a/n: Haiiiiiii. So I'm trying to update at least once a week (give or take). I may be delayed a bit in coming weeks bc I have my first week of Doctoral Residency for my PhD – for which I am utterly unprepared and absolutely terrified. So, I abate my anxiety by avoiding thinking about it entirely & reading/writing for you people – you're welcome. (Hey, anyone wanna participate in a research study? Lol [but no really?]).

I would like to give a shout-out to one of my favorite fic writers, Laily – who is my guiding light for all things FrostStrange, and also is just an utterly phenomenal writer in general. I highly recommend reading anything by her, especially her FrostStrange series, starting with "The Contract."

Anyway, enjoy chapter 4 my loves!

Chapter 4: The beauty of being a tech hoarder

The Sanctum Sanctorum thrummed with magic. Loki felt it the second he stepped through the portal. He glanced up the expansive staircase, where he could already see several relics carefully locked away in cases. How easy it would be to break into those cases – just a flick of his wrist could probably overpower any wards that had been placed on them. He was exhilarated by the possibility of scouring the Sanctum, of going beyond what was in plain sight and finding all that was hidden within. His spine tingled with the thought of being able to play with all the ancient, mysterious, and powerful – oh, so, so powerful – toys.

Then that familiar, dangerous (and thrilling) pull of chaos started to recede, like the ocean tide, until it was snuffed out altogether. It was replaced by something different: a calming sensation. . . like what Loki had felt in the hallway of the compound when he shook hands with Stephen Strange. There was a shift in the air, and static electricity all around. Warmth radiated through him, in a numbing, soothing way. And Loki could feel the darkness within him retreating, replaced by the radiancy of the golden mystic energy.

The chaos was still whispering to him, of course – as it was wont to do. But now it sounded quieter, muffled. Instead, he could hear and feel and sense the magic around him, grounding him. It drew him back from the precipice upon which he normally would have plunged headfirst, paying no mind to the depths or rocks or nothingness. Before, when he was a different Loki, the temptation was too much, impossible to resist. In recent years, and especially the last few months, Loki had learned to shut out the voices and refuse the siren call of madness. But it had taken tremendous willpower.

This time, it was easy; he didn't even have to think about it. All he had to do was follow the magic. It was an incredible, fascinating, wonderous, terrible thing, really, for something – someone – to hold such sway. Certainly, Strange couldn't be that powerful, could he? Had he hexed or otherwise enchanted Loki in some way, unknown to him? Loki had been around many other sorcerers and never felt their magic quite so strongly. Never had he been drawn to it like a moth to a flame.

Yet, that was precisely how Strange's magic had affected him. It had coiled around him, lassoing him in its golden threads, pulling tighter and tighter. Normally, Loki would rage against such a thing. But now he found himself yielding – and actually wanting to yield. His own seiðr, which he loved and knew and which belonged to him and was him, was raucous and spontaneous, enveloping him in a cool mist. It was comfortable and his. But this new magic was calm and calculated and felt as though it had attached itself to him, like a tether to the human who wielded it; it was warm and even though it was new, it was still inviting. . .

"Loki," Strange said softly, as if afraid that Loki would be startled. "I have to ask you something."

Loki turned toward him and waited, taking note of the suspicion playing across the Sorcerer's face. This felt more like what he had anticipated – some kind of interrogation or at least a stern talking-to.

"You truly mean no harm to this realm?"

"I truly don't," Loki answered easily. "I swear to it, by the Norns." He held up his hand, showing that he took the oath seriously.

Strange observed him closely, keeping his eyes on Loki's face. Searching. Finally, the doctor sighed. "Okay, then." And he visibly relaxed, letting his shoulders fall slack and the heaviness in his eyes disappear.

"That's it?" Loki couldn't stop himself from inquiring. "You're not going to ask me anything else – like, where I've been? What's happened to me?"

Strange seemed to consider it, then shrugged. "If you feel so inclined to share that information, I'm sure you will. And I'll ask if, and when, it becomes relevant. Until then, you have a right to your privacy." He finished with a polite smile.

Loki half-laughed. "So, I say I'm good, and you just believe me?"

The other man clicked his tongue. "Actually, I asked if you meant this realm any harm. You said no. I have enough—shall we say, evidence?—to consider that matter closed." Then, the Sorcerer's lip quirked up, in a devious way that Loki had oft seen in his own reflection. "Being good, though – now, that's something else entirely."

Strange's eyes were studying Loki again, this time raking up and down in an almost predatory manner. It was a hungry expression that lasted only a second, but it was long enough. That look combined with the static charge in the air allowed Loki to gauge the situation. He smirked to himself, intrigued by the turn of events.

Finally, Strange turned on his heel and started walking. "The kitchen's this way."

Loki followed the Sorcerer down an immaculate hallway. Watched as the Cloak of Levitation lifted off the man's shoulders. It drifted lazily in the opposite direction, happy to be home.

"You take excellent care of your Sanctum, Doctor," Loki complimented.

Strange glanced over his shoulder, beaming proudly. He pushed one side of double swinging doors, holding it open and waiting. Loki sauntered through, pretending not to recognize the action for the chivalrous gesture it felt like.

The kitchen was smaller than Loki expected. There was a petite table in the corner of the room, pushed against the wall, with three chairs but only two place-settings. Obviously, it was intended for the two Masters who resided there but left room for a third, should the pair ever have company. If Loki had to guess, they did not have company often.

There was a respectable amount of counter and cupboard space, with a generous refrigerator and other well-kept appliances, large and small. One part of the counter had several compact boxes strewn across it, along with dishes and silverware.

"Please, sit down," Strange said, pointing to the table.

"Thank you," Loki stated, minding his manners. His mother would be proud. That thought created a lump in his throat, but he quickly swallowed it down and turned his face neutral just in time for Strange to spin around with two plates full of food. He crossed the room and stood by the table with a wily glint in his gray eyes.

"Have you ever had sushi?" Strange asked. A beat. "Do you know what sushi is?" he amended.

Loki looked thoughtful for a moment before finally shaking his head in the negative. Strange laughed and set the plates down. He quickly returned to the cupboards, pulling out two wine glasses. "You're in for a treat," he promised with a smile. "This sushi bar just opened about a block away. And it is incredible – they make a chicken yakitori that is just—" he hummed softly, closed his eyes and sighed contentedly. When his eyes opened, he tapped his chin. "Honestly, it's kind of unfortunate that this will be your first taste of sushi – because you'll probably be ruined for all other sushi."

Loki chuckled quietly. Strange filled the glasses with white wine, and looked offended. "You don't believe me?"

"Well, you are laying it on a little thick."

The doctor scoffed, approaching with the full glasses of Moscato. He set them down before taking a seat himself. Unexpectedly, he didn't sit in the chair across from Loki, where the other place mat was. Rather, he sat down in the chair closest to Loki, scooting the food in front of himself before sliding Loki's plate toward him.

Loki leaned forward, inspecting the food. On his plate was an array of rather colorful items, although much of it was unrecognizable – mostly from being so tightly packed and wound together. He must have made a face because when he looked back up, Strange was frowning.

"I probably have something else, if you want. . ." he offered. He scooted his chair back and moved to get up. But Loki's hand shot out, grasping Strange's wrist to stop him.

Wisps of green seiðr encircled the man's arm, lingering for a few seconds even after Loki ripped his hand away. They both averted their eyes. Loki broke the silence: "Tell me about this. . . sushi. What do you recommend?"

Strange settled back into his chair and smiled. "What kind of food do you like?" At Loki's inquisitive glance, the Sorcerer tried again. "Do you like bland foods, or lots of flavor?"

Loki simply shrugged. Strange exhaled sharply, but he didn't sound annoyed. He leaned forward, pointing to an item on the plate. "Try that one."

Loki stared, unblinking, from the food to the mortal and back. Finally, with a sigh and a hearty eye-roll, Loki picked up the morsel. Satisfied, Strange started in on his own food.

Loki was carefully examining the food, holding it experimentally between his fingers. It was mostly rice, almost in a ball, with soft green and white and pink bits packed within it, all wrapped up in a string of dark green.

Strange let out a loud, groaning sigh. "Would you just put it in your mouth?" He took another bite.

Loki's eyes narrowed. "Don't concern yourself with my mouth, Doctor."

The loaded statement made Strange choke on his firecracker salmon. He coughed and reached for his wine glass, taking a small sip to wash down the spicy bite that was caught in his throat. With a smirk, Loki popped the whole thing in his mouth and chewed for what seemed like forever. The god swallowed with a gulp, then locked eyes with his dining mate, face still completely neutral.

Strange let out an exasperated laugh. "Well? Did you like it?"

After another moment of that blank stare, Loki let his lip curl up the slightest bit. "It was acceptable."

"You're tough to please, aren't you?"

"You've no idea," Loki mumbled. Then, he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, before grabbing another piece of the same food and ate it.

"It's called a California Roll," Strange explained, nodding toward the food. "It's rice, with avocado and crab. Wrapped in seaweed."

Loki scrunched up his nose in disdain. "It doesn't sound like it would be good." But he actually liked it so he grabbed a third Roll and ate it. It made Strange smile, and Loki found that he liked that, too. "What else is here?"

Strange's smile widened and he stroked his chin thoughtfully. Finally, he pointed to something else. Loki twisted his mouth in curiosity. "And that one would be. . .?"

The Sorcerer Supreme opened his mouth but then closed it and snickered. "Try it first. Then I'll tell you."

Scoffing, Loki picked up the piece Strange had recommended. "I used to pull that trick on Thor, you know." At Strange's inquisitive look, Loki elaborated: "I convinced him to eat, and do, all kinds of ridiculous things for years." He took a bite of food, chewing slowly and feeling slightly nostalgic.

Strange nodded with an amused smile. "That's what siblings do. Or so they say. Not that I'd know."

Loki swallowed and set down the remaining bite of food, looking at Strange with inquisitiveness. "You were an only child?"

The doctor's eyes hazed briefly and he looked down at the table. He smacked his lips and said, "Not exactly." Then, he grabbed his wine glass and took a large swallow.

Silence settled between them and Loki watched as Strange stared into his wine glass, swirling the remaining liquid. Loki sighed softly. "I apologize, if I overstepped my bounds."

Strange looked up suddenly and they locked eyes. His face spoke of profound grief, but he offered an appreciative smile. "No, it's fine." He set his glass down and leaned back in his chair, waving a hand somewhat flippantly. Quickly changing the subject, Strange nodded toward the food. "That one is Unagi."

Loki glanced at his plate and then back to the doctor. "Eel?" he asked.

Strange looked surprised – impressed? – and Loki smirked. "I do speak Japanese, you know."

And then Strange let out a soft 'ah' as he poured himself another glass of wine. "That's Allspeak, right?" he inquired, topping off Loki's glass and emptying the bottle.

"Yes. And thank you." The mage took an appreciative sip. He held the glass up, looking at the liquid curiously. "You know, I've only had red wines here on Midgard. I found them to be quite bitter. This," he smiled to his companion, "is much better."

"In that case, next time I'll break out the Riesling. It's not quite as sweet, but it's smoother."

Loki put the glass down and leaned back in his chair, arching his eyebrow. "Presumptuous of you – to think there would be a 'next time,' Doctor."

Strange gaped. "Oh, I didn't mean to presume. I was just— well, ah. I—" he halted his backpedaling, clearly trying to read the expression in Loki's eyes.

"Perhaps it's not just the wine that's smooth," Loki told him in a not-quite-whisper. Before Strange could respond, Loki stood up. He stretched languidly, raising his arms and clasping his hands together over his head. Watching the doctor out of the corner of his eye, he twisted, popping the joints in his shoulders, neck, back – exaggeratedly rolling his lithe limbs and long torso in a very cat-like movement, with as much (if not more) grace. It was evident that he'd had the desired effect, when Strange's Adam's apple bobbed with a hard swallow and he inhaled deeply.

The Asgardian ran a hand through his hair, swooping aside some errant locks that had fallen across his forehead. He smiled to himself and was glad that he'd not only decided to shower but that, despite the slight unruliness, he'd left his hair loose and natural afterward. His hand was still in his hair, at the back of his head, and he ruffled it with his fingernails, letting it flop into a purposefully messy look. Strange's eyes were locked on him the whole time, but he pretended not to notice.

Finally, Strange blinked a few times and cleared his throat. He stood and started gathering up the plates. Loki puffed out a soft breath before flicking his wrist and instantly clearing the table. Strange chuckled fondly before looking to the prince.

"Show-off," the doctor accused playfully.

Loki merely shrugged. They stood quietly for a moment and then an idea struck. "You have a library here, I am sure?"

"Of course," Strange answered. He anticipated what was coming next. "Would you like to see it?" To which Loki nodded enthusiastically. He was about to ask which way, when a swirl of gold opened up a rift in the room and he found himself pulled through, suddenly standing in the library next to the Sorcerer Supreme.

He let out an exasperated, but lighthearted, huff. "Now who's showing off?"

Strange gave him a smug smile. Then, he waved his hand in front of him in an 'after you' manner. Loki didn't need to be told twice. He began wandering through the stacks, with Strange following along behind him all the way.

The place was dusty, but still well-kept. It smelt of parchment and ink and old books – all the best possible things. Loki inhaled deeply, closing his eyes and smiling. Then he looked up at the bookshelf beside him. He reached up and ran his fingers along the spines of the books as he walked. He used just his fingertips, drawing the ancient energy that was radiating off the books – each one different – and acknowledging the power and knowledge that was contained within.

Finally, at the end of the aisle, he stopped. There was a cart with some books on it, likely ones that Strange or his fellow Master, Wong, had been reshelving. With a contented sigh, Loki played his fingers across those books with a sort of reverence, flipping open the cover of a couple and then just idly flipping through the pages before settling his palm flat on one.

"I suppose," he began, softly, "I should return to the Compound."

He heard Strange's footsteps come closer, until he was directly behind him. "Or not." the Sorcerer's breath was warm on the nape of Loki's neck. In the next instant, Strange's hand was on top of Loki's and he was turning Loki toward him. "I was told to keep an eye on you. So. . . You could stay here," Strange offered.

"Here?" Loki repeated, watching with fascination at the way his seiðr swirled with the mystic energy once again.

Strange ran his hand up Loki's arm, almost as though he were chasing the golden sparks. When he reached Loki's shoulder, he used just his fingertips to trace the line across Loki's collarbone, up his throat to hook a finger under his jaw and tilt his head up, pulling his eyes away from the magic – which had now expanded, to fill his entire body and he was certain that he looked like he was encased in a sparking, sizzling fire, just as Strange was encapsulated in green, swirling mist. They were equal height and looking eye-to-eye, soul-to-soul.

"Stay here," Strange whispered. "With me."

Loki wasn't sure who leaned in first. All he knew was that Stephen Strange's lips were on his. And Strange's hand cupped his jaw, and the other hand landed on his hip. Then, instead of answering with words, Loki made it clear that yes, he would stay, by wrapping his arms Strange's neck, pulling him closer to deepen the kiss.

*!MCU!*!MCU!*!MCU!*

Outside the compound, one of the storage facilities had a second floor. The lower level was originally meant to be a cellar for food-stuffs like potatoes or canned goods, mostly non-perishables. But no one ever used it for that. At one point, it was suggested that it be an armory, but that seemed impractical since it was both underground and not very close to the other buildings. Finally, it was decided that it should be a fallout shelter, in the event of large-scale attack or, in the very least, severely inclement weather.

No one really remembers any of that, though. The storage building itself primarily stores lawn and garden equipment, since it is so near to the perimeter, by the pastures. Around the side of that building are three steps, leading down to a door secured with a keypad lock-code. Through the door are several more steps, leading down into the underground bunker.

However, since no one remembers any of that, it went largely unused. Until Morgan Stark discovered it (as she tended to have a knack for discovering missing, forgotten, and broken things).

So when Morgan found the run-down shack full of hedge trimmers and lawnmowers, she thought it might have some kind of potential. And when she walked around to the side and found the door and the keypad, she knew she had struck gold. The lock-code had never even been programmed! Inside was a hodge-podge of items from the various attempts to make use of the building. It also had electricity and old tech. And the best part was that now, nobody was even aware of its existence.

The temptation to turn it into a secret lab was too great – no one would have been able to resist.

So that's where Morgan found herself the evening before the Avengers reunion. She unloaded her backpack, laying out all her tools and trinkets. The Iron-Man helmet, she set down with great care on the work desk in the bunker. Then, she found the circuit board that she had successfully rewired earlier in the Stark Wing and placed it next to the Mark V helmet. Finally, she opened a drawer and pulled out another helmet.

She'd been working on it for a while now. Originally, it had been the crudely made, tinny helmet of the Mark I. Morgan regarded the piece carefully, assessing the areas that she had upgraded. She pursed her lips thoughtfully, then finally gave a firm nod of approval. The original Iron-Man headpiece was almost unrecognizable from the version her father had donned when he blasted his way out of that cave in Afghanistan. The girl had made it significantly more streamlined, using the Mark V as a model. And although she didn't have any vibranium readily available, she had replaced the tin and bolts with steel and soldering. She pulled out her laser pen and quickly sealed up one final part of the face-plate. Then, she stepped back to look at the helmet, sighing.

"Perfect! Now, for the paint," she said aloud, smiling at her work. She grabbed a mechanical arm and hovered it over the helmet, clicking a nozzle into place, which was attached to tubing leading to a can of metallic blue paint. Then she got to work, carefully spray-painting her masterpiece. Once the blue was finished, she switched to a golden color and worked on that.

When the girl was finished, she wiped her forehead and didn't even care that she probably smeared paint all over. The helmet looked better than she could have hoped. Next, she would need to finish the chest-plate she had started crafting. That's where the circuit board would come in handy. But she decided to hold off on that for now, because she had another project that needed her attention.

Morgan picked up the clunky, black laptop that she used for her most important work. When she'd first found it, the thing was full of sand and she was amazed it even turned on, let alone that it worked – especially considering the pixelated-looking display that signified its antiquity. It ended up being an amazing find because it allowed Morgan to bypass various security settings, including operating completely outside of FRIDAY's awareness since it wasn't actually connected to the same servers. Even if FRIDAY did notice the device's presence, there wasn't much she could do about it ever since Morgan figured out how to set up a constantly re-routing IP address. For all anyone knew, the laptop was operating somewhere out of Dubai, or pinging off a tower in Melbourne. It was genius, if Morgan said so herself (and she did).

She opened the command prompt and began a series of coding:

[r u n] data set / project: Restore / function: AI, System codex: JARVIS

Upon hitting ENTER, the command screen started rapidly scrolling with a series of encoded binary phrases, reminiscent of The Matrix. She read the words on the screen:

end result: JARVIS restore, success / all systems operational.

Morgan felt her heart thudding in her chest.

It had been a couple months since Morgan was able to access her dad's old JARVIS files. Putting it all together was challenging, because much of the information had been corrupted, encased in the virus-like remnants of Ultron. But once the data had been separated, Morgan had a skeleton from which to rebuild JARVIS's system. After that, all she had to do was piecemeal the JARVIS files with an array of other files and systems that her father had stored away.

"The beauty of being a tech hoarder," Morgan muttered to herself. She saved all the newly processed data in a zip-folder and drafted an email:

S,

Looks like success to me. . .

Review. If you concur, bring everything.

- M

P.S. don't worry about the power source – I'm on it.

Morgan attached the zipped folder and sent it. She could still feel her heart racing, rejoicing in the prospect that lay before her. If she was right – which she was willing to bet that she was – then she had just unlocked a major plot-point. All she could do now, though, was wait for her theories to be confirmed.

Well, that, and to find out if Rocket was in a bargaining mood.

*!MCU!*!MCU!*!MCU!*

The young man jumped down from the fire escape, landing hard on the pavement. He cursed under his breath as he straightened up, feeling the force of the drop in his knees.

He'd screwed up.

He didn't know how, exactly. But he knew that he'd made a big mistake. Because nothing was the way it was supposed to be. Things looked wrong, and there were whispers of events that hadn't happened, couldn't have happened, things that happened in an entirely different way, things that had never even been a threat but had somehow come to pass. . .

He was not familiar with this version of Earth. All his tech could tell him was that it was known as Earth-616 in the multiverse – which, of course, didn't mean shit to him.

He flexed his hand, grounding himself with the familiar feel of the Stark gauntlets attached to both hands. He walked forward, stopping at the mouth of the alleyway. He sighed, taking comfort in the knowledge that he could encompass himself in his armor at a moment's notice if necessary.

"JOCASTA," he said into his earpiece. "Have you been able to access Stark's servers?"

"Just the basics. There's an unexpectedly high level of security, so I haven't managed to break through everything, yet," The AI replied.

"What have you found, of what you can get to?"

"Not much," JOCASTA answered, sounding frustrated. "But," she continued, "It looks like you were caught on a CCTV camera in Chinatown the other night. They're very interested in that."

That gave the young man pause. "What do you mean? Interested in what way?"

"There's an algorithm in place, searching for anything that matches the energy signature your gauntlets released." There was a moment of silence. Then, JOCASTA asked, "Do you want me to plant decoys or something, to keep them off of you?"

"No," he answered, an idea blooming.

"What are you planning?" JOCASTA asked, not even bothering to hide the judgment in her voice. She'd always thought he was an idiot.

"Only that if we can't find them, maybe we should let them find us." He waited a second, expecting an argument. JOCASTA didn't say anything, but he swore he could hear her let out an annoyed huff.

"I'm not a mind reader," JOCASTA said, finally. If it hadn't been such a serious situation, the man would have laughed.

"Tap into any and all surveillance systems nearby as I move. Make sure they all catch me, and that the Avengers' algorithm is activated. Then, we'll let them come."

With that, he flipped up his hood and powered up the gauntlets—but he didn't fire them; he simply kept them on as he darted out of the alley and made his way down the open street.

*!MCU!*!MCU!*!MCU!*

a/n 2: I know basically nothing about coding so sorry if that's inaccurate. :P Thanks for reading – please leave comments! See ya next chapter :)