"So," is the first thing Loki hears as he's coming back into consciousness, "do you want me to go get the chips, or will you?"

Loki opens his eyes halfway and shifts them slightly to the right, where he can just see Thanos and Amora from where he's lying, his body pressed against something hard, his hands tied again. They are standing near the door, conferring in low voices, Amora's hand wrapped loosely around a gun, like she's forgotten she's holding it. Thanos is holding Loki's cell phone, rolling it between his hands, swiping his thumb across the still-dark screen from time to time, out of habit.

"I'll get them," Amora says. "You want Doritos or what?"

"Andy Capp's," is what Thanos says, glancing over at Loki and grinning when he sees that his eyes are open. "You okay with that, Lo'?"

Loki's lips part, but before he can get his muscles to work, Thanos is turning away. He puts his hand on Amora's cheek and says something else to her, something too low for Loki to hear, and she nods once before turning and walking out, setting the gun on a side table as she goes. Thanos picks it up and taps it against the side of the phone experimentally before walking over and crouching down next to Loki.

"So," he says, softly. "You're awake."

It's hard for him to focus on anything—Thanos' face, where he is, how much time has passed—but he manages to open his eyes all the way and forces himself to swallow past his tongue, which feels too thick in his mouth.

"Temazepam." Thanos reaches out and lightly pushes a strand of Loki's hair away from his face, and he's still too weak from the drug to do much more than roll his head slightly to the side. "It's a hypnotic benzodiazepine; a sleeping agent. I take them, when I remember."

Loki's throat works and after a few seconds he manages a hoarse, "Why—"

"Did you really think I'd believe that horseshit you spewed last night about how you wouldn't leave if I untied you?" Thanos shifts his weight, getting comfortable on the floor, setting the gun down next to him and placing the phone on his knee. "No, Loki, I had to drug you. It's going to wear off soon, if that's what you're worried about, but the effects are pretty strong. Try to move now and you'll find yourself real sorry real fast." He smiles, not friendly, eyes shifting downward for a second, and Loki knows he's not just talking about weak muscles giving out in his legs. He stares at his phone, perched just out of his reach, and Thanos follows his gaze and laughs shortly.

"You'll have this back when I say you can have it back," he says, and Loki has to strain to hear him add under his breath, "or never."

He can't say he's surprised.

They are both quiet for a bit, listening to the wind whistling through the trees outside the small shack they are currently inhabiting. One of the windows is slightly loose, and it rattles, letting in bursts of cold air. Thanos' eyes travel around him, up to the cracked ceiling, then to the kitchen, then down to the stained carpet which, to Loki, smells like mold and something else, something dead.

"This is me and Amora's place," he says. "We're way upstate; six, maybe seven hundred miles from the border. This town, it doesn't even have a name. Isn't that fascinating?"

"Hmm," Loki mutters, distractedly. He stares at a crack in the wall until his vision starts spinning and he has to shut his eyes to avoid the sudden dizziness. Clarity is slowly returning, and he vaguely remembers getting in Thanos' car earlier and snapping:

"When Tony comes, and he will, there will be no power on earth that can keep him from killing you, and Justin, and that little quim you've kept so nice and tucked away for so long now." After that, he thinks, is probably when he was drugged, although he's not one hundred percent sure.

And then he remembers Tony—really remembers him, like there'd been a film over his mind and it was suddenly lifted—and, panicking, he struggles to sit up. Another wave of dizziness washes over him and he has to clench his jaw to keep from vomiting. A headache pounds its way into his skull, and he falls against the carpet again, breathing hard.

"Chill, Lo'," Thanos says, without really looking at him, still running his fingers absently over the screen of his phone. "Don't overexert yourself."

"Tony," says Loki. "What have you done with him?"

Thanos rolls his eyes and sounds exasperated when he replies:

"Didn't we go over this last night? I didn't do anything to your precious Anthony Stark. He's still in his apartment. He's fine." There's a pause, then a slow, wicked smile curls the corners of his lips. "Although, I must admit, he is certainly going to be confused about whose side young Justin Hammer is on after a while."

The Temazepam must leave the body slowly, is all Loki can think as he watches Thanos get up and walk into the kitchen with the phone and the gun, because he can't bring himself to react, at least not the way he would normally. All he can do is shift his body slightly to ease the pressure on his hands, hissing softly through his teeth as pain arcs up his arms and into his shoulders, and wonder, as he has been doing for over twelve hours now, why exactly Thanos took him to begin with.

When Amora comes back, she's carrying a bag of Andy Capp's in one hand and a bottle of cheap wine in the other. She sets both on the table, along with her car keys, and Thanos, who has been trying to get television reception by rocking the set back and forth with his foot, finally gives up and unties Loki's wrists, pulling him up by his arm. He winces, rubbing the raw skin, and stumbles a little as he walks to the table. He's still dizzy, but not so much as before.

"This wine is okay, Skurge?" Amora asks as the three of them sit down—like The Brady Bunch gone to hell, Loki thinks, and bites back a surge of hysterical laughter threatening to burst forth from his lips. Thanos sniffs the mouth of the bottle and shrugs, pulling at the bag of chips until it opens.

"It's all right," he says.

"I spent fourteen dollars on this shit, asshole," Amora says, punching his arm. He punches her too, not hard, and they both laugh a little before she gets the bottle opener and pours them each a drink.

"I'd prefer water," says Loki quietly, "if it's all the same to you."

"It isn't," says Thanos shortly, "and if you try to run, you are going to be dead before you've gotten halfway to the door."

"I cannot imagine where you'd get the idea that I'd run," Loki snarls. Thanos hits him, once, across the face, and judging from the soreness Loki feels he can tell that this is not the first time he's been slapped since last night. He wonders if it was before or after the benzodiazepine was administered.

"Eat," grunts Amora, who is already halfway through her second glass of wine.

Loki pulls three chips from the bag. He's starving, of course; he hasn't eaten since that damn Mexican dinner they had yesterday afternoon, but he's not about to eat more, not when they're forcing him to. The flavor is something spicy—Jalapeno Cheddar or maybe Flaming Hot—and it mixes with the strange, metallic taste of the drug, still lingering in the back of his throat, and makes him gag.

Thanos' phone buzzes, and he pulls it out of his back pocket and hits a button on the screen. Justin Hammer's voice floats through the air a few seconds later:

"The deed is done," and both Thanos and Loki recognize the slight changing of the Macbeth quote.

"Great," says Thanos, shoving a few more chips into his mouth and washing them down with wine. "You're still at Tony's?"

"I left," Justin says. "Just a few seconds ago. Why, you need me to go back?"

"No, no." Thanos wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and smiles. "That's okay. You've done all you can for the night, Hammer. Thank you." He turns to Loki, making eye contact, death blazing in his irises, and though he's still speaking to Justin, Loki can tell the message is really for him:

"These deeds must not be thought after these ways; so, it will make us mad… A little water clears us of this deed, right, Justin?"

A pause. Then, slightly muffled, "Yeah, yeah, Skurge, you're probably right." He hangs up, and Thanos laughs shortly, putting his phone away and sliding his hand over Amora's.

"Young Justin Hammer can't follow the laws of Shakespeare as well as us learned scholars," he says, still staring at Loki, almost as if he's challenging him.

"Mm," Loki murmurs, and swallows the last of his chips.

/

Long after Justin leaves the apartment, Tony stares at the door, as if half-expecting it to open, revealing Loki, already returned. Justin's told him about what's been happening—Thanos apparently somehow slipped a recorded tape into Loki's car while he was away, which is really fucking weird—and now he, Loki, and some chick named Amora are god-knows-where in upstate New York, or someplace close, doing god-knows-what in some little shack off the Interstate. He tells him Thanos—and he keeps calling him 'Skurge', and it's grating on Tony's nerves—wants something from him; what, exactly, he hasn't specified, but Justin is ninety-seven percent sure it's money.

Tony doubts that, but he lets it slide.

Bruce is still sitting on the sofa, the Physics book balanced on one knee, his partially eaten hamburger now gone cold and soft with grease in his hand. When the silence has become too thick, he says:

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm gonna fucking get Loki back," Tony snarls, running his fingers through his hair in agitation and causing it to stand on end. "And then I'm going to kill that fucking bastard Thanos for taking him from me." He takes a final swig of the Stolichnaya he'd opened earlier and ignores Bruce's look of surprise at the name. "I'm calling Thor first."

Bruce raises an eyebrow. "What about the police?"

Tony glares at him, positively glares and it's then that Bruce sees, really sees, the need Tony has to do everything himself, and how desperately he wants to avoid asking for help, and, underneath it all, a slow, simmering rage, and a fear for Loki's life.

"The police? Nah," he says. "You call them after someone's been missing for over twenty-four hours, anyway. I'm not letting Loki stay gone that long." He pulls out his cell phone and dials Thor's number, pacing into the kitchen, and when Bruce leaves he hardly notices.

Thor answers after a few rings. "Anthony!" he says when Tony's spoken. "What a pleasant—"

"Yeah, yeah, save the formalities for a remake of Pride and Prejudice," Tony interrupts. "Listen, Thor, I have to tell you some serious shit, and you can't freak out, okay, Big Guy? I mean it this time."

There's a pause. Then Thor murmurs his consent to 'not freaking out', sounding slightly worried.

"It's your brother," Tony says. His voice catches suddenly, startling him, and he presses his hand against the warmth of the electromagnet to steady himself. "Loki's been kidnapped by Thanos."

"He's been what?" Thor is bellowing, and Tony can see him now, red-faced and swelling in that tiny apartment of he and Jane's.

"You're freaking out, buddy," Tony says.

"Goddammit, Anthony, yes, I am 'freaking out'!" Thor roars. It's the first time Tony's ever heard him really curse, and it's surprising, and a little bit humorous despite the circumstances. "You mean to tell me that Thanos has been back here, has seen my brother, and you did not deign to tell me this?"

"Uh." Tony pauses. "No, I didn't know he was back—"

"There must have been knowledge of his presence, elseways he would not have known where you live!"

"He didn't take Loki from our apartment, he got him in his car—"

"I will find Thanatos and I will murder him," Thor booms, using Thanos' full name for the first time since they'd met him so long ago, and Tony doesn't think he heard his last sentence at all.

"You want me to come over?" Tony asks. "I mean, we could have a few drinks, figure out a plan—"

"Nay, it will not do to have us both here. God knows where Thanos is lurking now." Thor drops his voice maybe two decibels. "I will see you between classes tomorrow, Anthony. That is when we shall begin discussing what is to be done." He hangs up before Tony can tell him about Justin Hammer, and the physicist sighs softly, tossing his phone on the kitchen counter and leaning against the sink, staring out the window at the rapidly darkening sky.

He needs another drink.

A/N: Okay, so, sorry this took a while to get out—work is draining all my energy.

Thanks for all the reviews so far—I love you guys so much!