A/N: I really must apologize for taking so long to upload this chapter. I never intended to take this long between updates, but it's been a hectic week. Thank you so much for your reviews and kinds words. You are wonderful and I appreciate it so much.

Without further ado, this is the latest chapter. I assure you that there will be more Tony/Loki relationship advancement in the next chapter, so please stay tuned!

Chapter 6

As soon as Tony disappeared, Loki got up from the couch and headed to his bedroom, also feeling the need to stand under a torrent of hot water. He stayed in the shower until his skin burned and his fingers were wrinkly and then got out and changed into some new clothes. He'd been given some pairs of jeans and a few t-shirts, but his old black and green tunic had long since vanished—probably thrown away. It still wasn't much of a wardrobe and Loki eyed the clothes with distaste before pulling them on and smoothing back his dark hair before it became unruly. A lanky, pale man with forest green eyes and a mouth mutilated with scabs and scars stared back at him from the foggy mirror. This stranger looked wary and closed, as if he were hiding a secret and was ashamed about it. Loki did his best to clear his expression before he turned away.

The living room was pristine when Loki passed through it on his way to the kitchen, all evidence of the Avengers' presence and his rage wiped clean. There was coffee bubbling in the pot in the kitchen, a pair of empty mugs ready and waiting beside it, and Tony Stark's assistant flicking through a newspaper on the counter. She looked up at him as he entered and immediately poured the hot beverage before passing him a mug and indicating the milk and sugar available should he want it. Loki sipped it plain before spooning in a lump of sugar. She prepared the other drink for herself and let the mug warm her fingers as the coffee inside it cooled.

"Tony is out today, and he asked me to keep an eye on you and run a few errands," she informed him, her tone letting him know exactly what she thought about the matter. "I want it to be absolutely clear that I am not your babysitter and that if you do anything to threaten me or get in the way of my work I will take every measure to incapacitate you until Tony returns. Do you understand?"

Loki peered at her and nodded, knowing that it wasn't worth the argument to disagree. He was irked that Tony had thought he needed a caretaker, but he wasn't altogether surprised after his outburst. His whiteboard was on the counter, its surface clean and the pen placed on the top, and Loki took a seat in the stool in front of it in case he needed to communicate. Pepper passed him a bowl of some kind of weird mush along with a spoon. He looked at it like it was alive.

"It's oatmeal and applesauce," she rolled her eyes, "Unlike Tony, I don't think surviving on ice cream is a good idea."

Loki tested the substance on his tongue, decided it wasn't completely abhorrent and continued eating. About halfway through, he dropped his spoon, the meaning of Pepper's previous words about her duties for the day finally sinking in. He grabbed the whiteboard, nearly knocking over his coffee as he rushed to scribble his message. You're taking me out of the house?

Pepper appeared to be wearing a look that was an amalgamation of amusement and concern. "Yes. Tony told me to take you out on some errands. I think he's completely crazy, but that's what he wants. Though if you so much as think of running away or causing mischief, I will call up your big brother and he can cart you off to SHIELD and then-"

I get it. Loki cut her off by holding up his message. I wont cause any trouble.

"You better not," she narrowed her eyes, trying to search out a lie. It seemed like she didn't find one since she returned to her coffee and her newspaper.

On the counter, hidden behind his bowl of oatmeal, Loki's fingers were tightly crossed.

Loki had a difficult time trying to figure out exactly what it was that Pepper Potts did—or, rather, what she did not do. He had followed her to the headquarters of Stark Industries for her to pick up some paperwork, then wandered through an art gallery where Pepper pointed to three art pieces through what appeared to be random selection and handed the curator a cheque, then they stopped off at a hardware store where Pepper had tried to make him carry a bunch of heavy numbered boxes to the car (he ignored that request), then they stopped off for soup. All the while, Pepper was making numerous phone calls and watching Loki like a hawk. Their driver looked more like a security guard than a chauffeur, which Loki suspected was supposed to intimidate him, but only made him want to see how much havoc he could wreak before Pepper decided to call in for backup.

At the art gallery, Loki had nudged the corner of every painting he passed, tilting them askew until the rooms looked slanted rather than the art and the whole place was ringing from the security alarm. He noticed that Pepper penned a few extra zeroes on the cheque before handing it to the curator by way of apology, to which the old woman seemed satisfied. Pepper had words with Loki once they'd gotten into the car, but he hadn't been paying attention. He was too preoccupied by his thoughts of mischief and escape.

He had also managed to swap a considerable amount of nails for screws in the hardware store, as well as spill his lunch on the floor, which left him both unsatisfied and hungry. He was always left alone long enough to pull a small, insignificant prank, but whenever he took a step towards a door or away from the car, Pepper always appeared at his side. Was he being placated? Had Tony planned all of this out? The very thought made him furious. As if he needed any help from these mortals to cause chaos. He fumed as he sat in the car, hand twitching to tug the ridiculous disguise the woman had made him wear off of his head.

"Will you stop playing with that?" Pepper demanded, looking up from her phone in annoyance.

He wrenched the baseball hat from his head and tossed it across the seat at her. He had no idea what baseball was or why it would make him look inconspicuous, but Pepper had been very convincing about what his day would be like if he didn't wear it. If anyone were to ask, she would say that he was her cousin visiting from out of town. Loki had been glad that no one had asked. He wasn't sure he would have been able to keep a straight face. The differences between their appearances were so blatant that he was sure no one in their right mind would believe it. The hat was uncomfortable, the brim always in his line of sight, and he was glad to be rid of it. Pepper didn't bother to tell him to put it back on.

Their next stop was one that Loki did not expect, even though he probably should have. He was led into a small shop with curtained windows, the front filled with shelves and racks of fabric of every colour and texture. In the back, behind a large desk with an old cash register and a heavy-duty sewing machine was a middle-aged man with dark hair and a greying beard.

"How can I help you?" the tailor asked, getting up from his seat and flashing them a smile. His glasses were perched unsteadily on top of his head and looked like they were about to fall when Pepper shook his hand.

"I'm Pepper Potts, I called the other day about getting some clothes made," she smiled. "I've got what he needs written down in order of when they need to be finished, and we had scheduled to have his sizes done."

"Of course, of course," the man took the paper from Pepper and gestured for Loki to follow him. Loki did so, allowing the mortal to take his sizes without complaint. If this meant that he wasn't going to be stuck in sweatpants, jeans, and t-shirts anymore, then Loki would willingly go through whatever the man asked of him.

The tailor tutted as he looked over the list again. "This seems rather soon to have all this done by."

"It's just the first few things we need finished right away," Pepper assured him, "The rest can wait. I have every faith in you."

The man nodded quickly and started pulling black and green fabrics down from the shelves, arms too full to wave them a goodbye when they left.

What was that about? Loki wrote on his whiteboard when they got into the back of the car.

"Tony said that you don't have anything nice to wear, and nothing of his would fit you properly," she replied.

The rest of their afternoon was filled with more errands: picking up dry-cleaning, getting paperwork signed, making phone calls, ordering flowers, buying books, getting groceries, scheduling meetings and functions and press conferences and fundraising events. Loki was dragged all around the city until he almost wished he had been left alone in the mansion. He'd barely been given any opportunity to cause serious mischief, although he did manage to topple quite a large display of exotic fruit at the grocery store (and to his delight, someone had been struck in the head by a particularly spiky looking fruit). Part of him wanted desperately to ditch Pepper and run off after that incident, and there had been a chance when he could have done so successfully. But something stopped him and he wasn't quite sure what it was. He told himself that it was because he wouldn't have been able to get very far or that it wasn't worth having Pepper send the super team to collect him, but really he knew there had to be a different reason.

That said, it was still with reluctance that Loki got out of the car and followed Pepper back into the Stark mansion. She told him to get himself dinner and that there should be a package waiting for him in his room and that she was leaving him alone.

Where is Tony? He asked, halting her for an explanation before she could leave.

"He's got an event tonight. You'll see him later" was all she said as she hurried out the door. The locks clicked shut behind her.

Must be the function he promised he'd go to, Loki thought, surveying the empty house. He made his way silently up the stairs to the main landing, feeling giddy at the thought of having the place all to himself. Tony Stark, you wont recognize this house when I'm through with it.

After deciding that the last thing he wanted was another liquid meal, Loki bypassed the kitchen and headed towards the corridor instead, curious to see what kind of package awaited him in his room. His steps echoed around the house, the open concept of the building doing nothing to mask his progress. Loki liked to think that even without his powers his senses were heightened compared to mortals, which was partially why he found complete silence so unnerving. So when he was knocked off his feet in the hallway with no warning or indication of his attacker, Loki knew that he was in trouble. Something had wound itself around his neck, faster than a striking snake, pulled tight by two small hands in black gloves. The pressure around his throat constricted his windpipe and he thrashed against the hold, tugging at the cord with his fingers in a futile attempt to return air to his lungs. In a matter of moments, his head felt dizzy and light, dark spots dancing around his vision, and his movements became weaker. At the exact moment when he was sure he would pass out, the hold on his neck loosened enough to gasp in a break of air, and then he was dragged into the closest unlocked room like a sack of meat.

It was a room that Loki had just glanced in before, having no interest in the equipment inside. There was an elevated padded square stadium roped off in the middle, the space around it filled with weights and benches and strange contraptions. He was dragged kicking to the centre of the room where he was strung up against one of the stadium poles. He wasn't given enough of a tether to stand or to sit, and if he tried to do either, the cord would constrict once more, choking off his breathing—a handy trick, he had to admit.

He was forced to kneel in front of his ambusher, who he realized was a woman. She wore an outfit as dark and slim as a shadow, the only colour on her was her hair, which was closer to red than brown. She watched him with the intensity of a leopard, poised and ready to strike. Even though he had never been properly introduced, Loki had no difficulty in identifying the woman as the Black Widow, Natasha Romanoff—fierce and renowned assassin of the Avengers. He really should have expected this confrontation since she had seemed entirely too suspicious of Tony's obvious lies the previous afternoon. All the same, it was getting a little repetitive—not to mention sore on his ego—to be defeated so many times in so few days. Why was it so easy to break into Tony Stark's house and yet so difficult to break out of it?

"What are you doing here, Loki?" she finally demanded after thoroughly scrutinizing him.

Oh, just taking in the sights, visiting some old friends, he thought sarcastically. He would have told her as much had he been able. The whiteboard still hung around his neck, but it had twisted nearly as tight as the woman's garrotte and had flipped around to rest flat against his shoulders. He wasn't sure he'd be able to get it without his throat being slit.

"Tell me what you've planned. What have you threatened Tony with?" A knife appeared in the Black Widow's hand, glinting silver. Okay, now he had to respond or else his throat would be cut.

All he could think was: Threaten Tony? What the hell are you talking about? Tony's been threatening me.

Loki raised his hands slowly, attempting to indicate that he was not a risk as he reached for the board.

"None of that," Natasha growled, now mere inches from his face, knife nudging his belly with its sharp tip. "No magic. Just tell me what you're up to."

Loki didn't know sign language, and the assassin probably would think it was some kind of ritual if he had. He shook his head, making a small slashing gesture across his mouth and throat to try to explain that he couldn't tell her anything. Oh, no. He hoped he hadn't given her any ideas. She dragged the knife upwards, the blade catching and slicing holes in Loki's t-shirt before she brought it up to his neck.

This is it. This is the end. Loki squeezed his eyes shut and hoped she would make it quick.

There was a whisper of sound and then a weight was lifted from him. Loki opened his eyes to see that Natasha Romanoff had cut off the whiteboard and was holding it in her hands, inspecting it carefully as if it contained explosives.

She passed it to him. "You can't speak, can you?" It was a deduction, not a question. He stared at her and then at the board. His neck was throbbing where the weapon was cutting off his circulation and he didn't want to shake his head.

The assassin sat back on her heels, her posture suddenly relaxed, though Loki knew she could strike again fast as lightning if she wanted to.

"Oh, Tony, you are even more of an idiot than Fury thinks you are," Natasha said to herself, continuing to study Loki in case he was feigning capture. "Caught a super villain all to yourself. Must have been hard to keep your big mouth shut. But I guess it wasn't even worth bragging about. He's not exactly impressive."

Loki glared at her and dropped the board, tearing at the bonds with his fingers. His throat burned and his breathing was ragged, and he was sick and tired of being the prey. A gloved hand slapped against his face with such force that it snapped his head back, slamming the back of his skull into the pole. He slumped to the floor, the noose catching around his neck until he floundered back to his knees. The Black Widow caught his chin in her hand roughly, forcing his eyes mere inches from her own.

"Fury was wrong. You're not a threat to anyone," her words sliced deeper than her knife. "Tony can keep his house pet, so long as he keeps you on a leash. I'll let SHIELD know we're barking up the wrong tree."

Without so much as deigning him a glance, the Black Widow tucked away her knife and walked away, her heels clicking on the tiled floor until silence filled the house once more.