He's in the Main Floor's kitchen when he first notices it.

Rogers and Barnes are making breakfast, and several other members of the Team are ducking in and out, waiting impatiently for the announcement of their flapjacks. Loki already has his serving and so does Anthony. But Banner doesn't, and Anthony wants to wait for him.

Loki stabs a piece of pancake off his plate and into his mouth. His stack is absolutely flooded with syrup, but he finds he's never tasted anything quite so bitter.

"Bruce and I are going to a conference", Anthony mumbles around a mouthful of pancake.

"Right." He spins his fork around his plate, careful not to press so deep as to draw the eyes of the others. "The Sparklet and Revine Conference in Chicago, correct?"

"Uh huh. Technically." He takes several gulps of his orange juice, then sets it down on the counter behind them. "Mm. Technically, it was invite only, and old Sparky and Revine aren't exactly friends of mine. But they like Bruce and-"
"And Bruce likes you."
Anthony nods and swallows. "Uh huh. He put in a good word for me, and now I get first look at some of next year's biggest tech and engineering. Plus, there's the deep-dish pizza so."
Loki places his plate down besides Anthony's cup and folds his arms over his chest. He looks over to where Banner stands beside beside the Widow as she loads his plate full of blueberries. Banner. Even excluding the doctor's alternate persona, Loki finds him to be a peculiar man. Nothing that screams extraordinary but from the way Anthony speaks of him, you'd think he more than the quiet, lonesome man that he was.

But no. Banner is an exceptional being, so exceptional that Anthony has been spending quite a bit of his time in his presence.
"Loki?"

Fingers appear in front of him to snap, drawing his attention back to Anthony, who's watching him with a frown. "I'm sorry", Loki murmurs, turning to properly face him. "I must have drifted off. You were saying something about pizza."

Anthony just continues frowning. Lang dances past them, slipping two more flapjacks onto Anthony's plate and shoving a carton of yogurt into Loki's hand. Anthony sets his plate aside, then considers Loki with a transparent concern defining his expression. "Hey." He grabs his forearm and raises an eyebrow. "You okay?"

"I'm fine."

"No, you're not." He looks across the room to Banner, then back to Loki; the concern is still there, but now it's accompanied by a guilt that Loki's eager to put to rest. "I could call off the conference and-"
"No, no, don't do that." After all Anthony's done for him, asking him to forgo attending a conference he's been anticipating for months? And all because he's feeling a little insecure in their relationship? It's beyond selfish, not to mention childish. Anthony doesn't deserve that. Loki forces a smile to his face and places a hand over where Anthony's sits to give it a firm squeeze. "I'm just feeling a little under the weather I'm afraid. I'll be fine."

Anthony keeps looking at him. "Are you sure?", he asks; he hasn't moved his hand yet.

"Tony", Banner calls out, and Loki barely suppresses a flinch. "You good on juice?"
Anthony smiles and picks up his half empty glass to show it to him. "Good to go, doc." Then he turns back to Loki, who's somehow managed to maintain his own smile, even if it has gone a little tight.

"I'm certain", Loki assures, and breakfast passes with little event.

It's the second time, and a few weeks have passed, with the Team sitting at a bar in Midtown Manhattan. A bar, interestingly enough, full of bartenders dressed in bunny costumes. The drinks still aren't strong enough, but they're hot and bitter enough to combat the livid cold twitching to leap from his fingertips as Loki watches Anthony and Banner talk to one another in a private booth.

Loki knows of Anthony's reputation. Shortly after their arrival on earth, he made it perfectly clear that special may their relationship be, it wasn't the kind he knew Loki was yearning for. Of course, that was months ago, and, in that time, Anthony hasn't so much as looked at another person the way he sometimes looks at Loki, but he's always known. If it's not the internet and the tabloids, then it's the Avengers, always finding some story or another to tell of Anthony's past escapades. And in that time, Loki had, on occasion, heard of those escapades overlapping with the Avengers themselves, but he'd thought, maybe, just maybe, he and Anthony were becoming more than that.

Obviously, that isn't the case.

"Hey, babe."

The woman behind the bar, donning a pair of sparkly, blue bunny ears, smiles, leans over the counter, and gives the dozen or so empty glasses around him an impressed gaze. "Ah", she says, swiping her tongue across her lips. "Badass and able to hold her liquor? Whoever's got you so down tonight, I've gotta say, they're missing out on quite a catch."

Loki blinks and turns to the bottle at the woman's side. She catches his gaze and pours him another shot, her eyes wide as he quickly downs it and makes a "gimme" motion with his hands. He finishes this one just as fast, then reaches into his pocket and slips a fifty across the counter.

"Another", he murmurs, then, narrowing his eyes, says, "And I am not 'down'".

"Sure." The woman smirks and gives him a wink before standing and leaving to find another bottle. "Be back in a flash, sugar."

Before she's disappeared into the back, someone's slipping into the seat beside him and pushing a glass of something red his way. Loki turns to his right and finds the Widow sitting beside him.

"Lila", she says, taking a sip of her own drink. "So good to see you."

Loki glares at the offered glass. "I'm in no mood for quarrel tonight, Romanoff. Please, leave me be."

"Mm." She sips at her drink and gives him a pointed look. "Like you're letting Tony be?"

He can feel the blue dusting across his cheeks even before his wine freezes solid. The Widow eyes it curiously, then turns them back onto Loki, waiting, it seems, for an explanation.

"What do you want of me", he growls, staring at the glass until it gradually, slowly, melts back into a liquid.

The Widow taps her nail against the side of her glass. She watches as the bunny-eared woman returns to the bar. The woman pours Loki two more glasses, then looks to the Widow, and says "Keep an eye on her, okay, hon?"

The Widow flashes her a smile. "Oh, I will." Once the woman's left, she turns back to Loki and abandons her smile in favor of a solemn expression. "What do I want", she repeats, leaning closer to him. "I'll tell you what I don't want. I don't want to see my friend get hurt by a man who has no intention of sticking around."
Loki's lips quirk up in a sardonic smile. He downs another glass, then turns to fully face the Widow; he's got his thumb kept underneath his chin and his ring finger leaning against his temple. The Widow's just sitting there, calmly sipping her drink, as a storm roils within Loki's depths. He uses his free hand to grab the other glass and shakes his head. "Use that intellect I keep hearing about", Loki advises her. "And you'll find it's quite the other way around."

Okay. Midgardian drink can't get him drunk. But it can, apparently, make him a little loose-lipped. After twenty or so glasses of their stronger brews.

Beside him, the Widow's gone quiet; she's still watching him, the way she always is, cold, calculating, curious. But there's something else there now. Not necessarily compassion but perhaps an inkling of understanding.

"Oh", she says. And that's all she says. For a minute, she just sits there, watching as if that alone will provide her answers. Then, once Loki's gotten to be quite uncomfortable, the Widow looks up from her glass and asks, "What happened up there?"

In a lot of ways, it's worse than her previous line of questioning. That question, it's one he's hesitant to discuss even with Anthony, and he lived it with him. Because in that pit, in that prison, everything that happened was only able to happen because of the past; his decisions and his errors and his hubris, they all lead him to that horrid pit and all that came of it.

What happened up there? Everything he ever wanted.

"We were captured", Loki eventually brings himself to say. "And we escaped. That's all."

The Widow looks at him, her expression unamused but, beneath that, there's a wariness, as if she's holding back. She takes another sip of her drink, then waves down another bartender, this one a man with purple bunny attire, and orders them both a scotch and a soda. "You care about him."
"Yes."
"And." She sighs, as if saying the words are enough to leave her weary and exhausted. "It's obvious he cares about you."
At this, Loki pulls a face; the bartender pushes them their drinks, and Loki's quick to take his glass and tip it back. "Well, I'm pleased it's clear to you."

What little iciness in the Widow's face remained drizzles away. Alongside the sympathy, there rests confusion; like Loki's response bears little in the way of sense. "I've seen you two. I've seen the way he looks at you. Trust me, that's not the way he looks at just anyone."

Loki scoffs into his glass; once he's sipped it clean, he looks up at the bar and, upon finding the bunny woman to be missing, cautiously reaches out and accepts the glass the Widow had initially brought. He gets halfway through it before allowing himself to think on the Widow's words. In the mirrors on the back of the bar, he can see Anthony and Banners sitting in their little booth, both pleasantly sober, as they grin and cackle at some story or another. Turning so that his hair's blocking the image, Loki tightens his grip around his glass and murmurs, "You must see differently than I".

The Widow follows his line of sight and winces; she starts to reach for his forearm, but this just prompts a flinch of his own. She frowns, pulls her hand to her chest, and looks away.

Around them, the lively chatter of the bar and the thumping music continues, jovial and light-hearted as always. Somewhere, someone's laughing, and, somewhere else, someone's shrieking as their boyfriend grabs them by the waist and tosses them into the air. Loki wouldn't necessarily say he's bitter, but seeing so many people so happy when he's so "down" isn't exactly the best feeling in the world.

"Talk to him", the Widow says before standing, dropping a few twenties on the countertop, and pushing her chair back underneath the bar. Her eyes dart to the mirror, then back to Loki. "He might surprise you." Then she turns and allows the crowd of people to swallow her whole.

Loki turns back in his seat and looks into the mirror. He can see Anthony watching Banner, his eyes soft yet alight in that way that means the conversation's somehow involved in technology. Alight in that way they often are whenever Banner enters the room.

Loki spits the remainder of his drink back into his cup and stands from the bar.

Another week has passed, and it finds Loki having just stepped out of the shower; he's got a towel wrapped around his waist and his head, and he's reaching for his favorite bottle of lotion when his cellular device chirps. He hums, tightens his waist towel, and leaves the bathroom to retrieve his phone off his bed. Across the screen, there's the notification of an incoming video chat. Upon seeing that it's from Anthony, Loki gulps and allows his towel to dip as he sits on his bed.

If his skin flickers blue and the room temperature takes a nosedive, it's a totally unrelated matter. He's still in recovery afterall.

Loki accepts the chat, and Anthony's face floods his screen. Thankfully, the Doctor is nowhere to be seen.

"Anthony", Loki says with a too-big smile. "Hi!"

Anthony raises his eyebrows but gives him a smile of his own. "Hey, Lokes. Happy to see me?"

Always, Loki thinks. Instead, he just rolls his eyes and drawls, "Oh, but of course. I was just dying to hear from you, Anthony, as always".

He snickers and shakes his head. "Yeah, I can see that. That's a nice set of towels you got there."

Right. Probably should have gotten dressed.

Loki groans, tosses his phone onto the bed, and walks to one of his wardrobe to find something to wear. "They're your towels, Anthony." His cheeks have gone blue again, and his eyes are flickering between green and red. He pulls a pair of joggers and some boxers out of his drawer and narrows his eyes. "Did you need something", he calls out, shrugging into the bottoms.

"Yeah. Well, no. I mean, I wanted to know if you wanted to hang out tonight."

Loki's fingers pause as they're tying the string of his pants. He blinks, walks back to his bed, and picks up his phone. "Tonight?"

"Yeah." Anthony scratches the back of his head and bites his lip. "I know I've been kind of busy lately. I was thinking we could do something, just you and me."
Loki pulls his towel from his head. His hair tumbles in damp curls, and droplets of water cascade down his neck and chest; he presses his towel to the water and grits his teeth as his grip on his glamour falters once more. "Just you and me", he repeats, and he knows how awestruck he must sound.

Anthony blushes. He smiles and nods his head. "Just you and me", he confirms shyly. "I'll make spaghetti."

"You don't cook."
"For you, I could."

And he does. Lots of it, actually. The pasta's practically dripping with sauce, and it's rich with garlic and pepper, just the way he'd described it to Loki in the pit. Anthony's words don't do it justice, and neither do Loki's. He tries, but most of it just comes out as pleased moans, closed eyes, and half-spoken sentences.

Across the table from him, Anthony sits, forking together a wad of pasta as he watches in amusement. "Enjoying yourself", he questions with a smirk.

Loki covers his hand with his mouth and smiles back. "Mm. Immensely."

Anthony slurps up several strands of spaghetti, splattering both his face and the table with spots of red. He catches Loki watching and grins wide, laughing when the mess garners a snort from Loki. "So I did good?"

"Yes." Loki grabs his glass of lemonade and lifts it to him. He doesn't bother disguising his blush. "You did wonderful."

Anthony raises his as well, and they reach across the table to clink them together. Their drinks slosh over the sides of their glasses, and they both giggle, watching as the sleeves of their shirts turn dark from the lemonade.

This is nice. The past month's been a pain in ways that, after the pit, he hadn't considered possible. But they've made it back here. And from the looks of it, they're farther along than they've ever been.

"You're smiling", Anthony notes as he lifts his plate off the table and begins scraping the sauce into his mouth.

Loki forks some more spaghetti into his mouth. "You make me smile", he replies softly.

Anthony presses his lips together to suppress his own smile. He licks his lips clear of all sauce and looks up at Loki. He's glowing. "I'm glad we're doing this."

"And I as well, Anthony." Something warm and pleasant settles in his stomach and entices him to reach across the table and place his hand over Anthony's. Anthony looks down at it, then up at him, his entire face and neck a deep shade of red.

Loki misses this. In a way, he almost misses the pit. At least there, he didn't have to worry about competing for his attention or pretending to be someone he isn't. Now, there are others and responsibilities, and Loki's left scrambling for moments like these like a dog begging for scraps of food.

"Loki." Anthony squeezes his hand and inhales.

He blinks and meets his eye. "Yes?"

"I-"
"Tony!"

Banner bursts into the room. He cocks his head at the scene before him, then shakes his head and says, "We've got a situation on the Hudson".

Slipping his hand away from Loki's, Anthony closes his face and rises from the table. "What, is it another plane?"

"No. An owl."
"An owl?"

Banner just shrugs, then turns and takes off down the corridor.

Anthony sighs and places his hands on his hips. He takes one look at Loki, and the frustration turns to worry. He crouches at his side and grabs Loki's forearm. "Hey. What-"
"We should get going", Loki says, his focus on keeping his breathing levelled. "We'll need a debriefing."

Anthony frowns. "Loki. Come on."

Loki snatches his arm away and opens a portal to his room. He looks Anthony in the eye and says, "Your Doctor's awaiting".

Anthony's frown deepens. He crosses his arms over his chest and scoffs. "Yeah, he is."

The backs of Loki's eyes sting. He blinks, purses his lips, and looks Anthony up and down. "You have a courtship. Don't you?"

"It's not like that."
"Really?" Loki laughs bitterly and tosses his arms out at his sides. "Is that what you tell him about us?"

"Don't do that." Anthony's earpiece beeps. With the swipe of his hand past his ear, the device falls silent; it doesn't silence the sound of Loki's beeping watch, but the action seems to regain Anthony's attention because the frustration in his eyes has grown a tenfold. "When we first came back, I told you-"
"That our courtship was over and that we were to remain friends", Loki finishes through gritted teeth. "Then what the hell is this?" He gestures to the candlelit dinner, the warm overhead lights, the radio playing Frank Sinatra. "If we aren't courting, then what the hell is this?" Tears well up in his eyes, and he looks up, covering his face with his hands as he chokes out, "Please, just tell me so I can know".

Across from him, Anthony looks away and closes his eyes. "I don't know."

Loki bites clear through his lip; blood spills over his teeth and onto his tongue. He drops his hands, inhales shakily, and looks at the table, where, just minutes ago, they'd sat having a lovely meal. Of course, it didn't last. When does it ever?

"Then you need to figure it out."

Before Anthony can respond, Loki's turned around and stepped through his portal. He can hear Anthony's protests, but by then, Loki's already mended the tear and closed the portal.

The temperature drop and the flicker from before were nothing. Loki's only been in the room for a moment when giant shards of ice begin jutting from all sections of the room; his form flickers back and forward between his Jotun and his Asgardian forms before eventually settling on the former.

"Mr. Laufeyson", J.A.R.V.I.S. says, again with the concern. "I'm sorry to bother you, but your presence is requested alongside the Team in the Quinjet."
"Voice", Loki growls, clenching his fists. "It would be wise to leave me be."

"I'm sorry, sir, but I really must insist. There is an owl on the Hudson River, and your powers really would be of service."

Loki shakes his head. The lamp above him shatters and rains down a shower of broken glass. "I'd really just like to stay home if it's all the same with everyone else", he says in a quieter voice; he wraps his arms around himself and tucks his chin into his shoulder. "I'd rather be alone right now."

He's being ridiculous. He doesn't need to be a genius to know that. Distressed or not, he's made a commitment to this whole Avenging circus, and he can't just pull out of it whenever he has...domestic issues.

Loki snatches off his tie and tosses it to the floor. He brushes his hands through his hair until the style he spent two hours on dissolves into a mess of sloppy curls. He fingers the silvery, elastic band on his wrist and forces himself to breathe.

Damn it. Why does it always come back here?

"Sir?" The Voice comes back to him, and, for that, Loki is grateful. It gives him something to focus on.

"Yes."

"What would you like to do?"