Chapter 11:

When Loki wakes, it is in the middle of the night, as so often he does, and he lays there a long while, wondering if all he remembers from the previous day had all been a dream.

The arrival of Thor, grown fully to a man, while he remained but a boy, weak and pitiful... Thor was not that much older than he, and so surely it was by means of magic that his brother had been aged up, though to what purpose, what end, Loki could not begin to fathom.

Loki was not stupid. That was one thing of himself of which he was sure. He may be weak and small and a sorry excuse for a son of Odin, but he was smart, and that was the one strength of his on which he relied the most.

Thor was hiding something from him, as was Steve Rogerson, though Loki could glean well enough that whatever it was they hid, it was solely for his benefit.

He wishes sorely they would not. He may be a child, but it stung him to know they did not trust in his courage and understanding enough to impart their secret to him.

Whatever it was, Loki too strongly suspected it had some connection to the other mortals residing in this place. They acted as if they knew him, though he had never in his life laid eyes on a single one of them.

Not that he could recall, in any event.

That was what troubled him so greatly. He couldn't remember. He couldn't remember how he'd come to be here, on Midgard, naked and alone and lost.

Couldn't remember, either, when it was Midgard had grown so vastly in it's advancements. He'd been here to visit with Father and Thor once, perhaps two, maybe three decades previous. They had been decidedly barbaric then, he recalls, their ways exceedingly, almost childishly simple, living in mud huts and relying on fire to keep them warm and give them light. A people governed by their own superstition and fear.

Certainly, their ways were still laughably simplistic compared with the Aesir, but in juxtaposition to what he recalled of them before, they were near unbelievably more developed.

It frightened him, in a way, though he couldn't say why. He hadn't thought the human's were so ingenues, hadn't thought they were so absolutely determined. If, for whatever reason, Asgard found in Midgard an enemy, they may conceivably pose a true threat.

When he'd woken in that foul smelling, garbage laden passageway, and stumbled out into the blinding daylight, overcome at once by sound and smell and pressing bodies rushing past at dizzying speeds, when he'd looked up to the sky and seen towers reaching up, up, up, seeming to touch the clouds, he'd been so overwhelmed, he'd nearly passed out. He hadn't understood. Hadn't known where he was.

No realm he'd ever visited had ever been so loud, nor had there been so many people, all of them dressed so strangely, none of them seeming to even notice him...

He'd been terrified then, wandering aimlessly, not knowing where he was going or how he was supposed to get home.

He'd nearly been run clean over by the mortal's odd metal carriages a dozen or more times, a loud, blaring noise emitting from the front of their vehicles each time, their red, angry faces pressed up against the glass, twisted in disgust for him.

Eventually, he's stumbled into an area which seemed at least somewhat familiar, with it's green grass and trees, though here too there'd been so many bodies. Loki had begun to think he understood then what an insect felt like beneath the boots of larger creatures.

He'd tried calling to Heimdall from there, crying out, praying the Gatekeeper would hear him and pull him back home.

But nothing had happened, and Loki, to his shame, had begun to cry.

That was when he'd also learned how viciously dangerous the mortals could be. Another thing he hadn't thought of them. They'd seemed so insubstantial to him before. So weak when compared to Father.

But they'd proved anything but.

It was a circumstance familiar to him, being chased and bullied by older and bigger boys. But at least in Asgard, Loki had had the advantage of familiarity. He knew so many good hiding places. And though he didn't always reach them in time, and the beatings would be bad when he was caught, here, on Midgard, he hadn't known any place to hide at all, and the boys who'd found him had been more abjectly cruel than any he'd ever encountered at home.

They weren't as strong. Not nearly so. And thinking about it now, Loki realizes he very likely could have overpowered any one of them. But he'd been so utterly frightened, and his fear had left him weak and paralyzed as they'd fallen upon him and began kicking and hitting him with violent blows and even uglier words.

All Loki had been able to do was curl up with his arms above his head and pray they didn't kill him.

They'd hated him, and Loki hadn't even known why. He didn't know these boys. Had never before seen them. Though maybe it was like the adult mortals who were Steve's friends, and they'd mistook him for someone they did know.

It was finally Loki's terror had subsided enough, and the instinct to survive had kicked in, that he'd willed himself to push free of their hands and run.

He hadn't known where he was going. He'd only known that he had to get away, and he'd pushed and pushed himself until his heart felt like it might explode and his lungs burned with seeming fire.

After that, his memories again became clouded. He remember running straight into Steve, though he hadn't known his name then. Remembered looking up at him and feeling only more fear.

After that, he only recalled waking in Steve's small apartment, and everything that had since followed.

Steve Rogerson... As mean as those boys had been, if there were mortals like Steve Rogerson in this realm, then perhaps it wasn't all so very awful, Loki thought.

After a while, Loki decides he isn't going to be falling back asleep, and he pushes himself up from the bed, wondering with real hesitation if he might get in trouble for being up and about at such an hour. Most usually, at home, when he would leave his rooms in the middle of the night, one of the royal guard would find him and give him a light scolding before marching him back to bed.

There weren't any such guards here. Not that Loki had seen. But as he'd also learned, the rooms in this strange place could be suffused with an awful energy. One that turned his own so brutally against him. And that knowledge now kept him frozen where he saw for long minutes.

He didn't want that to happen again.

But eventually, Loki's curiosity, as always, seems to overwhelm him, and anyway, a true warrior of Asgard wouldn't let such a little thing frighten them away.

He had to be a man sometimes.

Pushing himself from the cot, he drops to the carpeted floor, the rug feeling nice against his bare feet, and he begins from the room quietly.

The lights are mostly out, save for a few, low ones emanating from the ceiling.

It wouldn't matter much to Loki either way. He's always seen perfectly well in the dark.

As he wanders through the wide open space of the living area, he wonders which room his brother is staying in. There's several in this apartment, and Loki is overcome by an almost desperate need to see Thor, to make sure he's real and there.

He doesn't want to seem clingy though. He knows he has a tendency to irritate Thor with his constant need to be around him. Knows it can embarrass him in front of his friends.

And so he tamps down the need, instead occupying himself with exploration.

There are so many fascinating, if simply designed contraptions in this realm, and Loki finds himself nearly overwhelmed with excitement at the prospect of discovering them all.

Moving through the main gathering area, one he'd heard Steve refer to as the "living" room, he eyes the moving picture box, again recalling Steve's word for it. Television.

That very much is something Loki wants to examine further, having only caught glimpses of it until now. At first he'd thought it magic, for how the pictures seemed similar to his illusions, only they were flat in dimension, not fully rounded, and he could sense no such energy emanating from the strange, flat panel. Soon he'd realized it to be something else entirely.

He had so many questions he wanted to ask, so many thing he didn't yet understand.

But he was afraid to.

He often would be yelled at at home for asking too many questions. Told to be quiet. Told to shut up. He was too nosy, a lot of the adults said.

When they would become angry, sometimes even, when he had been by himself, they would hurt him for being too nosy. Push him or hit him. Never bad enough to leave a bruise, but... they always said if he told anyone, they would hurt him bad enough to do more than that.

And... and after what had happened before, when he'd stepped through the branches and ended up in that strange, bright room... that... that force which had turned... turned his own magic against him...

If the mortals held such power now he didn't... didn't want to make them angry too.

They already seemed to hate him. Everyone but Steve Rogerson. Steve likely wouldn't hurt him if he asked questions. And... and anyway, Thor was here now, and Loki knows Thor wouldn't let anyone hurt him.

He shakes his head, trying to push the swirling thoughts down. He'll make himself overly excited and unwell if he keeps it up.

Continuing to move through the space, he passes by the kitchen. Or what had been to explained to him as a kitchen. It seemed rather too small, Loki had thought. The kitchens in the palace were extensive, large enough to easily cook full feasts for the many dozens of warriors and courtiers alike, near every night.

This kitchen seemed barely large enough to cook enough food for even one Aesir.

Still, Loki realizes in that moment that he's rather hungry, and curiosity once again wins the day.

Moving towards the giant, silver ice box... a refrigerator, if Loki recalls correctly, he grabs hold the handle and pulls the door open, met with a soft rush of cold air.

The thing is filled with various, strangely wrapped foodstuffs. Loki recognizes some of them. The odd, flimsy container which holds eggs, and the juice squeezed from an orange, also strangely contained in a hard, clear material.

Most of it, Loki has no idea what it is, and for a moment, he fills overwhelmed. There's so much.

He sighs, quickly growing frustrated and bored, before deciding to try his luck elsewhere, closing the icebox door and moving on to the various shelves and cabinets.

He isn't tall enough to reach the ones above the counter, and glancing round himself to make sure no one is watching, he grabs hold the counters edge and pulls himself up onto it, bringing himself eye level with the shelving.

Pulling them open, he's met with just as great a variety of things, these items contained within brightly colored and gaudy packaging. Again, he finds himself growing curious, and reaching out, he takes up one of the bags, the glossed and slick material feeling funny against the pads of his fingers, making a loud, crinkling sound.

There's some sort of... pincer mechanism holding it closed, easy enough to figure out, and a moment later, Loki is hit with an overpowering, almost cloying scent of onion and grease.

His lip curls, his throat closing up as he turns his face away.

"Blah!" He snorts, wrapping the bag back up and putting it back where he found it.

Whatever that was, it was disgusting, he thinks.

Maybe it would be best simply to wait until morning, when Steve would make breakfast.

But he's hungry now, and with all this food, there must be something edible.

Rummaging around some more, he comes across a flimsy, brightly colored box, the words "Pop Tarts" written across the front.

He fumbles a minute to get it open, and looking inside, there's more, shiny wrapping, slick like the bag with the greasy smelling food.

Tearing it open, and there's some sort of dry, flat pastry inside, and Loki finds himself relieved to discover it doesn't smell so foul.

Still, he feels vague apprehension at the thought of trying it. It seems edible enough though, and so after a long, few moments, he finally works up the courage to take a bite.

A spicy, sweet taste fills his mouth, extraordinarily delicious, Loki's eyes going wide in pleasant surprise.

Well, he thinks, chewing thoughtfully and swallowing, these will do.

Tucking the box under his arm, carefully he lowers himself off of the counter, back onto the floor, taking another bite of the pastry as he continues to explore.

He discovers various machines and instruments, again, like most things in this realm, powered by their electricity. It's clever, Loki thinks, how the mortals have learned to harness a kind of energy not connected to the Tree.

Beings without magic, but they'd certainly made the best of what they did have.

Continuing to chew on his pastry, he spots a bright red contraption situated along the counter top, the color of it reminding Loki of Thor's cape, drawing his attention.

It's a bit of a struggle for him to reach it from the floor, having to stand on the very tips of his toes to grab it.

Eventually he manages, having to pull the thing free from the wall where it attaches by a thick, soft cord. Loki's figured already this is where the mortal's electricity feeds into the machine.

Looking the metal contraption over, he observes two slots placed along the things top surface, what he thinks are heating conduits positioned within the slots.

Whatever it is, Loki finds himself fascinated, his thoughts soon turning fully to examining the thing further.

He's hardly aware even then of having sunk to the floor with it in his hands, box of dry pastries at his side, nibbling absently as he sets to pulling the thing apart.

/

"Sir..."

Tony vaguely registers JARVIS' voice somewhere in the peripheral of his consciousness as he continues to tinker away at the left gauntlet of his suit.

"Sir." The AI continues, more insistently.

Tony sighs, irritated.

"What is it J?" He asks, finally looking up from his work. The damage he'd sustained to the gauntlet in their last battle was giving him fits. He was just about ready to simply scrap the whole thing and build a new one.

"Sir," JARVIS continues, the exasperation clear in his own voice, and Tony realizes the AI must have been trying to get his attention for a while now. "I think you should like to be informed that our young guest is currently fully awake, sitting upon the floor of the kitchen in Captain Rogers apartment, dissecting a toaster."

It takes several seconds for Tony's brain to catch up to that, staring ahead, blinking.

"... Uhh, you wanna run that by me again Jarv?" He asks finally, still trying to process.

The AI begins to repeat himself, and Tony flaps his hands impatiently, shaking his head.

"Alright, alright, I got it the first time." He cuts JARVIS off. "Just... okay, first of all, what the hell? And second, why are you telling me this? Why not tell Steveo or Big Brother?"

JARVIS sighs, as if having to explain any of this to Tony is some huge imposition.

"As I explained already Sir, I tried rousing both Captain Rogers and Mr. Odinson, but both of them, apparently, are deeply asleep, and failing to respond to my attempts."

"Well you obviously aren't trying hard enough." Tony accuses, feeling an unpleasant churning in the pit of his stomach, not liking at all where this is going.

After everything that's happened today... well, technically yesterday now, he really, really doesn't want to have anything to do with mini reindeer games. He still doesn't trust that Loki isn't playing some elaborate scheme to lull them all into a false sense of safety before he turns back to super psycho, super strong, magical maniac and tries to kill them all.

And besides that, he doesn't like kids. Like, really, really doesn't. Bratty, obnoxious, selfish little assholes that they are.

If Loki's frankly unpleasant attitude from before was anything to judge by, then Tony can't imagine he'll be much better as a little boy.

He didn't care what Steve had to say, because Steve, in his perfect, accepting heart, thought everyone was of some sort of value.

Steve was an idiot.

"Clearly not." JARVIS interrupts his thoughts. "You'll forgive me Sir but, since both Captain Rogers and Mr. Odinson are asleep, and you are very much awake, I thought it more courteous to inform you of the situation, rather than rudely awaken your much respected teammates when such would be wholly unnecessary."

"Wow J, you're just... a paragon of thoughtfulness, aren't you?" Tony snips.

"I try Sir." JARVIS snips right back, and not for the first time, Tony finds himself regretting making the bastard so damn smart.

/

He can't believe he's doing this.

He can't believe he let JARVIS talk him into doing this.

How the hell was this his responsibility again?

God damn it, with his luck, Loki will probably choose the very moment he walks through the door to turn back into his real self and zap the shit out of him with his creepy magical powers, or whatever.

Probably turn him into an eggplant or something.

God damn it.

"You owe me for this one J." He mutters angrily.

"I'm sure." JARVIS replies boredly.

Tony just shakes his head, stepping off the lift and heading towards Steve's apartments.

Reaching the door, and he stands there for several, long seconds, looking at the floor, hesitating.

He should've worn the suit, he thinks. Well... if he'd worn the suit, and Loki really wasn't... pretending to be some snotty little kid, he might end up scaring the shit out of him, and then he'd have Big Brother to contend with, and angry Steve, and...

Oh, what the hell was he waiting for?

He wasn't actually afraid of the little bastard, was he?

Sure, Mr. Little Prince was stronger than your average, humanoid kid, but still, the fucker was tiny. If he tried to attack, Tony could just... kick him off, probably. Yeah. Or pick him up and throw him.

That thought makes Tony smirk.

See how Loki likes a taste of his own medicine.

Alright, he thinks, shaking his head of the thoughts. He just had to get this over with. Take the toaster away from Lord Destructor and put him back to bed and no one had to be the wiser.

Cool. Easy. Simple. No problem.

Fuck this.

He keys in the code to open the door and steps through in quick succession, because if he's going to die, he wants to die like a man.

The apartment is dark, save for a few, low tracking lights, and almost entirely soundless, except for an almost inaudible noise coming from, right, the direction of the kitchen.

Tony hates his life, he really does.

Moving slowly forward, towards the sound, Tony's breathes sound too loud in his ears, his heart beating too hard against his rib cage.

He shouldn't be this freaked out. Seriously. It's so lame.

But he's doing this, and that's good. So he's not a complete wuss.

Only he knows there's no way he's going to be able to sneak up on Loki.

The little reptile probably already knows he's here, and is luring him into his elaborate trap so he can reduce him to a pile of dust with his zappy, otherworldly powers.

But as he continues towards the kitchen, the sound doesn't stop. Nor does it when he's in view of it finally, and he sees, sitting there, his scrawny back turned towards him, Loki, cross legged on the floor, tinkering away at something (the toaster, presumably).

There's a soft, green glow emitting from the kid's hands, and oh Jesus, Tony really is gonna die, isn't he?

Loki's probably rendering some sort of death ray right now, just waiting for Tony to get close enough so he can turn around and shoot him with it.

Only, as he continues to step nearer, Loki still doesn't react, doesn't turn around... doesn't show any sign at all that he's even aware Tony is behind him, until Tony is standing directly over him, looking down at the kid and what he's doing.

Tony feels his brows shoot up in surprise.

Loki has the entire toaster taken apart, carefully so, all of its parts laid out carefully in front of him, which, Tony thinks, would be impressive in and of itself, given the delicacy required to do that without just breaking everything.

Loki looks like he's about six or seven years old. Any normal kid that age, if they could even figure out how to get a toaster apart, would have smashed the thing to smithereens, because kids are assholes and stupid.

The thing though that's got Tony most impressed as he watches the kid, is that he's making something out of the parts.

Like, an actual something.

Not a death ray gun, like Tony had only half seriously thought, but more like... well, some sort of incredibly intricate, elaborate toy.

It looks like some sort of animal... sort of like a dragon, well, no, definitely a dragon, with delicate, metal wings, so expertly, beautifully crafted, they look like they would have the pliability of something organic, the rest of the body, from head to tail, equally as detailed and fine, sporting hundreds of individual red scales, it's underbelly black and silver.

Staring at it for long seconds, Tony isn't sure he could have crafted something more... perfect.

He notices then that Loki is using his magic... well, Tony's gonna guess that's what the soft green light which dances between the kid's small fingers is, he's using it to solder the parts together, using it also as a means to soften the metal and shape it then with his hands.

Okay, so... that's insane, Tony thinks.

Also, really fucking awesome.

"So I guess you really are Thor's brother, huh?" He says.

And he guesses Loki really hadn't known he was there, if the way the kid gasps loudly and jumps about a foot in the air is any indication.

Tony tries not to act fazed when the boy spins round, dropping his toy dragon and staring up at him with huge, terrified eyes.

He nods instead towards the box of Pop Tarts, two of the silver packages sitting empty along the floor.

"Thor must eat, like, ten boxes of those things a day. Dude's got a crazy fast metabolism not to get fat I guess. I'm thinking you probably have the same."

Loki only continues to stare up at him, his small chest heaving up and down too quickly, and Tony is starting to think now maybe he was wrong about the god faking it. Either that, or he's the best actor in the history of ever, because damn, he looks scared.

"Look," Tony starts, thinking he should maybe try to calm the little guy down before something bad happens.

"I'm sorry!" Loki blurts suddenly, his voice wavering badly. "I'm s-s-sorry!"

Tony blinks, taken aback.

"Whoa," he starts, putting his hands up. "whoa, hey now..."

"I d-did not mm-mean to, to, to... to..." the kid continues to stutter as if he hasn't even heard Tony. "to destroy the c-contraption, it w-ww... was just... just... and I thought... I tt-tend to get c-carried away and... I c-can make it exactly as it ww-was, I swear it. I can..."

"Hey, hey, hey, just calm down now." Tony starts. "Just calm down. It's just a toaster little man. No big deal."

Loki blinks up at him, his face lined in confusion and fear still.

Tony finds himself smiling at him despite himself.

The kid really is cute, now that he's looking at him.

"Besides," he shrugs. "that thing you made's way cooler."

Loki keeps staring up at him, breath still shallow and ragged, and Tony realizes maybe he should make himself look less threatening, and so he crouches down until he's only a little above eye level with the kid.

"Can I look at it?"

He begins reaching for the dragon, freezing when Loki flinches violently back from him, as if he'd thought Tony was going to hit him, and Tony feels his heart sink hard into the pit of his stomach.

He recognizes that reaction.

Recognizes a kid who's used to being hit... who expects to be hit.

Memories flood his mind, that familiar fear he'd felt, that dread, every time his own father would raise his hand and...

He shakes his head, forcing himself back to the present, eyes focusing again on the little boy in front of him.

"Hey," he says, keeping his voice soft. "hey, it's alright. Look. I'm not gonna hurt you. I just want to look at what you made. Is that alright? It looks pretty awesome to me."

Loki continues to look up at him fearfully, but as the seconds pass, and Tony holds himself still, his hands raised where the kid can see them, slowly, Loki seems to relax, if only a little, and eventually, he gives a weak nod, picking the toy up himself and offering it.

Tony smiles.

"Cool." He says, reaching again, slowly, for the dragon, taking it from the boy's hands.

Looking at it more closely, it really is pretty fucking amazing, Tony thinks, turning it over in his hands, examining it.

The intricacy and level of craftsmanship shouldn't be possible for someone so young. Hell, it would be impressive even for him to have built, he thinks, unable to help the wonder he feels.

"You built this out of a toaster?" Tony asks almost absently.

"... I..." He hears Loki start, his voice as little and fragile as he is, and looking up at the kid, he sees him with his arms wrapped round himself, his small hands kneading in the material of his oversized shirt. "I like to build th-things." He finally finishes, looking at the floor.

"That's pretty cool man." Tony says, trying to sound encouraging. "I like to build things too."

That gets the kid's attention, Loki looking back up at him, his eyes curious now.

"... You do?" He asks softly, and Tony nods, grinning.

"Sure do. I've got all kinds of cool stuff I bet you'd like."

Loki blinks, swallowing.

He seems to hesitate a moment, his hands rubbing up and down his arms.

"What is... is c-cool? Your meaning s-s... seems to differ f-from the typical definition."

Tony almost wants to laugh at the boy's sophisticated speech. It sounds so incongruous coming from such a young sounding voice.

"It means... uh, well, it's slang, here on Earth. Midgard. It means neat or interesting or... something positive. You know?"

Loki nods.

"I... I think so." He answers. "... You make things?" He goes on after a brief pause.

"Yup." Tony answers enthusiastically, and he's surprised by the sincerity of the desire he at once feels to show Loki his workshop. "Mechanical things, like this... dragon of yours?"

And just like that, Loki's eyes lit up, the fear of moments before seeming to almost entirely vanish as he nodded excitedly.

"'Tiss a Mountain dragon." He explains, smiling. And Jesus, he looks exactly like Tony remembers him looking... before. Only there isn't any of the malice, or mocking. He just looks like a sweet kid. "Though I've been lead to believe you don't have dragons in this Realm?"

Tony shrugs.

"None that I've ever seen. But hey, weirder things have been discovered, so it wouldn't surprise me if they're hiding out someplace."

"They most usually live in caves." Loki supplies, so matter of factly that Tony can't help laughing out loud.

"They do, huh?" He asks, and Loki nods, very sagely.

"Well, look kiddo, how about this?" Tony goes on. "It's a little late to be taking you around and showing you all my stuff, so I'll make you a deal. If you go back to bed now, I promise in the morning I'll give you the full tour. What do you say?"

"Truly?" The boy asks, a kind of naked wonder in his voice, and Tony smiles again, nodding.

"My solemn oath." He says.

Loki's eyes are bright with excitement, but a moment later, his expression seems to fall into one of more seriousness.

"... This is a great boon indeed." He starts. "And I fear I have little to offer you in return, but... y-you... you seem fond of the d-dragon." He nods towards the toy still in Tony's hands. "Would... would it be a suitable trade?" Loki asks, looking back up at him with hopeful eyes.

Tony doesn't know why, but something about it... about the kid thinking he needs to give him anything just for offering to show him around his lab, makes him feel wrong.

"You'd give this to me?" He asks instead, not even having to pretend at his astonishment.

The toy is so beautifully crafted, it would be worth several hundred dollars at least, maybe over a thousand even.

Loki nods, again, that same, hopeful expression in his eyes.

"Wow, Loki, that's... that's really nice of you man. I'd be honored."

"Then it's yours." The boy says. "And I will return to my chambers, as promised."

/

Making his way back down to his lab, Tony stares down at the beautiful creation in his hands, marveling at it, thinking on the whole encounter with the boy.

And he really was a boy, Tony thinks, amazed.

He doesn't know how he knows, but he just does.

Loki isn't faking, whatever's going on.

More incredible to Tony still, he thinks, is just what a sweet kid he is.

That's what Tony can't get over.

Thinking about it more, and something in the realization breaks his heart.

/

AN: As always, huge thank you to all my readers and/or reviewers! Hope you continue to enjoy!