"So what exactly is going on between you and Loki?"
Amora and Thanos are standing side-by-side in a run-down Laundromat a few streets away from Berkeley, shoving as many clothes as will fit into one washing machine and generally ignoring the people around them, all of whom are staring at Thanos, at the cut on his cheek which is still smeared with fresh blood—the result of an earlier fight between he and Amora.
He crams a pair of jeans on top of one of Amora's dresses and sprinkles detergent over the pile. "It's a long story," he mutters, and still cannot believe that after nearly two full years of being together, he hasn't taken the time to explain it to her, why he left Manhattan in the first place. It isn't like he thinks she'd judge him or anything—Amora is similar to Thanos in many ways, and he doesn't doubt she'd stoop to attempted murder if necessary—but there is something stopping him. For the first time in his life, he almost (and almost is the operative word here because seriously, Thanos doesn't do emotions, doesn't have them) wants someone else's genuine respect.
In the beginning, when they first met, he told himself he was just going to lead her on, the way he did to Loki; that he'd reveal his true nature after they'd been together for a while. But it's been twenty-two months and six days, and he has yet to tell her that he's actually a psychopathic killer with some disorder he never had the money to diagnose and a string of ex-lovers, all of whom hate him and want him dead.
And sure, he's been rough with her, but unlike the others, she fights back. When he found her, she was alone, and since then no one's come after her, no one seems to want her. As far as Thanos is concerned, that's perfect.
"Well, we've got about thirty minutes to kill," Amora says in response to his brief statement, slamming the lid to the machine down and drumming her long fingernails against the ceramic. "Come on, Skurge, one story. One little bit of information about your deep, dark history with this green-eyed freak."
Thanos laughs shortly, hits the button that will start the washing machine. They walk over and sit on the benches facing the machines and he sighs, clasping his hands between his knees. "Right, okay," he says, rubbing his thumb over the thin skin stretching across his joints. "We… dated back in our sophomore year. He ended up disagreeing with me on some things, so we split. I met you maybe two months after that happened." He's staring out the window, watching a few flecks of snow fall to the concrete, deliberately being evasive, but Amora doesn't say anything other than:
"Well, he didn't deserve you, then," and it's one of the only times she's ever said anything nice to him, and he can't help the small smile that twitches at the corner of his mouth.
The next second, their machine is breaking because of a clothes overload, and she's yelling at him and he's threatening to pull out a switchblade and the manager is waving the cord in their faces and screaming at them in Italian, making gestures at the door. They leave, but not before taking their clothes out of the washer, still thick with soap, drenched in water.
"What in the fuck are we supposed to do with these?" Amora asks, once they're outside, holding up her soaking blouse and shivering in the cold.
Thanos hesitates, glancing around. Then his eye falls on a student from Berkeley that he recognizes, Justin something-or-other, and he feels his lips curling into a sneer. He walks over to Justin and taps him on the shoulder. The man jumps, then turns, his eyes sliding up and down Thanos' body before snapping back to his face. The sunlight is catching on his glasses, making him squint.
"Can I help you?" he asks.
Thanos holds his clothes out. "Do you have a working washing machine where you're staying?"
Justin frowns slightly, stepping back a bit. "Yeah. Why?"
"It appears that my girlfriend and I have broken the washing machine down at the Laundromat." Thanos gives his friendliest-feeling smile—which means he ends up looking like he's debating whether he's going to murder Justin with his bare hands or with a gun.
The younger man hesitates, then sighs. "Why the hell not," he mutters, and pulls his keys out of his back pocket. "Come with me."
Once they are in his car, and driving towards the college, Thanos leans forward in his seat. "I'm Skurge," he introduces, "and this is Amora. And you are…?"
"Justin Hammer. I'm getting a degree in engineering. Aren't you—I mean—I haven't seen you around, but I thought I recognized you from a class I had—"
"No," Thanos interrupts, quickly, refusing to look at Amora even though he can feel her eyes on him. "No, I don't go to Berkeley." Which is mostly true; he doesn't want to try and risk registering again, and anyway there's no point in attending college when he has no way of funding himself. "Listen, do you know Tony Stark?"
An unidentifiable expression crosses Justin's face at the mention of Tony's name, but he just nods, glancing at Thanos in his rearview mirror. "Why?"
Thanos grins, and it's no less chilling than the first time. "Do you like him?"
Justin snorts. "No. He's a fucking prick; him and that Rhodey guy are always showing everyone up in engineering, like just because they built a ten-foot replica of the Golden Gate Bridge means they should be anything special."
"Ah, Justin," says Thanos, falling back in his seat and folding his arms across his chest. "I think you and I are going to get along just fine."
/
Tony has three major tests coming up—two of which are part of his physics course. He has a paper to turn in for engineering and a biology lab he needs to get done with Bruce.
All in all, it seems to him like the perfect time to skip class and stay in with Loki.
They'd started out on the sofa but have somehow ended up in bed, half-dressed, Loki leaning over Tony and rocking their hips together while Tony kisses him desperately, trying to push up and undo his jeans simultaneously. Ever since the incident with the electromagnet, he's been extra conscious of how much time he spends with Loki—as if he can accurately count down the minutes until they can no longer be together. He hasn't told him, not yet, and why should he—he's going to find something that will take care of it in the lab, he has to. (Jarvis would say it's Tony taking after Howard with his stubborn streak, and Tony's half-inclined to believe that's true.)
His heart is racing below the magnet as he manages to get his fingers around the zipper and tug downwards. "Loki," he says, breathing hard, and Loki reaches for the lube, his eyes on Tony's, watching for any sign of pain. He's noticed a few times, recently, that Tony's been having trouble getting up and down the stairs in the college, and he hasn't said anything but god, he's wondering if it's maybe time to start worrying.
But then, Loki doesn't have time to worry about Tony, not right now, not with Thanos and Amora being the way they are. During his linguistics course yesterday, he noticed Amora standing in the back of the classroom, wearing a Bluetooth headset and occasionally murmuring things into it, glancing in Loki's direction and half-smiling. He has no idea how much she knows, and perhaps that's worse.
Loki does not realize he's drifted off until he feels Tony's fingers curling around his forearm. He glances down, slightly startled, and sees Tony staring up at him with a bemused expression on his face. "You all right there, Shakespeare?" he asks, but his eyes are distracted too, and Loki sighs, tossing the lube to the floor and falling to Tony's side, the slick sweat on his skin starting to cool off.
"Sorry," he says. "I was preparing for a quiz on James Fenimore Cooper."
"During sex," Tony says, skeptically, raising an eyebrow. He reaches over and grabs Loki's hand, tracing equations over his palm. "Not even you are that studious."
"The Deerslayer is a difficult novel," Loki mutters, staring at the ceiling.
"Deerslayer," Tony repeats, and laughs a little, trying to mask his disappointment, the slight touch of anger he feels over this whole situation. This sort of thing hasn't happened often lately, but it never happened at all before he got the damn electromagnet. Stupid fucking foreign device, he thinks, and wishes he could throw it out the window.
"Yes," says Loki softly. He cannot get the image of Thanos' face out of his mind; how gaunt he is now, how worn-down and beaten he appears to be.
"It sounds like a book Thor would like, or maybe that little fuck Thanos," and when Tony says that name, Loki jerks like he's been shocked. He sits up, pulling his jeans back on and sliding off the bed. He locates his shirt on the floor and picks it up, feeling Tony's eyes on his back the entire time.
"What the hell?" Tony says finally, when Loki's dressed again. "What—Loki, what is going on?"
"Nothing," Loki snaps, tying his shoes and standing up. "I'm going to go for a walk, Stark. Do not expect me back before dinner." He storms out, slamming the door behind him, and Tony would run after him if his chest wasn't hurting so much. He pulls a cigarette out of his secret stash under the mattress—although he doesn't smoke as often as he used to, he can't help it sometimes—stares at it for a while, then throws it out the open window, into the frostbitten air.
"Goddammit," he curses, slamming his fist into his palm.
The electromagnet hums softly, a steady reminder, and he wants to wrench it out.
/
Later, after the sun has gone down and Tony has resigned himself to a long evening of staring at physics theories and trying to tie them in with calculus equations, Loki returns, carrying takeout in a plastic bag, his cheeks flushed from the cold. He sets the boxes down on the coffee table, then kneels in front of Tony and takes his head in his hands. He kisses him softly, running his thumb over his jawline, and the touch of his skin feels like an apology.
A/N: I want to apologize for the time it's taken me to get this chapter out. I am having a lot of trouble focusing on writing lately—and also this plot hasn't fully developed in my mind yet, so a lot of it is really more filler than anything.
I hope you guys continue liking it anyway, and I promise, the chapter lengths are going to increase once I really get going.