Tony tries keeping his gaze focused on the wall next to Loki's head, just so he won't have to see the self-satisfied look on the god's face. The pain in his stomach is making it hard to stand upright, but he forces himself to keep his back straight. No way he's going to hunch over before Loki; what he's about to do is bad enough as it already is.
"Now, I believe there was something you wanted?" Loki says, every bit his haughty self and then some.
"Yeah," Tony says to the wallpaper an inch to the right of Loki's head, hating every second of this.
"And what might that possibly be?" Loki says, raising one eyebrow in an elegant arch.
The god sure isn't making this any easier.
Smash your head in. Take a screw-driver to it. Throw you out of a window for a change.
His jaws are trying to move, but they are locked into place, not wanting to obey.
After a while of this, Loki sighs. "I see that I am wasting my time here." He follows up with a shake of his head and then smacks his lips in displeasure. "Well, I have many far more pressing concerns to deal with that do not involve watching you standing here like a gaping fish, so if you have nothing to say, then I will take my leave." With that, he makes as if to walk out of the room, and Tony has no idea if he's being serious or just faking it, but undignified desperation wins out.
"Wait," he blurts out, his arm half raised as if to grab hold of the god and physically prevent him from leaving.
Loki stops, slowly turning around to look at him, and Tony lets his arm fall, feeling like an idiot.
"Last chance, Stark," the god says with a sharp nod. "Otherwise you will have to wait until I'm back this evening."
No.
He draws a deep breath.
"I'm sorry," he grinds out, forcing the words out as quickly as he can, spurred by a mixture of fear that Loki might indeed make good on his threat to leave and a desire to not let the humiliating words linger in his mouth any longer than they absolutely have to.
The god looks like he's drinking in the apology, savouring it like a swig of expensive wine before he finally gives any verbal acknowledgement.
"Sorry for what?"
You little shit.
But he's come this far, he's already given Loki what he wants, so he might as well go the rest of the way too, or the demeaning apology will have been for naught.
"For being … disrespectful," he manages, hoping that answer is going to satisfy Loki's swollen, blown-up head.
The god looks like he's contemplating the reply for a few moments, but Tony doesn't miss the little triumphant glint in his eyes. Victory, it says.
"I am glad you have seen the error of your ways, Stark," Loki drawls, clearly enjoying this far too much. "Can I assume that you will be keeping a better reign on your tongue from now on and speak to me with respect?"
Alright, Tony, it's just one small word. One word, and it will hopefully all be over and done with.
"Yeah," he mutters, though it's probably the most petulant-sounding 'yeah' he's uttered since he was about five years old.
And there are very few things he wouldn't give in that very moment for something that could wipe that smug look right off the god's face.
"Very well, then. Your apology is accepted," Loki says graciously, as if he's just bestowed a grand, personal favour upon a fawning subject. "However, I will expect you to conform to your promise, or I will have no choice but to make sure you receive another reminder."
Tony bites down on his tongue to prevent himself from saying something that will ruin everything and make his debasing himself like this before the god amount to nothing. So he keeps quiet and simply waits for Loki to say something else, a taunt, a threat, a jeer, something to goad him or further humiliate him.
However, Loki seems like he has grown tired of the game, having gotten what he came for. Raising his chin minutely, he half-closes his eyes and makes a little circular, flowery gesture with his right hand. Then, he looks straight at Tony as if nothing has happened. "We will talk more later," is all he says before turning to leave.
Tony tries to control himself, he really does, but the door hasn't even closed behind Loki before he rushes into the kitchen and flings the door to the refrigerator open.
The food is all back. Every single item is just where he remembers it, every piece of food that his headstrong brain has spent the last few days imagining in loving detail instead of focusing on whatever movie has been flashing by on the screen. Even the sad-looking apple is there too, as wrinkled and scrunched-up as before.
He pukes everything up a few minutes later, grabbing the edges of the toilet seat with shaking, white-knuckled hands as he retches and coughs. Of course he knew exactly what was going to happen as he wolfed the food down, barely even pausing to chew, but he couldn't stop himself any more than he could have stopped a tornado or a tsunami.
Eventually, the stomach cramps let up and he weakly pushes himself up from his undignified position, sitting back on his ass to take a deep breath, his head spinning.
Some soup to start with, he decides. Definitely some soup.
Next time Loki comes to see him, Tony is feeling like his old self again, having fully recovered from his little starvation spell. At least the god chooses not to comment on it, and Tony is only too happy to pretend as if the whole incident never happened at all.
"I want you to start working on the new arc reactor," Loki tells him without preamble, cutting right to the chase.
There is no 'please' or 'would you be so kind'. Not that Tony expected there to be, but he's smart enough not to comment on it.
"So you're going to let me into my workshop, then?" he asks instead, feeling a sting of giddiness inside of him at the prospect. He makes an effort not let any of his excitement show, though, instead keeping a mask of impassiveness firmly locked onto his face.
"Of course. How else would you be able to build anything?" Loki says casually. He's wearing the same clothes as he always is; Tony wonders if he ever changes them. Or perhaps he has a whole set of identical outfits. Or maybe it's all just an illusion, some sort of glamour.
Not that it matters.
For a while, Tony hesitates. Perhaps this is the perfect moment to bring it up, or maybe it's the worst, but he can't hold it off any longer. Because he just has to find out. Jarvis didn't know – or chose not to tell him (he's not sure how to interpret the AI's repeated 'I am unable to offer you any information on that') – and given how cut off Tony is, Loki is his only two-way communication with the world outside.
He draws a deep breath, hoping he can play this right. After his and Loki's recent disagreement, he's not sure how well the god is going to take this, but he has to try, even if it only earns him another dry spell without food.
"Alright, Loki," he agrees. "I'll build you the arc reactor like you want." And then some. "But I figured that in return, you might be willing to give me some kind of… reward?"
Already, he can see the clouds drawing in over Loki's face and his eyebrows pulling themselves together at those words. So he quickly continues before Loki has a chance to say something along the lines of 'how dare you make any demands of your king, you should be happy for the privilege to serve, yada yada'.
He holds his hands up, palms out, in a disarming gesture. "Nothing big. Just a phone call, that's all I'm asking for." His mouth is suddenly very dry, and not because of Loki's potential anger and its consequences, but the very real possibility that Loki might very well say 'no'.
"Actually, it's a Midgardian thing. Prisoners are entitled to make one phone call, and I haven't actually gotten mine yet." His tongue flicks out to wet his lips. "Just one phone call. That's all."
Come on, you bastard. Just say 'yes'. One fucking single monosyllabic word. You can do it. It's not that hard.
Loki is staring at him, not revealing whatever he's thinking. It takes a while before he replies.
"And who is it that you wish to call?"
"An… employee of mine. Just to make sure she's alright, you know? She was living in New York, and it would be nice to know… if she made it," he says. And if Pepper is dead, it's all on you. I'm going to make you suffer like hell for it, one way or the other.
"Your employee, is it?" Loki drawls slowly, the corner of his mouth making a small twitch.
Of course, Loki might be many things, but he isn't an idiot. Obviously he can tell that there's more to it than that, but fuck if Tony is going to admit to it.
"Yeah. Stark Industries, my company. She used to work for it," he says, going for casual, but only managing strained.
Loki studies his nails for a few heartbeats. Then, he makes a quick motion with his hand, and suddenly there's a cell phone in it.
Not any cell phone, but his cell phone. Even from here, he recognises the Iron Man sticker that he put on as a drunken joke a couple of months ago, the glue along one of the edges having worn off to leave a loose flap he'd taken to automatically toying with when phoning people. He only wonders for a second how Loki got hold of it, quickly remembering how those brainwashed SHIELD goons had relieved him of everything.
"One phone call, you say?" the god asks, a finger trailing over the device in his hand, like he's taunting Tony with it, holding a juicy bone out to a slobbering dog.
For a long moment, he hesitates. If he makes that call, he'll out Pepper to Loki, perhaps putting her in danger, making her a target. Turning her into a means for the god so he can put pressure on Tony, to force him to do his bidding by threatening to hurt her. Or actually hurt her for real. Loki will see what number he's called and will be able to track her down.
Does Loki even know how to use a cell phone? Well, not that it makes any difference. The god has Jarvis at his disposal, after all. The AI can easily do it.
He bites his lip. Maybe he should tell Loki that he has changed his mind and doesn't want that phone call after all.
Then again, Jarvis knows all about him and Pepper. He knows her number, her address – that probably doesn't even exist anymore – her shoe size and her favourite perfume. Loki only needs to ask, and he'll get all the information he could ever ask for. One phone call isn't going to change anything. If Loki's intention was to use Pepper as leverage, he could and surely would have done so already.
"Yeah," he says. "One phone call."
Loki nods. "Very well. Make it, then." He holds out the phone to Tony. "However, you will make no mentions of your current whereabouts or situation. And you will turn on the loudspeaker. Furthermore, you will finish the call when I indicate for you to do so."
So Loki does know how a cell phone works, if he knows what a loudspeaker is.
"Fine." He snatches the phone out of Loki's hand before the god has a chance to change his mind. Quickly, he places it on the counter next to him, turns the loudspeaker on as instructed and hits the quick-call button.
Then he waits.
To his overwhelming relief, the call is being patched through. His heart is pounding in his ears as he counts the signals, stacking up to far too many for comfort. Pepper is always quick to answer her phone, why isn't she picking up? But at least there are signals, so that's a good sign, right? It means that she's alive, doesn't it?
Pick it up, Pepper. Please.
Then, amazingly, there's a click on the other end, and a familiar voice speaking.
"Tony? Oh my god, is that you, Tony?"
He could almost cry in relief.
"Yeah, it's me, Pepper, I-"
"I thought you were dead!" It sounds like she's on the verge of tears, and he wishes she wasn't over there and he back here and so many other things. "They were saying on the news that you-"
"Don't mind the news, Pep, I'm still alive and kicking. Don't worry about me. I'm doing fine." For once, he doesn't want to talk about himself. "How are you doing? Are you okay?"
He thinks he can hear a subdued sob, but her voice is steady enough as she speaks again. "Yes, I'm fine. I got out of New York when… things happened. I'm staying at a friend's place in Portland now. It's not too bad here, Portland got away relatively unscathed." A short pause. "Where are you, Tony?"
He can see Loki move out of the corner of his eye, obviously as a reminder for him to not answer that. At least not honestly.
"I'm afraid I can't tell you that, Pepper." And believe me, you don't want to know. "But like I said, I'm doing fine and I'm still in one piece, so don't worry about me."
He can see Loki make a hand movement in a way that is impossible to misinterpret. Cut it off.
"Pepper, I… I can't talk any longer, but you take care of yourself, you hear me?"
To his surprise, she doesn't protest or ask any further.
"I love you, Tony," she says instead.
And he almost wishes that she hadn't said that. Not when Loki is standing an arm's length away, hearing every word, having his obvious suspicions confirmed.
But the damage is done already. So whatever.
"Love you too, Pepper," he says. "I'll try calling you ba-"
The call is cut short, Loki's long finger resolutely pressing down on the screen. Tony raises his eyes to meet with green ones. The god doesn't bat an eyelash.
"You got your phone call, Stark. Now, you have work to do."
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