Ah, this chapter is good! Well, I think so, anyway... *grins*

Disclaimer: Not mine (but I have super-spies on my side, so I'll have the rights any day now... *smirks*)

Warning: more alcohol! Because it was supposed to be one majorly drunken chapter, and it turned into two. Heh. *shrugs* Also, swearing.

Tony felt only marginally more rested when something very solid hit the wall behind him from the other side, forcing him into wakefulness more rapidly than he preferred. He stared around the empty hall for a moment before the sound repeated itself somewhere above his left ear.

Tony straightened against the wall, trying to regain his bearings.

Thump!

He ran a hand across his eyes and grappled for the quarter-bottle of scotch beside him (anything to wash the awful taste out of his mouth). Then it occurred to him. "Thor?"

The first attempt sounded more like "Thrrr?" and Tony coughed and downed more scotch. Somehow, it seemed to be clearing his head as well as his throat. "Thor?" He called more distinctly.

There was a long pause, and Tony had begun to wonder if he was even in Thor's section of he building after all (maybe he'd ended up on the third floor and was accidentally listening to Clint and Tasha having angry sex) when the wall behind Tony suddenly disappeared and he fell flat onto his back with a surprised grunt.

Thor's bloodshot eyes stared down at him blankly, reflecting the light from the hallway. It was the only source of illumination that Tony could see- Thor was wallowing in the darkness.

"Tony. I do not wish to have company."

Tony struggled to sit up. The walls took a minute to level out, and he wondered where he was on the Drunk Scale after the steady drinking of the past day. "Sorry, Thor." He glanced down at the floor, eyes widening at what he saw. "Jeez, were you throwing these?"

The ground near the door was littered with dense books, each bound by leather or some scaly hide. The pages within were nearly brown with age and looked softer than silk. Some of the books had fallen open or were propped up awkwardly on one another. Tony reached out and picked up an especially forlorn-looking tome with a chunk of badly bent pages. He smoothed them as best he could and peered at the inner text by the hall's light. It took a second for the wavering words to consolidate into rows of unreadable runes. He squinted- they looked a bit familiar.

"What of it?" Thor growled, turning away from the door and walking further into his quarters. Tony looked at the books around him- there had to be at least fifteen or twenty, each one more battered than the last. Throwing inanimate objects: never a good sign. Tony took a deep breath to sigh, only to choke on the reek of ale. He didn't even know where Thor would get ale.

"Thor... are you sure you don't want someone to sit with you? I won't even talk, we can just... drink." Tony desperately wanted to go back to his own rooms, but he desired a distraction from his own predicament with equal fervor. And besides, if the big guy needed somebody to talk to, there wasn't exactly a line of willing volunteers.

Thor made a grunting sound that wasn't entirely a yes or a no. Tony puzzled over it for a moment before deciding that if Thor wanted him out, he would kick him out. He crawled back a bit and shut the door, leaving the pair of them in a darkened cavern. The ceilings were high and the walls were few, leaving behind the honest sensation of being in a cave full of couch-and-bookshelf-shaped shadows. He wasn't sure if they were in the center of the Mansion or not, but any windows were firmly covered to keep out the sun.

Tony fumbled in the gloom that surrounded the floor, picking up books and closing them properly as he found them. He did his best to smooth out any bent pages that he could feel. "Why'd you throw the books?"

The shadow that was Thor made a snuffling, snorting sound, and Tony heard something sloshing. Still, an answer slowly emerged. "They are possessions of Loki."

Tony nearly dropped the scaly volume whose pages he was flattening as though it was about to bite him. He maintained his grip on it but eyed it warily. "O-Oh?"

"I brought them with me from Asgard, as I did with most of his favored belongings. I know not why... perhaps I held the foolish hope that he would seek me out, that he would try to reclaim them..." There was a trembling, low sound that might've been a sob. "But he did no such thing. Now I have tried to study them, to find a means of revealing Loki as he truly is when he has taken another's form, but I cannot read the runes of magic."

Tony's adjusting eyes could make out Thor hunched in a chair, a vat-like mug in the hand that he wasn't using to cover his face as his shoulders shook. (And to think Tony had ever believed him to be a happy drunk.)

"Hey," Tony pushed the books safely off to one side of the door, where Thor couldn't abuse them again. "Being hopeful isn't the same as being foolish." (Although, taking Loki's stuff to get his attention wasn't the best of plans...) Thor didn't respond this time, only slurping his ale forlornly.

Tony pushed himself upright, only to stagger onto the other half of the couch that Thor occupied. His head spun, and he wished that he'd thought to bring the scotch with him from the door. Wait...

He bent himself in half, fumbling with his sock just above his shoe. When he returned to the upright position, his just-in-case flask was in his hand and a silly drunk grin was on his face. He turned to smile at Thor, but the god's head was bowed and his shoulders were hunched, reminding Tony of the situation. (What? He had a shitty attention span when he was drunk... and when he was sober, come to think of it...) He dropped the grin and un-stoppered the flask, taking a long pull from the celestial container before nudging Thor and offering it to him.

Thor accepted, tipping his head back and guzzling about a third of the liquid. When he resurfaced, he swayed a bit, even though he was sitting. He returned the flask and slumped in his seat, staring off into the darkened room. "Do you have brothers, Tony?"

Tony's head wobbled back and forth before he noticed that Thor wasn't looking at him. "Not a one."

"In past years, 'twas a wonderful gift." Thor mumbled, cradling his ale. "Always someone for company, for battle practice, for secret-telling. Did you know that Loki used to keep secrets?" Thor turned to Tony, whose head-shake was seen this time. "He would smile so brilliantly when I confided in him. It was always his counsel that I sought when I desired advice, even when we were mere boys." Thor's head tipped back against the arm of the couch, but no alcohol followed the motion. "Do you enjoy secrets, Tony?"

"Mm-hm."

"As do I. As did Loki- as does Loki. He and I shared such wonderful secrets. Sometimes, he allowed me to aid him in his tricks and games, and we would laugh together for hours after... Even when he would trick me, we would laugh."

Games? Tony's mind was sluggish, but he knew that was important somehow... Ah! He remembered. (How on earth did he ever forget?) Tony looked sideways at Thor, trying to be sneaky about it (in his drunkenness, being sneaky seemed very important). The Asgardian was gulping ale again. "What'd you play?"

The large head rose. "What?"

Tony sipped from his flask. "What games. Red Rover? Candyland? I bet you played games with books. Loki loves books." Tony felt a stirring of pride at his subtlety.

Thor huffed, shifting on his side of the couch and nearly sloshing ale on himself (though Tony didn't think he could reek more than he already did). "The only game with a book is the Challenger's Game, the Challenge of Asgard. Loki and I played it thrice against other warriors of Asgard when we were barely men, and we triumphed each time." The pride in his voice was unmistakable. "Loki loved the Challenger's Game above all others."

Tony struggled to piece together bits of usable information amid the sentimental recollections. "You played together? Like a team or something?"

Thor's nostalgic grin glinted slightly in the darkness. "We were an unbeatable team. He would decipher each Challenge's clue in moments, and our battle strategy was superior to that of our opponents. Our victories were numerous, and our final triumphs were spoken of for weeks after the Game's end." Tony opened his mouth to ask a question, but Thor's tone suddenly turned dark, and he stayed silent. "Then we became men, and our father told us we were too old for such fun. Other warriors played it, old comrades looking for adventure, but we were not allowed. We had to... to..." Thor paused, searching for the proper words. "...to grow familiar with sacrificing our own pleasure for the burdens and responsibilities of ruling. Loki wanted to play it in secret, but I chose to do as our father commanded."

His head ducked again, but Tony's mind was too full of questions and drunken muddling to offer more comfort than his flask. Thor waved it away, knocking back more of his own ale. In the momentary silence, Tony's head buzzed.

The Game could be played in teams, but Loki chose to engage Tony alone (Tony's smile was dopey: he was special.). It also sounded like there was a conceivable end to the game that didn't involve death (which was good, because- Tony hiccuped a bit - because dying was bad). After all, Thor had played it, and Thor's brutal streak wasn't that prominent... But no death was a minor relief. And it was... not a kid's game, but something improper for grown royalty, at least. (Should he be writing this stuff down?)

And Loki was playing with Tony.

He shook his head slightly in bewilderment, a smile easing on to his face (Tony loved games!) just before Thor began to speak again. "It reminded me so of the day he committed to the study of magic. Our father was beside himself with anger."

Tony must have made a questioning sound, because Thor turned to him slightly as he explained in slurred words and gestures that slopped ale everywhere. "Sorcery is the artistry of a woman, Tony. Though Loki had an unspeakably great affinity for it, it was expected that he would choose to study politics and battle strategy, the matters of men. But it was his decision, and he stood firmly against our father's wrath." Thor sighed heavily. Tony wondered how he could possibly be using such big words if he was so drunk. Maybe it was an Asgardian thing. "In the end, he conceded somewhat to our father's wishes and studied everything. His heart remained in the exploration of magic, and he spent much of his time learning runes and practicing spells, but he also undertook the traditional studies of men to please Odin." Thor shook his head in wonder. "And he still surpassed me."

Tony nodded to himself, trying to decide how to get the conversation back to the game. "Sounds like he was really busy. Like, no time for anything else. No time for games...?"

"Indeed, Tony. Before he began to concentrate on magic, he was a marvelous artist, and a wonderful dancer. But they were women's crafts as well, and our father never approved. The only talents of Loki's that father condoned were his skills with throwing knives, spears, swords. He had such tremendous talent, Tony, and yet father was only proud when Loki hit a target or defeated an opponent." Thor's face was shadowed and his voice was morose when he asked, "Why was he not proud of Loki's gifts?"

Tony swallowed. This story had taken a turn for the familiar (but at least Loki's dad was proud of him sometimes). "I don't know."

Thor's sigh sounded like it was ripped from him. "The answer eludes me, as well." There was a long pause, and then Thor's voice returned, terribly small. "Is it a fault of mine, Tony? Should I have stood at his side, against out father? Would he and I be on Asgard now, playing the Challenger's Game and competing together as brothers?"

"Oh, Thor... don't blame yourself. Loki's crazy, he-"

Thor surged forward and grappled with Tony's collar, pulling him close to Thor's face. "Loki's mind is not addled!" He roared. Tony gagged on the reek of the ale. "He is lonely, Tony! He is suffering!"

Tony struggled to pull himself back, away from the rage and spittle emanating from Thor. "Sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean- Loki isn't crazy, he's just- misguided, did I say crazy? I meant misguided! He just needs a hug!"

He went sprawling back on the couch as Thor let him go, suddenly docile. "Yes," Thor agreed mournfully. "He just needs a hug."

Tony sat up, clumsily swiping spit off of his face. His front felt wet as well, and when he looked down, he sluggishly realized that Thor had sloshed about a quarter of the remaining ale on Tony's suit.

"He is terribly sad, Tony," Thor rumbled, cuddling with his ale-bucket. "Father's deception changed him. I fear that he will lash out in another unforgivable way."

"Hey now, don't think like that. What happened to the hug theory?" Tony drained the last of his flask and let it fall on the cushion beside him. The shadows were needling the edges of his vision, roving like rats. He could usually drink twice this much before the alcohol began to effect him like this, but he'd been drinking all day, and he'd had- what, two bites of toast in the last twenty-four hours? Not bad at all for drinking on a mostly-empty stomach.

He sank back against the cushions and savored the lingering taste of the scotch for a moment before he spoke up again. "But Thor, seriously. I'm sure you were an awesome brother, and Loki's just dealing with his shit right now. He'll be back to his old self soon enough, I'm sure about it." (At least, he hoped so. For his own sake.) "And he'll be singing and dancing and drawing fruit bowls and all that, and he'll play this stupid game with you, not me-"

A raucous snore interrupted what was meant to have been a mushy-gushy-supportive speech. Tony let his head flop towards Thor and found the Asgardian passed out on the couch beside him. "Wonderful."

Tony relaxed into the couch, staring up at the ceiling (Well, he couldn't actually see the ceiling thanks to the bat-cave ambiance that Thor was aiming for, but he knew it was there). He was tired. The realization wasn't new, but it felt so true right then, as Tony's eyelids drooped. He was good at handling stress (usually, he thought, reminding himself inadvertently of his brief screaming fit downstairs), but afterwards, he really needed to drink a lot and sleep a lot to compensate for all of that adrenaline and wasted energy.

Phase one: complete. Initiating phase two...

Tony's eyes slipped shut, and he immediately dropped off to sleep.

D'aww! Thor is so cute when he's drunk... *showers with love*

Anyway, I want to take this opportunity to point out that this story has gotten an insane number of reviews! WHOO! *twirls* You guys are the best. You cheer me up and cheer me on, and I am so lucky to have you all. Thank you all so much!

Cheers,

BlackSheep.