A/N: This took too long. I wasn't strong enough.


Apparently a town car isn't fancy enough for a New York engagement party, so the first stop of the dreaded day is to a garage hidden underneath a rather squat building not a block from Tony's apartment.

A button is clicked and white light floods the room. Loki has to shield his eyes from the glare off of the hoods of fifteen different sports cars; all different colours and builds. He walks in between the glossy rows of them, raising his eyebrows at the more exotic ones. He mentally labels them all: a silver Corvette— Tony's 21st. A racing yellow Lamborghini— a dumb first kiss. An old Chevy— Daddy's joy. At last he stops in front of a ridiculously expensive looking Mercedes, midnight blue— Mummy's choice.

"You can pick one," Tony says coolly, sticking his hands into the pockets of his lazy jacket. None of them are dressed yet, alarming for six in the morning.

"These are all yours?" Loki asks, spinning around to face him.

"Most. The older builds are my father's. He doesn't go anywhere without his Chevy. He brought it when he came over."

"That's ridiculous."

Tony shrugs. "It's my father."

Right, fathers. Loki doesn't like to dwell on the fact that the heads of the Odinson and Stark families are integrating today. The mere thought makes his stomach roil, so he quickly says something before he can ruin the paint on one of those perfect cars by hurling on it.

"This whole garage is ridiculous. No-one should have this much money."

"We can show up in a taxi, if you like."

Loki narrows his eyes. Eventually he slinks towards a dark red Jaguar and leans against it nonchalantly. He looks at Tony with a flick of his hair.

The corner of Tony's mouth pulls up. "The Jag it is," he says.

The rest of the morning is spent tutting an poking at one another. Loki is too concentrated to accept any fooling around and Tony knows better than to test him. Darcy seems to be the only one who's even remotely excited about the upcoming lunch, twirling around in her lavender dress—the only feminine article of clothing she owns, Loki knows. He's raided her wardrobes before.

When Darcy requests someone to help her with her whatever, Loki has a moment to himself in the bathroom. The pink CD player sits behind him, silent.

He takes a large breath, wonders for a moment if he could suffocate himself by holding it, then exhales reluctantly before his cheeks can turn too red. Today will be his biggest gig yet, sure to be his greatest performance, but instead of feeling confident he just feels ill. It sickens him that Odin can still make him feel this way, make his skin prickle and his fists shake. Yes, today will be the best joke Loki's ever pulled on Odin, by far the most elaborate prank, but in the end Odin will win. Because Loki hasn't changed.

When he steps out of the bathroom Tony is sitting on a kitchen stool next to Darcy, artfully painting his lashes black with mascara. Loki's bares his teeth. A joke, indeed.

When the final suit buttons are fastened and the last hairs are swept into place they head out of the apartment and pull themselves into the car, and it's in that silly red car—top down, ripping through the streets—that Loki finds himself having his first break down of the morning.

Tony doesn't notice until he catches Loki in the review mirror, black jacket flapping in the wind as he cowers on the floor of the backseat, trying to keep what's left of his head on his shoulders. Darcy is cheerfully bobbing her head to Tony's horrible taste in music from the passenger seat.

"You okay babe?" Tony asks without looking back, and Loki would smack those stupid aviators off his face if he weren't so preoccupied with not screaming. This time Tony quickly glances over his shoulder. "Loki? Fuck." He focuses on the road before he can crash into a street lamp. "Darcy, the thing is happening—Loki is—"

And Loki really doesn't care what Stark says after that because his breathing is suddenly so harsh he's sure it'll tear holes in his throat. The car banks a corner and his world goes spinning off its axis.

Then there's a hand in his hair and at first he thinks Mother, then strangely Stark and at last his brain trips and stumbles to Darcy.

"Breathe," she says as the car comes to a stop at a red light and at last a handful of air can get into his lungs.

Tony props himself up to lean over his seat. "You okay?"

"Give me a moment," Loki bites out.

"Today's going to be fine. I'm sure your family is going to be happy to see you." Loki doesn't deign to reply and Tony quickly returns to driving. "I mean your mom was. I'm sure your dad won't be as bad as you remember." Darcy gives him one last pat and returns to her seat. Loki continues to breathe, but the more the panic leaves him the more irritation takes its place.

"You're giving me a pep talk on fathers?" Loki mumbles, pulling himself somewhat upright.

Tony gives a sheepish shrug. Before replying, he smoothly pulls a flask out of his pocket. Loki's eyes flash with rage and he knocks the thing out of Tony's hand before he can take a sip, making him startle. "What the hell was that for?"

"You are not getting drunk today."

"Out of all days, this seems like a bit of an exception, don't you think?"

"Do you remember what happened last time you got drunk and introduced me to your family?" Tony only scoffs as a reply. Loki snatches up the flask and tucks it away. "I at least need the comfort that you'll be sober. No alcohol. Tony? Yes? Are you listening?"

They come to another red light and Tony slams on the brakes and Loki flies forward, catching himself before he can hurl face-first into the gear stick. Loki blinks, bewildered as Tony bursts into delighted laughter. "Sure babe. I hear you."

"You're a fucking asshole," he gasps. He straddles his shoulder in an attempt to get up.

Darcy goes to help him get up with her own fit of giggles and it's then Loki sees the flash of a camera out of the corner of his eye.

"Paparazzi," he yells, slipping out of Darcy's grip and crashing into Stark's lips in a lewd excuse for a kiss.

And so begins the day.

Loki expected the Lion's Hotel to be everything the Stark's embodied, and he sure isn't disappointed. The enormous building is completely gold plated, making it shockingly intimidating. It looks more like a statement then a real place, a statement that the Stark's no doubt want to make very clear. Gold-plated buildings for gold-plated people.

They hand over their red disaster to a valet and Tony holds out his arm. Loki, after a quick count of no less than twenty press people already lined up before even reaching the front door, all shouting and beckoning, gives a sweet smile and takes it. Darcy follows, bouncing along at his side.

They walk into a lobby, cool and bestrewed in marble, and Tony takes off his sunglasses. Loki looks at him and his jaw tightens.

"What?"

"Mascara. You're still wearing mascara."

"So?"

Darcy is waving to the paparazzi and begins performing elaborate poses.

"Who are you, Prince?"

"Are you really about to give me a pep talk on too much femininity?"

Loki struggles not to break his smile.

"This place is bangin'. I didn't know this part of New York even existed. Is it covered in real gold?"

Tony stares at Darcy for two seconds. "Yes. Our ancestors stole it from the Incas thousands of years ago."

"Cool."

A smiling brown-haired woman begins to lead them to the function room and Loki's gut clenches. When she escorts them into a more secluded hallway and the noise from the lobby is gone, he can very clearly hear his heart thumping in his throat. His arm slides down to grip Tony's hand.

Their escort stops at two giant oak doors. A carved lion sits on the top, it's chestnut teeth frozen in a gleaming smile. The doors are pulled open and they step under those sharp teeth towards far more dangerous creatures.

At first glance they can't appreciate just how ginormous the room is because of all the people swallowing it up. Standing on the dark wood in all their expensive shoes are the Stark's guests: all of the business men, the producers, the partners, the friends, the family, the lawyers, the favours, the "friends", the distantly related and the legally affiliated. Howard and Maria are standing together, Howard's hand resting on the small of her back, chatting with other groomed men. He raises his head when they enter and his hand gives Maria a small tap.

Soon they have the audience of the room. After another quick scan passed all the dresses and pantsuits and shimmering jewellery, Loki realizes that he cannot find Odin, nor Frigga. He deflates somewhat, but his hand still shakes in Tony's.

"Ah, the guests of honour!" Howard announces, not doing much to hide his sarcasm.

It warrants a quiet applause as the guests all turn and clap politely. Loki is used to the sound, but today it leaves his stomach churning. He smiles along with Tony and Darcy, as awkward as the moment is. Thankfully the guests go back to chatting among themselves. Less thankfully, Howard and Maria walk over.

"You two look so dashing!" Maria says as she clasps her hands over her chest. Tony and Loki both murmur a thank you.

"Son," Howard nods with smile. Tony twitches. Howard's eyes slide to Loki. "Son in law."

"Hmm," Loki hums humorously, "not quite yet."

"Yes, still a couple of weeks until that. But, still just a couple. Are you excited?" Loki hasn't been around Howard long enough to know all of this tricks, but he knows a challenge when he hears one. Entwining Tony and his arm further, he flashes his teeth.

"Couldn't come sooner."

Howard smiles to disguise his grimace. He looks to Darcy. Immediately his face lifts and he extends a hand. "And who is this lovely lady?"

Darcy manages to snort and giggle at the same time.

"This is Darcy Lewis, a close friend," Loki says.

"Oh, Miss Lewis," Maria says with a thin smile. "I was looking forward to meeting you."

Howard kisses Darcy's knuckles and Loki goes a little green. "Lovely to meet you Miss Lewis."

"'Miss Lewis'…." Darcy repeats, her face red from blushing. Maria's face is going red for a very different reason.

Howard looks back to Tony and opens his mouth to say something, but his jaw slams shut. "…what's that on your face?"

"Mascara," Tony answers immediately. Maria starts to massage the creases in her forehead. "What? It's my statement."

"Your….statement?"

"Yeah." Loki freezes up when he sees Howard's expression. He's shocked by how familiar it is. "Well," Tony continues defensively, "sorry that I don't have to rent out a ten thousand dollar room every time I need someone to know that I'm better than them."

"Anthony," Maria scolds.

"You're right," Howard says, "this is a ten thousand dollar room. One that we booked for your engagement, so I suggest you wipe that stupid shit off of your face and start showing a little appreciation. We're here to celebrate and have a nice time. This is for you. Don't try so hard to ruin it." With that Howard plucks a champagne flute off of a waiter's tray and walks off.

Tony's ears are glowing. Maria tightens her lips. "It's his way of saying—"

"Mom—"

Maria gently grabs Tony's shoulder and steps in close. "Let him get through this how he can," she whispers. Tony pauses, looks at Howard drinking his alcohol, and then looks back at his mom. With a squeeze she eases off with a smile. "Loki darling! Remember if you want to stay a little longer we can always postpone the flight to Vegas. I have organized some festivities for later in the afternoon when theoretically you're supposed to be leaving, but I like to plan for anything."

Loki smiles like he isn't waiting to run out of this building the first chance he gets. "Thank you, I'll keep that in mind."

With a final crinkle of her eyes Maria nods and walks past Darcy without saying a word to her.

Darcy isn't bothered. "Well let me tell you; I'm a foster kid and this is the first time I've pitied the kids with parents."

They slowly advance into the room to the music of a string quartet playing in the corner underneath one of the six grand chandeliers.

"Yes, you have given me newfound confidence that we can get through fifteen minutes of this party without you fucking it up. Tony?"

"Sorry, I'm still basking in the thought of not having any parents."

Loki goes to elbow him in his side, realizes the image would look bad, so pulls his jacket collar forward into an unhappy kiss to shut him up instead.

Darcy shuffles. "Yeah, so I'm gonna….there's, like, five different trays of tiny quiches going around—I'm gonna follow them and moosh a couple together into a big enough mouthful to sustain me. Chao."

And she scatters off towards one of the waiters.

"How are your koi fish?"

Loki abruptly breaks the kiss to face Tony's grandparents, all wrapped up in expensive furs and gloves despite the ten thousand dollar central heating.

"I'm sorry?"

"Koi fish," his grandmother says (although the word still comes out as a clash of unwanted sounds). She begins to get impatient. "Your koi fish, how are they?"

"Well," Loki stammers. "They are doing well."

She nods, yet somehow still looks unsatisfied. Her nose scrunches up and it takes Loki a while to realize the expression conveyed thought. "What was your name again?"

He raises an eyebrow because honestly?

Tony coughs. "Loki, Grandma. My fiancé. Loki."

"Loki," she repeats, making him flinch. He hates how his name sounds in her American accent, all hard consonants and whiny vowels. Tony's grandmother nods. "Alright, yes, I've got it. You two do look so very nice."

"All downhill from here, ain't it son?" Tony's grandfather wheezes with a throaty chuckle.

Tony laughs loudly and shortly. "You two enjoy the party," he says and leads Loki quickly away.

They get two steps before running into another elderly relative. Unlike Tony's plump grandfather, he is skinny and narrow and looks more like a rectangle than a man in his large black jacket. Crystal blue eyes hang over jutting cheek bones and his chin is a silvery bush of hair.

Loki feels a jolt of shock. He hasn't seen his grandfather Fjörgynn in years. For him to come all this way for this….

"Farfar," Loki manages. Fjörgynn lowers his head once. When Tony looks between them, lost, Loki straightens. "Farfar, this is my fiancé, Anthony Stark. Tony, this is my mother's father, Fjörgynn." He's a little annoyed that Tony couldn't figure that out on his own—he didn't spend all Wednesday lecturing him on his family history for nothing.

"You're gonna have to run that name by me again," Tony says with a chuckle, offering his hand out to shake. Fjörgynn takes it and nods as kindly as he can—Loki's older relatives have never taken much to English.

He quickly translates it and Fjörgynn's eyes light up in a smile. They share a small conversation (even in his own tongue, Fjörgynn's never been much of a talker) and when done he quietly wonders off.

Tony stares at Loki as if he'd just sprouted another head.

"What?"

"You….just spoke something that wasn't English."

"Yes."

"You….know a language that isn't English."

"Don't you speak Spanish?"

"Everyone speaks Spanish. That sounded like something out of Star Wars."

"It's called Norwegian, Stark."

"Why the fuck can you speak Norwegian? No-one speaks Norwegian."

"I grew up in Norway. Did you seriously learn nothing this week?"

Tony shakes his head at the ceiling, pocketing his hands. "Norway, that's a…..that's a made up land. Norway…."

"Shut up and kiss me again."

It goes on like this for what feels like hours: aunts and uncles flit around, twittering congratulations before getting shoved out of the way by more of the same, dying to feign importance. Loki's family extended to maybe a handful plus a few passed on messages that the staff would whisper to him. Even though his uncle Cul only sent him kind words, he is glad he didn't show up. He's still the scariest man Loki's ever encountered.

They handle the attention easily enough; Tony shines an award winning smile, shaking hands just on the right side of firm, and Loki laughs flippantly when cued, sure to compliment any particularly ugly piece of jewellery or rancid cologne. All the while they look at each other dopily, smiles dripping saccharine, and clinging together like tape. Older guests coo and awe and lament the ending of their 5th marriage.

They need not care for Darcy, who seems to be having the time of her life eating cocktail wieners and drinking the good wine. Although Tony feels woozy when Howard joins her at the banquet table and starts chatting. Whatever Howard deems important enough to say can't be good.

Eventually Darcy pulls away in a fit of giggles, holding her glass over her mouth to try and smother them. She gleefully leans over to Tony. "I think your dad was flirting with me." Loki doesn't think he's seen Tony look so disturbed.

Yes, it's all going well until Frigga and Odin walk through those doors.

Almost immediately Odin and Loki's eye find each other and it's like a punch to the throat. Odin looks nearly king-like in his golden clothes and polished eye patch, his thick beard and hair framing his one pellucid eye. He steps forward and the winds outside give a roar.

Frigga is a small balm to his imposing form, swathed in creams and pale pinks. Her eyes, as always, are kind.

The room stops it's twiddling to look intimidated for a few seconds, then returns to their conversations. Howard is the only one who holds his attention, raising his sixth wine glass high into the air with a toothy grin.

"Odin Borrson himself!"

And he quickly drags Maria over to make their company.

As stiff as Loki's legs are he finds them suddenly moving and has to shake his mind out of its stupor to realize Tony's doing the same thing. Odin is getting closer and closer and all Loki can think about is how much he wishes for one of those glittering chandeliers to crash atop his head.

"Okay. Your father is the scariest man I've ever seen in my life," Tony whispers.

Odin only gets scarier, bigger and greater the more they approach him and Loki gets smaller and smaller until one lift of Odin's boot could crush him.

"Fantastic of you to come," Howard says, once they're all standing together.

"This city is repugnant—if the traffic doesn't kill you the air will," Odin says, looking more than unimpressed to meet the man's acquaintance. He doesn't look at Loki once.

Howard laughs good-heartedly before taking notice of Frigga. He introduces himself in the same matter he did Darcy, stuffing as many compliments in as he can. If Maria is annoyed, she doesn't choose to show it, but Odin surely does.

"Mr Borrson, how goes the company?" Howard says afterwards.

"Very well," Frigga answers instead, surprising him. Loki wants to smile but still can't muster anything but trembling hands and sweat. "It's been having it's difficulties, but—"

"We usually don't allow many distractions," Odin finishes flatly, making it very clear what he thinks of the Starks' reputable parties.

Howard nods, although his smile is tight. "Well I hope you enjoy this one nevertheless."

Odin, without moving an inch, gazes slowly around the room. "It's a bit much for a couple children, don't you think?"

Loki swallows. It goes down like a mouthful of acid.

Howard hums. "The things we do for love." He whisks Maria away without another word.

"You look lovely, Loki," Frigga says, making Loki jolt.

"Thank you mother," he stammers at the floor. When he manages to look up Odin is staring straight at him and a wave of utter sick passes over him. He clears his throat to keep it at bay. "F-father, this is Anthony Stark—"

"Mr Stark, I'd like to speak with my son alone, thank you."

Loki looks at Tony. All Tony can do is slowly nod. "Of course Sir. Very nice to meet you." Loki watches hopelessly as he disappears among the crowd.

"So this is what you do with your time now?" Odin's voice cuts through the ambience. Frigga squeezes his arm in an obvious plea to stay civil.

Loki quietly sucks in a breath. "No. My classes are going well."

"Classes," Odin repeats. "I'm sure they've taught you many skills."

"Enough," Frigga snaps. "I will not watch my family submit to throwing passive aggressive barbs at each other."

"I am having a conversation with my wayward child," Odin says firmly. "He leaves the house without permission and runs away to 'fulfil his dreams', which obviously meant prancing around on a stage whilst dragging our family name through the dirt!"

Something unhinges.

"Not the family name. You crossed me off it, remember?"

Odin's gaze could've frozen seas. "Careful, boy."

Something dormant awakes in Loki, something ugly and childish and vengeful and by the time it hurls itself out from within him his lips have already curled into a smile.

"That stage I'll be prancing on is the Shubert Theatre. Anthony is going to be my husband and then yes, all my time will be spent basking in my dress-ups and queerness and being his pretty little housewife."

"Loki!" Frigga shrieks.

Odin's expression disappointedly doesn't change and a stone of unease sinks in Loki's stomach.

Odin pulls back. "I do not wish to ruin your party, Loki. We will talk. In the meantime, enjoy the Stark name. Perhaps it'll suit your needs better."

A few minutes later Loki is bowed over in a restroom stall, emptying all the sick and tiny quiches from his gut.

Tony judges, as he watches Odin and Frigga leave Loki standing there looking pale and ill before the kid books it out the doors and into the hall, that the talk didn't go well.

He quickly follows him into the blue and gold tiled rest room and leans against the vanity. He peeks into the half-open stall Loki's currently praying in. "So. Your father….." he begins awkwardly. "He really likes his gold, doesn't he? Pimin'." Tony guesses by the harsh breaths and no reply that his attempt to lighten the mood has failed. "Listen. If you don't want to do the fight, we can leave. The car's outside. We don't have to do this."

He says this because, yes, Loki is obviously having a much unhappier time than him at this party, but also because Tony's scared shitless. Loki's always told him about his family problems but he's never seen them up close. It's just gotten through his head how much Loki is sacrificing for him, acting like a fool around his highly respected loved ones (or maybe just 'liked' ones, depending on Loki's mood)…..

But also just because Tony is scared. He doesn't want to get on Odin's bad-side. It seemed it would to be a painful side to be on.

Laughter breaks his thoughts. Short bursts of it, as Loki still attempts to catch his breath. He pulls himself out of the stall and smiles at Tony with that impassioned glint in his eye that promises an eighty per cent change of something fucking terrifying by the end of the night.

"No, we're doing it." He pushes passed Tony and turns the faucet on, slurping the water to clean out his mouth.

Tony watches for a beat. He really thought he had his ticket out of here. "Yeah, but. We could not."

Loki frowns at him, finishing his last gargle. "What are you talking about? What are you saying? Are you bailing?"

"No!" Tony exclaims, awkwardly leaning his elbow on the smooth stone. "I'm just….entertaining the idea of doing this another time when—"

"Ah!" Loki puts a finger over his lips. "Don't finish. I don't want to hear your voice. I have smiled and gallivanted around this ridiculous party for two hours making small talk with your horrible family and I will not have it be for nothing. So, Anthony, you are going to take all those stupid thoughts out of your head and escort me back into the room so I can yell in your stupid face."

So that was that, he guesses.

When he does escort Loki back into the room, it's not five minutes before Howard takes a tiny spoon and taps it against his glass. The room goes silent and, as Maria watches on with star-filled eyes, Howard begins a speech about the wonders of young love.

Loki grabs Tony's arm. "We need to start the fight now," he whispers.

Tony looks between Howard and Odin and swallows. Of all the times to get a guilty conscience.

He finds himself unable to say anything. The grip on his arm tightens. "Tony," Loki hisses, "now."

"I thought we were going to wait until the party was wrapping up."

"I'm changing the plans. We can fight now."

"Your father is right there."

"So is yours. That's the point."

"You know maybe getting married won't be so bad," Tony jokes weakly.

It seems that was the last straw. "Oh my god, I can't believe you're doing this to me again!" Loki suddenly yells. He slips out of Tony's grip and turns to face him and Tony is shocked at how genially crazed he looks. "What is your problem? What is your problem with commitment? You asked for me to be here, you dragged me into this whole situation and now you want to walk out the door?"

If the first yell didn't garter any attention they certainly have it now. The band stops playing. Howard stops mid-sentence and out of the corner of his eye Tony can see other guests stare in bewilderment.

Tony admittedly finds himself the same way. "The fuck are you—?"

"Don't go acting confused. You always do this, you fuck things up then act like it's everyone else's fault."

I really hate improve, Tony thinks, grinding his teeth. Oh well. If this is going off script, then he might as well use the spotlight to actually vent.

"You're such a fucking drama queen…" he groans, driving his palm into his eyes.

Loki scoffs, but when Tony glances a look he sees the obvious glee at his contribution. "I'm the drama queen? As if every aspect of your life isn't accompanied by—"

"You are joking..."

"—diamonds and cameras and caviar," mocks Loki, complete with gestures.

"Which you totally do not enjoy at all," Tony condescends right back. "Yeah, you hate all that attention, all the magazine covers, I'm sure."

"Your life is ridiculous."

"My life—"

"And you're shit at cooking eggs."

The guests are getting more and more uncomfortable. Across the room, Darcy eagerly watches, stuffing her mouth with cocktail wieners.

Tony barks out a laugh. "You think my life is ridiculous? At least my life is functional. This is the first night you've talked to your family in ten months and you still can't get along with them."

There's a small shocked pause before Loki decides to turn it up notch.

"Yes, Anthony, that's because my family life involves actual feelings."

Tony gapes. "You can't throw that at me. You build your entire image around pretending."

"You really want to talk to me about pretending?!" Loki screeches.

Heat builds up in Tony's gut. "There you go again, complaining about your situation when you're the only one that got you here."

"Like you haven't manipulated this entire situation," Loki says through his teeth.

"Fucking leave then!" Tony exclaims. Audible gasps are heard around the room. "If you're unhappy then fucking leave!"

Loki riles up. "What, so you can replace me? With some other pretty thing that talks less?"

"Yeah," Tony says. "Maybe I'll find a real girl to fuck."

There's a pause then. The entire room seems too afraid to breathe. Loki's expression doesn't convey much of anything and Tony is confused at why he doesn't spit an insult at him. Then, almost so subtle that he doesn't catch it, Loki nods. Then he turns, snatches a glass off a waiter's tray and throws champagne in Tony's face before strutting out the room. Frigga is quick to push and shove past everyone and follow after him.

The only sound in the room is Howard's quiet chuckles.

From there, Maria officially declares the party over and guests begin to flood out of the building. Some care enough to shoot him dirty looks or mutter something a little too loud under their breath. When Maria passes him she hits Tony with such a look of disappointment that it hurts.

He's in a more secluded part of the building, waiting for his valet to organize his ride home, when Darcy finds him. He sighs in relief when she walks up.

"Oh thank god, these people are looking at me like I just murdered a bunch of children. Where's Loki?" She shrugs and crosses her arms, not looking happy. Tony frowns, suddenly self-conscience. "You okay?" he juts a thumbs towards the hall. "That was fake. Right? Am I on the same page here?"

"Dude…" Darcy whispers, "are you crazy?"

Tony is stunned. "No. What?"

"You can't—Loki can't handle that stuff."

"What stuff? The fight? The one he initiated?"

"No, just…" Darcy seems uncomfortable.

Tony thinks for a bit. "The girl comment?" Darcy shuffles and the frown deepens. "Uh, not to throw fire at fire but compared to some of Loki's comments that was rather mild."

She shakes her head. "You don't know, just…..be careful around that stuff." She rubs her eyes, tired, and makes her way to the doors. Tony stares after her.

"Aren't you coming to Vegas?" he asks.

"I'm terrified of flying," Darcy says, smiling apologetically. "You guys have fun."

After that confusing confrontation Tony finally finds Loki waiting outside in the parking bay. The winter sun is already setting in the sky, bathing everything in mauve. Before he can get two feet of him a very angry Frigga steps in his way.

"If you pull anything like that again," she says firmly, a quiet rage filling every word, "then this relationship will not continue whether you want it to or not."

He swallows and nods respectfully. "Absolutely."

Frigga's lips thin. "This will not be a repeated performance. Understand?"

"Mum," he hears Loki whine from behind her.

After another nod Frigga leaves him be and Tony approaches Loki carefully. He looks fine enough—his eyes aren't red, his hair is still immaculate. Still,

"You okay?"

Loki looks at Frigga, who is sharing words with Odin and Maria. "I'm tired. I want to leave." Tony rubs his shoulder and Loki lets him.

Leave they did, as soon as humanly possible. A driver takes Darcy home while Frigga and Maria agree to take Loki and Tony to the airport. Nothing much is said between any of them. But as soon as they do get to the airport and Tony gets out the car, Maria immediately pulls him aside. "The only reason we're still letting you both on that plane is out of respect to Loki's brother and the fact that Loki still wanted to go. This is not a reward for your behaviour."

"I know, mom."

Maria looks around in exasperation. "Ten thousand dollars, Tony," she says, shaking her head. "Why do you always make everything so difficult?"

He doesn't really have an answer.

He also doesn't know what crushing words Frigga has dished out to Loki, but when they're finally in the plane (plus one bodyguard Frigga insisted they have, a great towering man called Heimdall) they return to silence.

Three hours until Las Vegas.