follow Lex talionis to the letter.*
Tony reached down and grabbed the bolt cutters, suppressing a shiver. "I'll just have to be careful then."
A hand caught his sleeve before releasing it quickly. Loki held up a new message:
Aren't you worried I'll use my magic once I'm free?
"Are you telling me I should be worried?" He snorted a laugh. "If you'd been able to use any magic you'd have changed into bird and flown the coop by now. No. I don't think there's anything to worry about. You might even owe me a favour. I like that."
Loki shot him a look that might have meant 'I'll make you eat your words', but it was hard to tell.
"This might work better if you lie down," Tony suggested. The angle was odd from the sitting position, giving Tony much less control of the heavy tool in his hands. It was impossible to read the emotions that flashed across Loki's face, but when it looked like he was about to protest, the God relented and lay himself down on the couch, placing the paper and pen on the floor within arm's reach.
This was not the first time Tony Stark had straddled someone on this couch, but this was certainly the first time that someone had struggled. It was quite obvious that this was not what Loki had in mind when Tony told him to lie down.
"Hey! You better quit it or I swear to God I'm going to get my kinky handcuffs and tie you down where you wont be able to get up until I'm done with you!" Tony grinned. "That came out way dirtier than I intended it to be—and it sounds like fun! I might actually try it if you don't stay still."
Something akin to dread had filled the God's green eyes and he stopped struggling immediately. The look on his captive's face told him he would much rather lose an eye.
Tony took advantage of the Trickster's stillness and lowered the bolt cutters until the sharp tip snagged against the thick wire that snaked its way through his swollen lips. He worked carefully, easing the end of the blade under what little space there was between where the flesh met the metal. When he'd caught enough of it on the sharp edge, Tony wrenched the bolt cutters shut. The metal was much tougher than he thought it would be, but it finally snapped under the pressure.
"That's one down," he muttered. The body beneath him shuddered with panicked breathing and Loki had scrunched his eyes tightly shut. Tony lowered the cutters again and caught the next stitch in its pincers, trying not to tug too much on the raw skin as he snapped the jaws closed again.
One by one the black stitches were severed until the blades of the bolt cutters were covered with blood and Tony was drenched in sweat. With each cut, it seemed to get more and more difficult to tear through the metal, leading Tony to believe that there was something Aesir about it. He could have guessed as much from the state Loki was in, but this was the nail in the coffin. Somewhere in the heavens, not so long ago, the God of Mischief had met his match.
A first aid kit had appeared on the coffee table—no doubt Pepper had dropped it and ran. He didn't blame her. If the stitches were Hellraiser-esque then the blood dripping from the God's torn lips was definitely something out of a Romero zombie flick. He was so going to have nightmares tonight. Tony dropped the bolt cutters and grabbed the kit, slipping out the tweezers to extract the last of the metal shards.
"Punk really isn't a good look on you," Tony joked, trying to keep his mind off of the blood as he worked. Loki had finally peeled his eyes open and their emerald green surfaces were glassy, his brow above them knitted with pain and slight confusion. "That's the last of it." He dropped the last twisted piece onto the mangled pile on the table. "It just needs to be cleaned."
Loki's hands were shaking too much to do the job, or at least that's what Tony thought to himself as he wiped away the blood until the skin came through pale beneath the cloth. The wounds were still ugly and unhealed so Tony slipped a clean cloth into Loki's hand so he could catch any of the blood that threatened to drip like tears from the gaping gashes, but the Trickster's lips were no longer sewn shut. Why Tony had thought that would be a good idea, he had no clue. He supposed he was somewhat curious to find out what the God would do once he was free. He found himself hoping he hadn't unleashed a monster.
As much as Tony liked to see how uncomfortable it made Loki to be sitting on him, he got up to wash his hands in the nearby sink. Finally free, Loki pulled himself back into a sitting position, curling himself into the couch and leaning the paper on his knees. He wrote slowly, trying to steady his quivering hand.
Thank you Loki ripped the piece of paper off of the pad and handed it to him. Tony wasn't sure if the God was too embarrassed to say the words out loud or if he was too traumatized from being straddled by his magnificent self. It didn't matter.
"You're welcome," he said, keeping his snarky and inappropriate comments to himself for once. The timing was wrong. He folded the piece of paper and stuck it in his pocket, proof of a favour owed.
"Come on. You look like you need to crash." Five minutes into flicking through the millions of television channels, the God had fallen asleep, the blood-stained cloth clutched in one hand and the pad of paper in the other. His chest rose and fell steadily as his breathing became shallow and Tony didn't bother to wake Loki up until he started to twitch like a dog having a bad dream. The last channel he'd stopped at was playing some Disney movie—something about a girl and a weird blue alien. He powered down the screen and nudged Loki again. "I've got a guest room upstairs. I can throw out a set of sheets, but if you get blood on this couch there's going to be a reckoning. Now get up."
Loki moved his lips as if he were trying to say something before clamping the cloth over his mouth with a disturbed look. Tony shrugged it off as exhaustion and Loki being weird and led the super villain up the stairs and into the separate room. It was as good a place as any to keep the God until he could figure out what to do with him. He still hadn't reported it to any of the other Avengers, though he had been flicking through the contacts on his phone just as often as he had been flicking through the TV channels. Loki wandered over to the bed, glancing over at him before climbing under the covers. The silent Trickster set the paper on the nightstand, watching Tony with wary eyes as he shut the door.
"Jarvis, make sure that no one opens this door except for me. It is to remain locked until I say otherwise."
The locks clicked in place and the life-like voice responded, "Yes, sir."
"Oh and, Jarvis?" Tony called out.
"Yes, sir?"
"Tell Pepper to pick up some ice cream."
*A/N: Lex talionis is a term for retribution. You may know it better as "an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth". It means that someone who harms another must pay compensation to that person in equal measure.