Throughout their twenty year relationship, Tony and Loki had had some notorious fights. Screaming matches, thrown objects, and oft-slammed doors were the norm, especially when they were sharing an apartment in college—and it was the increase in those fights that led to their first break-up. When the kids came along, they adapted to keeping it subdued, learning to talk things through, calmly. At least, as calmly as two hotheads like them could, and in the privacy of their bedroom.

But this fight was different.

After Loki left him stranded at Bruce's funeral, Tony was pissed. He stewed over a few more drinks in the bar, and continued to bask in resentment in the backseat of the cab he rode back to the hotel. Furious was an understatement when, after arriving at the hotel, he discovered he would have to spend the night sleeping in a stiff armchair in the corner, as both beds were taken. One by Loki and Audi, the other by a sprawled out Jazz and long-legged Bash.

His frustration only grew as the days went on and Loki refused to speak to him. Hell, he refused to even look at him. He played the part when the kids were in the room, addressing him when it was necessary, but once they were alone, all Tony got was the cold shoulder.

It was driving him crazy. At first, Tony just brushed it off and let Loki have his pouty way. But after weeks of the silent treatment, the genius had had enough and he'd taken to sleeping in the lab. He made sure Jarvis woke him in time to get up to the bedroom before the kids woke and the two estranged lovers went about their day. Tony knew all it would take to fix the situation was to tell Loki the truth and explain what was going on with...everything. But every time he tried, his fear of Loki leaving him all but paralyzed him, and he couldn't bring himself to.

And today, he needed to concentrate on the task at hand: interrogating Victor Morgan.

Dressed casually in a black polo shirt and jeans, Tony headed down for breakfast, steeling himself for Loki's tight-lipped and icy looks. Jazz and Audi greeted him warmly as he walked in, aiming to fix himself a cup of coffee. As he did, he caught the way his husband's eyes raked over him, a black brow cocking curiously, and their eyes met. Tony waited for the question that was indubitably on Loki's tongue, but he said nothing. The moment passed when Bash came running into the room demanding he and Tony leave.

With the slightest of eyerolls, Loki had simply looked away.


Just like every other time he had dealt with S.H.I.E.L.D., Tony Stark walked in with a chip on his shoulder. He went through the rigamarole of security, one of the guards earning a dirty look for touching his junk for no good goddamn reason, and was led to the interrogation rooms. Agent Coulson and Director Fury were already in one room, discussing something quietly as Tony entered.

"Morning, sunshine," Tony greeted Director Fury before looking at Coulson. "Phil." He moved to the table set against the back wall to make himself another cup of coffee, grumbling a little to himself about how tiny the styrofoam cup was, ignoring whatever displeased look Fury was likely giving him.

"Thank you for coming in, Stark," Fury said with no hint of appreciation.

"Didn't have much of a choice, did I?" Tony turned to face the two men, the miniature cup at his lips, and froze. He hadn't noticed the giant one-way mirror when he stepped in, so focused on getting another shot of caffeine he was. And there, on the other side of the mirror, in the interrogation room, being chained to the steel table bolted to the floor, was Victor Morgan, a.k.a. Skurge, a.k.a. the son of a bitch that broke into his home.

He didn't look much like what Tony had expected. The genius could blame the action movies of the Nineties for what he had pictured: a big, dark, burly man with tattoos covering every inch of visible skin who was the living embodiment of a villain. Particularly with a street name like Skurge. This guy...had none of that. He was muscular, yes, but didn't seem much taller than Tony. And his hair was that color that just teetered the edge between ginger and dark blonde.

"You okay, Star—Tony?" Coulson moved closer and studied the genius' face. "...Tony?"

He blinked and jerked himself out of his trance. "I'm fine. When can I get in there? I got a lot of questions for this guy."

"We need to go over what you're going to be asking first," Fury commented, looking up from the paperwork in front of him. "And what information we need."

Tony raised a brow, his eyes blank. "I'm going to find out what he knows about this 'M' bitch and why she had the asshole break into my house. What else is there?"

The director made an exasperated face and seemed to let out a long breath, slowly and through his nose. "We need to know who her affiliates are. Where her base is. Who she's worked with before and working with now."

"I don't give a shit about any of that," Tony blurted out after finishing off his coffee and tossing the cup in the trash. "All I want is my information. When I'm done you can do whatever the hell you want with him." He headed for the door, stopping when it was Coulson who called his name. He turned the upper half of his body, saying nothing, but the look on his face clearly said What?

The agent held up his hand, an earpiece between his fingers. "Put this in? We need to communicate with you while you're in there."

As he usually did when within the walls of S.H.I.E.L.D. and dealing with their stupidity, Tony rolled his eyes. "How many times do I have to tell you guys that I'm a goddamn genius?" He pointed to his ear. "Jarvis has been linked to your network since I started inhaling the stuffy-as-shit air in the building." He plucked the earpiece from Coulson's hand and examined it. Then tossed it to the table behind Fury. "Junk. Don't distract me while I'm in there, all right?" He gave the agent's arm a light punch and walked out of the room, heading into the next.

For all his bravado with Fury and Coulson, Tony's heart was racing when he stepped into the interrogation room. The guard locking the door behind him, echoed throughout the cement-walled room, and the genius was struck by the fact that he was now alone with a dangerous criminal. Who was smiling at him.

"Anthony Stark, in the flesh."

Tony's brow knitted, surprised at the heavy Irish brogue. "Only my husband can call me that."

Victor lifted his hands in a surrender gesture, as much as he could, as they were attached to the bolted down table by a chain. "How are things with you and the raven-haired man? Still fighting?"

His face hardened further, hiding the deep sense of violation he felt at the question, and he gave a sharp shake of his head. "I'm not here to answer your questions, Morgan. You're gonna answer mine."

The Irishman nodded. "Was just bein' friendly, is all. What d'you want to know?"

Moving into the room further, Tony angled his head a little, narrowing one eye at the other man. "Where're you from?"

"Can you not tell?" he asked with a snort. "I hail from the Emerald Isle, Mr. Stark. Dublin, to be precise."

Slightly more comfortable, Tony forced the frown from his face, and stood behind the chair across from Victor. "All right. Let's just get down to business. Who's 'M?'"

"Tsk, tsk, tsk." Victor wagged his finger at Tony. "We're to make a deal first, Mr. Stark."

Tony scoffed, about to speak when Fury buzzes in his ear. "No deals, Stark."

"Suck it, Nick," he muttered under his breath before speaking to Victor. "You're not gonna get outta here, Vic. So what are you negotiating for?"

The criminal smiled again. It unnerved Tony how friendly he looked. "I know I'll not be getting out of these chains any time soon." They clinked and clattered again as he motioned with his hands. "Perhaps you can bargain for my stay to be a little more...comfortable."

"Stark, you are not authorized—"

Tony turned sharply to the mirror where Fury and Coulson are stealthily watching and it immediately went silent in his ear again. "I don't know what you think I can do for you," he said to Victor. He jerked a thumb toward the mirror. "They'd sooner throw me in here than let me make a deal with you."

"You're Tony Stark, mate. You've got influence, even if the man with the patch won't admit it." That made Tony snicker, but he quickly sobered.

"Before I agree to anything, why don't you tell me how I'm supposed to know I can trust your information?" A chill creeped up Tony's spine, had the hairs on the back of his neck rising, when Victor smiled slowly. Predatorily.

"That little Audrey of yours is real pretty."

Tony stiffened, clenched his jaw.

"I'll bet she grows up to be as beautiful as her mum."

The steel chair provided for Tony clanged loudly after he tossed it aside, lunging forward to slap his palms to the table, stopping only when Coulson shouted his name, loudly, in his ear. Irritation surged when all Victor did was dip his head back to keep his eyes on Tony. And those two cups of coffee threatened to violently make a reentrance when the bastard grinned sadistically at him. "You keep my kid's name out of your filthy mouth, you son of a bitch!"

"Stark. Come out of there. Now."

"Not 'til this is settled," he growled back, eyes never leaving Victor's. Tony nearly snarled when Victor grinned, almost cheerfully.

"What would they like to offer?"

Tony leaned away, stepping back from the table. "Fury." There was no sound on the other side for several long moments. "Fury!"

"All right," the director snapped. A weary sigh. "Maximum security. No general population. That's it."

Tony listened, nodded. "Max security, no gen pop. As good as you're gonna get, pal."

Victor's aquamarine eyes rose to the ceiling, considering. "I've two conditions," he held up two fingers in a 'V'. "Then I'll accept."

"No."

"Wait," Tony hissed at Fury then jerked his chin at Victor. "Shoot."

"I want to be transferred every three months."

"What?" The word echoed in Tony's ear. "What the hell for?"

"'M,' as she so vaguely refers to herself, her arm stretches farther than you might think, Mr. Stark. I stay in the same place for six months, I'm guaranteed dead by four or five, if that. This way I'm just a little ahead of her."

Scratching at his head, Tony moved away from the table to pick up the chair he'd knocked over, softly murmuring, "What do you think?"

Another long pause. "We'll do our best."

He returned to the table, nodded at Victor to let him know S.H.I.E.L.D. agreed. "What's the second condition?"

Victor smirked, sitting back in his chair, as much as the chains around his wrists would allow. "I would like a friendly visitor each time I change prisons."

"What?" the genius scoffed. "Wait a minute. Are you seriously telling me that you want S.H.I.E.L.D., the Strategic, Homeland, Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division, a covert government organization that exists to rid the planet of worse scum than you, to pay for an escort for you four times a year? You're fucking crazy."

"No, mate; I'm crafty." Victor chuckled darkly. "You can't expect me to go the rest of my life without a little fun."

"I'm sure you'll find plenty of fun in prison."

Victor chuckled. "Not all of us play that hand, Mr. Stark."

Tony grinned smugly—despite the fact he hadn't had that kind of fun in a while. The thought still brought a smile to his face. "Don't knock it 'til you try it, Ireland."

"Maybe you should send that leggy husband of yours—" Victor didn't get to finish that sentence before Tony's fist was flying across his mouth. Pain shot straight up his arm, and somewhere Fury was yelling his name, but it didn't stop Tony from fisting his hands in the orange jumpsuit Victor was dressed in.

Coulson had burst into the room by then, and was pulling at Tony, dragging him away from Victor, and holding him back with a strength Tony hadn't expected the shorter man to have. "Mr. Stark," he said firmly, trying to get Tony to focus on him.

Tony's chest rose and fell with his heavy breaths, glaring at Victor as he laughed and spit blood onto the concrete floor. At another shout of his name, Tony looked at Coulson and shoved him back, though he didn't go far. "I'm fine. I'm fine!" He said again, throwing Coulson off of him this time.

"It's all right, Agent." Both men looked at Victor, still working his jaw. Tony took great pleasure in the blood already crusting at the corner of the man's mouth. "It's a touchy subject for our friend here."

Coulson released Tony only to move around the table to stare down Victor. "Do not provoke him again. We don't have any rules here, Mr. Morgan. I'm not above letting him pummel your face for five minutes if he wants."

Victor acknowledged that with a tip of his head, and licked at the cut in his lip as he watched Coulson leave. His eyes darted to Tony as the billionaire moved to take the seat across from him. "Feelin' better?"

Tony's dark eyes flicked up as he sat, cradling his likely bruising hand in his lap, under the table. "Look, you got half your deal. Fury's never gonna go for the other part, so start giving up some information. Who is M?"

"Can't tell ya what I don't know." He threw up a hand when Tony scowled more and before he blew his top again. "The woman goes to great lengths to keep herself hidden."

"What does that mean?"

The criminal shrugged. "I never met with her for the job on your house. I was contacted by wire, the money was sent by wire, and the items were left at a specific location decided on by her. And likely picked up by one of her flunkies."

Tony sighed heavily, dropping an elbow on the table and scrubbing at his face. He looked up, about to question Victor further when Fury popped up in his ear. "Ask about known associates." He rolled his eyes. "You say you never met her. How'd she know to contact you for to break into my house?"

"I'm not hard to find. I'm a small-time criminal, Mr. Stark," Victor said with a shrug.

Tony scoffed and cocked a brow. "Small-time?" He held up a hand and started to count off. "Theft, assault, drug possession, kidnapping—"

"Those charges were dropped!" The Irishman's face nearly went purple with the vehemence with which he spoke.

"Stark. Focus."

He glanced off to the side, biting back a smart retort. "Go on."

"I'll tell you this much: she's had surveillance on you for nigh on a decade now."

"What?" Tony shot up straight in his chair, his stomach doing a nervous flip. Victor lifted a brow and nodded. "Why?"

"Don't know. She's got contacts and informants stashed all over the world. She's been watching you more closely since her husband died. How'd you think I knew you were fighting with your husband?" he asked with a smirk.

Mind already working, Tony sat forward, brow knitted once more. "Who's her husband?"

The Irishman shrugged again. "Another shadowy figure. He has a reputation amongst the...underground community. He was good to some of the younger boys, provided jobs when needed, and places to stay. It was rare when he had to take a firm hand, but when he did...everybody heard about it. Rumor was he met a woman at a party and fell in love, and when he married her things changed. After decades in this business, he tried to go straight. But...something went wrong; their investment or someone they trusted went awry, and the stress...must'a killed him. Some think she killed him. Poison or such, but either way...he left everything to her. And she took over the old business because it brought in the money. She's been tryin' to find a way to get at you ever since."

"But—"

"A name, Stark. Get a name. Any name!"

"I'm trying!" Frustration building, Tony blew out a breath and looked at Victor again. He looked confused at the interaction. "You got a name for this guy?"

"No," he answered shaking his head. "In the community, he has many names. Some call him the Savior. Others, funnily enough, the Godfather." He leaned to his side and looked toward the mirror. "Your government friends may know him as something else." He spoke up louder, so they could hear him on the other side.

"What?" Again, the word echoed in Tony's ear.

"The Mandarin."

The name meant nothing to Tony. Shifting around in his chair, Tony looked at his reflection in the mirror. "You know it?"

"No. We're looking into it now."

He made an irritated noise. S.H.I.E.L.D. was supposed to be on top of these kinds of things and people. The fact that they weren't didn't bode well for Tony. He turned back to Victor. "What else?"

"S'all I know, mate. I couldn't even tell you who might know her personally."

Tony leaned forward a little on the table. "Could you get me in touch with her?"

"Stark. We didn't agree to that." Tony waved Fury off, nearly snarling again.

Victor stared blankly at Tony for a moment, wondering what the billionaire's gesture was about. "Not directly, no. I could get in touch with my contact. Relay a message."

"Stark! This was not agreed to. You cannot make plans to meet this woman on your own. Not without—"

"Jarvis, mute." The connection buzzed for a second then went silent. "Do that," Tony said to Victor as he started to rise. He turned, starting for the door, wincing at the pain still ringing through the bones of his hand.

"Oi." Just before he was about to knock on the door, to let the guard know to unlock it, Tony stopped and looked back at Victor. "That's a mighty big favor I'd be doin' you, don't you think, Mr. Stark?"

His chocolate brown eyes narrowed. "What do you want?" He jolted back a little when the door opened. The guard made a face at him that Tony nearly laughed at. He was telling him Fury was pissed and on his way.

"Haven't had a steak in ages," Victor called out, regaining Tony's attention. Tony looked at him, and for a moment pitied him.

"Stark. Out. Now."

He held up a finger at Fury. "I'll make sure you get one. On me."

Victor gave him nod, grinning almost smugly at Fury, standing in the doorway with the darkest look he'd ever seen on the one-eyed face. He chuckled, when Fury all but yanked Tony from the room. "Pleasure doin' business with you, Mr. Stark!"


Tony returned home at his normal time that night, exhausted, weary, and worried about how long until he might hear about getting a meet with 'M.' He'd had his hand checked out in the infirmary at S.H.I.E.L.D., and thankfully hadn't broken anything. His knuckles were bruised, but had long stopped throbbing. If he kept his hand out of sight, maybe Loki wouldn't notice. Fat chance, he thought getting out of the car.

Halfway up to the house, the door opened and Audi came flying out. Tony smiled weakly and caught her just as she jumped into his arms, wincing only slightly as his fingers flexed.

"Oof! Hi, Monkey." Tony settled her against him, her tiny bottom resting on his folded forearms.

"Hi, daddy! Missed you." She added a kiss to his cheek.

"Missed me?" Tony's personal bullshit meter was ticking, but he smiled happily anyway. "You just saw me this morning, you silly girl."

"I know."

"Audrey Maria Stark!"

Tony and Audi looked at each other; he, with a knowing look, and she, with wide eyes and a trembling lip. "Why's your father full-naming you?" She shrugged, but her fingers tightened in his shirt with each step Tony took that brought them closer to the house.

Loki appeared in the doorway looking very unhappy and scary, even to Tony. "Get your behind in here this instant," he growled through clenched teeth, snapping his fingers in a sweeping motion to get her inside.

Setting Audi on her feet just before reaching the porch, Tony watched his little girl walk quickly inside, pouting and on the verge of tears. Before he could ask what was going on, Loki turned away to follow Audi.

"Get upstairs, young lady, and do not come out of your room until I or your father call you. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Pappa," she sniffled and took off running up to her room.

Tony watched the whole thing with a frown as he closed the door behind him, and trailed after Loki, following him into the kitchen. "Wanna tell me what that was about?"

Loki was headed for the sink, reaching into the cabinet beneath it for a five-pound bag of potatoes. After he set them on the counter, he returned to the counter Tony was standing near and reached for a letter on the counter, tossing it wordlessly his way.

Tony picked it up with his good hand, giving Loki an exasperated look for not just telling him, then read the letter from Audi's school. It explained that the kindergartner had slapped another student in the face and was being suspended for two days. He made a disgruntled noise in his throat, looking up at Loki, at the sink washing his hands before grabbing several potatoes to wash. "What the hell is—seriously? She's been in school for seven months. How is she already getting suspended?"

Loki barely spared him a glance. "We're lucky she is not getting expelled. I had to make some excuses and explanations just to keep her there."

Tony clamped down on his temper, sighing and feeling a headache start to throb at his temples, recognizing now that Audi had been trying to butter him up. "Okay. So what do we do now?"

Loki dumped the cleaned potatoes into a bowl then moved to the refrigerator to pull out some vegetables, carrying them to the sink, speaking to Tony, almost absently, as he moved about. "About what? What she's to do the next two days or why we can't seem to curb this violent behavior in our daughter?"

Tony followed Loki with his eyes, seeing him make sharp, jerky movements as he prepared dinner, knowing full well this wasn't helping things between the two of them. "I meant the latter, but since you brought up the former…"

His husband paused long enough to shoot an irritated look Tony's way. "You need not worry. As usual, I've handled everything." Tony rolled his eyes—after Loki looked away. "I've made an appointment with a therapist."

"For who?" Tony questioned, feeling a little uncomfortable all of a sudden, his back stiffening. Loki turned to look at him, an incredulous expression creasing his features, but something darker simmered beneath his green eyes.

"For Audrey, who else?" He turned back to the vegetables, pulling out a knife from a block set in the corner and a carving board from behind it, and moved to the clearest counter—the one near Tony. "Though she's not the only one who could benefit from some therapy," he muttered as he started to peel a carrot.

Tony sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose. "Do you think we could we go maybe five seconds without your snarky asides, babe?" Loki brought the knife down on the cutting board with a particularly hard chop, his jaw clenching. Tony cleared his throat softly, and asked his next question calmly, hoping to diffuse the tension that hung around them like a dark cloud lately. "Why do you want to take her to a therapist?"

"There is obviously something behind all of this aggression and violent behavior. Perhaps you care not, but I would very much like to get to the bottom of it, sooner rather than later."

"Just because it wasn't my idea doesn't mean I don't care," Tony retorted sharply, eyeing Loki as he quickly, and sloppily, chopped the carrots.

"Could've fooled me," Loki mumbled.

"Knock it off." Loki slanted him a look, but said nothing. "I get it, okay? I'm the shittier father."

He sighed, shook his head, and went back to chopping. "I never said those words."

"You didn't have to, Loki. Look, you wanna take her to a shrink, fine. I won't argue; it's probably a good idea. But do you think we could have just one night when we're not bickering at each other?"

Loki stopped again, appearing to study the knife during his pause.

"Don't get me wrong; it's almost preferable to the silent treatment. But, the truth is, I had a hell of a day and I'd just like to relax with my family over a nice meal."

"Hm." Loki carried the cutting board of carrots to the stove and dumped them into a saucepan. He returned to the counter and start peeling potatoes. His movements told Tony he still wasn't happy. "Then I shall refrain from speaking for the remainder of the night. Will that help?"

"Fucking Christ, Loki!"

"Keep your voice down," he practically hissed, glaring at Tony. When he spoke again, his voice was lowered, but deep and laced with indignation. "You want a peaceful night? You don't want to argue? Very well. I won't question you about your day, though it is glaringly obvious by your casual attire, you did not spend it cooped up in your office. And since there are no grease stains on your hands, your arms, your face, nor is your hair mussed from the endless amount of times you usually drag your fingers through it, neither did you spend it in your lab. Now leave me be to make your family's meal."

Tony stared at Loki in shocked silence. He had had no idea Loki paid that much attention to him when he came home after a long day. But obviously, he did. Still, however true his husband's assessment was, it was a slap to his pride. "I was working, smart ass."

Loki jerked his head back and cocked a brow.

Knowing that was a mistake, Tony looked away with a heavy sigh. "I'm…I'm sorry. That was…look, maybe I wasn't wearing a suit and maybe I wasn't at the office but I was working, Loki. Like I do every day, I work hard for this family, our family, and frankly, I don't think I need to put up with your shit when I come home."

For a few long moments, Loki didn't respond and just continued to chop. When he did begin to speak, he was still chopping, each word punctuated with each hit of the knife to the board. "You know perfectly well how to fix it."

Frustrated, Tony reached over the counter to halt Loki's movements. The raven-haired man flicked his gaze up, a hint of surprise in them. "Can't you just trust me?"

Loki's face softened briefly, fleetingly, before his brows rose and pinched together. "Trust you?" He let the wrist in Tony's hand relax, the knife dropping to the cutting board slowly. And he laughed—once, with no humor. "You have been lying to me. Only the gods know for how long. Explain to me, please, how I am to trust you."

If Loki had picked up that knife and stabbed Tony right in the center of the arc reactor, it would've hurt less, the genius thought. He leaned forward more, fingers tightening over his husband's forearm. "Loki. I swear to you, everything I'm doing is to save this family."

Tony jolted back when Loki dropped the knife with a clang, snatched his arm from his grasp. "Save us? From what, Anthony? Tell me."

Tony breathed heavily through his nose, jaw alternately clenching and working to speak, but nothing was coming out.

"Tell me!"

He flinched, winced, threw up his hands. "Baby…"

"No. Do not 'baby' me. You ask me to trust you but you give me no reason to. Continue like this, Anthony, and this house will be more silent than you can bear." Shoving the half-sliced potato, knife, and cutting board away, Loki started to storm out.

Tony grabbed for Loki's wrist, keeping a hold on him even as Loki struggled to free himself. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what you think it does." He successfully yanked his arm back, but didn't yet walk away. "How long do you presume I will put up with this? Do not for one second believe that I wouldn't pack four suitcases and take the children with me when I go."

A gasp sounded like a scream between them and Tony's eyes watered at the thought. "You…you wouldn't do that…" Would you? he questioned silently.

Loki visibly fought his own tearing eyes. "Give me a reason not to."

Tony's heart had started to race and he could feel sweat starting to seep from his glands. "I need them. I need you." His eyes were locked on Loki's as his husband took a step closer.

"Prove it. And let me help you with whatever you are going through."

He wanted to; oh god how he wanted to. He just needed a little more time. "Loki, I'm not—Loki!" Loki clucked his tongue, sighing sharply as he turned away from Tony, who was hot on his heels following after him. "Loki, babe, please—"

"No!" He shouted, hair flying as he spun around. He fisted his hands at his sides, trying to calm himself, and glanced up toward the children's rooms, waiting a beat to make sure they hadn't heard. He looked at Tony with reddened, watery eyes. "I cannot keep beating my fists against the wall you've put between us, Anthony. I…" He groaned angrily and snatched up his car keys from the dining table.

Tony's stomach dropped. "Loki, no, don't. Please—"

"I will return later," he said as he continued toward the door. He stepped out, but poked his head back in seconds later, cheeks damp as he toward Tony. "Be sure to feed the children." His words tumbled out before he walked out again.

Tony stared at the door for a several moments, the sound of the door slamming shut echoing in his ears. When his mind finally cleared, as much as it could, he moved into the kitchen to shut off the stove and numbly went about putting the vegetables in plastic containers and back into the refrigerator, and stashing away the potatoes to their rightful spot, throwing the half peeled and sliced one away. He was fighting tears the entire time.

After collecting himself, and splashing some water over his face, he went to the foot of the stairs, and called up to the kids. "Bash! Jazz! Audi! Get down here!" After a few seconds, he could hear their footsteps, Audi being the first to come down, a look of near fear on her face, followed closely by Jazz. Bash slowly trailed after them.

"Hi, Dad."

"Hey, Jazz. Everything shut off up there?" Two heads nodded; Bash frowned. "Good, then grab your sweaters or whatever, and let's head out. I'm buying dinner tonight."

"Ooh, yay!" Sad mood vanished, Audi clapped and jumped down the last step to throw her arms around Tony's waist. He chuckled and set a hand on her head.

"Isn't Pappa making dinner?" Jazz asked, as both he and Bash looking toward the kitchen.

Tony forced himself to smile. "He was, but turned out he wasn't that hungry and I didn't want him to make a huge dinner just for us. So I'm giving him the night off. Figure out what you want."

"Pizza!" Audi shouted.

"Hamburgers!" Jazz countered. Tony watched his two youngest run toward the door with a soft smile. They left it open as they headed to the car, arguing about what to eat. Tony looked back at Bash as he descended slowly, stopping at the last step.

"Where'd Pop really go, Dad?"

Tony never let his smile falter. "Truth is, your Aunt Natasha called; said she needed help with the new baby's room or something. Don't worry, he'll be back."

"I wasn't worried about that." One black eyebrow rose. "Were you?"

He forced out a laugh. "'Course not. Come on." He waved him down and moved to the door, making sure it was locked. Bash stared at him for a few seconds, with that same penetrating emerald gaze as his father's—not uncomfortable, at all—before he stepped down and started out.

Tony knew Bash didn't buy anything he'd just said, but keeping a smile pasted across his lips, he headed out for dinner with his kids, hoping to a god he didn't even believe in that Loki would be there when they returned home.


A few days later, Loki sat at his desk, doodling on a notepad, listening to Natasha as they discussed the dinner the two families would share to celebrate Sebastian's acting debut. "I can make the roast and potatoes; just bring a vegetable."

Natasha groaned lightly. "Fine. God, you guys eat so healthy. Do you want dessert? Clint can buy a cheesecake or something."

Loki chuckled and finished a doodle of a face that looked very much like Tony's. "If you'd like. You're craving more sweets this time, aren't you? Along with the BBQ."

"I am. Ugh. This does not bode well for my post-pregnancy body."

He grinned. "I'm sure you'll be fine, love. You've bounced back fairly quickly before. You hardly looked like you'd had a child after Alexander."

"Yeah...but I'm older now. Almost forty," she said with a heavy sigh.

"I beg your pardon. There is nothing wrong with being forty," Loki sniffed, making Natasha laugh.

"Calm your tits, babe. You don't look a day over thirty-two. Fucking baby-faced forever."

"Hm," Loki hummed, too used to Natasha's infrequent vulgarity to be insulted. "Anyway, you know Clint will love you no matter what you look like. He loves you unconditionally."

"Maybe...I wanna get my tubes tied," she confessed quietly. Loki's pencil paused on the notepad, his eyes flicked up.

"Really?"

Natasha chuckled softly on the other line. "I don't know if I could do this again. I mean...tell me the truth: are you actually prepared for the poopy diapers and late-night feedings?"

"Yes, I am," he answered promptly, with a smile curving his lips. "Though with me, Natasha, I didn't know it until I had Sebastian, but I love caring for an infant." He chuckled when Natasha scoffed.

"Of course you do, Loki," she said flatly. "You don't have to carry and birth the damn thing."

"I would if I could," he argued.

"I believe that!" She laughed gaily and Loki rolled his eyes.

He waited until she calmed down to ask, "How does Clint feel about it?

She let out a long breath. "Well, he—hold on. What?" Loki waited, listening to a muffled conversation between Natasha and Ana, who was looking for a lost shoe. "Well, I didn't take it, Ana… Then go look under Ro's bed. Loki?"

"I'm here."

"Wait…" It was quiet for a few more moments before Natasha came back on the line. "He doesn't want me to do it," she finally said. "'Just in case,' he says. He thinks I might regret it later."

"He has a point, Natasha. Perhaps you two simply need to be more careful."

"Ugh, that is so easy for you to say, you damn homo." Loki snorted. "You don't have to worry about getting pregnant when Tony shoots his load into you."

"Oh, my god. I cannot believe you just said that," Loki groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "But I suppose it is the truth."

Natasha made a smug noise and another brief pause passed between them. "Do you guys still get tested?"

"Gods, Natasha. You are so nosy!"

"I'm your best friend; I'm supposed to be," she protested loudly. A beat. "Well?"

Loki sighed. "It is a part of our yearly physical, all right? Does that appease you?"

"Ha. It's a good way to keep Tony in line, huh?"

He feigned a laugh, thinking, if she only knew his fears when he and Tony awaited those results. "Very funny. Though I'm not sure why we still do it. I've not slept with anyone but Tony in nearly thirteen years. Well...except…"

"Hey." The sharpness of Natasha's tone made Loki go still. "Do not go there, Loki. That wasn't the same and you know it." He hummed quietly in response. "Why are you thinking about that anyway?"

"I'm not sure, to be honest," he murmured, before frowning and almost chuckling. "Wait a minute, aren't you the one who told me to tell Sebastian?"

"Yeah...and I still think you should. Just not now. Later, when he's a little older."

Loki turned in his chair, looking out the glass doors leading to the side of the house, leaning back in the wheeled desk chair. "Natasha, tell me the truth. Do you honestly think him knowing about that will do anything positive?"

"Yes, I do. Not now obviously, because he won't understand. But when he's older, and ready to appreciate you as a man and as his father…? I think you should sit him down and explain it to him."

"I—" Catching a movement out of the corner of his eye, Loki looked toward the door, and Sebastian came into view. Sitting up, straightening, Loki waved him in. "Natasha, Sebastian's just come in. I've got to run. I'll talk to you later. Bring whatever dessert you want."

She laughed softly. "Great. Kiss the kids."

"You do the same. Bye, love." Loki ended the call, smiling at Sebastian. "Hello, darling."

Sebastian gave a weak smile as he lingered in the doorway. "Hey…"

Loki lifted a brow because the teen hadn't stepped into the room or said much more beyond that hello. And he could tell the smile on his face was a little forced. Belatedly, he wondered how long he had been standing in his doorway and what he might have heard. "Is everything all right?"

After a short hesitation, Sebastian stepped in and moved to sit in one of the chairs in front of Loki's desk. "I was actually gonna ask you the same thing," he said finally. Loki's lips curved faintly.

"Were you? About what?"

Sebastian focused his eyes on Loki. "You and dad."

Playing it cool, Loki crossed his arms on the desk, shrugged his shoulders. "I'm not sure I know what you mean."

The teenager rolled his eyes as he practically groaned, "C'mon, Pop. I have eyes, you know."

Trying to keep the mood light, Loki smiled a little wider. "You do. And they're a lovely viridian. So tell me, what do those beautiful yes see?"

"You and dad avoiding each other."

Shit. "No, darling, we're not. It's just a busy time, that is all. We've got your play coming up. Jameson has a concert on the horizon and Audrey's end of the year program will be here before we know it. We're all a little stressed at the moment. But...your father and I are just fine."

His heart sank a little when all Sebastian did was sigh heavily, fluttering the dark strands of hair hanging over his face. "Y'know, this one time...Ana told me she could tell when her parents were fighting a lot."

Loki's brows drew together, but he fought not to chuckle, not wanting Sebastian to think he was laughing at him. "How's that?"

"They stopped having sex."

The elder man barked out a short laugh, quickly cutting himself off. "All right. And what does that have to do with your father and I?"

Sebastian's chin lowered, and the look he gave Loki had his lips parting in slight shock, knowing he had seen that incredulous look in the mirror before. "You guys aren't having sex. And you haven't for awhile."

"Mnh." Loki grimaced, eyes closing as he fought back his embarrassment. "Sebastian," he started, folding his hands together and steepling them under his chin, "I don't want you to think that you cannot come and talk to me about anything, because you can; anything at all. But, as open as I am, I will not discuss your father's and my sex life with you."

"What sex life?"

"Watch it," he snapped, aiming a long finger directly at his son. "That is a very adult subject and you are not an adult."

"I'm not blind either, Pop." Sebastian's voice rose, and cracked. "You think I haven't noticed he's been sleeping in the lab lately? Or how you guys don't talk like you used to. You don't even hug anymore."

Slowly losing his temper, and fighting it back, Loki rose and moved around the desk, pulling the other chair in front of his desk and twisting it around to sit and face Sebastian. "Darling, you know very well it is not a rare occurrence for your father to sleep in his lab. He often sleeps in the lab when he's working on a project."

Sebastian rolled his green eyes, pale red lips, a little fuller than Loki's, pursed in a pout. "He's not working on anything important. He pretends to. But mostly he just sits there looking all sad all the time. What's wrong?" Loki parted his lips to answer, but Sebastian went on, lowering his voice. "Are you guys breaking up?"

Loki sighed softly, reaching out to cup Sebastian's cheek. "No, my love. There is nothing to be concerned about. All right?" Sebastian said nothing; simply staring.

The silent tension was broken suddenly when Audrey walked in, straight up to Loki, standing between him and Sebastian. "Pappa. I got a message for you."

Loki sat back, having dropped his hand from Sebastian's cheek, and grinned at his daughter. "Wonderful. But you forgot to knock again, my sweet girl."

She instantly pouted. "The door was open."

He chuckled, pinched her cheek, and laid a hand at her waist. "All right; just remember for next time. What is your message?"

"Oh." Audrey straightened, eyes shooting up as if she was reading her words from the ceiling. "Daddy told me to tell you that you should just take Bash out to dinner b'fore his play 'cause he has a 'bizness' meeting and he won't be home for dinner."

Loki face fell, but he quickly remembered Sebastian was watching him, and composed himself. "All right. Thank you, dear."

"What, no reward?" She pushed out her bottom lip and held out a hand. Chuckling, Loki reached out to grab his jar of loose change from his desk.

"Will a quarter do, milady?"

"Uh-huh!" she nodded excitedly. Loki placed two shiny quarters in her palm and she gasped, dipping her head back to smile up at her much taller father, even sitting.

"Because you're so pretty." She giggled and Loki leaned down. "Give us a kiss?" Still giggling, Audrey stepped forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Thank you."

"You're welcome!" She called over her shoulder as she skipped out.

Loki watched her go, smiling, then looked at Sebastian. His smile faded at the boy's worried look. "I will talk to him."

"Is he not going because of your non-fight?"

"We're not fighting, son," Loki reiterated, frustration lacing his tone. His eyes followed Sebastian as he got to his feet.

"Maybe not. But you are ignoring each other. And that's kind of worse, Pappa."

Sobering at the name, Loki swallowed the lump in his throat. "Get washed up for dinner, would you, elsking?" Sebastian nodded and walked out. Loki dropped his head into his hand once he was alone, his festering frustration and embarrassment and everything else, building inside him. Rising, he walked out of the den, intending to head to the kitchen to check that the food was almost ready. Instead, he headed to the basement.

He walked down the carpeted steps to find Tony at one of his workbenches. His husband looked up when he heard the footsteps on the concrete floor and Loki could see him square his shoulders.

"You're sending Audrey with messages for me now?"

Tony glanced down briefly at the work on his table. Hello, to you, too. He had expected Loki would want to talk to him after sending Audrey up with that message. He just figured Loki would wait until after dinner. "Well, you're not exactly my biggest fan these days, Loki. I'd rather not rock the boat, y'know?"

The raven-haired man crossed his arms, looking about the room, discreetly searching for any in progress projects. He saw none. "And now all of a sudden you've a business meeting to attend on one of the most important nights in your young son's life?"

Tony shrugged. "Yep," he said unapologetically, tossing the tool in his hand to the table.

Loki's jaw clenched. "It is his first play, Anthony."

Brown eyes shot up. "I'm aware. And I will be there." Loki remained still, brows drawn down and together over hard green eyes. Tony scoffed. "Stop with the look of judgement, all right? It's the only time the client could give me a meeting. I'll meet you guys there. We'll take him out the next night if he wants."

Loki huffed a sigh through his nose. "He has a performance the next night."

"Then the night after!" Tony snapped, giving Loki a jolt. "Don't give me a guilt trip about this, Loki. I tried to get another night; I can't."

"Please don't raise your voice at me," he said calmly. Tony rolled his eyes and looked away. "Who is this client anyway?"

"Oh, what? Now we've gone from the silent treatment to Twenty Questions? It's a client. Who is interested in clean energy. Does that pass your little test?" More hurt by the outburst than he'd care to admit, Loki's eyebrows furrowed up and together. Tony looked up when it grew quiet, catching Loki's face. His lips almost curled. "What? Why are you looking at me like I just broke your heart?"

Lashes fluttering, trying not to blink so the tears prickling his eyes didn't spill, Loki began to turn away. "Because, Anthony, in a very real way, you have." He turned his back on his husband and walked back up the steps.


Audi called for Tony as she rushed down the steps to the basement-making him very nervous, even if they were carpeted-and ran straight to Tony. "Look, daddy! I got two quarters!" She practically shoved her tiny little hand in his face to show him.

"All right, you're rich!"

She giggled, almost bending over with the effort. "You're silly, daddy. I'm gonna put it in my piggy bank." She reached up on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"Okay!" he squeaked to match her excitement. He watched her run up the steps then turned back to his work table, to the arc reactor he was trying to rebuild. He had completely forgotten about it, found it in a box of scrap metal he dug through when he was bored, and was trying to make it a backup resource. He was having trouble concentrating, though, and had burnt his finger with the soldering iron. Again.

He heard Loki's very first step at the threshold of the basement, and like a little shit, pretended he hadn't heard him. And then they fought—in the way they fight. Bickering, snapping, and barking at each other. But Loki's parting words...they cut him deep and after his husband had left, Tony dropped his head to the work table, wishing like hell this would all just be over.

"Dad?"

"What! Shit…" Tony shot up on the rolling stool he was sitting on and gasped, seeing Bash standing beside the table with wide, frightened eyes. He laughed to ease them both. "You popped up out of nowhere, kiddo."

Moving hesitantly, Bash grabbed a similar stool and rolled it close to Tony. "What are you working on?"

Tony looked at the dead arc reactor sitting on the table and shrugged. "Oh...nothing really. What's up?"

"What's going on with you and Pop?"

Frowning, Tony pursed his lips and shook his head. "What are you talking about?" The elder man jerked back a little when the younger let out a loud, disgusted groan.

"Oh, come on! Why are you and Pop trying to bullshit me on this?"

"Hey, watch your mouth," Tony scolded, adding a weak smack to Bash's leg. "Look, I don't know what you're talking about, Bash. Your father and I are fine." Fucking lies.

"Oh really? Then why are you sleeping down here?"

Admittedly, Tony was quite taken aback Bash had noticed. But then, when he really thought about it, he shouldn't have been surprised. The kid was way too sharp for his own damn good. "Uh—'cause I've been working on this stuff," he motioned to the table. "And...waking your father up in the middle of the night isn't always the best idea. He tends to throw punches and kicks with those long-ass legs." He tried a laugh to lighten the situation.

Bash only shook his head and said softly, "There's something wrong."

Knowing he wouldn't be able to convince Bash with his damn strong suspicions, Tony scooted closer, and clapped a hand to Bash's knee. "Look, kiddo, I'll admit we're going through a bit of a rough patch, okay? But it's no big deal; we'll get past it just like we have all the other bad patches." He reached up, ruffled Bash's hair then cupped and patted his cheek. "Don't worry so much."

Bash said nothing immediately, only looked at Tony with those curious, penetrating eyes. It made Tony a little nervous and he started to come up with more excuses in his head, but then the young boy nodded. Whew. "Why do you have a meeting the night of my play?"

Tony pulled his hand back, frowning a little. "How did you hear about that?"

That brought a scowl quick to the young boy's face. "I was in the room when Audi came in. Why? Weren't you gonna tell me?"

Just like your father. Jesus. "Easy. It was a last minute thing, kiddo. I can't reschedule."

"Are you gonna miss my play?"

Tony shook his head adamantly. "I will move mountains to be there, okay? I will see you in that play. I prom—"

"Don't promise."

He scoffed softly, holding out his arms. "Why not?"

Bash lowered his head, lips pinching tightly. "'Cause you promised Jazz you would be at his concert. And…"

Guilt weighed heavily on Tony's shoulders. "...And I broke that promise," he finished. "You think I don't want to be there, Bash?" He shrugged. "Well, I do," Tony said firmly. "I just...it's something I gotta do." It grew silent between father and son. And the look on Bash's face only made Tony's guilt more acute.

"Sebastian, Jameson, Audrey, Anthony! Dinner's ready!"

Bash looked away, toward the steps, then back to Tony. He jerked his head. "Go. I'll be up in a minute." Bash nodded silently, returned the stool to its spot and quickly made for the steps.

It took a day for Victor Morgan to get in touch with his contact. And another for 'M' to contact Tony. Victor's assertion that the woman kept tabs on the Stark family was only confirmed when Tony received the date and time to meet her. She knew about Sebastian's play. She knew he and Loki were having problems. And she probably knew any little fight between them could break their already fragile foundation.

Fucking bitch.

"Daddy!"

"Coming," he called weakly to Jazz. Trudging his way up the steps, Tony schooled his face for when he faced his family, thinking to himself that if the lying didn't do him in, the guilt certainly would.


A/N:

I apologize a thousand times and a thousand times again for the long wait. I've had a rough couple of months, personally, but I'm trying to pull through. And getting back into my fanfiction is helping a lot. Thanks for sticking around, everyone. *hearts*

XOXO,

LaLa