I.

Pepper sank down across from Rhodey at the table by the window. It was two in the afternoon and she'd only just managed to get out of a conference that was supposed to break for lunch at twelve thirty. The conference itself had been derailed – as she could've predicted – early on. It'd managed to get on track again as it went, but complicated questions had come up, and they had spun out into new arguments that had taken an hour and a half to even marginally resolve. Bruce had been an incredible asset to her. He had fielded questions that she had not expected and did not have the scientific background to answer.

She set her lunch on the white surface of the table and promptly forgot that it was there. The space behind her eyes ached and she put her face into her hands.

Rhodes closed his magazine, resting his chin on the back of one hand. "You look tired," he said.

Pepper laughed breathlessly at the understatement. "I am," she said. She pushed her hair back and out of her face.

"Doctor Banner seems to be enjoying the conference."

She tipped her head, "Where did you –"

Rhodes indicated a corner of the room behind her. It was a very large, very white room, full of people taking breaks from whatever it was they had been doing in the building. They milled about, singly or in little groups. Behind them, as they milled, she caught sudden sight of Banner, standing, leaning against the wall, lost from the crowd in a book splayed open on one hand, eating a bagel which he held in the other.

She laughed softly. "He sure does."

Turning back in her seat, she gave a deep sigh. "I'm sorry Rhodes,"

He looked at her for a moment, like he was startled. "It's not a problem," he said.

"It's just – my home is not my own."

He laughed. "You can say that again. But," he looked from his plate, "as developments go, it's not really a new one."

"No," she chuckled wryly. "No it's not."

Chewing, Rhodey gestured with his fork. "Do you ever think he's just doing it for attention?"

Pepper was reminded of her salad. She lifted her own fork and waited for the question to make sense to her. "The entire world wants to know what Tony Stark thinks," she said, finally.

"Not from the world," he pointed at her with his fork, "from you."

"Rhodey," she shook her head. "My entire life is paying attention to him."

When Rhodes didn't supply an answer to that she glanced up and found him fixing her with a very dry look. The kind of look one only learns from a life lived beside Tony Stark.

Re-crossing her legs she tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "You think that he doesn't understand that all this," she gestured expansively to the room, "is because I love him?"

Rhodey shrugged. "It's just that this last stunt reminded me of a little kid trying to impress his babysitter."

"So I should," she shrugged, "what? Drop the company?"

"That's a bit drastic," Rhodes wiped his mouth with a napkin. "But you might consider taking a break until Christmas."

"Until Christmas? Do you have any idea –"

"No." Rhodey held up his hands. "No, I have no idea what that would entail. I'm not saying that you should. It was just an idea."

She dropped her head into her hand, "I'm sorry Rhodes."

"It's not a problem," he said. "Trust me, I get it. Just think it over. I have to get back. Are you gonna be alright?"

Pepper wasn't listening, she moved a leaf of her salad noncommittally with her fork. "I might be able to take a few extra days off. Maybe get home a little earlier…"

Rhodes pointed at her with his fork again. "I think you might have something there."

"And if we're wrong? And it's not all for my attention?"

He raised one eyebrow. "You really think we could be wrong on this?"

"No," she smiled. "I'll try it. But you have to come home with me today. He made me promise."

Rhodes thought for a moment, then he nodded. "I can arrange that."

"Can we get Vision too? He has his heart set on 'all of us' being there."

Rhodes gave a dry laugh, "You know," he said, "this is starting to get out of hand."

"Starting?"

"I'll see what I can do," Rhodes got to his feet. "For the only AI on base he's hard to find."

She put out one hand and gave his a gentle squeeze. "Thank you, Rhodey."

He smiled at her. "Don't mention it."

II.

Thor caught up with his brother about a hundred yards from the door of the coffee shop.

Loki glanced smugly over his shoulder. "Did you take the booth with you?" he smirked.

"No." Thor shoved his hands in his pockets.

Loki gave a low chuckle.

Thor thought how much colder it was outside after he'd grown so used to the warmth of the coffee shop. The air was crisp and it stung his nostrils. The stone beneath his feet seemed brittle with the cold, as if he might step too hard and crack it into a thousand shards.

Glancing up under the brim of his white-trimmed hat, Thor looked at his brother. Loki gave no sign that he felt the cold. Not for the first time, Thor wondered at that. But he knew better than to ask about it. Loki did not appreciate questions along that line.

"Where are you going?" he asked, finally.

"To…" Loki frowned at him, "…find the others."

"The…others," Thor said. "As in, Stark and his band."

Loki glanced his way without really turning his head, "Should I be referring to someone else?"

"You." Thor said. "Loki. Want to reunite with them?"

A dismissive breath of a laugh was all Thor got in answer.

Thor lengthened his stride and stepped in front of him. "Who are you and what have you done with my brother?"

Loki rolled his eyes skyward. "Is it really that unfathomable to you that I might seek them out?"

He went around Thor, and Thor let him pass.

Thor jogged to catch him up. "Why?"

Loki made a face. "They're your friends, Thor. Tell me why."

"I'm making no move to return to their company."

"And why not?" Loki's mouth tipped in a smile that might have been false. Thor couldn't tell from beside him. "Was it not for their company we left Asgard? Because if it's not, then by all means let us complete our operation and return."

"Because," Thor said, feeling that he was trying to explain a simple things to a witless child, "I've had their company." He disliked speaking with Loki when his brother was like this. Loki spoke around things. It was an exertion Thor was unused to, to try and decode what it was that Loki would not say. Often, to spare himself the effort, he spoke directly that which was on his own mind. He took two steps before making up his mind to do so once again, and say, "I lack yours."

Loki said nothing, and when Thor looked over, his expression was difficult to read. His lips were pressed thin. He flicked a glance at Thor, then away. "They can't be hard to find," he said.

Thor gave an irritable breath. "Am I not permitted to speak with you?"

Loki's jaw tightened. "I am searching your friends out because I like them better than your interrogating. If you would have that altered, then," he huffed a breath, "find something else to talk about."

"Well, you've liked my ideas so little," Thor said, "What would you have?"

Loki said nothing. He searched the crowd ahead of them, his eyes narrowed against the sun.

"We could," Thor kicked some piece of refuse that littered the roadway, "discuss the 'Christmas Specials' Stark seems so fond of. That seems impersonal enough."

Loki gave him a disapproving glance.

"Or," Thor continued, "if you don't like that, you could share with me the details of your conversation last night."

"My conversation?"

"Yes. I'm quite curious what, depths of your heart you bared to Lang."

Loki didn't answer for a moment, but when Thor looked over, he found that Loki was trying to swallow a smile before he could see it.

Thor grinned.

III.

Scott stood with his back to the table, following Stark's example and watching the stranger who had confronted them just over an hour ago, as he greeted the line of children who had come to visit 'Santa' in the food court. Tony was leaning on his elbows, chewing on a toothpick. Scott stood next to him, awkwardly, with his hands in his pockets. They'd been standing like that for about ten minutes.

A little boy was climbing onto 'Santa's' lap. Scott thought he looked about five years old.

"Hello," the man said, in that fake Santa voice he'd used earlier. "What's your name?" He settled the boy on his lap. Peering into his face the man said in his own voice, "It's not 'Francis', is it?"

Scott gave a breathy laugh. He glanced at Tony. Tony did not seem to think it funny in the slightest. Scott turned his attention back to the man in the Santa costume.

"My name's Jeff," the little boy said.

"I didn't think so," the man sighed. "Anyway," he changed back to his 'Santa' voice, "Ho, ho, ho! Hello Jeffery. What do you want for Christmas this year?"

"I want balls!"

'Santa' lost his concentration. He shook his head. "Excuse me?"

"I want a soccer ball," the little guy counted off on his fingers, "and a baseball, and a basketball. I want to play all the games when I'm big enough."

"Oh. Got it." Flicking back into the act he said, "Ho, ho! I think one of my elves will have just the thing. Hey," he turned around, "Kevin, this little guy wants balls.

"Yep," he told the kid, patting him on the back. "Head over to the guy in the green tights. He's got what you're looking for."

"Notice anything?" Stark asked.

Scott bent and put his elbows on the railing. "No…? Should I? Is he…dangerous?"

"Could be." Stark flicked the toothpick into a garbage can. "Occupational hazard," he explained, "Anyone could be dangerous."

"Are you trying to scare him?" Barton's voice broke in on them and Scott turned.

The archer had stopped part-way down the stairs just behind them.

"Because unless your name's 'Francis' I think you're safe from this guy." Barton said. "Come on."

"For now," Tony muttered.

Clint raised his eyebrows. "That's all we ask," he said. He chuckled wryly. "Livin' in the moment." Turning, he waved Scott and Tony after him.

Glancing behind him to be certain of Tony's pursuit, Scott started up the steps, and, grumbling under his breath, Tony followed.

"What's his obsession?" Scott asked, running up beside the archer.

Clint stopped, "Don't know his story," he said. He looked down the way first to his right, and then his left. Then, obeying some impulse Scott did not understand, he turned left and started walking.

"Where are we going?"

The archer did not break stride, saying over his shoulder, "Tasha went this way."

IV.

"These are all…artifacts?" Wanda asked.

The Cloak of Levitation lifted Strange so that his feet only just trailed along the ground. He looked over his shoulder through the various cases and crates at the girl. She stood with her nose wrinkled and her dark eyes wondering.

"They are," he answered, proudly. "Each one has a story."

She lifted herself, by her own, nebulous power, and carried herself between the cases, admiring them as she went. She was hesitant, he noticed – no less than she had been the first time they'd met. Wary, even. Like an animal that had been hurt, but could not quite curb its own curiosity. "Do you know their stories?" she asked. She set herself delicately on the floor a few displays away from him.

"A few of them," he said. "Less than I'd like to. Speaking of stories," he glanced at her through the glass between them, "I'd like to know yours."

Something behind her eyes abruptly closed. Her mouth pressed a line. She turned her head away and without answering she moved farther from him, losing herself among the displays.

"Slow down," bending the air he moved through it, appearing before her in the next room.

She starred startled at the space around her. The dark wood, the wallpaper, the desk and upholstered chair. The utter lack of displays behind which she might hide. She recovered quickly and frowned at him.

"Don't run off like that," he said. He set himself lightly on the floor. "There are…dangers, here, in the Sanctum. Some even I don't know about."

The smile that touched her mouth was bitter beyond her years. "I think I can handle myself."

"So did I," he said, seriously.

He took both her forearms in his hands.

Her brow creased with confusion, but she made no move to stop him, and the liquid depths of her eyes remained dark.

"I want to help you," he said. "Your…abilities are…unlike anything I've ever seen," he looked at her. "But that doesn't mean there's nothing I can teach you."

"I've been doing all right on my own."

He let her move away from him. She brushed her hair behind her ear with one, graceful hand.

"Think about it," he said, softly.

Glancing at him, she nodded her head.

"You'll think about it?" he prodded.

Her mouth quirked the nearest bit toward a smile. "I'll think about it," she promised.

V.

As appealing as the brightly-colored sign above the door had been, Natasha was beginning seriously to doubt the judgement behind her decision to drag the team into 'Sugar Rush'. She'd been there once before with Pepper, as her undercover bodyguard some years ago, when Pepper had had to purchase a last-minute gift for an investor's daughter. That had been in the early summertime, when the air-conditioning of the complex was a welcome alternative to the heat of the sun outdoors.

Somehow, the narrow aisles were less forgiving of Christmas-traffic.

Or, for that matter, of Thor's bulk.

"I didn't know they put this many sweets," the god marveled, sidling awkwardly down the aisle. A woman with a basket on her arm and her head down jostled against him and he knocked into the shelf, spilling a basket of goodies. He yelped, trying in vain to right it before it could fall, "in one place!"

"Woah, World War Z," Tony said, "you gotta watch those hips."

Natasha scanned the shelf of brightly colored goodies stacked in their baskets and their festive packaging. Half-glancing back at Thor's plight, she snorted a laugh.

Crouching down to help Thor pick up the toppled candies, Clint scoffed. "They don't have candy stores in Asgard?"

Checking to make sure the shelf was once again stable, Thor put his hands on his hips. "Nothing akin to this."

'Popcorn', Natasha thought, was a unique flavor for a candy stick. Cooper would laugh at that. Smiling, she plucked one out of its basket.

"Did you hear the guy in the booth next to us?" Scott was saying to Tony, "He said something about a billion dollar deal."

"Yeah," Stark said. "I heard him. What, an old co-worker of yours?" He flicked Scott an indignant look, "You do know I'm not the only billionaire in this town?"

Natasha wondered what on earth 'Princess Unikitty' was supposed to taste like. Prompted by curiosity and the cheerful color of the candy stick, she chose one. She thought of Lila.

"Yeah, yeah," Scott said, "Of course. Do you know who he was?"

"Why?" Stark snorted. "You think billionaires all hang out? Do ex-cons meet up and have a monthly convention? Billionaires – as a genus – don't get along."

'Kaleidoscope.' Curious, Natasha drew out the candy stick. Whatever it tasted like, it did look like its namesake. With a little shrug, she tucked it into the collection steadily accumulating in her fist.

"But," Stark continued, "in answer to your question, yes. I do know him. Of him. Stanley, or – something like that. I don't know him personally. He makes comic books. Or pizzas."

Scott turned quizzically, "Comic books?"

"Yep. Age of the Hero – watch your head – in case you hadn't noticed. Hey, is that Toby Maguire?"

"Who?"

Tony scoffed, "Spiderman."

"'Pickles,'" Natasha read aloud, "'Bacon 'n'eggs,' and 'butter.' Who thinks up these things?"

"Someone who gets paid a lot more than I do," Clint answered.

Natasha gave a wry laugh. She chose 'Pickles', because she thought Bruce might like it.

"Tasha – sorry ma'am," Clint jostled against her, glancing behind him at the impatient woman who was trying to pass. "You think it's getting a little crowded?"

"Sure," she said.

Looking behind her she saw Thor, up on his toes, peering into a nearly-empty basket that was above even his eye-level. Loki was standing next to him, with both hands in his pockets. He grimaced as a young girl pushed between the two of them. Thor seemed amused. Tony was pulling off his glasses to get a better look at Scott. "What do you mean, you haven't seen Kick Ass?"

She looked back at Clint. "Maybe you'd better take them out."

"You sure?"

"I still have…" she opened her palm, "…eight to go."

"And you have…?"

"Four."

He gave a curt nod. "Wait outside it is."

"Thanks, Clint."

An 'Eggnog', 'Cinnamon Cookie', 'Salted Caramel', 'Cheese Stick', 'Barbecue', 'Apple Pie', 'Sunflower Supreme' and 'Honey Comb' candy stick later, Natasha wove her way back to the front of the store. She picked up a few things as she went – Clove Balls, Ginger Gummies, Wintergreen Licorice Rope and – on impulse because she could only imagine the questions Thor would ask – Horehound Drops.

As she stood in line, she wondered what horehound was, and where it came from.

The store was warm. It hummed with voices and rustling paper, and beneath the voices, the insistent crooning of some old Christmas Classic whose identity would only become apparent once the crowds subsided. The sound was punctuated every now and again by the ding of the cash register. There was only one, so the line moved slowly, but Natasha didn't mind.

The person in line just before her, was a little boy. Probably nine years old, with rumpled, sandy hair that stuck up at all angles, and a fist of crumpled dollar bills in his hand. She'd been looking, to see if anyone had a watchful eye on the boy – a parent, a grandparent – but so far she'd found no one.

Over the heads of the people and out the front window, she could see Tony. He was standing next to a bench by a fountain inside the concourse, no doubt elucidating some point of modern culture to Scott and Thor who sat on the bench before him, as the willing – if captive – audience he craved. She found Clint standing against the wall directly beside the front window, periodically glancing from the phone in his hand to the others by the fountain, to the doorway of the shop.

Following his glance over the heads of the customers, Natasha found Loki, standing just outside of the path to the door, flicking through a rack of magazines with an uninterested look on his face.

The heat was getting to her, a little. Natasha felt tired, lulled by the rustling and the warmth. The ding of the register startled her.

The clerk, she noticed, was a remarkably even-keeled young man with curly dark hair and a spray of freckles across his nose whose name-tag called him 'Connor'.

The boy proudly gave Connor his wad of bills.

Connor counted the money, briskly, but not unkindly, then informed the boy that he hadn't got quite enough for his purchase. He'd have to choose something to leave behind.

The boy's face fell.

"How much does he need?" Natasha asked. Momentarily, she was surprised that the voice was her own.

"Uhh…two seventy-three."

Natasha handed him a bill.

Giving her a grateful smile, Connor took the money and he rang up the boy's purchase, and handed him first the bag, then the change. "There you go."

His cheeks flushed in embarrassment, the boy wordlessly offered her the money in his hand.

Natasha smiled. She pushed his hand away. "You keep it," she said. She had the absurd impulse to tell him it was the least she could do.

He stammered a quick thank you to her before he fled.

Watching him disappear around the corner, Natasha turned back to the counter.

"He's," Connor stammered, drawing his hand back, "not with you?"

Laying out her armload of goodies, Natasha shook her head. "Nope." She didn't meet his eyes. "Just these today."

Connor wasn't looking at the candy. "I thought he was…your son or…something."

"No." She smiled. "How much do I owe you?"

Connor shook himself, "Oh, yeah," and he rang up the candy. He didn't say anything while he did it, and she made no move to prompt him. She kept her eyes lowered, and her hands inside the pockets of her coat.

"That was really cool of you," Connor said, finally, getting over his daze as he counted out her change.

Natasha gave her best shrug. "'Tis the season," she smiled.

"Yeah…" Connor smiled. He nodded his head as he gained confidence, "Yeah it is. Merry Christmas."

She took her bag. "Merry Christmas."

Eyes were on her. Searching eyes. Years of experience had taught her to know the difference.

When she glanced up from under her bangs, fixing the collar of her coat, it was only Loki. He stood by the magazine rack, but made no secret that he watched her. He raised one eyebrow in a silent question.

Natasha turned away. She found Clint.

He straightened from the wall. "You good to go?"

"All set," she smiled.

He looked at her, straight-on, "You sure?"

She gave him a smile. "Of course."

"Took you long enough," Stark muttered. "Where to next?"

"Why don't we let Clint decide?" Natasha said.

"Me?" Clint blinked.

VI.

"Tower, sweet Tower," Tony pushed open the front doors, "Oh how I've missed thee."

Behind him rose the cacophony of people entering a building in wintertime. The struggle between shedding layers and holding packages was begun.

Tony tossed his coat and scarf onto a desk that stood by the door.

"Welcome home, Sir," a familiar voice greeted him.

"Vision!" Tony threw up his hands, "you do speak to me."

"I apologize, Sir," Vision inclined his head in a slight bow, "I'm afraid they have been keeping me quite busy, these days."

"Hill and Fury would hog you," Tony clapped a hand to the AI's shoulder. "So, I take it the others are here. Rhodey, Pepper, Banner."

"We're all here, Tony," Rhodes greeted him, smiling. He wore a dark sweater and had one hand in his pocket. "So, what's the occasion?"

"What is this," Tony plucked at the front of his sweater, "a funeral? No occasion. Just my party. Did Wanda and Strange wander back yet?"

"Yes Sir," Vision followed with his hands clasped easily behind his back, "They came in merely a few moments prior to your arrival."

"Wilson?" Tony asked, "Rogers?"

"Merely a few moments prior to Dr. Strange and Miss Maximoff."

Tony turned, pointing one finger at the AI, "I'll win you back yet," he said. "You're too good for this 'hero' business. Hey, any ideas what Pepper wants for dinner? Fun, easy, good for some…fifteen people?"

"May I suggest pizza, Sir?"

"I like the way you think."

"You did design the prototype for my brain, Sir."

Chuckling, Tony beat the rest of his guests down the hall to the common room from which he could distinctly hear Christmas music.

"Mistletoe?" he asked. "When did that happen? 'Cause I woulda definitely noticed that."

Pepper was curled on the couch, talking to Wanda, but she got up when she saw Tony enter and came over to him in her sock feet. "While you were out," she smiled. She put her hands on his shoulders and went up on her toes to kiss him. "Merry Christmas, Tony."

"Are you…" Tony shook his head. "Are you gonna poison me now – or – something?"

Steve, who was on the opposite couch, dropped his head back, "Tony,"

"Merry – um," Tony recovered himself. "Right. Merry Christmas."

The others, Clint, Scott, Natasha, Thor and Loki were all coming up the hall behind him, and he shuffled Pepper awkwardly out of their way.

"Guys," he said, "Mistletoe."

Strange turned to greet them from the window, with a half-smile on his face. "I've been catching up on my Nordic lore…"

Tony tipped his head, still fumbling, "Considering,"

"Indeed." Strange inclined his chin. "And isn't there a story where you, Loki, killed a man with mistletoe?"

"Killed a –" Tony held up one hand. "Way to kill the mood, Mister Doctor."

"Funny," Banner acknowledged.

"Thank you," said Tony.

Bruce turned back to the god in question, "But is it true?"

"It was quite a bit more complicated than that," Loki said.

"Simple answer being…" Sam prompted, setting his mug down on the table between himself and Bruce.

"Simple answer," Thor interrupted, "being yes."

"Mistletoe," Sam looked at all of them sarcastically, then he laughed. Turning back to face Loki he said, "You are one scary dude!"

Loki gave a slight, if smug, smile.

"I'm gonna go sit down," Pepper told him.

"I'll come with…" Tony followed her. "So you've," he started, reestablishing, "changed your mind? Because – and correct me if I'm wrong – two days ago you thought this was the worst idea I'd ever come up with."

"Mm," she winced, settling herself back beside Wanda on the couch, "the worst…?"

"Okay, maybe not the worst, but among the worst."

"I think you're right," she said simply. "I do get too busy."

"Wait," Tony stood up and spread his arms to be sure he had the attention of the room. "Repeat – no,"

Rhodey was standing with his chin in his hand, "Bag yourself, Jack."

Tony ignored him. "Everyone," he said, then he looked at Pepper, "could you repeat that – what you just said – please?"

Pepper's face broke into a smile. "Have your party, Tony."

"Couldn't you just say it? Just once?"

"I already did."

"Just one more time."

"It's not Christmas yet."

"You all heard her," Tony said. "You all heard her the first time, right?"

"Nope," Rhodey shook his head, "No, actually. I didn't…I didn't hear anything. Did you hear…anything?"

Wilson grimaced, "Weeellll…"

"Steve?" Tony prompted.

Rogers gave him a rueful smile, "I'm with Rhodes on this one."

"Bruce?"

Swallowing a smile, Bruce shook his head.

"Nothing?"

"Not a peep."

"You people are awful." Tony decided. "You know what? You know what I'll do? I'm gonna order a…half a dozen pizzas," he backed across the room to where Thor was standing and threw an arm up and around the god's back. "And I'm going to share them with Thor, because he hears only good things about me. Isn't that right, Big Guy?"

"Oh yes," Thor laughed, "Anything that will get me nearer to one of your pizzas."

Several people laughed.

Sam protested, "That's not fair,"

Tony patted Thor's chest, "And then me and my good-buddy Thor are going to sit around in our socks, amid, boxes, of pizzas, and we're gonna watch National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation, because Clark's story is my story, this Christmas, and I'm going to have a good time."

He turned on Loki, "We've gotta find you a Margo."

Loki grimaced, "A what?"

Tony ignored him. He pointed at Steve, "You're Aunt Bethany."

"And here I was," Pepper mused, "thinking that Home Alone was your Christmas story."

"We can do that one too," Tony said. "That's a good one. Scott, you can be one of the infamous 'Wet Bandits.'"

Scott laughed ruefully.

Tony went back to Loki again, "You might have to do double-shift as the other bandit."

Giving a weirdly tolerant sigh, Loki folded his arms. It almost reminded Tony of someone…and he was disconcerted to find that Pepper currently had a similar look on her face. He put that thought out of his head as one of the worst coincidences that had ever occurred to him.

"It's one of the sadder villainous attempts in cinematic history," he said. "It's about as laughable as your attempt on us back in twenty-twelve. Remember that Reindeer Games?"

"I don't…" Loki frowned, glancing at his brother, "have any idea what he's talking about."

"I believe that he's," Thor stage-whispered – which, honestly, Tony reasoned, was Thor's approximation of a whisper, "referring to the incident with the Chitauri."

"I think it was a bit more than an 'incident'," Rhodes said.

"Stark," Thor said, putting a firm hand on his brother's shoulder and coming between him and Tony, "I do not understand what reference you make, but you do know that my brother was exonerated by my father of any guilt he may have suffered in regards to that attack."

Delicately, Loki moved Thor's hand off his shoulder. "Thor," he cautioned.

"Yeah," Tony said. "I know. But the attack itself was laughable."

"Stark…" Steve interrupted.

"Maybe now's not the time," Sam agreed.

"Because it was designed to fail!" Thor said. His eyes flashed. "Selvig is a good man, but do you think he knew enough of the Infinity Stones to so work one of them that it would counter the other and closed the portal?"

"Guys," Natasha said, putting her arm over the back of the chair she'd chosen and turning to face them. "We've been over this."

"Yeah," Steve stood up. "That's enough."

Tony looked at all of them. Steve, Pepper, Wanda, Rhodes, Wilson, Lang, Strange, Barton and Natasha, all watching him with guarded or disapproving looks. He raised both hands in front of his chest, palms out, a mute surrender. In the doorway behind him, Banner and Vision were looking at each other like kids, afraid of their parents' fighting. Thor stood with his fists clenched, and Loki remained behind him – oddly non-combative, for once – with his eyes closed.

Thor's eyes scanned their faces. Then he grit his teeth.

"My apologies, Natasha," he said. "Lady Pepper." He gave a slight bow.

Stepping back, he levelled a look at Tony that said he was not sorry at all, then another at the others in the room, daring them to confront him, and, lastly, one at his brother. It was a look Loki would not meet.

With a low growl, Thor turned on his heel. "I'm going out for some air."

"Okay," Tony decided, as soon as he was gone, "not Home Alone, then."

Distantly, the front door slammed.

Loki sighed. Then he left. Tony assumed he'd gone after his brother. No one volunteered to follow him.

Pepper got up from the couch, her tone disapproving, "Tony,"

Scott looked to his right and his left, then raised his hand. "What just happened?"

Tony turned on his heel to face him. "I made a joke," he said.

Pepper set a coaster down harder on the coffee table than Tony felt it merited. "It was in poor taste, Tony."

"What?" Tony protested, turning round to meet her, "Now you're gonna be mad at me?"

"You know better," she pled. Coming over to him she pushed both hands against his chest. Then she sighed and she put a hand to her forehead, sliding the red fringe of her bangs out of her face. "Hopefully they'll work it out out there and this won't turn into a fight," she said. "God only knows what Loki's going to say to him."

"See?" Tony pointed out. "You're doing it too."

Pepper frowned at him, her hand on her hip, "Doing…?"

Tony shrugged. "I mean, it's not like Tod's been one of the 'good guys' that long."

Pepper closed her eyes and she sighed. "Tony," she said. Then she tipped her chin back and opened her eyes. "And who are you?" she asked. "Uncle Eddy?"

"Nah. That's Barton."

From the couch behind them Clint protested.

"I was gonna say Uncle Lester," Tony told him, "But then I remembered your secret family."

"I said I was sorry,"

"You know he's not gonna let it go," he heard Natasha tell Barton. He smirked.

Pepper's sarcastic 'uh-huh' drowned out any reply Barton could have had to that. "Tony," she said, "the problem is, that I don't know that he wants Thor to get along with you."

Tony blinked. "Can you explain to me how that's different than anything I've said so far?"

Closing her eyes, she sighed. One hand slid down from his shoulder and rested in the old place on his chest where the arc reactor had been.

Then she opened her eyes and she looked at him. "Order pizza," she said. "We have some cleaning up to do."

VII.

Thor was out in what passed for a lawn, pacing, stiff-legged, back and forth across the frost-shriveled glass.

Loki stepped just out of the way of the door. It drifted soundlessly shut behind him. He let out a long breath that fogged on the air.

Thor did not slow in his pacing.

Loki folded his arms across his chest and he looked out. The sky was distant and heavy with oppressively grey clouds. The wind had a tang in it that he recognized. It would snow before long. The stone that the wall was made up of was an icy pressure on the back of his shoulder.

"Thor,"

Thor did not break stride.

Loki sighed. His hand pressed the side of his nose. For the life of him, he didn't know why it was he bothered. "What are you doing?"

"Doing?" Thor demanded, coming to an abrupt halt. "I am defending your honor and the honor of our family." Thor snorted, going back to his pacing, muttering to himself, "Stark and his short-sighted, witless attempts…"

"We've talked about this." Loki interrupted him.

"No." Thor said.

In two strides Thor had cleared the space between them. Loki pressed back against the wall with a quick intake of breath, and it was only when his hand touched the cold of the stone of it that he was aware that he'd moved.

"But you were right, Loki," Thor insisted. "All this time you were right and I did not see it."

Loki raised one hand and pressed Thor's chest back. "You've no idea how happy that makes me," he said blandly.

"Even now," Thor threw out an arm toward the door, "they do not trust you, and I will not have it." He scoffed, "Such friends as these. I was no more than a blind fool, Loki. I was wrong to bring you here. Get your things. We're leaving for home."

Loki glanced at the grey of the stone beneath his feet, then at the mirroring color of the slatey sky. His breath rose in a cloud. The air was bitterly cold, and he folded his arms to fend off the chill.

"No," he said.

"No?" Thor gave a breath of a laugh, whirling back, "You've longed for all this time to return home – you would not be happy until I offered it, and now, as soon as I have –"

"You misunderstand."

"What," Thor laughed, "do I not understand?"

"Distrust," Loki said. Only vaguely knowing what it was he was trying to do, he spun his words together with care. "I am used to – In fact, I prefer it. It implies that my associates have some, modicum, of sense. But I will not be dragged about by your temper any longer," he shook his head, strengthening his stance. "And that's all this is."

Thor's open face twisted with hurt. "You doubt me?"

"Not the sincerity of your heart," Loki smiled, just slightly, softening, "But perhaps your speed of mind."

Thor shook his head, looking for some counterargument.

"You'd be bowing to Stark's challenge," Loki pointed out, before he could find one.

"Don't think you can dissuade me so easily, Brother," Thor said. He started pacing again, more comfortable in the familiar territory their argument had ventured to. "I know your tricks."

Loki noted that Thor was less agitated than he had been, just moments before. "Well," he shrugged, "if that's not as it is, then you run off back home where you can't hear the mockery of your friends over the approving roar of your subjects."

"I can see what you're doing, Little Brother," Thor almost smiled.

Loki smirked. "Is it working?"

Thor stopped, turning to face him, the better to gauge how his next words struck.

Loki didn't let himself deflect, knowing that to do so would bring Thor to doubt him and only fan the flames he'd been trying this whole time to beat out.

"You want to stay," Thor said.

The accusation startled him more than it should have, considering. "No," he said. He covered the slip quickly enough that he could imagine Thor hadn't noticed it. "But you do. And as soon as your temper's cooled you'll remember that. If I let you take me home with you now it'll be to none of my good as you'll only turn about and take me directly back. So," he spread one hand, "If you need to go so as to make some grandiose point of your indignation, then do it. I will await your return here."

"Then," Thor folded his arms, facing him with amusement flashing in his blue eyes, "what, do you suggest?"

"Apart from getting back inside," Loki said. "I suggest as I have from the beginning that you play nicely with Stark and let the past remain the past. As Lady Romanoff was kind enough to point out for me, we've been through all of this before."

Thor stepped forward in one quick movement, and was very close to him, suddenly, searching his eyes. Loki was pointedly aware of their height difference, no matter how slight it might have been, and of the heat that radiated off of Thor's body. His own hands were very cold.

"Are you sure, Loki?"

"Absolutely," he said, with an assurance he did not feel. "And besides," he continued, moving back to a plane where he felt more sure-footed. "You did promise Mother you would not get into any unmerited combat."

Thor's brows rose incredulously, "You're telling me it was not merited? You?"

"I'll fight my own battles, thank you." Loki slid out from the wall. He was unprepared for how much colder he was with even the relatively small alteration of the absence of cold stone behind his back.

Thor turned, slowly, following him with his eyes. "They are not your battles alone, Brother," he said.

His scrutiny made Loki squirm, and he turned away from Thor, as though only to look at the sky. But Thor said nothing more, and he made no move, so, Loki let out a long breath.

"You judge your friends harshly," he said, at length.

"And you," Thor's voice rumbled from behind him, no nearer than it had been before, which was some relief, "forget that Father did not keep the circumstances that prompted his ruling for himself alone."

Loki's mouth twisted to one side. He said nothing.

Behind him, he heard Thor give a long sigh. "Very well, Loki," he said. "So be it."

He heard Thor's steps, evenly-spaced and deliberate. They paused as they came to the door. "Are you coming?"

His face very blank, Loki turned and followed him.

Behind them, the first, icy flakes began to fall.


I know I said 'a couple days'. My list of pathetic excuses include flu, birth in the family, 4 OTHER birthdays in the family, AND a holiday.

Apologies.

Also, Happy Easter - lol.


Just as a poll for anybody out there listening, is it out-of-season for a Christmas story?