"You're going to what?"

"Surely you understood me," Loki drawled right in his ear. As casual as all hell, like he didn't just announce ground-breaking news and successfully confuse the shit out of Tony.

"Well excuse me for being half asleep and apparently my sort of enemy-life-ruiner-snuggle-buddy is telling me he's going to fix my fucking eyes? Please allow me a moment."

If Tony was snappish, it wasn't exactly his fault. He was half asleep, and Loki had just run off and left him for nearly dead not that long ago,and he had built up this whole persona for Loki that was slowly but surly being torn down day by day. And, oh, just generally throwing everything he firmly believed in right out the window.

Loki was suppose to be a bastard, using Tony for his magic planet connections, or conduit stuff—whatever. He was a murderer, the bad seed in the Odin family—if one believed some of Thor's ramblings, which Tony tended not to trust because Thor was so damn wishy-washy about Loki it was like watching some wax their car.

Wax on

wax off.

This whole fixing him did not fit anywhere in this world domination or magic retrieval plan, anyway. From Tony's perspective, there was simply no way it benefitted the god. Loki needed contact to gain access to his magic, as basic as it was—according to Loki—and being away seemed to dumb that down and—also according to Loki—hurt him pretty badly. In no way did Tony's eyesight come into this, other than keeping him locked up in his tower to remain in contact with Loki all the time. In fact, fixing his eyes would be bad for Loki's plans.

Unless, of course, it was just another ploy at earning Tony's trust, which didn't seem a likely possibility since Loki didn't exactly need more of his trust, he kind of already had it. A version of it, the kind of, 'I have no other options,' sort of trust reserved for deadly situations and Natasha with a syringe. It wasn't as though Tony had the ball in his court, Loki had been holding all the cards since the day he showed up in Tony's hospital room and started feeding him blueberries. Loki was the one who knew who walked in and knew who he was dealing with, who knew why they were drawn together, and who could easily kill him without his hands, or by simply leaving him alone for more than an hour.

What's his game plan? Does he even get that once I can see, I'll be out of here before he can blink? I can be Ironman 's no way Loki doesn't know what's going to happen as soon as this connection breaks.

Pushing himself up and out of the god's personal space, Tony stretched his achy muscles and sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed. The distance was important, especially for what he was going to ask. Plus, he was only wearing some boxers and what felt like a tank-top, not ideal for an awkward conversation with a God who could kill him without his hands, apparently. It wasn't exactly armor.

"Can you even do that, fixing my eyesight?" He asked wearily, trying to keep any hope from leaking into his voice. He needed to get a grip on this thing before something went wrong, like it usually did. "I thought it was a part of this whole 'bond' fiasco, that I can't be healed because of my body reverting to its original state from the event of your escape. We pretty much—no, we did create a singularity, or actually, you did."

Loki shifted beside him, but didn't sit up as Tony expected him to. Instead, he decided to tuck his stupid cold nose against one of Tony's legs and refused to move even when tony shoved and grumbled at him. Why was he acting like a cat? This was a serious conversation, the least he could do is sit up and talk eye to eye, or, well, at least stop rolling around.

Oh… right… broken hands, he reminded himself. Loki can't actually put his weight on them to lift himself up, that's a viable excuse for this leg–face–touching, he surmised. Since they needed to touch still.

Wait, if his hands are crushed... is he bleeding on my bed?!

"I do not know what this phrase means in terms of time, only when used for that which is unique," the god muttered, sounding irritated. Probably for not knowing something, poor baby.

"It's more like space-time," Tony began, feeling shamelessly smug that he knew something loki didn't. Plus, it was a welcome distraction from where Loki's face was. "Aaaannnnd it's the kind of a science I don't usually touch with a ten foot pole, because there's nothing to touch with a ten foot pole. It's the massive hypothetical, intangible field of science and it's fucking fascinating, and I might have gotten bored enough once to read articles about it online for an entire night." He paused and muttered to himself, "until JARVIS thought it was funny to show me a porn site with my face all over it. How did they even find those pictures of me, anyway?"

"I believe you were speaking about something important?" Loki prompted, tickling Tony's leg with his hot breath and what might of been a smile. It was hard to tell, the overall sensation was starting to get tingly and a little awkward.

Tony cleared his throat and forced himself not to react in any way shape or form. He deserved a fucking metal for this, a 'you didn't kill-fuck-cry-at Loki award. But what would the shape be? He should—no. Tony forced himself out of his little day dream of actually ordering said award from one of those custom places with the reminder that he couldn't see it anyway. Well, right now he couldn't, but if Loki was serious about this, which he had his doubts about, but if he was, Tony would order the damn thing. Maybe one for Loki, too.

"Okay, right, important. So us humans have this theory about strings, worm holes, and a thing called space-time continuum. Some of us like to think that a singularity is an infinite value. In sense of time, and shit like that, it could be interpreted as a never-ending moment. A 'Groundhog's Day' kind of a thing."

"Never ending? An Infinity Wheel, then."

"Okay, good, you do have a term for it." Tony smirked, tilting his head at the god to be cute. "It's a pretty awful, archaic term, though. 'Wheel'? Really?"

"Hjōl, then," Loki huffed, his nose disappearing from Tony's leg and leaving an oddly empty feeling in his chest until one chilly foot found its way to Tony's stomach and slid right up under his shirt. Tony swatted at it in vain, only managing to earn himself a second cold foot joining the other.

"Cut it out, you two year old."

"You do not see me mocking your archaic science, do you?"

"Uh, yes, you did like, yesterday."

"Oh, that wasn't mocking," Loki purred, "that was simply making an observation of the facts."

"Shut up," Tony groused, pushing feebly at Loki's legs in a final attempt at freeing himself form cold feet. That frosty bastard. Tony wasn't even feeling pukey enough to threaten him with vomiting and Loki wouldn't get the Exorcist references, anyway.

"Back to important things," Tony parroted, "is this wheel the same thing? Because there's Time Dilation, which is different because it's time moving differently between two coinciding events at different longitudes in the continuum, which is only one theory and a disputed one at that. But, that's maybe got something to do with how we're reverting to that singularity slowly... maybe... But that would mean that our time is moving separately, but maybe parallel from everyone around us and I don't think that's it. Or, at least, not all of it. Unless we're secretly moving really, really fast. Which makes no sense at all."

Loki hummed thoughtfully and agreed. "That does not sound correct, no. On the hjōl, it is a moment of frozen time, quite literally on a wheel, he describes, "The wheel turns for eternity, passing over every moment, every second that passes in the Nine Realms, over and over again. Each one passing not once, but billions upon billions of times, forever. There are no singularities, lest you mean the moment itself being unique. There is that, for sure, because no two events can ever be precisely the same."

"Sooo, basically linear time, meets the Earth's rotation. But with some string theory thrown in—that means I was right!"

"I... No, not exactly,"Loki replied, sounding confused. "The rotation is similar, the rise and fall of temperatures may also have some correlation, if you are willing to reach into the more physical aspects of it. Considering the never ending cycle, then yes, it could be seen as similar your planet. Time is fluid for us who walk the paths of the Nine. I may not see through all barriers, as Heimdall does, but if I open myself up to the energies around me, I can experience things at all times, all genders, all ages."

Tony flashed a grin and leaned over Loki's feet, feeling for them under his shirt before he started to play with the god's toes absentmindedly. There was a startled grunt, but Loki didn't seem to mind enough to complain.

This magic science combo isn't half bad, Tony thought with a secret smile. So the language was different, obviously, but the content was relatively the same. Time was time, rotation was rotation, no one can control it and we all die someday. That sounded consistent enough to work with.

"I think..." Loki began, and stopped, sounding unsure for the second time in one day. It was a little concerning to hear the prince lack confidence. It had been happening a lot lately, or rather, it had been happening in Tony's presence, which might have something to do with the fact that they'd spent all their time together for the past week or so. A week? Had it really been that long since he got back from the hospital?

Beside him, he could almost feel Loki floundering to establish his superior-prince-know-it-all status. Tony could practically hear him planning a way to make Tony feel stupid and probably rely solely on him again. Fat chance.

"You think? Therefor you are? Wow, you get a gold star," Tony teased, flashing Loki a sweet smile.

The god snapped, "Shut up," and purposely curled his toes around Tony's fingers in a way that didn't so much as hurt, but reminded him that Loki could kill him without his hands and was vaguely intimidating in a way that toes should seriously not be.

"I believe that I can fix your eyes, but not by reversing that moment in time. I hold no claim over it, no matter how I blame myself for these mistakes, everything was out of my control when it happened. The Norns lay claim for that."

"The Norns should fix it, then."

"They have more important things to do than cure one measly mortal's eyes," Loki replied with a hint of a smile in his voice. It made Tony want to touch it, just to be sure, because Loki was making this 'one measly mortal' a priority, himself, and that was the straw that broke the doubt-camel's back.

So, he did touch Loki's lips and felt the god ask, "What are you… doing?"

"Shhhh, i'm blind, indulge me."

There was a smile, small, but definitely recognizable even under Tony's touch. He traced the lower lip slowly, enjoying the warmth of Loki's breath against his thumb. Loki didn't have to breathe through his mouth, he could just as easily breathe through his nose, but Tony had a sneaking suspicion—no, he knew—that Loki was doing it on purpose. Just like the time when they kissed, Loki was pressing into his touch, rising off the bed, and before Tony could predict there this is going, that warmth was pressed against his forehead in an old, familiar gesture.

He nearly said something then, but the weight of the silence that fell around them seemed almost… right. So, for once, Tony didn't let his mouth run, and simply waited for what the god would do next. Because, as usual, the ball was never in his court, and Loki held all the cards.

The man before him as not, in a traditional sense, beautiful, or even particularly appealing in a sexual way. At least, not as far as Loki had seen thus far. But the way his touch felt, somewhat unnerving and thrilling at the same time; as though Loki knew it from a moment many years ago, but yet, was new to it all together. It was confusing, and undoubtably a great part of why Loki needed to heal Stark's eyes, along with his first and startling sense of guilt that had begun weighing on him since the first day he sat down in that uncomfortable chair in the hospital and spoke to him.

His touch threw reason to the wind, rage died under it, fear was soothed by it, and an intense need for more remained every time it ceased.

To put it simply, Loki had a problem, and to fix said problem, he needed to make a choice, and make it quickly. Save the man who made him feel something, and risk him ruining everything Loki risked to escape, or complete the severing spell and free himself from their bond.

"I have everything I need to do this," he said, keeping his voice void of emotion. "We could set up in your livignroom, now that the able is gone, and that couch along with it."

"You know bringing up my ruined furniture is no way to ask me on a date," the man quipped, sounding his usual cheerful self. Tone, however, could be deceiving, and the unconscious pinch of his brow told Loki everything he needed to know.

"I'm simply reminding you that we have plenty of room for the ritual, I have all the tools, tis a fine rainy day as always, why not embark on this quest?"

Stark, who was still quite close, threw his head back and barked out a laugh, "You're starting to sound like me, only more posh and slightly less 'plebeian', as you like to put it, you pompous jerk."

"You have yet to answer my question," Loki reminded him, studying him carefully for signs of doubt. But, it seemed the shadow of doubt had passed, and a bright, warm smile graced the mortal's lips for the first time since he had left the hospital.

"Right now?"

"Right now."

Stark wiggled, pulled at Loki's toes annoyingly, and jumped up, tossing the sheets away and sliding to the edge of the bed to escape it. He seemed to hover there, ready to fling himself from the room, but not willing to take the risk of running into something as he had often done so before.

"Let's do this!" he cheered, waving in Loki's general direction. "I'm ready, more than ready. Will it hurt, because i've got a high pain tolerance, so give me a scale from 10-30 or something, how bad will it be?" he paused, tapping his finger against the bed. "On second thought, don't tell me, I don't want to chicken out because it's hard. As long as it's possible, I can handle hard."

It was amusing that the mortal so excited for something that would most definitely cause him pain, no matter which spell Loki chose to execute. Both would require blood, as well as great wells of energy from both he and Loki.

"Stark, cease your worrying, and come with me," he replied, reaching out his still aching hands and yanking them both out of the bed.

"You better explain every step as we—" Stark stumbled over a carpet for the fourth time in so many days and kept on talking, "—do this. I trust you to sleep next to me without murdering me in my bed, but that's only because you need me right now. Step by step, or you're not coming anywhere near my eyes."

With a roll of his eyes, Loki simply dragged the mortal to his living area, a sudden chill running down his spine. Something was different, a subtle shift in the room he could not place just yet. He paused, sending Stark smashing into him with an unhappy grunt. Behind him, the man began to mutter angrily and before he could even since him, Loki noticed that the air felt less stale, and the elevator door was open.

"Stark, there is a chance—"

"So this is not what I expected at all," The archer growled, stepping into view from that damned hidden hallway, arrow notched and bow aimed directly at Loki's head. "I mean, I knew something was up, but this is so far off base I'm not sure I can even express how pissed off I am."

Loki stepped back, shielding Stark's body behind him for no logical reason. It wasn't as though his friend would shoot him. Loki, however, was a different story entirely. He nearly jumped when fingers curled against Loki's back, and he could feel the fear creeping through his skin from Stark's contact. "Clint—listen, this isn't what it looks like, it's—"

"Exactly what it looks like?" Steve said, he too stepping out and facing them with a look of grave disappointment.

Loki's eyes narrowed at him as he muttered to the inventor, "It seems your entire team of 'friends' has been spying on you, Stark."

"Yeah, thanks for that, I didn't notice by the way they're all standing in my fucking living room, judging me."

"Not all of us, actually," Steve pointed out, crossing his arms tightly across his chest. "But Thor's on his way, now that he knows you're here, Loki."

Behind him, Stark swore in several languages, and leaned heavily against Loki's back. Hot breath tickled his neck, along with a whisper so soft he could barely hear it, "Can you still do it?"

"Stark…"

"What are you two whispering about?" Clint hissed, taking a step forward with his bow still raised. "You're caught, face it."

"Please," the inventor rasped a little louder.

Loki eyed the others with a sneer, only now noting the presence of one other still hidden behind the wall.

Of course, the Hawk would not be far from his Widow when facing me. Yet I felt nothing of their intent, nor heard any sounds to alert me of their presence, and where was that device of Stark's?

Why had his JARVIS not alerted them as he had done so before?

There was simply no way to explain this to them quickly and clearly enough to halt any action against him and save Stark's eyes. The game was up, and Thor was coming to, undoubtably, lock him away once again. He would lose everything he had struggled for and come to value, all because they missed something. Somewhere, they had missed something.

Shaking his head, he replied in a low whisper, "We cannot, not here, we need more time to preform the spell and if Thor is arriving then—Anthony, we have no time."

"I want to see!" he hissed desperately.

Loki turned to snap back, "I want you to as well, please, just—"

An arrow, shot with perfect intention, grazed Loki's cheek and just brushed over the top of Stark's head. In all honestly, if it were not for the soft brown hairs that drifted down the man's startled face, Loki would have felt nothing other than a mild irritation. Even as the cut on his cheek beaded with blood, even as his own safety was threatened in such a childish way, he would have simply run and waited to get his revenge some other day. But this was Stark… Anthony, and with just one small miscalculation, he have been killed. Loki's connection to his magic would be gone, leaving him to slowly wither away and die in great pain and misery. He may live for another entire decade in pain…

and Anthony would still be dead.

"Oh," Loki breathed, "You will regret that."

"Oh no… no, no, no, don't!" Stark begged, clawing at Loki's arms and holding on tightly. Loki tried to jerk his body away, snarling at the mortal soundlessly.

"He will pay for what he—"

"No, god dammit! Let's go! For fucks sake, let's just go!"

"You're not leaving until you explain this, Tony!" Clint called out, and the sound of another arrow being notched changed Loki's mind instantly.

Loki turned, slowly wrapping his arms around Stark and tucking his head firmly against his chest.

"We have more important things to deal with than you inherent ability to misconstrue what lies before your very eyes," Loki all but sighed. "I shall return your precious Iron Man to you, and then, perhaps we shall all finally talk."

Both men dove forward, and a flash of red hair joined them almost instantly. But they were too late, and they were whisked away in a shimmer of gold.

Upon their arrival, both he and Stark stumbled to their knees, panting and clutching to one another in desperate silence. When the dizziness had passed, and both had caught their breaths, Stark's muffled voice broke the silence around them.

"So… where are we?"

Loki smiled to himself ruefully, and answered, "Where we will be safe, for now."

"And that's where?"

"A well warded apartment, several blocks away from your tower. Welcome to my temporary home, Mr. Stark."