A/N: Well, this is a long time comming. Really, I am an awful person. I've had this typed up for a LONG time, but I've been avoiding fanfiction like the plague. I have so much work, and I'm so emotionally exhausted, I just...honestly, I just don't even know anymore. Everything hurts. Everything is a challenge. And I don't want to do this anymore. I'm almost done with the first bit of it, I keep telling myself, but there are four more years of this crazy, hectic, painful ordeal left before I can be considered a competent human being. It's quite disheartening. Anyway! You don't care about all that, you just want the story :p Here's your chapter. Expect the next one maybe Sunday, because my Mock Trial competition is this weekend and I may or may not be completely unprepared. ANYWAY! ONWARDS!

Chapter 11

It took Thor far longer to learn Italian than it took Loki to learn English, and much of it was done in the back alleys of the Italian ghetto. Cerrare's – which Thor had grown to love like a second home – proved to be the hub of his education.

Antonio was a crude, bigoted, cynical man. He had a right to be, after so many years of sickness and violence. His sister's illness killed what little capacity for happiness was left in him. She survived, thank God in heaven, but the family dynamic changed. Antonio took her son under his wing, swept away from a cheating, drunkard father and all his glorious fortune. The boy would never be safe from the public eye, but perhaps it would be best if he could spend a few years as a normal boy, as a poor boy, as his mother's son.

Thor took a shining to him. The boy, Anthony ("Please, call me Tony. Everyone does.) spoke as little Italian as Thor did, so it was nice to have another foreigner in the ghetto to talk to, even if it hindered his already painfully slow progress.

But learning happened. It was a painful re-education (in more than just language skills), but one both Thor and Loki were determined to endure.

"You're too big to pickpocket, brother. You're too stupid to swindle – no offence. You'd be best as a distraction. Or when you're bigger, as muscle."

Thor frowned. "Why? I am as swift and strong as you – we've grown to be like men! I could pick a pocket as well as you! I could steal an apple as well as you!"

Anger bubbled in his stomach. "No, you could not! You're a bumbling oaf, Thor! Your hands are far too big!"

The argument went on. Glass broke. Tables smashed. Thor did as he wished.

He was caught.

Loki used his savings to bribe the victim, then the police officer. Their father would not know, but now the ice beneath the first, golden Odinson was thin.

Thor did not fight back when Loki beat him within an inch of his life. He knew he had done something supremely stupid and he knew he deserved it. It was an eye-opening experience.

He hadn't known his brother had grown so strong.

Over a plate of Manicotti (Mah-nah-gott, Loki insisted, was the correct way to pronounce it), Tony and Loki groused. "He's such an oaf!" Loki needed the reassurance of his best language, even though Tony could hardly keep up. "He thinks that because he is Odin's preferred child that he is everything in this organization that I am! He will never be me; I don't know why he doesn't just stop trying."

It took Tony a minute to process the words. He fingered the premature stubble on his chin ("Twelve and shaving. Honestly!") and furrowed his brows. "Ah, maybe…he just…he you want to be like you. Because, maybe, did you I want to be like her?"

Tony's conjugations were so bad Loki often had a difficult time understanding him, but here the message came through clear. "I did, when we were just boys. But now, I can be something more than his shadow. Why can't he just accept that?"

The ricotta cheese was creamy in his mouth, the intermittent bites of sausage refreshing.

"He…protect you, she want. Uh, he want. Understand…not why you not let protect."

"I don't need to be protected! I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself. And what does that have to do with his ability to pickpocket?"

Tony fumbled with words. He tripped over them. He crushed them beneath his unsteady feet. Finally, he gave up. With a sigh, he began again in English.

"Loki, you're to take your Omerta in three months. In three months, you have to kill someone. He's afraid he's gonna lose his brother. Do you really blame him for being a little protective? Maybe he thinks that if he can do what you can, you won't have to kill anyone."

"That's stupid."

"Maybe he thinks if he can do what you can do, you won't leave him behind." Tony wagged his eyebrows and forked some pasta into his mouth. Loki said nothing.

They finished their meal in silence. Loki had a report to make later that evening; Antonio handed him an envelope heavy with his protection money. Tony slapped him on the back.

"I'll talk to your brother, try to knock some sense into him. Do what you gotta do. Just…don't tell Pepper, alright?"

Loki blushed but nodded all the same.

A/N: Yeah yeah, long wait, short chapter. But let me tell you, chapter thirteen is a beast compared to what you've been getting, I promise. And twelve is pretty hefty too. So, the wait will be worth it, espeically when we hit the next arc. We're almost at the half-way mark! Please review and tell me what you think!