AN: Firstly- I'm so sorry about the wait. Hopefully the length will make up for the amount of time I've made you wait. This was a real bastard to write out and edit. I'm sorry if the standard is a little lax.
Enjoy!
Chapter Three- Define Deliverance
Tony sat stiffly in the armchair around the TV, pretending that he couldn't feel a hole being gorged into his face by Thor's murderous glare.
They were watching a film, and the lights were off, but Tony could still sense Thor incinerating him with his thoughts. Luckily, Thor was the non-magical one in the family, and the only discomfort Tony felt was the nervous sensation of somebody looking at him.
For some reason, Steve had put his foot down, insisting that Tony come down and "socialise" with the group, which, for all intents and purposes, meant watching a film or playing Cluedo.
And nobody liked playing Cluedo with Tony any more.
So they were watching a Star Wars prequel- Tony wasn't paying enough attention to know which one, and either way, he was more of an Original Trilogy kinda guy- but Thor had maintained a thunderous glower at him for the last hour and a half, and it was psyching him out.
Over the last week, nobody had the gall to speak to him, other than "pass me the sugar", and so Tony had cooped himself up in his room, surrounded by graphics tablets and large computer screens, trying and failing to design something of actual worth. All he could think about was a certain God of Mischief, and the baleful look he had given Tony before he disappeared that night.
The dreams still persisted, which Tony was starting to find wearisome. He almost dreaded going to sleep, knowing that he would only wake up a few hours later, sweating and hard, his hands grasping for a body that wasn't there.
New York itself had been quite quiet too- Victor Von Doom had retreated into whatever hidey hole he had in Latveria, and no other villains had decided to strike. It was rather disconcerting, and Tony could feel the tension rising in each of his team members.
He was positive they were all waiting for Loki to drop the bomb shell, metaphorically speaking, or for another alien invasion. The lack of action from the Trickster was making them all nervous. Even Tony, who, whilst he somewhat trusted Loki, was still wary of the fact that Loki was more than slightly unstable and likely to just throw his hands in the air with a cry of "What the heck!" and nuke up the Avengers mansion just for a laugh.
Pepper had come to visit him yesterday. Tony had been expecting yelling, screaming, things being thrown at his head. Instead, she wrapped her arms around him and said a wry, "Congratulations." It was the first kind words he had heard in quite a while, and he had been pleasantly surprised. She then took him out for lunch, where she announced Happy was taking her on a date this weekend. Tony had simply stared at her, before saying,
"I knew he had the hots for you."
Pepper had playfully slapped his arm, and just like old times, it fell into their usual routine.
When their sandwiches had arrived, with two cups of coffee, Pepper had looked at him seriously, and said, "So. What is going on in your head?"
Tony had stalled, taking a bite of food, trying to find a way out of answering, but Pepper was having none of it.
"Tony," she warned. "This is a big deal. You can't deal with it on your own."
"So you're my therapist now, are you?" he asked her, dodging the question.
"Oh, I thought that was in the job description anyway," she said sarcastically. "Tony, this isn't just you knocking up some woman you met in a bar. This is more serious than that. This is Loki. Phil told me the guy saved your lives last week. What's going on?"
"You make it sound like he saved our lives because I knocked him up," Tony said dryly. "That's not true. He was just screwing around with Doctor Doom. It had nothing to do with me."
"Sure," Pepper dismissed. "What happened between you guys? I want to know."
"Gory details and all?"
"Shut up, Tony," Pepper scrunched up her nose. "It's still a bit creepy imagining that guy doing...anything. Does he even have skin under there? Are you sure he's not, y'know, an automaton or-"
"Hey! Leave him alone," Tony said with a grin. "It's that kind of attitude that's made him as unstable as he is."
Pepper's eyes widened. "Oh my god, you like him!"
"I do not!"
"You do!" she blinked several times. "Oh, this is so much more interesting than I thought it would be!"
Tony grumbled under his breath. "Look, like most people, there's more to him than we know about. He's not...Voldemort."
Pepper snorted.
"His family issues make mine look stupid. I think he's just a bit starved for affection."
"Enter Tony," Pepper waggled her eyebrows, and Tony choked on his coffee with a laugh.
They ate in companionable silence, until Pepper spoke again. "So what about the baby? Is he keeping it?"
"Sort of," Tony swallowed nervously. "He's giving it up to some holy goddesses or something, who'll look after it."
Pepper pouted. "Why? Why can't you keep it?"
"I don't want to keep it! Pepper, I'd be the worst father in the universe!"
"I dunno, Tony, I think you'd have to steal the title off Odin, first," she joked, and Tony chuckled.
"Yep, I should write a companion piece to Odin's published works: The All-Father's Guide to First Class Parenting," he giggled, and Pepper tried to stifle her laughs.
"Shame," she returned to topic. "I was hoping, if it were a girl, you would call it Pepper."
Tony grinned. "I'll suggest it to His Majesty, next time I see him."
"Are you planning on keeping in touch?" Pepper asked, returning to seriousness.
Tony bit the inside of his cheek in contemplation. "I dunno. He's not... You can't plan meetings with him. He just appears, and you have to hope he doesn't blast your head off. I suppose I'll see him if he wants to see me."
Pepper patted his hand. "I'm sure he doesn't want to do this alone. Why don't you try sending him a message?"
"What do you think his email address is?" Tony asked sarcastically. "Loki is awesome at gee mail dot com?"
Pepper grinned. "Worth a try."
"Anyway, I'm sure he'll cope fine on his own without my interference," Tony shrugged.
"Tony, do you know what happens to pregnant women?" Pepper asked him, raising an eyebrow. Tony shrugged.
"They get fat?"
"You deserve your head to be blown off," Pepper said, frowning at him. "No, you don't understand. Sure, maybe he's not actually a woman, but if his pregnancy is anything like a human's, he's going to be depressed, erratic and emotionally unbalanced. He doesn't have any friends-"
"That's hardly my fault!"
"- he doesn't have any family, other than Thor, and Thor isn't exactly going to be of much help, and he's in a foreign land, with some strange half-breed growing inside of him-"
"Hey!"
"- and the father of his child is his enemy! Just try and imagine how he feels!"
Tony scowled, and crossed his arms defensively. "Loki has his mother," he said, as a bit of a last effort. "She seems nice enough."
Pepper shrugged. "Maybe that will be enough. Do you think so?"
"No," Tony said sulkily. "What do you want me to do? Order him a million dollars worth of goods from Mother Care?"
Pepper shook her head. "That's your problem. You forget that some things can't be bought with money, power or intellect."
"Money, power and intellect have worked pretty well for me so far," Tony shot back.
Pepper just smiled that infuriating, all-knowing smile at him.
When he returned to the mansion, he was greeted by Thor's homicidal glare. The god was sharpening pencils with his fingernails, sitting at the kitchen table, and for all the world looking like a menacing, evil, yet cute and fluffy puppy.
Agent Coulson was also at the kitchen table, doing what looked like very boring admin for SHIELD, hence the need for multiple pencils, and he managed to give Tony a sincere smile.
Tony had slumped up to his room, falling onto sheets that no longer smelt like roasted chestnuts in the winter.
XXX
"Will you stop it!" Tony cried out, after he could take no more.
Everyone looked round to see Tony glaring at Thor from across the table, where they were all eating Chinese takeaway.
Thor simply narrowed his eyes at Tony, and continued shredding his fried chicken wings in his hands, violently.
"I can take this no more!" Tony declared, pointing a chopstick at Thor's head. "If you're gonna murder me, fucking hell, get it over with already! This whole silent-treatment, let's-give-Tony-the-evils thing isn't gonna work! I've had it up to here!" he pointed his chopstick about a foot above his own head.
Steve sighed and rubbed his temples, as Clint and Natasha looked between Thor and Tony like a tennis match, still sucking up noodles.
"Look, Thor," Steve said wearily. "Cut it out. He's apologised. No harm, no foul."
Thor pursed his lips like a harried housewife, and looked away, flicking his hair back. Tony almost laughed. Almost. He still valued his life to some extent.
"Just...just spit it out!" Tony said, almost deploringly. "You look like you've been dying to tell me something for a whole two weeks! Just say it! I'm all ears!"
"I have nothing to say to you," Thor said imperiously.
"Like hell," Tony spat. "Come on, big guy, out with it!"
"I shall not converse with somebody as wretched as you are," Thor stood up, his head held high, glowing down his nose at Tony. "You are not worthy of my words."
Tony gaped, before rage spilled over him. Something snapped, and his brain-to-mouth filter disintegrated. "Like fuck I'm not worthy! You think I'm some philandering miscreant, and yet, did you know your brother was planning on going to a bar that night? He was going to go to some seedy nightclub in New York, where anybody could have had him. Did you know that?"
Thor's face went red with fury. "I will not speak in such a manner about my broth-"
"I wanted to stop," Tony yelled, standing also, then realising how much shorter than Thor he was. "I wanted to stop, because he was drunk, and I didn't want him to regret anything. So before you begin pointing an accusatory finger at me, just think that it could have been worse. He could have been picked up by a murderer or a pimp or someone dangerous, when he was vulnerable. And the only reason it ended up where it did was because I felt sorry for him!"
Thor opened his mouth to stutter some defensive words, but he fell short. Either way, Tony was on a roll.
"He was telling me about all the horrible things he's suffered, and I just thought, maybe for one night, he might be reprieved of all the things you blame him for!"
Thor scoffed. "Nobody cares for Loki like I do-"
"He told me about how you sewed his lips together!" Tony raged, but his voice cracked slightly at the end, and pity wrangled into his words, making them sound pathetic. He felt a swell of disgust and sorrow fill him as mental images of the pinprick marks around Loki's lying lips filled his mind.
Thor looked honestly surprised at Tony knew this tale, but immediately defended himself. "They wanted his head! They would have beheaded him!"
At this point Tony realised that they had an audience. Bruce had appeared at the kitchen door, from where he had been reading in his office, and Agent Coulson was nervously standing behind him. Fury himself was with them, with a displeased look on his face. Steve had stood up, ready to break up a fight, and Clint and Natasha were wearing similar looks of confusion and astonishment at Tony's outburst.
"Before you start indicting me for some terrible crime I've perpetrated against your family," Tony said weakly, yet resolutely, "just remember that he doesn't hold meaccountable for anything, and maybe you should be concentrating of repairing your ties with him, rather than severing your ties with me."
Feeling that he had suitably "made a scene", Tony shouldered his way past Bruce, Phil and Fury, and made his way up to his room.
Once there, he sighed dejectedly at all his scrap designs and hastily doodled plans- the mishmash content of his brain- and went to flop across his bed. He seemed to be doing this a lot lately. It was like every time he returned, he hoped it would have a certain somebody in it.
"Jarvis," Tony croaked to his AI. "I want you to do a scan of New York for Loki. Can you do that?"
"I can try, sir," Jarvis replied. His good, loyal, reliable AI- how would Tony survive without him.
"Try and pull up images from CCTV that match his facial structure from what we have on him on file."
"Yes, sir."
Tony covered his face with his hands, feeling more tired than he ever had in his life. He then sat up, deciding he wasn't going to sit here and wallow any longer.
He stood and made his way to his private living room area- it was basically a study, now. He sat at the desk, and began fiddling around with the computer, trying to put his mind at ease.
The knock at the door startled him.
He eyed it suspiciously- nobody around here would ever knock any more. The Avengers were such a bunch of drama queens, they would always barge right in. Even Steve.
He went over to his door and opened it. Thor greeted him on the other side, and Tony almost recoiled.
This is it. I'm going to die, Tony thought, with fear.
"Steve told me to come and apologise," Thor said gruffly, playing with his fingers in one hand, unable to look at Tony. It reminded Tony of a young boy being reprimanded by a parent. He half expected Thor to start scuffing his shoe on the carpet.
"Why?" Tony asked suspiciously.
"He said I was being unfair to you."
Tony rolled his eyes. "Fine. Apology accepted."
He thought that was a pretty unsubtle way of saying leave me the fuck alone, but apparently Thor saw it as an invitation to come in.
"You have to understand, Stark, that Loki is my baby brother," Thor began, and Tony restrained the urge to head straight for the bar. "I detest the mere thought of someone defiling him in such a way."
Tony grimaced and shook off the uncomfortable feeling of discussing "defiling" Loki with his brother. Thor went over to the sofa and sat down, obviously to try and not be intimidating. Tony was having none of it.
"But from what Agent Coulson has told me, apparently it is common practice on Midgard to parent a child out of wedlock, without even reciprocated love between them," Thor said in such a naive, innocent, and totally perplexed way that it was almost endearing. Tony crossed his arms and surveyed Thor cautiously.
"So, with that in mind, I will try and keep an open perspective on whatever relationship you choose to pursue with Loki," Thor gave a pained, half-smile at Tony.
"Well, it seems to me to be pretty nonexistent," Tony admitted to Thor. "I haven't seen him for two weeks, since he returned from Asgard."
Thor's brow furrowed. "You haven't seen him? I thought you were both communicating?"
"Nope," Tony shrugged. "He seems fine on his own. I'm sure as soon as he's delivered the...parcel to the Norns, he'll be back to trying to blow up New York in no time."
"The Norns?" Thor seemed to be getting more and more confused as the conversation progressed. "Why is he travelling to the Norns?"
"He said something about giving the child up to them, so they can have it," Tony said indifferently.
"What?" Thor got up, an alarmed and upset expression on his face. "Why? Why is he not keeping it? What is the meaning of this?"
Tony backed off several steps- he didn't want Thor taking out his aggression on him again.
"Maybe he feels he's not up to it," Tony shrugged. "It's his decision. God knows I'm definitely not up to it."
Thor looked around the room for an answer, getting increasingly agitated. "This is most upsetting."
"Why?"
"Even if you do not put much store in family, Stark," Thor said spitefully, "I still do. This is my brother's child! How upsetting. If you see him again, you must reason with him!"
"And say what?" Tony demanded. "He knows better than you or I! Do you want to raise it?"
"I would!" Thor declared, "If it meant giving it a home and a family!"
Tony shook his head. "Whatever, Thor. You tell him that yourself. I'm too tired to deal with this."
Thor headed for the door, still with a saddened expression on his face. "Stark, whilst I strongly dislike you still, I think there was some truth in your words. I know you are not a cruel man, and it is hardly as if you intentionally hurt my brother. Unfortunately, Agent Coulson told me of the horrors that occur in the back alleys of New York, and you are right- if Loki was going to behave in such a way with someone, it was best that it was you."
Tony did not know if that was a compliment or not, so remained silent as Thor made to leave.
"Oh, and whilst I am most forgiving, you would do well to pray to Fortune that the All-Father does not hear of your perversion against his son, otherwise you will suffer most greatly," Thor managed a devious smirk, and shut the door behind him.
Tony stood in the centre of the room for a moment, before gritting his teeth and refraining from screaming out loud.
Whilst it was nice to know that Thor wasn't going to come for him in the night with a blunt instrument, he hadn't been much reassured by his words. It had brought to light the whole abandonment thing that Tony didn't want to think about.
It was easy to push the unborn child out of his mind. Yeah, sure, send it to the gods. Out of sight, out of mind, right?
But now Tony was imagining some helpless child growing up, wondering who its parents were, wondering why it wasn't wanted, hoping every day, in vain, that somebody would come for it and lay claim to it.
"Ughr!" he exclaimed, trying to rid himself of these thoughts. He needed to get out of here.
He sneaked away to the garage of the mansion, managing to avoid any Avengers or SHIELD operatives, and got into the most nondescript car he owned.
When he was on the road, driving anywhere, he felt a little lighter.
Pepper was right- he needed to talk to Loki, but not so he could provide a shoulder to cry on, but just so that he could reassure himself.
But where on Earth do you find a God of Mischief who doesn't want to be found?
XXX
Loki was standing in front of the mirror, wondering when the hell he had let himself go so much.
His hair was a mess, and his eyes were bloodshot, with big dark circles under them. His face was pasty and pale. He looked horrible.
He had a dressing gown pulled around him, and even in the privacy of his bathroom, he still felt slightly embarrassed for removing it, hanging it up on the back of the bathroom door, and ignoring his naked reflection in the large mirror.
He stepped into the full tub, smiling serenely to himself at the hot water that engulfed him as he lowered down amongst the bubbles. If only the Avengers could see him now.
Loki Laufeyson was taking a bubble bath. And he couldn't find a single fuck to give about it.
He slid down until water washed over his face, and he was submerged. Keeping his eyes tightly shut, he listened to the sound of water rushing about his ears, and the thumping of his heart. When his lungs began to protest, he pushed himself back to the surface and took a deep breath. Droplets of water clung to his eyelashes, and he blinked them away, running his hands through his hair.
He really needed a haircut. When wet, his black locks fell almost to the centre of his shoulder blades. Even Thor's hair wasn't this ridiculously long.
He reached for the block of soap and began rubbing it across his left arm, holding it in his right hand. He was meticulous around his fingers, soaping himself up, then reaching to his elbow, then further up his arm to the top of his shoulder, lathering it in. Then he repeated it on his right arm, liking the smooth sensation of the soap on his skin. It felt strange, to be touching himself so much.
As soon as the thought entered his mind, he blushed and fumbled with the soap, dropping it into the water. He grasped for it between his legs, and kept a firm grip of it, whilst mentally berating himself for being such a pansy.
"Honestly," he muttered softly to himself, "nobody is watching you."
Still, he eyed the bathroom door nervously, but it was locked. He was alone. Nobody would come in. He was being irrational. There was no need to be afraid...
Loki bit his lip as he cupped water in his hands and let it pour against his arms, removing the suds, and enjoying the feeling of rivulets trickling down his body.
He shivered as his own fingers brushed the inside of his elbow, and closed his eyes, as the vapour rose up around his head. He stroked past his elbow again, and noted a newfound erogenous zone that he didn't know he had. He twisted his left arm round, so the wrist was exposed, and began trailing his right hand up and down his forearm, delighting in the tickling feeling combined with the heat of the water. He lay back so that his ears were just above the surface, and started tracing his fingertips over his skin, up his arm to his bony clavicle and into the dip in his neck, then up his throat and around his jaw. He exhaled, relaxed and for once at peace, until his fingers danced over his lips, and he gasped, moaning slightly as his fingers gently outlined his mouth, the skin plump from the heat of the bath, and the nerves frazzling under his minuscule touch. He moved his hand down to the space behind his ear, stroking past his earlobe and around to the sides of his neck, the sensitivity wracking his heart rate up and making him tremble.
Was he really so starved of physical contact? What had Tony done to him to make him crave this so much?
His left hand came up and joined the right on the opposite side of his head, both stroking from his temporal bone, down his face, down his arched neck, across his collarbones, and feathered down his chest. Loki sighed and smiled, sliding down the bath so that he was submerged, wrapped his arms around himself, feeling each of his fingers splayed across his waist, digging in, and tried to recall the sensation of being held, whilst the water gently rocked above his face.
He opened his eyes and looked up. Whiteness greeted him, distorted by the water, and his eyes stung slightly, but he blinked away the discomfort until things began blurring, and he couldn't tell real images to those splodges of coloured light that his brain magicked up.
His lungs started aching, and Loki pushed himself up to the surface, gasping slightly.
He untangled his arms from around himself, frowning slightly at the pink finger marks on his waist- he hadn't realised he was hugging himself so tightly- and reached for the soap again.
By the time he had successfully cleansed himself, he water had turned tepid. Loki rinsed off his hair, tugging on it slightly, and then drained the bath, carefully stepping out of it, and reaching for his large white towel and wrapping it around his shoulders.
He grabbed his dressing gown and pushed open the bathroom door, peeking his head around it to investigate his bedroom outside.
Stop it. Nobody is here. You can feel your own wards! You'd know if someone was here!
Loki shook himself of the paranoia, and shuffled into his bedroom, taking a breath before dropping the towel and yanking on the dressing gown. Then he considered the moderately sized bed, with its plain blue covers and white, soft looking pillows, before promptly collapsing on it, bouncing once, and burying his face into the cold linen.
Loki groaned to himself, face first on the bed, folding his arms underneath his forehead and rubbing his damp toes along the covers, trying not to silently despair too loudly.
His hair was still wet, and was dripping down the side of his neck, the water cool and unpleasant, some of it curling into his ears and making them itch. His heart sounded riotous, and he could feel his pulse in his head thrumming, despite the fact that he was lying down. Loki fidgeted- his bath hadn't really helped to calm him down. Now, when his mind was unfocussed, he couldn't help but start panicking, miserably wondering when his life had become such a terrible failure.
He rolled over onto his back, not caring if his hair got the covers wet, and let his hands rest gently on his stomach.
He closed his eyes, and concentrated. There was a hum in the room, and Loki felt something shift nearby- something materialised from nothing.
He opened his eyes, and a hazy, somewhat translucent copy of Tony Stark blinked at him, standing by the wall. Everything was exactly the same as the original- from his impossible hair, to his old looking t-shirt and jeans.
Loki scrambled to get under the covers, before beckoning the illusion over. Not-Tony walked over, robotically, and also slipped under the blankets. The mattress did not dip, because the illusion had no weight. Loki pushed him down so that he was lying flat on the bed, noting how the illusion had texture, but no heat, before eyeing him. Not-Tony was blank faced, and his eyes were dead. He turned to look at Loki, and flashed a smile- a perfect facsimile of the real thing, but there was nothing in his expression. No emotion, no life. Loki sighed, before waving his hands so that the lights went off, wrapping his arms around the magical body, and closing his eyes to try and sleep.
The body didn't move, all night.
XXX
"Stark!"
"That's m'name!" Tony sang out, not stopping as he strolled down the corridor that led to the kitchen. He had a hankering for cucumber, and could swear to God that he couldn't remember the last time he had eaten cucumber.
"Stark! There's been an incident!" It was Coulson, running after Tony. "Fury wants you!"
"Oh yeah?" Tony found it a little hard to give a damn. As long as it wasn't globally endangering, let the others deal with it. Tony was still pissed off that Fury's idea of repayment for Loki having saved their lives was to try and hunt him down and kill him.
"The others are waiting for you!"
"Good, good," Tony pushed open the door to the kitchen, and did not hold it open for Coulson.
"Tony!"
"What?" Tony replied, innocently, knowing it would wind the other, usually good-natured man up.
"Can you please?" Coulson said deploringly. "It's a bank robbery. The police are doing their best, but they have hostages and explosives. Thor is in New Mexico, so we really need you now."
Tony rolled his eyes, opening the fridge and peering inside. "Aha!" he cried delightedly, as he spotted a cucumber. He pulled it out and brandished it at Coulson, who didn't even blink.
Coulson gave Tony a very weary look, which Tony couldn't help but fall for. Ever so slightly. Especially since that day when he had simply sauntered in to SHIELD HQ during a meeting, and everyone had had a near heart attack, Tony couldn't help but like Phil more and more. It turned out Coulson hadn't been as dead as Fury had told them, but his "death" had been used as in incentive. And the worst bit was that Coulson didn't even blame Loki for anything, didn't even hold Tony in contempt for sleeping with his "murderer"!
He sighed, and tossed the cucumber back into the fridge. "Do you really need me? Is it really that bad?"
"Yes!"
"I'm sure it isn't," Tony replied. "The police were able to handle bank robberies before without me."
"They have children in there," Coulson appealed. "And women. And enough explosives to take out the entire block."
Tony grit his teeth, and tried not to curse whichever deity it was that had thrown him into this life.
"Stark-"
"Fine!" Tony barked. "God!"
"Excellent," Coulson beamed. "I will debrief you on the way."
Tony grumbled and glowered the whole way.
By the time he was airborne and heading in the direction of the scene, the Quinjet close behind, he could hear sirens blaring and see flashing lights sectioning off the whole area. Pedestrians saw him in the sky and pointed, cheering in delight, but he just wanted to get this over with. Petty criminals were not his usual cup of tea, thank you very much. He preferred the intelligent, interesting type.
When they got to the bank, Tony landed by the swarm of police cars and saw the Inspector in charge.
"What's going on?" he asked, immediately, retracting his mask, and looking at the haggard man.
The officer was tired and frantic- his radio was out of control with the calls of all different police on the scene, and the sirens all around were deafening, and the bank already had several broken windows and bullet holes adorning the walls. It was one of those grand, white stone affairs, with about five floors and expensive windows and huge mahogany doors.
"We're thinking thirty hostages, and four men with an array of hand weapons. We think they're using some sort of plastic explosives, but we haven't sent anyone in yet. They're not responding to our negotiators, and we can't get a glimpse of their faces. We think the bank has a capacity of about ten million dollars, which shouldn't take too long for them to clear out," the officer told him, wiping his brow. "We just don't want to provoke them into blowing the place sky high."
"Ten million?" scoffed Tony. "Geez, I would have given them that if they'd asked. Well, we'll see what we can do. Just don't do anything stupid. I know it's hard for you guys."
He flew away before he could hear the officer's swearing.
Clint and Natasha were clambering out of the Quinjet, whilst tucking away guns, or in Clint's case arrows, preparing for some sort of combat, whilst Bruce followed behind, sadly fingering his blue shirt, and Steve bringing up the rear.
"Guys!" Tony flew over to them. "I suggest Clint and Natasha go in and see if they can take out the robbers, whilst Steve and I go deactivate the bombs, and Bruce stays out here to clear up any issues that arise. Whatdya think, Steve?"
Captain America nodded. "Clint, Natasha, take the south-side entrance, and try not to be seen. Tony and I will distract them and rescue the civilians. Bruce, if any of the men try and escape, you get 'em, alright?"
Bruce nodded, and Tony began surveying the building.
"Do you know how to deactivate bombs?" Clint asked Steve and Tony, dubiously.
"Clint, I probably designed them myself," Tony drawled, as Natasha unsheathed a knife and twirled it between her fingers dangerously.
"Alright!" Clint pulled a sceptical face. "Just don't accidentally set them off! They probably are remotely activated or-"
"I know what I'm doing, Barton," Tony rolled his eyes. "Right. Come on. Let's take these mothers out."
Natasha grasped Clint's hand and dragged him away at a quick dash round the side of the building to try and get in without being noticed. Tony almost felt sorry for the four men who were about to be on the receiving end of one Natasha Romanoff. Almost.
"Come on, Cap," Tony gave a confident salute to the officer who was still watching them from behind the police car.
Steve led the way to the side of the building, and accepted Tony's hand, so together they flew up the side of the building, leaving Bruce down below, and dodged a flagpole before landing on the edge of a window on the third floor.
"Shall we scout around in here?" Tony asked, peering into the window. It led into a richly decorated office with a large desk with neatly piled papers and a pen pot and a computer with four monitors.
"Yeah. We should give Barton and Natasha enough time to deal with them, and then we can step in," Steve hauled open the window with little effort exerted from his biceps, and he and Tony clambered in.
As quietly as possible, they hurried through the rooms of the bank- most were offices or function rooms, but all was still. The floor was made of marble, and their footsteps, no matter how hard they tried to quieten them, echoed around the rooms.
"Won't the main safe be in the basement?" Steve asked.
"Actually, most of the personal safes are kept in the basement. The main safe will be wherever the boardroom or the chairman's office is," Tony said, retracting his helmet. They reached a grand set of marble stairs with a plush red velvet rug cascading down, and peered over the brass banisters. "Important people like to make themselves seem more important by keeping themselves close to important things. I would know- I have to spend more than enough time with bureaucratic businessmen."
Steve snorted, and began trotting down the stairs, shield in hand. Tony followed.
They ambled through more stately looking rooms with large framed oil paintings of bald men in expensive suits, until Steve yanked Tony harshly away from a door leading to a main hall.
"There," Steve hissed. They both glanced around the door, and Tony saw, amongst rows of counters and mahogany desks for customers and staff to use, a large crowd of people on the floor, in lines, huddled together as close as possible, whilst two men- black balaclavas hiding their faces, one very thickset and bulky, the other tall and lithe (how stereotypical)- stalked among the hostages, yelling at them for crying or talking, and brandishing guns in their faces. The hostages were entangled with wires connected to explosives- certainly enough to take out the whole building. There were four rows of hostages, each with separate strings of bombs, lined up along the hall on the marble floor.
"This is so wrong," Steve murmured to Tony, and Tony had to nod in agreement. They were terrorising innocent people, and there were children, almost as young as eight. Tony caught sight of a little girl at the end of one of the rows, hanging on to her father- she looked utterly terrified, and Tony felt rage that greedy, pathetic men would endanger the lives of children without even hesitating. What sort of villainy did that require?
"Where are Clint and Natasha?" Tony muttered to Steve.
As soon as he spoke, there was an almighty crash, and the sound of gunshots from somewhere else in the building.
"Ah," Tony had his question answered.
"The other two robbers must be emptying the safe," Steve observed.
"Not if 'Tasha has anything to say about it," Tony smirked.
"Come on, we can take these two, right?" Steve suggested.
The other two men, utterly hidden by their black clothing, were freaking out over the gunshots.
"The police! The fucking police!" the tall one yelled.
The muscly one held in his hand a remote, which he waved in the air. It was complicated- lots of buttons and flashing lights adorned it, and Tony knew, he would have to get it off him somehow, and then try to deactivate the bombs.
"That ain't the police," the big one said. "They know we'll just blow 'em up."
"Come on, Tony," Steve hissed, and shifted his shield.
At that precise moment, Natasha and Clint came sprinting into the room, grinding to a halt as they realised what they had just run into. Clint had a cut on his forehead, which was dripping down his face, but Natasha looked fine.
"Well well!" cried Muscles. "The Avengers! How nice!"
"Where are-" the tall one cut himself off, as Natasha and Clint drew out weapons.
"Your friends?" Natasha inquired. "They're not dead. Just unconscious. The police will have them soon."
The two men were facing in the opposite way to Steve and Tony, who slowly crept out from behind the door, into the grand marble hall. Several hostages saw them, and had to stop themselves from crying out loud with joy.
"Well, this is an interesting change in plan," said the tall one to Muscles. "I suppose we better get going."
"Like hell you are," Tony cut in, and the two men whirled round, catching sight of more Avengers. They swore loudly.
"I don't know about you, Iron Man," Mr Tall retaliated with spite, "but if you don't get out the way, that's thirty one people blown sky high, and we're all dead."
Tony retracted his helmet again- people tended to get psyched out when they had to look at him in the face- and pretended to mull over the situation.
"Hmm," he faux-frowned. "That's a tough one. How about option C. You hand over the remote, you put your hands in their air, and I don't whoop your ass."
Mr Tall actually laughed. Loudly. Steve scowled, and took up a stance, as Clint drew an arrow and pointed it at Muscles.
"The question is, Iron Man," Mr Tall continued. Tony noticed he had a slight southern accent, and realised these men probably didn't come from around here. "How many innocent people are you willing to watch die, before you step aside."
At this point Muscles raised his gun- a Glock, from the looks of it- and aimed at a quivering middle aged blonde woman near his foot.
"No!" Steve yelled out, taking a step forward, as the woman shrieked.
Tony's body froze, as he expected a shot, but Muscles did not shoot. Instead, he just laughed. There was too much laughter for Tony's liking. It was pissing him off.
"So, Avengers," Mr Tall sneered. "I suggest you let us on our merry way."
"Uhuh," Tony said, unamused. "Okay, I suppose- if you choose Option Ass-Whooping, who am I to stop you?"
His helmet fell back into place, and he noticed with glee that he had advanced power- God love Jarvis. As one, the Avengers began moving.
Clint's arrow buried itself into Mr Tall's right shoulder, as Natasha propelled herself forward towards Muscles, in an attempt to grab the remote. Steve darted between Muscles and the hostages to shield them from the bullets Muscles started firing, as Tony fired missiles at his target- Mr Tall, the one he had the most objections again. Tony also launched his repulsors so that he could gain the advantage of height.
This is too frickin' easy, Tony thought with a grin.
Mr Tall fell to his knees with a cry, grasping at his shoulder, as Muscles went skidding across the floor from a kick to the stomach, courtesy of Natasha. The remote control flew out of his hand, and hit the opposite wall with a crack.
"Fuck!" cried Mr Tall, scrambling to his feet, still clutching his right arm. He spun on the spot, catching sight of Tony hovering near the ceiling, and raised his gun. "You fucking idiots!"
"Tony!" yelled Steve, and Tony looked down to see Steve crouched near the hostages, examining the explosives. A tiny, digital screen connected to the wires had flared up, and big red numbers were illuminated on the panel connected to each of the bombs.
A countdown.
The remote must have activated the countdown when it hit the wall. Tony flew over and picked it up. He knew he would be able to decipher the functions of all the different controls, but he couldn't guarantee accidentally not blowing them all up.
Muscles had gotten to his feet, and yanked off his balaclava. He was dark haired and had a large, pointed nose, framed by two big blue eyes. He looked terrified.
"Now you've done it!" he trembled. "We're gonna die!"
Muscles tried to make a break for it, ignoring his comrade's cry for help, but was intercepted by an arrow, lodging itself in his gut. Clint seemed pretty pleased with himself, as Muscles fell to the floor.
Tony landed next to Mr Tall, who was still holding his arm gingerly.
"How do you override the countdown?" he demanded, but Mr Tall simply shook his head.
Tony groaned out loud. "Tell me! There's no reward for this- there's no way you get freed. If you don't tell me, we all die."
Mr Tall just smiled.
"This isn't worth ten million dollars," Tony pleaded.
"Tony!" Steve yelled, more urgently. "We have two minutes."
Tony swore, and resisted the urge to hit the criminal in front of him.
Natasha was helping the civilians untangle themselves from the wire, but, so as not to jostle them, only one or two people could escape in about five seconds. "We're gonna run out of time!" Natasha cried out, as she yanked a young woman away from the explosives.
"My sister!" the young woman sobbed, grasping for the hands of another lady, who was still entangled. "Please!"
Tony took a shaky breath, and went over to Natasha. "Children first," he murmured to Natasha. "Get all the children, and run."
Natasha turned to him with wide eyes. "Tony, we're not going to have any casualties."
"We have under two minutes," Tony said, something heavy pulling on his heart. "I'm going to try and deactivate the bombs."
Natasha stared at him for a second, before nodding. She then beckoned over Clint, who had just finished dragging Mr Tall's protesting body over to his comrade in the corner. Clint went over, and began helping her pull away all the children from the explosives. There were about ten under-eighteens, and Tony felt such pain for the parents and adults, crying and clutching at each other.
Tony pulled off his helmet, and went to crouch by one of the bombs. A series of wires connected to the explosives, and he recalled the information he'd need to know to deactivate them.
He glanced over his shoulder, to see Steve ushering the crowd of children out of the building.
Everything slowed down, until all Tony could hear was his own breathing. The sound of sirens, sobbing and the soft ticking of the timer dissolved into nothing. His eyes focussed on the coloured wires in front of him.
And to think this had started off as an easy mission, Tony thought wryly.How quickly everything had gotten out of hand!
He followed the wires to the explosives, trying to ignore the shaking bodies beneath them, and took a deep breath.
"How much time do I have?" he called over his shoulder.
"A minute," replied a small voice in front of him. It was the woman from earlier, who had almost been shot.
"Wonderful," he replied, but shot her a hasty smile. "We'll be fine, you'll see."
She nodded, and did not move further.
Tony grasped the wire he believed he needed to tear, and closed his eyes, before crushing it between his two metal fingers.
There was a collective sigh of relief from the small group in front of him, and he opened his eyes to the beautiful sight of one set of deactivated explosives- the counter had died, and nothing was flashing any longer. Only three more to go.
Tony stood, and hurried to the next group of hostages, yelling, "Go! Go!" to the previous group. They all scrambled to their feet and sprinted from the room.
"They're all different," Natasha came over to him and crouched beside him, as Tony inspected the next set of wires. "You have forty seconds. The other civilians who can't be set free are intertwined in a way that means that if one of them goes, the wires rupture and set off the bomb."
"Fuck," Tony breathed. "Take Clint and get out."
"Tony-"
"Come on, Natasha, use your brain," he snapped at her. "As you said, no casualties, right?"
"Tony, I'm not going to let you-"
"Get Bruce in here."
Tony's eyes flew across the wires, estimating where they resulted, how they were connected, what he could do...
"Just go!" he gave her a slight shove.
"Are we gonna die?" asked the civilian in front of him, who was tightly strapped to the explosive. He was old, perhaps fifty or sixty.
"No, you're not," Tony said as confidently as he could, giving his best smile.
His breathing stuttered as he fumbled for the wire he thought was true. He cast his eyes skyward, and snapped it.
"Yes!" cried the man.
Thank you, god.
"Go!" Tony pulled the man to his feet, and ushered the other hostages in that group, yanking away the wires. "Run! Get out!"
There were still about ten people, and two sets of bombs to deactivate.
Tony's eyes rolled to the timers on each bombs, and a chill spread over him. Fifteen seconds.
"I'm so sorry," he said to the group of expectant faces, a great pain in his chest making his voice wobble. "I'm sorry."
His teammates were all outside. He could hear the Hulk roaring in the street, but by the time Bruce got up here, it would be too late. There were no children in danger.
The remaining hostages seemed to crumple. They were mainly adults, a majority males. Tony cast a despondent look at the two criminals in the corner, nursing their wounds.
Suddenly, the people in front of him gasped. Tony felt a presence behind him.
"Get a move on, Tony!"
Tony twisted around, to see Loki, Loki, bustling forth, green magic swirling around his hands. He looked pale and gaunt, but alert, dressed as if he had left in a rush- black trousers and a black shirt. His hair was hastily thrown back, and his eyes were bright.
"What are you doing here?" Tony demanded, his stomach lurching. No more casualties, please!
Loki gave him a withered look, before raising his hands, and blasting the green smoke at the entrapped civilians. The wires stretched and lifted, giving space for the hostages to move, but not breaking.
"Get them out," Loki hissed. Tony leapt forth, and began roughly yanking the people off the ground and out of the wire trap.
Six, five, four...
Loki then blasted some sort of golden magic at them, and they disappeared.
"What was that?" Tony exclaimed in astonishment, before Loki turned to him, his eyes wide, and his hands slack by his sides, his expression helpless.
Two, one...
Tony took a step towards Loki, hand outstretched, before there was a high pitched trilling noise, and Tony got a glimpse of fire erupting behind Loki, throwing the god forwards towards Tony.
Then there was noise. Deafening, roaring noise. Tony was hurled backwards, everything around him on fire. His vision went white. He felt his suit shred as he was slammed into the wall of the hall, and fire engulfed him.
He was buffeted around, shrapnel from the exploded room raining down on him. He could feel rubble raining down on his face, the one part of his body unprotected, and his skin was burning.
So this is death, he thought hysterically.
When he stopped being pummelled around amongst the chaos, he slipped into unconsciousness, feeling blood filling various parts of his suit, and his head swimming with the sensation of being cracked open.
XXX
Loki really thought he should stop getting into these sorts of situations. Especially when he neither benefited from them, nor cared for the outcome.
But when he had hastily teleported to the bank where the Avengers were trying to rescue a handful of hostages, he did not expect the situation to be quite so dire.
He overheard Agent Romanoff desperately snivelling about the timed bomb, and how Tony was still inside, before Loki had teleported to the room Steve had been describing to the Hulk.
As if the Hulk could be any help! Ha!
As soon as Loki materialised behind Tony, he quickly observed the situation.
Ten hostages, two bombs, fifteen seconds.
Ah.
The strange expression Tony had thrown Loki had been a mixture of shock and anger. Loki ignored it in favour of releasing the hostages, and using a complex spell to teleport them back outside, where the police were, a good distance away from the bank which was about to explode. There was nothing he could do about that inevitability.
Loki had turned to stare at Stark- kind, genius Stark, who looked genuinely terrified for Loki.
Loki closed his eyes as the explosion engulfed him, and began muttering furiously. The protective charm blossomed, as Loki was hurled forward, but withered as Loki's stream of muttered spells were cut off abruptly.
The explosion was utterly deafening, and Loki felt his skin burn and rip where rubble and debris flew past him. He slammed into a wall, which then also gave way from the explosion, and everything fuzzed out from the pain and the impact.
Loki gasped, and then coughed, as he inhaled smoke, dust and rubble, keeping his eyes closed, but holding his arms around his head.
Ignoring the way the bank was still falling down upon him, Loki lay prone under bits of stone and concrete, and furiously began muttering again.
The charm flourished around him, and just like that, the detritus of the explosion stopped landing on him. The roar of flames ceased, and the heat dissipated.
Loki lifted his head, and blinked. Grit was in his eyes, and he was slightly winded. Drawing great breaths, he turned over onto his back, pleased to notice that nothing was broken. He looked around. His bubble of protection was like a thin film, encircling him, and it made the outside world look slightly distorted, like flickering images on a television. Loki was able to determine the fact that almost the entire second level had been blasted away. Fire was raging around him. He looked up, and saw parts of the third and fourth storey tumbling through a cavity in the ceiling. Straight ahead of him, through the smoke and debris, he saw that the far wall had been completely destroyed, and if the remnants of the wall would stop falling down, he would be able to see through to the street outside.
The flames were licking at his bubble, and he carefully hauled himself up.
"Stop it!" he told his abdomen sternly, as ripples of pain radiated from its centre. It was nothing too severe, simply adding to the pain from being thrown around like a doll, and the ache of where shrapnel had bruised and cut him.
Loki had to find Tony- Iron Man or not, the man had been caught in as much of the blast as Loki had been, and hadn't been wearing his helmet. The chances were, he was hidden under the debris that surrounded Loki in tall pyramids, most of which were on fire, and increasing in magnitude as the building continued to disintegrate.
Taking a deep breath, Loki popped the bubble, and braced himself for the swarm of heat that swept over him, making him break out in a sweat. The noise of fire flared up also, making a distorted symphony with the ringing in his ears that still resided.
Raising his hands, Loki cast another spell. Similar to a bat throwing out ultrasound, Loki got a sense of where life was most active. Of course this would be useless if Tony was...
"Help!"
Loki whipped around. In the corner, where they had been left, and completely submerged in bits of concrete and rock, were the two thieves who had caused this. One of them had his arm sticking out, desperately reaching for Loki, who was only ten metres from them. His face was poking out from a hole in the plaster, rock, and rubble that covered them. Otherwise, they were completely crushed.
"Help me!" he shrieked.
Loki did not bother ambling across piles of rubble, but rather materialised in front of the robber, and crouched down in front of him.
"Let me tell you something," he said darkly, disdain and scorn filling him. "If I find Tony Stark alive, only then will I return to rescue your insignificant soul. If I do not find Tony Stark, or if I find him dead, you will be left here to bleed out, or suffocate, or burn to death."
The terrified, bloodied face looked at Loki with wide, shimmering eyes.
"You make a disgrace to the criminal classes," Loki scoffed, throwing back his head and standing up straight.
He swung his gaze around the wreckage, casting the same spell, and his eyes landed on the wall adjacent to the gaping hole that displayed the street outside. He squinted through the furling smoke, and put a hand over his mouth to stop inhaling it further. His lungs were stinging, as were his eyes, but he concentrated his magic, and teleported over to the sea of rubble that he had sensed life in.
"Tony?" he yelled, but then regretted it, and coughed, grimacing at the acrid taste and burn of smoke.
Snapping his fingers, green smoke mingled with black, and the rocks and shards of concrete started shifting, rolling off each other in waves, scattering far away, until Loki caught sight of a single gold and red metal arm.
He snapped his fingers again, and the rocks flew up into the air, and soared away.
One hand over his nose and mouth, the other shielding his eyes, Loki watched as Tony was unburied. He was unconscious, and his suit was almost crushed. His face was bloody and cut, but not broken, and Loki kicked away the wreckage to scramble for him.
"Tony?" he shook the man's shoulder. "Wake up!"
Loki jumped in alarm as a whoosh of flames erupted behind him, and he heard a distant scream from outside the building. The building was being overcome by flames.
"Tony, the civilians are getting scared!" Loki yelled over the noise. Tony did not stir.
Loki lifted his hand over Tony's face, and muttered an incantation. Cold water started dripping from his fingers onto Tony's eyes, and finally, finally, the mortal started twitching.
"Wake up, Tony. We need to get out of here."
Tony groaned, and blinked. "Oh...f- oh god!"
"Are you alright?" Loki asked, trying to prop Tony up.
Tony's eyes landed on Loki, and then widened as he took in the surroundings. He then started coughing violently.
"Tony, I need you to get up so we can get out."
Tony took in another rasping breath, and then started coughing again.
"M-my...ribs!" Tony gasped.
Loki looked down at the battered armour, and realised that Tony had probably sustained quite a few more injuries than Loki, what with being such a fragile and pesky mortal.
"They're most likely broken, Tony," Loki told him. "Can you get up?"
Tony shook his head. "My leg...too."
Loki exhaled in frustration. "Alright. I'm going to get us out. I need you to hold on to me."
Tony nodded, and allowed Loki to grasp both his hands, before Loki engulfed them in magic, and teleported them away.
An instant later, they landed on the pavement outside, behind a fire truck. Loki lay Tony down, and searched for someone who could help. He saw, only a few metres away, a few police officers and Natasha Romanoff staring despondently up at the burning building.
"Hey!" he yelled. "Over here!"
Agent Romanoff looked around, and her face filled with shock and surprise at seeing the two of them outside.
"Help me!" Loki shouted, getting annoyed at the lack of action these supposed heroes were showing. He glanced down at Tony, who had passed out again, and noticed that blood was leaking out of his mouth.
Agent Romanoff was beside them in a moment.
"What-?"
"No time," Loki shook his head. "You have a jet of some sort? He needs medical attention. Nothing too dire- just a few broken bones. But all the same..."
He trailed off, as Agent Romanoff pulled out a speaking device, and began talking into it.
"Steve, he's not in there. He's over on my side, behind the truck."
Captain America's voice bubbled out from the device.
"What? How? He was in the building!"
Agent Romanoff's eyes darted to Loki, before saying, "Loki is with him."
"We're on our way."
The device ceased to issue forth any more transmissions, and Agent Romanoff knelt down to begin prising off Tony's armour. It seemed a rather complicated construction, but Loki got the idea, and began helping.
"Tell me what happened," Agent Romanoff demanded. Normally Loki would not care for her tone, but decided he could not bear to argue with her.
"There are still civilians stuck in there," he reminded her, and she scoffed with some disgust.
"The firemen can find them," she dismissed.
"By the time they get in there, all they'll find will be corpses," Loki observed.
"I don't really care," she said flippantly, easing off Tony's main breastplate.
"How gallant of you," Loki sneered.
He was seized around the collar, and suddenly Natasha Romanoff was snarling in his face. "Those men strapped children to bombs. Excuse me for not rushing in there to save them."
He was released, but he was not fazed. He continued fiddling with the mechanical workings of Tony's suit.
"I teleported in," Loki told her, "and released the captives with magic. I presume you found them?"
"Yeah, they just materialised beyond the boundaries, unscathed. That was you?"
"But then the bombs detonated before we had a chance to stop them," Loki continued. "After the impact, I found Tony, and teleported us here. He was awake enough to tell me that his ribs and leg are broken."
"Wonderful," Agent Romanoff muttered.
Just then, there were cries of terror as fire bloomed out of all the remaining crevices of the destroyed bank, and there were several blasts from windows shattering, and more of the walls crumbling down. It seemed to jolt Tony awake, who gasped and then groaned.
"Tony?" Agent Romanoff shook him lightly.
There was the sound of running footsteps, and Loki looked up in time to see Captain America, flanked by Agent Barton and the Hulk (Loki eyed him warily) speedily making their way to them.
"Is he okay?" Steve Rogers demanded, coming down to kneel beside them all.
"I'm fine," Tony mumbled. "I need to stop getting into these sorts of situations, really, don't I?"
"I'll go get the jet," Agent Romanoff stood and jogged away.
Loki also stood, but was greeted by the pointy end of an arrow. He blinked and pursed his lips, leaning around it to raise an eyebrow at Clint Barton.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Agent Barton snapped.
"Saving your lives," Loki drawled. "Again."
The Hulk growled, and Loki reflexively took a step back.
"Clint, lower your weapon," Steve Rogers said authoritatively from where he knelt. "We can bring him back with us."
"Captain, I am obliged to tell you that the perpetrators of this crime are still incarcerated inside the building," Loki said, turning to the star-spangled blonde, "however, judging by the last explosion of flames, I doubt they are still alive."
Steve Rogers sighed, and rubbed his forehead.
"Stupid asses," Tony muttered from his prone state.
"I wanted no casualties," Captain America said quietly, mostly to himself.
Loki picked at his singed and dirtied shirt, and ran a hand through his hair. The foetus was most disgruntled, and all he wanted was a hot mug of blackcurrant, to curl up on his sofa, and read a book. Instead, he was cavorting with the Avengers.
"Where is that imbecile you spend time with?" he asked loudly, not looking at anyone in particular, but eyeing the burning building with interest.
"In New Mexico," Tony groaned from the floor. "Why?"
"His absence is a splendid surprise," Loki turned to give Tony a wide and wicked toothy grin. "Is it not pleasant to not have to endure his big blonde head?"
Tony rolled his eyes, and then closed them, as the good Captain looked ready to protest on his missing friend's behalf.
"Well, if it is no great concern of yours, I must be going," Loki said easily, and made to walk away when a firm, hot hand grabbed his arm. Loki twisted away with a snarl, to see the Captain looking a little abashed, but still resolute.
"No, you cannot just leave. You need to give us your account of the event, and then debrief!"
Loki laughed, and then stopped when it hurt. "Captain, I think you'll find that I d-"
"Do what you want, yes, we know," Tony grumbled, his eyes still closed. "Just fucking wait it out, and sign some fucking paper work. Who knows, Fury might give you a big kiss."
Loki made to gustily exhale in intolerance, but instead, he began to choke. The smoke he had inhaled was beginning to catch up with him.
Clint Barton steadied him with hand, which Loki shoved off. "Get off me!"
Barton frowned. "I'm gonna go get a paramedic. For you and Tony."
"I don't need any assistance!" Loki insisted, but could do nothing as Barton hurried away, and Steve remained hovering by his arm.
Loki sighed in frustration, and ran both hands through his hair again. He glanced up, and caught the Hulk's eye, who was still standing poised ready to attack. Loki shuffled a few feet away, and lowered his hands to his sides.
"How did you save the hostages?" Rogers asked him.
Loki eyed him contemptuously. "Don't you Midgardians have a saying? A magician never reveals his secrets?"
"So it was magic?" Rogers gave a soft smile. "Either way, I have a lot to owe you. Thank you."
A blue-gloved hand was proffered, and Loki stared at it, a little unsure as to what the good Captain was doing. Was this...a hand of respite? Loki chose to ignore it, lest he make a mistake and fall into a trap.
Rogers' perfect white-toothed smile faltered a little, and his hand dropped.
At that moment, Barton returned, with a paramedic carrying an oxygen tank and two masks.
"You were exposed in the fire, right?" he asked, and Loki could sense trepidation from the mortal at being in the company of such prestigious (or in his own case, notorious) celebrities.
"Stark and I were in the explosion, yes," Loki sniffed haughtily.
"Breathe into these, and sit down," the paramedic ordered him, holding up the oxygen masks. Loki raised an eyebrow, and was about to protest, when a large green hand fell none too gently on his shoulder, pushing him to the floor beside Tony. Loki let out a squeak, and tried to leap away from the Hulk, scuttling backwards on the floor, making Agent Barton and Steve Rogers chuckle. He hissed, and glared up at them all, snatching an oxygen mask off the paramedic, and grumpily inhaled.
His lungs hurt terribly, but the pure air was rather nice, and he calmed down a bit. His eyes wandered to Tony beside him, who was being assisted with his own. Loki knew being in fires for prolonged time was bad for mortals, but he knew he would be fine by the evening.
Something buzzed on the Captain, and Steve Rogers pulled out a device identical to Agent Romanoff's. Her voice was issuing from it.
"I'm coming with the jet, guys. Be ready in a minute."
Steve replied with an affirmative, and looked down at the two fallen heroes.
"Who'd have thought, huh?" he said thoughtfully with a chuckle. "Loki and Iron Man, working together?"
Both men started making some sort of witty protestation, but their voices were covered by the masks, and Steve simply smiled, and walked away towards one of the police officers.
Loki glared at his own knees, and began furiously praying that Thor would stay in New Mexico long enough for him to get out of New York. He had lost tolerance for the Avengers, for this blasted city, for these ridiculous people, and most of all, Tony goddamned Stark.
XXX
Tony tried not to smirk in amusement as Nick Fury burst into the infirmary.
"What the fuck is going on?" Fury yelled, a vein in his temple throbbing violently.
Steve stood up from where he was sitting by Tony's bed, and crossed his arms.
"Director Fury?" he questioned.
"A simple mission, I give you," Fury raged, "A simple bank robbery, which I stupidly thought a group of highly skilled specialists could handle, and what happens?"
Steve opened his mouth to answer, but Tony got the suspicion the question was rhetorical.
"A fucking bank blown to the sky, four dead robbers, an Iron Man beaten to a pulp, and Loki fucking Laufeyson having tea with my team!"
Fury was really getting to town. His face was going a sort of purplish colour, and his eyes...er, eye... was blazing.
"Nick..." Tony tried, but was silenced by a growl.
"I don't know what the fuck is going on," he fumed, "but I swear to god, if somebody doesn't fix it now, things are gonna get real nasty."
"Isn't it a good thing?" Steve interjected, beseeched. Ever the good diplomatic guy. "Isn't it a good thing we're working with him? He saved the day."
"People don't use that phraseology anymore," Tony muttered, lifting a bruised hand to tap Steve's arm.
"What?" Steve turned to look at him, distracted from the mass of fury before them.
"People don't say 'saved the day' anymore," Tony repeated. "It's corny. Get with the programme, Rogers."
Steve blinked. "Er, okay. Um, how about, this? Loki bailed us out."
"Ugh, god, Steve!"
"No? Okay, okay. Loki rescued us?"
"Steve, stop, you're embarrassing yourself."
"Gentlemen!" Fury raised his voice. "I expect full reports by tomorrow. Including you, Stark. I want to erase this whole day from the database. And my memory. Right now, I've got a Norse god upstairs who has literally just walked into our clutches."
Tony's stomach dropped, as Fury swept from the room.
"Steve, no, he can't. Steve, you've got to go stop him," Tony muttered, sitting up, and then wincing when his ribs ached.
"Fury won't do anything," Steve reassured, setting a firm hand on Tony's shoulder, pushing him down.
"How do you know? He told me that he's gonna get Loki as soon as he can," Tony fretted.
"Because Thor arrived whilst you were unconscious," Steve explained, and Tony somewhat relaxed. Fury wouldn't murder Loki in front of Thor's very eyes, would he?
"And because, at the moment, Loki is being a rather nice houseguest."
"Huh?" Tony said, stupidly.
"When I was up there, he was chatting with Clint and Bruce. Although, from what I gather, it was rather strained conversation."
Steve chuckled to himself, and Tony just slumped back in his bed. Tony wandered what Steve's mother must have been like, to raise such a wonderfully understanding and non-judgemental son. Steve wasn't even ribbing Tony about the whole Loki Situation he had going on.
"Today was meant to be relaxing," he complained.
The infirmary doors opened again, and Pepper walked in.
"Tony!" she cried, and hurried over to hug him. "God, why do you do this to yourself?"
"Hey Pep," he wheezed, as she squeezed him tightly. "S'up?"
"What's up? What's up?" Pepper trilled. "One minute I'm sobbing my eyes out as I watch the news and you get blown up, the next I'm upstairs, watching your knocked up boy toy explain Asgardian demographics to Bruce Banner, whilst sipping a hot lemon and honey!"
Tony had to snort at that. "I think I'm too high on pain meds to understand the severity of your words."
Pepper scowled, but then her expression softened. "How badly injured are you?"
"Two broken ribs, and a hairline fracture on my right leg. I'll be fine in four weeks time," Tony shrugged. "To be honest, I think I could do with the time off."
Pepper sighed sadly. "Do you want me to organise a flight back to Malibu?"
"You're such a doll, Pepper," Tony grinned.
Silence fell over the three of them, until Pepper spoke.
"So what is going on with Loki, then?"
"I don't know," Tony whined. "Why is everyone so obsessed with him? Let him go on his merry way! Before anybody kills him!"
"Fury won't let him go until everything has been sorted out. This is the second time he's saved your lives. I think this means something," Pepper observed, and Tony pursed his lips and faced the other way.
"Not to mention," Steve interjected, "that he's also preg-"
"Yes, yes, alright!" Tony barked. "No need to keep reminding me. What do you guys want me to do? Do you want me to persuade him to join the good guys? Because you know as well as I do, that would be futile."
The doors slid open for a third time.
"Oh, I'll return later."
They all looked up to see Loki standing in the doorway, unknowing that they had been talking about him moments before.
"No, no!" Pepper said hastily. "Steve and I were just leaving, weren't we Steve?"
"What? Yeah. Yeah, we were," Steve added, throwing Tony a guilty smile. "See you later, Tony."
Pepper grasped Steve's hand and yanked him out of the infirmary, closing the door behind them so that it was just Tony and Loki in the room together.
"So," Tony began.
"So," Loki repeated. He stood, fidgeting by the door, fiddling with his singed cuff.
Silence played loudly.
"Nice moves, today," Tony cleared his throat. "Very, er, impressive."
"Thank you."
More silence.
"Did you...have something to say?" Tony enquired, tilting his head to try and see Loki's downturned face.
"Yes," Loki said, and glanced up, before striding over to Tony. He placed his hands over Tony's right thigh, covered by the cotton sheets, and before Tony could make a noise, a hot heat, like Loki was pouring bath water over him, ran through his leg.
"What're you doing?" Tony demanded.
"Fixing your leg," Loki muttered, still concentrating on the spell.
"Why?" Tony asked.
"Surely that is obvious," Loki bit back scathingly. The heat was localised to Tony's leg, but he was more concerned about the way Loki's hands gripped his thigh tightly around the bunched up sheets.
Tony sighed, and lay back on the bed, letting Loki concentrate. If he was being honest with himself, he didn't really mind this prolonged contact, even if neither of them were touching skin...
After about two minutes, Loki released him. The heat did not leave.
"There," Loki said, rather unnecessarily. "Your ribs should do fine on their own."
"So," Tony repeated, when Loki did not elaborate any further.
"Not this again!" Loki complained.
"What are you doing down here?" Tony asked.
Loki shuffled on his feet a little. "Avoiding Thor," he admitted after a moment. "He has returned from New Mexico. And somehow," he gave a heated glare to Tony, "he knows about my plans with the Norns. If I have to listen to another second of 'It is your maternal duty, Loki!' I will murder somebody."
Loki's voice increased in pitch as he imitated Thor cruelly, and he crossed his arms grumpily.
"Ah, yes, sorry about that," Tony said dismissively. "He was on the warpath, so I explained our situation."
"Our situation..." Loki said vaguely, staring past Tony's head.
"Well, your situation, really," Tony acquiesced. "How is the whole...Loki situation?"
"Physically? Emotionally? Ecumenically? Financially?" Loki drawled sarcastically.
"Alright, princess, no need to get snippy," Tony rolled his eyes.
"I will be going soon, if your director allows it. Apparently I need to give in a report?" Loki sneered. "Don't you just adore these superficial people in their high up governmental jobs?"
"Yeah, just ignore Fury," Tony said, swallowing nervously. "In fact, the less time you spend with him, the better."
Loki eyed him curiously for a moment, but let the comment go.
"It seems," he spoke after a moment, "that Agent Barton has forgiven me for what I have done in the past. He seemed quite willing to speak with me when I was upstairs, or rather, listen to me speak."
"Oh yes?" Tony asked, smiling. "That's good, isn't it? Before, he wanted to gouge out your brain and feast upon it. With much gusto and a sprinkling of salt."
Loki blinked. "I think I have redeemed myself, in his eyes, by saving your life. Isn't that interesting? I also find it interesting how your colleagues leave you alone in this room with me. What if I were to attack you?"
Tony laughed. "They would probably say I deserve it. No offence, Loki, but you don't exactly look menacing at the moment."
Loki frowned, and conjured up a mirror from thin air. He held it in his hand and inspected his face.
"I do need a haircut," he mumbled to himself, scowling at his hair, which fell well past his shoulders.
Tony couldn't help but laugh. "Princess, I think it's more the terrible complexion and the burnt out clothing. You look like a hobo drug addict."
Loki evaporated the mirror and looked down at his holey black shirt and singed trousers. "Ah, yes."
In an instant, his clothes repaired themselves.
"I've told you before how cool that is, haven't I?" Tony grinned, as Loki straightened out his shirt, and magicked up a black leather jacket.
Tony's mouth went dry as Loki slipped it on and zipped it up halfway.
"What?" Loki asked, as he saw Tony's stare.
"Who taught you how to dress well?" he asked, trying to ignore the part of his brain that was screaming hell yeah! It was that part of his brain that had gotten him into this whole situation in the first place.
"Magazines," Loki shrugged, and Tony couldn't help it. He burst out laughing.
"None of Fury's, I hope!" he chortled, clutching his ribs, and trying to stop. Loki looked unamused, but the corner of his lips twitched upwards.
"I am trying to integrate myself into Midgardian customs, Stark, I thought it would be useful to at least pay attention to what mortals wear."
Loki crossed his arms, stretching that leather over biceps that were far too distracting.
"Look, Loki, I know you're not big on the whole hero thing," Tony began, and Loki scoffed and turned away, "but it was a good thing that you did out there. You saved many lives. Including mine. Why don't you stick at it? Why don't you leave your villainous ways behind?"
It was a desperate shot in the dark, one that Tony knew would not reach any target, but brownie points for trying, right?
Loki cast Tony a derisive look, but his eyes were twinkling.
"I will leave now," Loki announced, and made to go to the door. "Get better soon."
Tony was temporarily startled. "Uh, thank you, I guess."
The infirmary door opened and closed, and Loki left, leaving Tony with an unsatisfied feeling that he was getting far too familiar with.
Tony twitched his right leg. It felt wonderful. Tony ground his teeth together, and tutted.
"Stupid, perfect god."
GAH! Finished! Finally!
I hope you enjoyed!
God, I am so unhappy with this chapter, but I cannot sit here and stare at it any longer. It's rather crappy, but it's speeding up the pace of the story.
I hope you've all noticed the recurring themes that I've slipped in? ;)
See if you can work them out.
THANK YOU ALL FOR READING! PLEASE REVIEW!
I am totally AMAZED by the amount of support and readership this silly little story has gotten. I love you all so much, and I am eternally grateful.
Ellie, as always, I hope you liked it!
Millie x
PS. If anyone wants to design a book cover for this story, I would offer you Tom Hiddleston on a platter. I just need to go kidnap him first...