After the little incident in the infirmary, they went on. Both Loki and Tony acted as if it hadn't happened while they got back to the god's room after he had calmed down.

"Wait a sec", the millionaire said when Loki picked up the plate with his breakfast from the commode. "When was the last time you ate?"

"Up in the kitchen", the god replied with his mouth full.

"No, I mean before that."

He stilled and was quiet for a few seconds before he shrugged. "I do not remember", he answered and Tony buried his face in his hands.

"Damn, I've got you here for almost two days and when you wake up, I offer you a glass of water", he groaned. "Fuck genius brain, I should've thought of that."

The prince waved it off as he replied: "Leave it. You were in no good state when I found you up on the roof", and fortunately he didn't go into the topic further, "and it would have been no good if I had eaten while I still had inner injuries." Right, Bruce had mentioned that.

"So... they're gone now?" That wasn't really possible, was it?

"Not quite, but I heal faster than you mortals. It is better", Loki explained shortly before he returned his attention to the scrambled eggs.

~*~ Here. Have a time slip. ~*~

It was Sunday morning (well, 11am – early enough for Tony) and the Avengers Tower was quiet, the villains seemed to have decided to rest for a day while the whole team sat on the kitchen table, eating pancakes that had been made by Loki. The god turned out to love cooking even if he had never done in Asgard because it was considered a task for women. Anyway, he had been doing it during the two weeks he had been here now, and even Thor was clever enough to keep his mouth shut about it.

"Joke's on them", Steve hummed around a mouthful of pancake. "They don't know what they miss when they keep you from feeding them."

Chuckling, Loki sat down with his own table. Although he still felt a little strange around the Avengers, he was surprised by how he mostly got along with them so well. After thinking about it he had come to a conclusion; he should get on better terms with them so he had started to build up the contact slowly.

He looked over Roger's shoulder when he was drawing, asking questions or giving a (honest) praise (once he had caught the captain while working on a sketch of him, with his eyes staring into the emptiness beyond the paper, not exactly anxious, but... anticipating – he had decided not to comment on it).

Romanov and Clint, even if they both still held a little grudge against him, made him join them during workouts – careful not to harm his still recovering body, but building him up again slowly (and maybe working away some anger). He was fine with that, really – the two were a real challenge in his current state.

He was not durable enough for workouts with Thor, though. Instead, he joined him now and then, exchanging a few words – not becoming too attached to him, but not meeting him with the usual denial and anger either. Not anymore. It had grown tiring over the past eight years – even if it had only been three for Thor.

Every day he spent about an hour either at the infirmary or at the laboratory of Banner who checked him over, renewed bandages and chatting with him after they had overcome the awkward ness that had been present during the first two or three days, both of them asking questions about each other's world. The god was surprised by the calm, soothing character of the doctor, and when he had mentioned it casually in a slightly mocking comment, he had only received a small smile that seemed to hide much more than he could see.

Stark was a case of his own. The mortal fascinated Loki, having so little and yet so big things in common with him, and sometimes he would just come down to his workshop and sit there silently, watching him even if not always really understanding what he was doing. Both of them didn't like going to sleep until it was desperately needed so they spent some nights down there, talking about everything that came to their minds.

Loki did take time to be alone, though. Just reading a book or thinking, staring at the ceiling of his room for hours. He had grown fond of the Avengers in in such a short time that it scared him, it was strange how fast he had come to enjoy meaningless talks and taking meals together. It felt so... normal that it was intimidating.

There were times he stopped in the middle of a sentence, of a laugh, when he remembered he wasn't supposed to be happy here. When the worried glances of the others met him, he reminded himself he should be preparing for the Other's arrival which would come, sooner or later, but he found himself feeling so content where he was (shielded by the earth's mightiest heroes – he wouldn't find a better place to hide anyway) that he was satisfied by just doing his daily workouts and actually relaying on the Avengers to be there when he needed them.

"See? Now you have gone insane", he mumbled smiling.

"Wha- hey! I'm perfectly fine!", Clint protested and Loki realized he was still at the kitchen table, devouring a pancake.

"I... actually did not talk to you", he grinned. "But it's good to see you feel addressed as soon as someone says 'insane'".

"That—I just... yeah, I guessed I walked right into this one, didn't I?", the archer mumbled and poured a ridiculous amount of syrup on his breakfast. "Too early for this shit", he grumbled while chewing.

"I think we should get out today", Natasha announced.

"But it's all cold and snow and freezy out there!", Stark whined and rubbed his arms in a demonstrative manner.

"That's why. We can go ice skating", the spy suggested.

"Oh, c'mon, nobody here can even ice skate", he growled. "Or am I wrong? Any of you can, huh?"

All hands except Thor's went up and Tony looked around, completely flabbergasted.

"S-seriously? You... Lokes?" Loki shrugged and ignored the surprised look of his brother. Yes, it was a woman's sport. What about it? That was what Asgardians thought and Asgardian manners were stupid in so many ways he could probably not count them. He folded his arms in front of his chest and met Thor's glare, stubborn and not looking away and, as usual, he won.

Smiling he returned to his pancake and offered: "Stark, there is always the opportunity to sit nearby and build snowmen if you don't dare to try it yourself." That worked.

"Of course I can ice skate!", the millionaire growled. "I can fly in a god damn suit, then I'll be able to handle a pair of shoes with blades, too."

Apparently, he couldn't.

"Why can't that fucking ice be a little less fucking slippery, for fucking fuck's sake!", Tony cursed as he slid over the iced surface of the sea on his backside. Loki followed with long, skilful steps, grinning at him.

"This can't possibly be harder than handling a suit, can it?", the god mocked.

"Shut up and help me up, Elsa", Tony growled. Loki frowned, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"You know, Stark, my name is not that difficult. I am surprised, really – you are the only person who can make four spelling mistakes in a word with four letters." He chuckled. "But if you do something, you do it right, huh?"

"My ass is freezing off", the millionaire stated.

"Thank you for this valuable information."

Tony rolled his eyes. "Seriously. Help me up", he demanded and finally, the god gave in and pulled him up again.

"You are helpless, really. No, no, stay here. Take my hands."

"Uhm, yeah, no", Tony responded. "I'm not going all touchy-feely with you." Now it was Loki's turn to roll his eyes.

"I don't want to go touchy-feely on you in the middle of a lake, I want to prevent you from ruining your trousers by using them as a sleigh", Loki groaned and caused the other man to blink. In the middle of a lake. But somewhere else, perhaps?

Clearing his throat, he pushed the thought away and took the god's outstretched hands. He was wearing the clothes Tony had bought him, a dark green coat and skinny, black jeans, together with a black hat of wool and dark gloves. He had ordered these colours mostly because they just seemed to suit Loki best.

Slowly, Loki began to slide backwards while he instructed: "Just keep your balance, I'll keep up the movement. Your feet have to stay parallel, just like that. See, it is not that difficult. You will manage." Tony refused to look at the rest of the team, especially Clint, who was probably giggling like a school girl right now. Instead he focussed on the god in front of him, when he suddenly heard Clint. Only he wasn't giggling.

"Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck! Tony, out of the way, get out of the –"

The next second the millionaire was knocked off his feet by an impact hitting his side, pushing the air out of his lungs. As he hit the ground again, he slid over the ice which made really disturbing cracking noises.

Groaning, he tried to get up again as something landed beside him. He looked up to find himself confronted with a Doombot, then looked down on the ice again, back to the Doombot, the Doombot's feet, heated up because of the repulsors it used for flying-

"Uh, no, buddy. Bad idea."

Then the surface broke in and he felt himself surrounded by icy water.