A/N: So sorry for the wait (this chapter refused to be written). I suppose I shozuld have mentioned this at the end of the last chapter, but, oh well... I'm leaving Loki's tortures to your imagination. I think you're more than capable of coming up with disgusting things.
I kept listening to Blackmore's Night—Journeyman and Blackmore's Night—Home Again through most of the chapter, but they don't really fit, or anything... Have a listen anyway, you might like them.
Thank you for reviewing, and hellomynameislucifer for editing.
February 22nd
Now I understand
What you tried to say to me
And how you suffered for your sanity
And how you tried to set them free
They would not listen
They did not know how
Perhaps they'll listen now
~Don McClean: Vincent (Starry, Starry Night)
Tony couldn't hear the footsteps anymore. All the subtle sounds in the background, from a cling where metal hit metal, to the rustling of paper, had slipped out of existence and the soft humming of the computers was all that remained. He wasn't worried. He had no reason to be.
Yet, at some point, he felt a prickling sensation on the back of his neck. His hands stopped mid-motion. Slowly, he took a breath—
A pale arm stretched past him to point at the screen.
"You made a mistake."
"Huh?" Tony let the breath out. Damn Loki for sneaking up on him. "No, I didn't."
"Here." Loki's index finger touched the hologram.
Tony's brow furrowed. Was his calculation incorrect? He'd been at it for a while, trying to build reflection panels into the suit without needing to change any other parts of his armour, because if SHIELD could perform the vanishing act, so could he. If he'd been trying to work with the wrong data, it would at least explain why he hadn't succeeded yet.
"Jarvis, take a look at this again." Tony waved a hand towards that particular calculation, then turned to Loki, whose body was mere inches away. "How long have you been standing here?"
Loki shrugged. "A few minutes. You've been researching the sceptre."
It wasn't a question, but Tony nodded anyway. "Yeah. Before that psycho used it to create another portal."
"And now?"
"Nope. Fury didn't call me in again. He's probably afraid you'd get to it somehow. Through me, or something."
"It wouldn't be of much use now." Loki pushed the things that littered the work desk aside and sat on it as if it was his birth-given right to do just that. "Without its connection to Thanos. Have you got any more of those…"—he waved his hand through the air—"Japanese riddles?"
"Sudoku?"
"Yes. Anything more complicated? The ones you gave me did not present any challenge."
Tony blinked. He'd given the god the hardest, most devious, Sudoku he could find. His eyes flicked to the screen and back to Loki.
"You're way too smart. Seriously. I suppose I could ask Jarvis to come up with something harder… You sure won't be able to buy it anywhere." And that mistake… "How much do you actually know about my suits?"
Loki arched his eyebrows and cocked his head; his ponytail hit the back his leather-covered shoulder (so what if he wore leather jackets inside the house? They looked way too god on him for Tony to complain). "What Barton told me, or what I've seen in fights, plus everything that's been on these screens in the last fifteen minutes. Why?"
Tony groaned. He'd known Loki was clever, of course he had. Just not that clever. "We're so not telling the press you're a genius. I would lose the spotlight. I suppose I could give you books on different subjects, and we'd have a revolution of science in a week?"
The corner of Loki's mouth curled upwards.
"Uh-huh. Okay. And you've been learning magic how long exactly?"
"Most of my life." Loki's fingers began picking at the corner of a paper lying nearby.
"So, approximately a millennium?" Awesome. How hard was that shit if it took Loki so much time to master? Or better yet, how many different spells were there, and how many variations?
Loki nodded. He looked tired. He was, too, and he wasn't the only one. They'd spent the last couple of nights together, forsaking sleeping pills as much as possible; Tony really didn't need another addiction, coffee was bad enough for him (and alcohol, let's not forget alcohol). He'd argued when Loki refused them as well, yet he'd been immensely thankful for it when his mind had decided to torment him and he'd been forced to suffer from a terribly vivid nightmare he couldn't remember after Loki had shaken him awake.
And so they'd filled the nights with quiet conversations about everything and nothing, sometimes reading aloud, other times watching movies, or simply lying in the dark and cuddling the cats. At some point last night, Tony had started massaging Loki's palms. The way the Trickster practically purred was a very compelling argument for Tony to repeat the exercise sometime soon.
However, the lack of sleep had taken its toll, there was no denying it. Loki's paleness was more pronounced, shadows never really left the skin under his eyes. Tony's appearance had to be influenced similarly.
"Sir, Miss Foster left a message. They should be here in about ten minutes."
And no, Tony did not imagine it, Loki tensed just a bit at that. Tony's hand brushed his knee.
"I'll change into something more… presentable," he said.
Loki nodded. He did not need changing, dressed in tight black jeans, a green v-neck, and a jacket as he was.
"See you upstairs, then."
Another nod, but Tony didn't push it. He made his way to his bedroom; damn, having all those elevators in Stark Tower had made him lazy. He could call Happy to arrange a round of boxing. Or he could try to convince Loki to spar with him. If the god agreed to go easy on him. Tony liked his bones whole, thank you very much. Not that Loki would actually hurt him in such a way. But perhaps it would be boring for him to hold back.
Tony abandoned his working clothes (he'd actually thought he'd get to the physical part of work, heh) in favour of dark jeans and a shirt. The arc reactor cast its light over the room for a moment before he covered it. Running a hand through his hair, he headed to the enormous living room. Loki was nowhere to be seen.
Jarvis announced his guests a few minutes later. Tony, being the polite person he was, walked to the door just as Jarvis opened it, revealing three persons standing outside: Thor, still appearing odd in normal clothing and holding one of those plastic boxes people used for carrying food around, a petite brown-haired woman who Tony recognised as Jane Foster, and another brunette with glasses. His gaze remained on her for a moment before sliding back to Thor.
"Hey, big guy."
"Friend Tony! Great seeing you again!"
"Oh my god, you called me Tony! We've got to celebrate this! Wait a second, you didn't say that because you need something from me, did you?"
Thor's forehead wrinkled in confusion. "Why would I do that?"
"No reason." Except that Loki called him by his name when he needed Tony, or when the mood was really emotional, or… Well, whenever he wanted any kind of psychological distance between them gone. "Come in, yeah?"
"Thank you. Ladies, this is Anthony Stark, the Man of Iron. Friend Tony, this is Jane Foster."
"Nice to meet you," Jane said. They shook hands.
"Yeah, hi. The whole idea of making holes in space is great, just don't stick your nose through them. It's hard to breathe on the other side."
She blinked at him. "Um… I'll remember that?"
"And this is Darcy Lewis, a friend of Jane's," Thor went on. "I apologize for not informing you about her wish to join us here."
Darcy offered a cheeky wave. "Sorry 'bout that. I wanted to meet the crazy demigod."
Tony gritted his teeth. His eyes flashed cold, but he offered the girl his hand, hiding his emotions behind a casual smirk.
"A piece of advice for you, too. Don't call people crazy. You might regret it."
Thor either didn't notice the sliver of tension in the air or chose to ignore it. "Where is my brother?"
Tony opened his mouth. He was too slow.
"I'm not your brother." Loki moved from where he was leaning on the wall further down the hall and stalked towards them, scrutinizing Jane with narrowed eyes. She shifted under his gaze, wiped her palms on her jeans, offered a sheepish smile. "Hi?"
Loki inclined his head. "You should be proud." His voice was much too sweet.
"Brother…"
"After all"—Loki's grin stretched during that momentary pause—"you saved so many lives."
"W-what?"
"I was merely remarking what an incredible human being you must be."
Jane's face fell, eyebrows drawn together. "I'm sorry, did I do something wrong?"
"No." Loki's voice sounded completely serious, and Tony saw that little something in his eyes he'd learnt to associate with honesty. Not that he'd be able to see through the god's lies, or that it was always there when the latter spoke the truth. It was just a little flicker of something originating from somewhere deep within, the kind of determined honesty with almost too much weight behind it, just this side of noticeable, but Tony saw even as he knew he was the only one.
"You did not do anything wrong. I apologize."
Bonus points for trying. And he totally earned a long kiss just by making Thor look like he'd seen houses grow wings and fly into the sunset.
"All right. You guys make yourselves comfortable." Tony waved down the hall towards the living room. "The others should be here soon."
They were, too. Steve and Bruce, and then Pepper (she didn't bring Coulson with her, which was probably a good idea), and lastly Natasha and Clint ("What the hell is he doing here," the archer snapped, sending a glare in Loki's direction). Thor gladly took care of the introductions. Loki disappeared into the kitchen. Tony plopped down onto a free spot on a couch.
"So. Good to see you, guys. You look great."
"And you look terrible," Steve replied.
"Now I'm insulted. I've always been told I was handsome."
"Tony." Pepper rolled her eyes. "Have you been sleeping at all lately?"
"Oh, you know how that is. Didn't want to develop another addiction. But, enough about that. I heard you had a visitor?" He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at Bruce. "Betty Ross, wasn't it? Pepper tells me she approves. That is always a good first step towards starting a relationship."
"Whatever you mean by that," Clint murmured. Bruce, slightly red in the face, opened his mouth, but he didn't get a chance to speak because Natasha (Natasha of all people!) noticed Lumi, and a loud, girlish "Hey, kitty!" escaped her. The murderous glare she sent everybody just after didn't help much.
Lumi, all eyes on her, proudly strode past them all, heading straight towards the kitchen. Once again, Tony found himself wondering if his cats were enchanted. Lumi meowed when Natasha picked her up, and attempted to wriggle her way free, hitting the agent's chest with her back paws.
Tony spread his arms in surrender. "I have no idea who raised them."
"I might have a suggestion or two."
"Oh lord, Pepper Potts acquired an appreciation for my jokes! That's the second reason to celebrate today, we'll be drunk in an hour of we continue in this rate. Sounds like a good idea, no?"
"I'm in."
Everyone turned to stare at Darcy, who shrugged nonchalantly. "What? Just saying."
"That's just Darcy," Jane said, taking the plastic box from Thor. "I brought pastries. Where can I put them?"
Tony half-pointed at the coffee table. "Leave them here. I've got all kinds of unhealthy stuff to go with it."
Which wasn't completely true; the pizza had lots and lots of vegetables on it, and there were sliced carrots and peppers and apples, but the dips were full of cream and mayo, and caramel for the apples, and there were peanuts, chips, chocolate chips cookies, and blueberry pie, so his statement was not really a lie.
"Why don't we bring the food here? We could watch a movie, or something."
He was aware Loki's presence in the house was making everybody a little tense; the circumstances were far from ideal for a carefree chat. But if he gave the people something to do…
The next couple of minutes were a cacophony of sound.
"How about Men in Black?"
"Eww, no way, those movies are one big lie, government agencies are nothing like that."
"Thor might like Legally Blond."
"What the hell, Tony?"
"Because he's blond."
"Right, this makes so much sense. I want Star Wars."
"I've seen them like twenty times already."
"And I've had enough of the universe, thank you very much."
"How about Shrek?"
"Watched it a couple of days ago. Hey, Pikachu, you have dragons in Fairyland?"
"Yes…"
"How to Train Your Dragon. Come on, guys, it has dragons, Viking, yelling, lots of smashing without thinking—it's perfect!"
"Yeah, no. Batman."
"What's a batman?"
"Jesus, Steve, how long have you been around now?"
"Shakespeare in love," Pepper finally said, and Tony shut up because he knew exactly what had made her suggest it. Loki loved Shakespeare's work. Therefore, Loki would probably like the movie. Loki liking the movie meant Loki would be happy. Ergo, Tony would be happy.
Shit, his ability to draw conclusions had just regressed to the level of a five year old.
"Yes," Jane agreed, Steve added, "I know Shakespeare," to which everyone rolled their eyes, and Clint groaned, "Please no," but Tony was all for it, and Darcy seemed satisfied, even Natasha did, although she was really good at hiding it, so Tony had Jarvis take care of the movie while Pepper and Bruce helped him carry all the food into the living room.
"We're gonna watch a movie," he quietly told Loki, who was sitting at the kitchen table, playing some ridiculously hard Professor Layton game that involved trains and bridges and whatnot on Tony's tablet (what, he was Tony Stark, he could modify Nintendo games however he wanted). "About Shakespeare. Wanna join?"
"They don't want me there."
"But I do." He glanced at the empty doorframe separating the kitchen from the living room, making sure no one was watching. His lips brushed the shell of Loki's ear. "I want you to have fun, Snowflake. I think you might like the movie."
When he straightened, Loki followed, getting up with a subtle sigh. They walked into the already-dark living room. Tony reclaimed his previous place, and Loki, rather than making everyone uncomfortable by being too close to somebody, settled down on the floor, not far from the couch Tony was sitting on. Albeit short, the silence that followed didn't feel comfortable at all.
"The pie is delicious," Jane commented. "Where did you get it?"
"Um, no idea. Jarvis takes care of the stuff. Sorry." Because Tony would probably end up killed in at least three different, very imaginative ways if he told everyone Loki had made it. Jane was right, though; it was damn good.
The movie began, interrupted only by an occasional murmur, the sound of fabric rubbing against leather whenever somebody reached for a snack, or the rustling of chips and breaking of vegetables and apples. Ever so slowly, Loki inched closer to the couch until he was leaning against it, and Tony's hand subtly found its way to his shoulder, just resting there. For once, he was glad to sit on the side. Lumi claimed the god's lap, and Loki inclined his head just enough that it rested on Tony's forearm.
Content.
The inventor felt content. Happy. A moment of almost-normality in this crazy mess. Sure, in an ideal world, Loki would be sitting right by his side, snuggled against him, and they would kiss until everyone made vomiting noises behind their backs, and at night it would be the hottest sex he'd ever had that would keep them awake. But, that was an empty fantasy; Loki's cheek against his skin was real.
The god shifted, reaching out for apples. After a while, he took a piece of some other food. Tony didn't pay attention anymore. He was happily munching a slice of pizza, the god was eating, Viola and Shakespeare were teasing each other in the boat, everything was fine.
Or not.
He caught movement with the corner of his eye. Where Loki had been not even a moment ago, was now only an agitated cat.
The pizza suddenly lost its taste. Loki had teleported away. Teleported.
Lumi sniffed something lying on the floor, and Tony bent over the armrest to pick it up. One of Jane's pastries, one half of it missing. Tony furrowed his brow. What the—
Wait. He brought it to his face and sniffed.
Shit. Shit, shit, shit.
"You filled this with meat?"
Heads turned.
"Yes." Confusion was clear in Jane's voice. "Is something the matter?"
"Not at all." Tony flashed her his made-for-press smile although he didn't know if she could actually see it. "Excuse me, there's something… Never mind, we have a movie to enjoy."
Or, they had. Tony pushed himself to his feet. It was all he could do to refrain from running and yelling as he slipped into the hall and silently closed the door.
"Jarvis, where—"
"Upstairs, sir. In the bathroom."
He knew, he just knew it was bad, otherwise Loki wouldn't have gone there; he'd be on the balcony, or lying upside down on some couch, or sitting on the edge of his bed, or twisting the sheets in his fists if it became too much. Still, a dagger of pain shot through his chest when he saw the god on his knees, vomiting, hands clawing at the tiles. If not for the ponytail, his hair would have been a mess.
Tony couldn't care less for the pain that flared up in his kneecaps when they hit the floor. He wrapped his hands around Loki's trembling shoulders.
"Breathe, babe, breathe!"
Loki sucked in a shaky breath and proceeded to choke on dry heaves and sobs. Tears were spilling down his cheekbones.
"Hey. Hey. It's all right. Nobody's going to force you into anything."
Loki wiped his mouth with the back of his shaky hand. Tony could see in his eyes how he struggled to pull himself together; it wasn't working. He was still crying, still shaking, still… Before Tony could do anything, he pushed two fingers down his throat and proceeded to gag and spit.
"Snowflake…" Tony pulled the god to his chest, hurting, powerless to really help. He didn't even know what to say.
"Water." Loki gagged. "Water, please."
Tony twitched. "Yeah. Yeah, sure. Hang on."
He was so, so happy right now he kept glasses in the bathroom, and if he almost tripped over his own feet in hurry, nobody was there to call him on it. Grabbing the glass, he opened the tap as far as it would go. Water spilled over his hands.
"Here."
He wrapped one arm around Loki to steady him and used the other one to bring the glass to the god's lips. One of the latter's pale hands closed around it as well, and he tipped the glass. Water spilled into his mouth and over his chin, dripping onto the tiles, but Tony couldn't care less.
The glass was empty in a couple of moments. This wasn't going to work.
"Hold on," Tony hissed, wrapping both hands around Loki's middle, trying to pull him to his feet. "Let's get you to the sink."
Loki groaned but struggled to cooperate. The glass, having slipped out of his hand, shattered on the floor, amid the whole mixture of vomit, water, and—was that blood?
Sure enough, when Loki rinsed his mouth, the water came out just a little pink. Damn it, pushing fingers down his throat hadn't been the best idea.
But Tony didn't say that. This was no time for contemplation; you got an idea, you did whatever you came up with.
"Okay. Okay. Breathe, babe. Just, um, not with water in your mouth."
The absence of a poisonous green glare was concerning. Then again, it was a bit hard to glare daggers with tears streaming from one's eyes. Loki's hand closed around the tap, knuckles turning white. A cacophony of spitting, gasping, and sobbing ensued; the steady murmur of water served as background noise.
Tony whispered soothing nonsense. His hand was rubbing Loki's back, travelling up and down between his shoulder blades.
If he'd ever seen the perfect depiction of despair, this was it, this very scene with all the past behind it.
Slowly, Loki sank to his knees. His hand slipped off the tap and remained loosely curled around the edge of the sink. He pressed his forehead to the cupboard underneath it. The water was still running.
"Hey…" Tony squatted down. His hands slid to Loki's cheeks and gently tilted his face, and Tony found himself looking in puffy, red-rimmed eyes, which were still watering. "Any better now?"
Loki shrugged. Kneeling like that, he seemed so small, vulnerable, breakable.
Broken.
"Come. Let's get somewhere more comfortable, okay?"
A nod. But the god took Tony's hand when he offered it. The inventor closed the tap, wrapped his arm around Loki's back, and led them around the mess on the floor. He really, really regretted not having Dummy or You or Butterfingers here, because he sure as hell did not want to clean the bathroom.
"Jarvis, add 'get a robot janitor' on the to-do list, would you?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good boy."
Loki didn't comment, allowing Tony to lead him to the smaller living room they had up here and then towards the cream-coloured, L-shaped couch. Tony settled in the corner and pulled Loki down, so that he was sitting between Tony's knees, his head resting on the inventor's chest. Black strands spilled over fabric when Tony ran his fingers through them, effectively destroying the ponytail.
"Sorry," Loki murmured.
Tony's eyebrows rose for a moment. His fingertips gently stroked Loki's scalp, calming the god. "It's okay."
"You know…" Loki shifted a little, more lying than sitting now. "Sometimes, I feel like… That if I had a chance to kill Thanos, it would stop hurting. That's such a pretty lie, isn't it?"
"I killed most of my captors," Tony said quietly. Loki's weight on him felt good, as if it belonged there, as if it had always been meant to be there. "It's a thrill, true, but it didn't really change much."
A second of silence.
"Wait, are you mad that I killed him?"
Loki huffed. It wasn't very effective with tears still slowly streaming down his cheeks. "Don't be an idiot. I will be forever grateful for that."
Oh. Okay. That felt kind of big. Not that it was supposed to, compared to the fact he loved a fucking Norse god, and shit, the press would have to find out at some point, right, he'd never have a private life again—unless he let Loki do the shower-curtain thing to them, it would serve them right. Or, they'd be overexcited and cause their entire computer system to crash. There, case closed.
He wiped a tear from the corner of Loki's eye, the other hand still buried in his hair. Bringing his face closer to the crown of Loki's head, he inhaled; the weak scent of lavender filled his nose. He liked that shampoo. Especially on Loki. Hell, he'd like to use it on Loki, on his whole body, while hot water streamed over them and they—
Um, no.
Loki's eyelids slid closed. Thin lips parted.
"Do you believe in destiny?"
"Yeah, no. I've never been a fan of all that hocus-pocus. I prefer to choose my own path, thank you very much. Why are you asking? I didn't think you'd be interested in that."
"They say," Loki spoke slowly, "the Norns rule destiny. The Norns say destiny can be changed. I asked them, once." A barely-there smile danced on his lips. "If it can be changed… It is not destiny at all, is it? Still… Think of all the paths one can choose, all the paths we could have chosen. Of all the places we could be now, we ended up here. Here. On Earth. Together. The probability of that…"
"Yeah." That was about all Tony could get past his lips right now. Loki was right. If Tony put himself into the position of a child again… How many paths he could have chosen, how many factors led him down this one special way? His never-ending desire to both please and beat his father, all the people that had ever left just a vague impression that changed him a tiny little bit, all the shit (aka caves in Afghanistan, Russian bird-lovers, and mini Godzillas), everything. Hell, he could have walked past Loki on that Christmas night. And Loki, whose life had been so much longer…
"Yeah," he repeated. "But I'm glad we did. End up here." He sounded cheesy, but so what? If Loki had the right to go all Hollywood on him, then Tony had the right sound like he'd been plucked out of Twilight. Or something similar. Like Shakespeare in Love.
Loki's fingers dug in Tony's shirt in response, and he snuggled closer. They were breathing almost simultaneously until the rhythm of Loki's breaths began to slow.
"Can you sing?" he murmured into Tony's breastbone.
"So-so. I can talk, though."
"Then talk."
"Can you sing?"
"Yes. Now—"
"You can sing? Really? I've got to hear that. Like, seriously sing or just averagely sing?"
"I said I can sing. Stop asking—"
"Will you sing something for me?"
"Tony, please."
He couldn't recall a time when he'd shut his mouth quite so fast. Okay, not true. There was that time in Washington DC and—no. Irrelevant. Loki's eyes were wide and still glistening, and dark shadows lurked deep, deep within them.
"Sorry." He draped one arm across Loki's middle; the other one was still busy with his hair.
"I can sing for you sometime," Loki murmured. "If you want."
"Sure. Sometime. What do you want me to talk about? Or, Jarvis could read a book. How about that?"
"Might as well."
Might as well. Typical. "All right. Jarv, read something. Something historical or something, okay?"
"Any preferences, sir?"
"Snowflake?"
"There are no more Shakespeare's works, are there?"
Tony shook his head. "But I'm sure there's a bunch of literature that was inspired by him. Jarvis?"
"If you would wait a moment, sir."
Tony sighed and leaned his head back against the backrest. Whoever had invented pillows was a genius. Whoever had bought so many pillows was, too. Right, Tony had bought them. Oh, well. His back sure wasn't complaining.
That familiar voice with a slightly British accent filled the room, tone a little softer than usual, as if Jarvis understood why he'd been asked to read in the first place.
"They called me 'honest Iago' from an early age, but in Venice, this is not a compliment. It is rebuke. One does not prosper by honesty. One does not rise in social ranks. One does not curry favors. Honesty causes upset, and Venice is serene. The Serene Republic. It says so right on the seal of state, which I could read when I was two, or so claimed the governess who struggled to keep up with my precociousness…"*
Tony felt Loki shift ever so slightly, and moved a bit himself. The god's body was warm against his, his exhales creating a calming accompaniment to Jarvis's reading.
Tony kept running his fingers through Loki's silky hair.
Again and again and again.
Again.
~*oO*o*Oo*~
"Tony, did you start working and space out a—"
Wa—wait, what? Steve? Huh?
His eyes snapped open. Uh-huh. So this was how Loki must have felt when he'd pulled himself out of that Hulk-made crater. Steve, Natasha, and Clint were staring at him in a very confused, very judgemental way while Bruce's gaze contained all that in much smaller amounts right along a spark of something that looked suspiciously like confirmation.
"What the fuck?" Clint, naturally. His eyes held the strongest turmoil, flashes of something aggressive and something painful and sad.
Loki stirred. Tony had a chance to observe the truth on his face—the puffy, red-rimmed eyes, the weariness— for a nanosecond before something slid over it (glamour? Was it called glamour?) and all the traces of tears, tiredness, any potential weakness were gone; his expression was smooth and masterfully blank as he pushed himself into a sitting position and then to his feet. Tony followed his example.
"Actually, I dozed off, not spaced out," he said, ever the one to talk back. "Don't tell me the movie's already over? Damn, I like that scene where the queen sends money to ol' Will."
"You owe us an explanation," Clint growled, eyes flitting from Tony to Loki and back again.
"We owe you nothing," Loki snarled back.
"Like hell! You enslaved me! You do owe me!"
Loki's eyes sparked dangerously. "Oh, I'm sorry. If I'd known you'd be bothered so much, I would have killed you instead and chosen somebody else to help me."
Clint's hand slipped into his pocked, pulling out a—
"The fuck, you brought a gun into my house?" Tony stepped forward.
"I knew"—Clint aimed the gun at Loki—"he was gonna be here."
"Still. You brought a gun. That's just… Jeez, put it down."
Clint didn't move a muscle. "He used me as his flying monkey! Took my brain apart and stuffed it back in like I was a toy to play with, and made me fight against people I care for!"
"I'm not saying he didn't—"
"Stark."
"—in fact, I'm not saying much of anything—"
"Stark."
"—just that you should put that gun down and—"
"Stark."
Trying to keep an eye on Clint, he finally squinted at Loki—and turned to him completely. Jaw clenched tight, knuckles turned white, breathing evenly an effort—shit.
"Did you get…?"
"Yeah. I put it on the nightstand."
Loki gave a curt nod. Their gazes met for a moment, saying so much; they apologized, Loki because he knew Tony wished for support here, Tony because anxiety attacks were a bitch and Loki needed him, but he couldn't just leave; and they forgave because there was nothing else they could do, no fault to be found. They could not stand by each other's side. Not now.
And then the moment was gone and Loki strode out of the room even as Clint shouted,
"Hey! Don't you walk away, you bastard! Hey!"
Tony felt anger stir inside of him. The kind of anger that made him want to rush forward and smash the agent's face. The kind of anger only the protectiveness he felt towards Loki could invoke. The kind of white hot sensation that left him breathless for a moment.
"He saved your life!"
"What?"
The enjoyment he'd so often got out of being the centre of the attention? Yeah, he didn't experience that right now. The moment of intensity had passed. Now, there was only pulsating silence.
"He saved your life," he repeated. "When the bilgesnipe decided it would be fun to stumble upon a crack in space-time and go on a sight-seeing tour to Manhattan, and you got knocked out? Yeah, I was a little busy. He stepped in."
Clint's brows furrowed. In confusion, was it?
"Wait, that was sometime last year. In spring. He's been around for a year?"
"A bit more." Tony dug his hands into his pockets. As if that would make the situation easier to deal with, it wasn't like he had magical pockets that would help him relax. Huh, there was a thought. Relaxing pocket. They would sell like hot cakes. "That was the second time I saw him. Well, the third, technically."
"And you didn't think you should tell us?" Natasha asked, perfectly collected.
Tony shrugged. "I thought about it. But he couldn't use magic. He…"
No. He couldn't talk about that, spill all the secrets. Even if he wanted to, he didn't have words that would enable him to describe what was the most important—those tiny little details, the barest hint of sadness in Loki's eyes or the shift of his shoulders, the subtle intensity of the atmosphere. The others would not understand. He couldn't paint a living, breathing picture for them.
"Look, there were things. Like the bilgesnipe problem. And then there were… other things. Worse things." He pulled one hand out of the pocket and ran it through his hair, sighing.
Clint lowered the gun. "All right… But why the hell would Loki do that?"
"To get his magic back," Natasha remarked.
Clint snorted. "It obviously didn't work. It would have been too easy if it did."
"Wouldn't he have known that?" Steve asked. "He's supposed to be smart."
"He is." Tony couldn't help it, the comment just slipped off his tongue.
"I don't care if he's Stephan Hawking."
"I suppose you also don't care that I'm sorry." Loki's voice.
Tony turned around abruptly. Loki was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, putting on his tough act. Or, fighting to keep it in place.
Clint's eyes narrowed as they bore into the god. Natasha's did, too. And Steve's.
"I don't believe you."
Loki's lips stretched into a mirthless grin. "Oh, I know."
"Good."
Tony noticed the gun was still in Clint's hand. Not that he thought it could do Loki much damage. He was just a little afraid of what could happen if Loki was provoked. None of the options appealed to Tony, so he opened his mouth to try to play the mediator when the sound of footsteps reached his ears and he stopped, freezing for half a second. Loki tore himself from the doorframe and walked closer to him; he'd heard, too, probably even earlier.
Something was said right outside the door barely a second before Thor, Jane, Darcy, and Pepper spilled into the room. Tony's gaze followed Pepper's eyes as they swept the room, momentarily stopping on Clint, then Loki, then, at last, on Tony, revealing her familiar knowing look.
"What is going on here? Friend Tony?"
Pepper wasn't the only one staring in every direction.
Tony opened his mouth on impulse—something would surely come out, he could think about it later and everything would be fine, but not this time, not this time—
"Tony's screwing your brother," Clint supplied.
Thor blinked, stupefied. His eyebrows rose, then fell even lower. Understanding filled his eyes. Light and darkness battled for dominion in them, and Tony hoped the Thunderer was aware mortal skulls were not compatible with Mjolnir. As much as Tony liked to stand out, a hole in his head would be a step too far.
But Thor, the internal battle continuing, turned to Loki, not Tony, Loki, whose face was closed off and covered by a gossamer veil of something sinister.
"Brother. I am glad to hear you have found somebody."
Tony let out a small breath he hadn't even known he'd been holding. Yet, whatever was clenched in his stomach remained clenched, Loki's eyes remained carefully guarded and Thor's still foreboding.
"Skip the pleasantries," Loki said sharply. "We both know you are just dying to lecture me."
A shadow of hurt passed through Thor's sky-blue eyes. "Why can you not understand? I only wish you would not throw your honour away."
Loki snorted, lips stretching into a grin that was just this side of mad. "How touching, that you should worry. Fret not, I have no honour left to lose."
Honour? Why did all that sound way too much like a concerned father telling his daughter she could not have sex before she was married? Aesir didn't think much of that shit, did they? Wait… Wait, wait, wait. He knew this. Or, something about this, but he knew, he'd heard something, read something, something Viking-related, he just needed to remember…
Thor stepped forward, hand aiming for the back of Loki's neck, but the Trickster slipped away before Thor came even close to touching him.
"Loki," he growled. "Listen to yourself. You cannot seriously let yourself be taken like a common whore."
For a moment—less than a moment—such raw pain filled those forest green eyes it knocked the air out of Tony's lungs.
Then, nothing.
A flash of silver.
A soft thud.
A startled gasp and a line of crimson.
Nothing.
Loki was gone. Thor was left standing with a grim expression and a fresh cut on his cheek. Tony's wall had a knife embedded into it. And Tony himself… His nails dug into his palms, leaving red crescents of pain behind. That was all. That was easy to focus on. The pain in his palms.
"Wow…" Darcy muttered. "Man, you're lucky he missed."
Thor shook his head, slowly. Was it for the dramatic effect? "Nay. My brother never misses."
Pain was good.
"He hurt you." Jane hurried to his side, placing a hand on his uninjured cheek. "What if he does it again?"
Pain was good.
Thor took hold of her wrist and guided her hand away. "He shall see the truth in my words."
Pain was—
"What the fuck is wrong with you!?"
"What do you mean, wrong?"
Pain was good.
"I don't know if it's your big brother complex or the fucked up Viking morality that's resonating within your head so loudly you can't hear anything, but I believe you just called Loki a whore."
"I did not."
Jane backed away a step. Tony couldn't resent her; Thor's face was like a stormy night.
"Yeah, you did."
"Do not twist my words."
Pain was good. Pain was good, nails digging in flesh were good, because Thor's face was not a place Tony's fists should have the desire to collide with, but he was sick and tired of it all, the past, the present, the lurking shadows and the fear they fed on, and Thor had no idea Loki had never let himself be taken, and how could he call the man he insisted was his brother a whore?
"What if he didn't?" There was steel in his voice.
Thor's brow furrowed. "Didn't what?"
"Let himself be taken."
"But the Man of Hawk's Eye said…"
And of course just because Clint had blurted out something, it automatically meant it had to be true? He opened his palms and flexed his fingers to get the circulation going again. The desire to smash something coursed through his insides. What was wrong with him? The aggression, the bone-deep exhaustion, the frustration, he was just… Just… tired. And when he and Loki had finally fallen asleep and actually slept after days of restless half-slumber, they had to be woken up in the worst manner possible and then deal with all this crap because the universe either had a wicked sense of humour, or it was simply sadistic. With their luck, probably the latter.
"Just for the record, Viking, I never touched your precious baby brother the wrong way."
"Oh." Thor's face brightened at once. "Then it is all okay."
Tony stared. Or maybe, he gawked, hard to say when his mind was all what the fuck?
"No. No, it's not. Look, I understand, different culture, sexist society, and let's not get started on how honourable your—no, never mind. You insist on calling Loki 'brother.' You. Not him. And instead of standing by his side, you insult him." And Tony deserved something awesome for the amount of self-control he was exercising right now. Something like sleep, and peace, and mind-blowing sex somewhere in the future (he hoped).
He noticed Bruce lean towards Pepper to whisper something into her ear. She whispered back.
Jane was still two or three feet away from Thor, clearly putting her brain to work, only Tony didn't know what she was thinking about.
"If Loki requires help, he needs only to ask," Thor said with so much honesty it broke Tony's heart. He shook his head.
"He's not going to. He is never going to. This is what you don't understand. You two are too different. Your mind sets are nothing alike. But, while Loki knows how you think, you have no idea how his brain works."
"You… are probably right." Thor shifted his weight, his posture much more relaxed now, although his brow was still furrowed. "Why are you telling me this?"
Tony shrugged. "It's the alternative."
"To what?" Steve asked from the side.
"Shouting and breaking my knuckles on somebody's bones?" The inventor shrugged again. He needed a drink. Two. Thirty-seven. Or a good night's sleep. That would do nicely. He sighed. "I guess I want you to understand. You want to repair your relationship with Loki, you'll have to learn how he thinks. Right now? Right now, you think nothing's wrong because you were referring to a hypothetical situation."
Thor nodded once. "Am I so easy to read?"
"Honestly? Yes. Also, reading Loki is like trying to read a closed book, so I've got a bit of practice."
"Then you know what is going through his mind?"
"Kind of, yeah." But, he didn't want to know. Not like that. The images were ugly. Sighing, he dropped down onto the couch and buried his face in his hands. He should check on Loki. But, that would mean leaving everybody else waiting, and he'd be under pressure. Besides, Jarvis would have alerted him if something was really wrong, would he not? Damn, he should have specialised in cloning. That was where the real future lay.
"Tony?" Pepper asked softly. "Are you all right?"
He just groaned even as Thor looked at him.
"Will you tell me?"
Why did the god sound so very hopeful?
"Don't tell me you have no idea whatsoever," Tony replied and patted the couch to make the others sit down. It could hardly worsen the atmosphere.
"Loki does many things to provoke me." Thor's weight caused a shift of the couch. "He understood my words as an insult and replied accordingly. He could have demanded holmgang**, but my brother has never been known to seek out a fight. Since he did not, the matter would be considered closed."
"This is where you're wrong." He noticed the others sit down from the corner of his eye. "Loki won't say anything. Actually, I'm pretty sure he won't talk to you for a while, pretend he's doing it all just to piss you off and watch you walk around like a kicked puppy, or maybe he'll make it so that you'll only be able to speak in iambic hexameter, or something. He'll never admit your words hurt him, or why they hurt him, or that for him there was nothing hypothetical about them."
"You seem terribly convinced you know what's going on in his head." Natasha's eyes were thoughtfully narrowed.
"Yeah, no. I'm not really good at reading closed books. But, I know enough about the contents to be able to assume how the chapters are structured," he countered. "Though, it would be very convenient to be able to see through pages. Imagine, you could read porn without—yeah, no. I can't be funny right now."
"Didn't you say it was always the time to be funny?" Natasha remarked, and of course she had to bring that up now.
He flashed her a quick, completely fake smile. "I changed my mind. There is, in fact, a point when things stop being funny."
"And when would that be?"
Tony shrugged. "When you swallow more pills than food, prefer watching soap operas over sleeping at five in the morning because Jarvis has a temporary glitch and can't play a movie, and when you don't say things like 'I need my brain bleached' because it automatically makes you imagine how it would feel if it was actually done?"
That was met with a moment of silence he couldn't quite define; it was not shocked, yet it was, and it wasn't tense, either, but it certainly wasn't relaxed or comfortable.
Darcy was the first to speak. "Pills? Are you ill? You look ill."
"No, I look as if I haven't slept for days."
"Have you?" Pepper cocked her head. "I know how you get with your work, but you have to stop doing this to yourself. Tony, you need to sleep."
"Well, I was sleeping until those four"—he made a vague gesture with his hand—"decided it would be fun to gawk." He had the right to be out ill-tempered, did he not?
"In our defence, you decided it would be fun to go cuddling in the middle of the movie."
"We were not—aah." Tony waved his hand dismissively. Thor shifted a bit closer. His lips parted, then closed. He took a breath.
"I… Should I apologize to my brother?"
You think?
"Yeah."
"Can your Voice locate him?"
"Mr Loki said he didn't want to see you, Mr Odinson," 'the Voice' answered instead of its creator. "He said, I quote, that you should stay away, or he would pull out your entrails, tear off your fingers, feed them to you one by one, and make you watch how they get digested. Or, if you do not enjoy eating your fingers raw, he could roast them on you first."
Tony's guts clenched. He swallowed. And did it again. Finding his voice was hard. "Can you tell him his threats are much more tasteful when they derive from him imagination?"
"He is outside, sir. But he requested I tell you there is nothing to worry about."
Tony sighed. It felt like he was caught in a sticky web of emotional pain he had no idea how to get out of. Give it time. Right. That was so easy to say. Even hope for something better couldn't make the hurt disappear like the flame of a candle somebody blew out.
"Look, here's the deal." His gaze travelled over the group of people. Well, persons. "Loki and I are together. We've been together for a while, we're staying together."
"There is more to it, is there not?" Jane said quietly, looking straight at him with clever brown eyes.
Tony nodded. "A lot more. Things I don't want to talk about, things I can't find the words to talk about, things I'll never ever repeat." He took a deep breath; oxygen filled his lungs, expanding them until he felt his rib cage stretch to the limit.
Exhale.
"I know you have problems with Loki"—his gaze lingered on Clint, Steve, and Natasha, and for just a moment on Jane and Darcy as well—"I know he did bad things, whatever the intention behind them. You don't have to like him, you don't have to forgive him, nobody can force you to do that. But I want you to accept things as they are and act like respectful adults."
"You have forgiven him," Steve said. It was a statement, nothing that needed confirming, but Tony nodded anyway.
"I'm sorry tonight has turned into a disaster. If you want to stay for a while, that's fine, the house is big. If you wanna go, it's okay, too."
Nobody moved. Bruce was the first who shifted, turning to look at Tony as if he were waiting for the billionaire to say something more.
"All right then." Clint pushed to his feet. "I have to digest this. Sorry, man, but it's fucked up."
Tony understood. He really did. But his life had become such a mess he hardly even noticed how messy it was sometimes.
"Oh, by the way. You tell SHIELD, that's fine. They try to bother us—I'll kick them into next January. You—and by you I mean everyone—tell the press…"
"We get it," Natasha spoke and rose. She placed a hand on Clint's biceps. "Thank you for the hospitality, Stark."
The couple walked towards the door, almost there, almost outside—
"Hey, Clint!"
"Yeah?" The arched looked over his shoulder.
"I know you can't believe that, but I'm pretty sure Loki spoke the truth when he apologized."
They spent the next couple of second eyeing each other; Clint's gaze was searching Tony's face for something.
"Okay," the archer finally said. "Bye."
"Wait." This time it was Steve who spoke up. "I'm coming with you." He turned towards Tony. "To make sure things… To make sure."
The billionaire nodded, somewhat thankful. The three Avengers left, and Tony sank deeper into the couch. His fingers found the edge of a nearby pillow. Somebody should say something. Comment on something. Ask something. Whatever.
"We should leave, too," Jane broke the silence.
Darcy's head turned immediately. "But I saw a—"
"Forget the sauna."
Darcy pouted. Jane bit her lower lip.
"Are there any hotels around here you can recommend?"
"Oh, don't ask Tony that," Pepper chimed in. "Jarvis will find you something."
Hotels. They didn't know the hotels…
"You were planning on sleeping here," Tony deadpanned.
"I thought you were still in your tower," Thor said.
"Ah. Okay. Whatever."
Of course he could offer them to stay in the tower. But, he didn't really want them there. It was his tower, not a shelter. And, he was still a little mad at Thor. Tony Stark was volatile, self-obsessed, and didn't play well with others, SHIELD said. Sometimes, it came in handy.
Judging by the look Pepper sent him, she didn't approve. But, she didn't try to argue.
"I'll help you find a hotel," she addressed Thor and cocked her head in the direction of the door. "Come."
The way Thor obediently followed probably shouldn't remind Tony of a golden retriever so much. But it did, just as Loki reminded him of a sleek black cat, graceful, dangerous, and always ready to purr if one only knew how to approach him right.
The way Darcy and Jane followed, too, didn't remind him on anything.
He dragged a hand down his face. The emptier the room got, the easier it felt to breathe. His body slumped against the backrest as his muscles refused to work full-time. Tired. Tired, tired, tired. Oh, and had he mentioned tired?
Fatigue tugged at his eyelids…
"Are you planning to ever reveal the whole story?"
Tony's head snapped up. Was that the first time Bruce had spoken since they'd all gathered in here?
"No."
"Uh-huh."
"I've got nothing against you, Ogre. Loki doesn't want things told, so I'm not telling them. Actually… there are things I wouldn't tell either way."
"And that Shakespeare thing Pepper keeps mentioning?" Bruce's mouth curled up just a little.
"Oh. That. I started reading Shakespeare because of Loki. It's not bad. The literature, I mean."
"Uh-huh. Say…"—Bruce's expression grew serious—"have you considered getting help?"
"Help?" Tony's fingers twisted the pillow. "For?"
"Whatever it is that Loki is going through."
"I am helping him!" he snapped. Didn't they see? Yeah, he couldn't make everything right, but he was trying so hard and—
"Relax. I know you are, I don't doubt that. I only wanted to… I meant professional help. Have you thought of that?"
Tony sighed, feeling so very defeated. Yes, he'd thought of it. Yes, he'd considered. But, admitting it was like admitting this was more than he could handle, which was…
Probably the truth.
"I got him fluoxetine," he muttered.
"That's not the same thing, and I don't even want to know how you got it. Tony, I'm trying to help here."
The inventor looked up, meeting the other's gaze. "I know. It's just… I thought I could fix things. And I can't. It's going to take so fucking long."
"So, you have considered it."
"Yes. I have. I haven't mentioned it to Loki, though. No idea what he'd say, but I'm pretty sure he won't like the idea. You can't get through therapy without talking. Besides, how is that even supposed to work? It's not like Loki can simply walk into the office and talk about things that shouldn't be possible. I don't trust Fury enough to ask for one of SHIELD's shrinks. They can be bound to silence all they like, Fury would want the data. So Loki would either have to lie, which he would totally be able to, except that's not the purpose, or he could leave parts out, and we're stuck with not talking again. What do you suggest?"
"Huh." Bruce pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. "When you put it like that… Maybe I could ask around a little. Find somebody trustworthy who's had enough to do with the supernatural."
"Thanks. That would… Thank you. I'll have to discuss it with Loki first, but I'll let you know." Tony placed the pillow he'd been playing with over his knees. "You're right, you know," he added quietly.
"About what?"
"This is too much. Obviously, I don't have a choice, and even if I did, I'd still choose Loki and all his emotional baggage, but sometimes I wish we were normal people in a normal relationship. The kind where you worry about being late for work if you want a second round of morning sex, or fight over which flavour of ice cream to buy, or who's doing the laundry. I just wish we—Loki could be happy."
Bruce held his gaze, and Tony had a feeling the doctor kept looking at him even after he had already averted his gaze.
"When we worked together on the helliocarrier," Bruce finally said, "it became clear you were not the stuck up jerk everybody thought you were. I don't know Loki, but I know you do. So, I'll help."
"Basically, you're offering to help because of me, not because of Loki."
"I'm offering help because it's the right thing to do." Oh, right, the doctor mode. "But I'm willing to go to greater lengths because of you. I'm sorry, I—"
"I get it. Don't worry."
There was still something awfully akin to guilt in the doctor's eyes. His morals were seriously… too developed.
"Pepper has a good opinion about him. Perhaps, in time, things will change."
Time. Why did it sound like 'time' was the magical recipe to make everything better?
"You'll like him." Tony's voice sounded awfully hollow to his own ears. "He's smart. Really smart. And I should go find him."
Bruce nodded. Not that it had any effect on Tony; the latter would have gone out anyway. He walked downstairs—Pepper's voice reached his ears from the living room—grabbed his coat, and tried to pull it on at the same time as getting his feet into his shoes. Okay, so maybe he wasn't that good at multitasking. Stupid shoes. Having tied them up, he straightened—
And the front door opened in his face, revealing a freezing Jane. Cold had painted her cheeks red and forcefully wrapped her arms around her torso. Her eyes widened as she stopped in her tracks.
"Uh. Mr Stark. I'm sorry."
"Nothing to worry about, dear. You only almost ruined my pretty face and made thousands of ladies cry. Imagine the number of tissues needed and the resulting pollution. Ugh."
"I'm sorry," she said again.
"You were not admiring my gardens, I take it?"
Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she averted her gaze. Then, she looked up again. "I know Loki doesn't like me. I wanted to know why."
"You don't like him, either."
"He destroyed half of my town and killed Thor."
Tony sighed. "I understand. Yet, Thor is very much alive. I'm reluctant to believe he came back from the dead." He cocked his head. "Did you know Thor's friends broke Aesir laws when they came to Puente Antiguo?"
Jane shook her head. "But I'm aware Thor was banished to Earth."
"Well, that's a good start. So, how did it go?"
She pulled her eyebrows together. "How did what go?"
"Discovering why Loki seems to dislike you."
"Oh, that." Her teeth grazed her lower lip. "I didn't actually speak to him. I… He seemed unwell."
Tony's eyes grew wide. "What?"
"Not really unwell. Just… I don't know."
That didn't reassure Tony at all. If Loki knew he was being observed, then of course he wouldn't show weakness, the stupid (brilliant), stubborn (brave) god. Neither would he come asking for help or merely for company while Tony was busy with their guests.
"Where is he?" the inventor asker perhaps more forcefully than he'd intended to; his heart demanded it and would not be silenced.
"Um, back there… You know what, I'll show you."
Not giving him time to even blink, Jane grabbed his forearm and pulled him out, nearly causing him to stumble. Tony caught his balance again and pulled his arm free. Jane didn't say anything as she led him towards a small group of birches in the back of the garden.
Loki was sitting with his back against one of the trunks, completely ignoring the fact that the ground was cold enough to make anybody else's ass freeze and fall off. His knees were pulled up to his chest, head hanging low. One of his hands was holding a sketchpad in an iron grip. The other was buried in his hair.
Tony clenched his fists, not in anger but as a reflex to a flash of pain behind his breastbone. Waving a hand to indicate Jane should go back inside, he strode to the trees and squatted down in front of Loki, who immediately raised his head.
"Hi, Snowflake."
"Tony."
Yep, all was not well.
"What's wrong?"
Loki's eyelashes fluttered. "I feel… odd," he murmured. "Fatigued. Nauseous."
"Hm." Tony stroked the god's knee with the back of his hand. "Probably the side effects of Prozac. Try taking less, next time. Or, I'll find you something else, we'll see."
"Thank you." His hand caught Tony's; the skin was cold to the contact, but the inventor didn't pull away. Instead, he brought those pale knuckles to his lips, letting hot breath swirl around them, and he'd swear he felt a shiver run through Loki's body.
"Tell Thor's woman she should remove herself from the garden."
"Huh?"
Tony's turned around. Sure enough, Jane was still standing exactly where she'd been before, observing the couple.
"Her name is Jane. I think you're angry at Thor, not her."
"Am I not allowed to dislike her?" One perfect eyebrow-arch coming right up.
"Sure, you are. Of course." Tony covered Loki's hand with his free one. "Will you come inside with me? Clint, Tasha, and Steve are gone. I'll make sure Thor leaves you alone."
Loki pressed his lips together. Tony shook his head.
"Don't give me that. This is our home, not theirs. I can kick them out. Hell, you can kick them out. Through the door, leave the windows, okay?"
A faint smile curled the Trickster's lips, and Tony went on,
"You want to rest? You get to rest. It's not their place to—"
"I like it out here."
"Oh. Um, you can stay if you want."
But the god shook his head. "I'll come with you. Just don't… I'll come with you."
Just don't what?
Tony helped Loki to his feet and wrapped an arm around his waist. It didn't come as a surprise when Loki slipped away; he never allowed others to witness any kind of intimacy between them. It was a wonder he'd let Tony hold his hand. Or, perhaps less of a wonder and more of an indicator of his current mental state.
Jane stood still, watching them approach. Her eyes settled on Loki's face.
"You're not really the bad guy, are you?" she said when they were merely a foot or two apart.
The corner of the god's mouth twitched. "That is for me to know and for you to find out, Jane."
And Tony had to internally smile, too, because that counted as a victory, and Loki let him hold his hand as they walked past the scientist. The sort-of-luck ended when they entered the house only to run into Thor almost right away. The Thunderer opened his mouth, practically begging with his sky-blue eyes, but Loki beat him to it.
"Don't. Just don't."
"Let us talk about it, brother, please!"
"I said don't!" Loki's eyes flashed dangerously. "Now, get out."
Thor's eyes darkened. Tony sent a look of warning in his direction, and the god's expression morphed into one of resignation.
"Thank you for your hospitality. We'll be on our way, then."
"I'll see you around," Tony said.
Loki didn't say anything.
A/N: *Nicole Galland: I, Iago
**=duel practiced by early Scandinavians; an answer to grave insults, e.g. argr and the like. If you haven't yet, you should google argr and ntihing and the like. Seriously. Viking morals were [insert (in)appropriate word here]...
Also, I guess I like Jane. She /was/ the one who gave Thor a chance when Eric wanted nothing to do with him. While she might not likeLoki, she is smart enought to put two and two together.
My finals start this week, meaning I'll be studying like crazy, meaning I won't really have time to write, but I'll probably send school to a certain very hot place and write anyway... But if I don't, you'll know why.
Please, drop a review. Stay awesome!
~CB