Stark found Loki not long after he ventured back to his room, leaving James to rest. He hadn't fooled the man with a promise of return, because he was aware of how unlikely it was that the Avengers would allow such a lapse in security to happen again. There was no point in hoping they wouldn't know, every corner of the tower had a camera and there were at least two in the cell alone and Loki knew Stark had his AI on a lookout at all times.

Judging from the fact that the man of the house was now standing at Loki's door, looking tired and angry, was enough proof to support that. Although, he knocked and not barged in to drag Loki away to lock him up (at this point, Loki was rather convinced that was all the length they would be willing to go to punish him for his transgressions), so there might yet be a chance for Loki to salvage the situation somehow.

"Stark," Loki acknowledged and held the door open.

Stark regarded him with one more sizing glare before stepping into the room. He went over to the sitting area and collapsed into the couch with a sigh, then gestured for Loki to join him.

Loki took one of the armchairs on the other side of the small table, carefully positioning himself as far from Stark as possible without it being immediately apparent.

"You can probably guess why I'm here," Stark said.

There were a few guesses and each was as likely as the other. Loki still nodded. He would find out soon enough.

Stark crossed his legs and sat back with his arm nonchalantly draped over the backrest of the sofa, spreading an aura of unperturbed familiarity. Loki didn't adjust his own pose and remained sitting with his back straight and his hands in his lap. It was proper for the occasion – an attentive subordinate in front of their master, waiting to be scolded. Stark, despite his down-to-earth, pragmatic aura, still enjoyed theatrics to some degree, so he should be pleased with this display as well.

"I thought Romanoff told you that you don't have to wear this," Stark said, waving his hand vaguely towards Loki.

Loki frowned.

"The collar."

Damn, he forgot to take it off. His hands wandered up to unclasp it and pull it off, but he changed his mind halfway through the gesture. There might yet be a way to use it to his advantage.

"I don't mind it," he said. "It's actually rather comfortable to have on."

Stark pressed his fingers to his eyelids. "Take it off," he said. "Please. I know I fucked up, okay? You don't have to rub it in."

Loki sighed, took the collar off, and carefully placed it on the table.

"I'm sorry," Stark said, looking at the device, and there was very little of his usual nonchalance in his tone. "I didn't think this through. I thought it was going to help you settle and then we would have a laugh about the form factor later."

The man fell silent and Loki had no idea how to interpret it. "Stark?" he prompted, after it became obvious he wasn't going to continue.

"It was just an act of small, petty revenge, okay? For making us jump through the hoops and all. I had no idea you're going to see this like… perpetuating this twisted idea of ownership. So…" He unfolded his legs, leaned forward and picked the collar up, then turned it in his fingers. "I'm going to take it and melt it down and we are never going to mention it again, okay?"

Loki nodded, although not without a pang of regret. Not because he would miss it, necessarily, but because the removal also represented the true power dynamics between them. Stark was free to do whatever he pleased. Nothing here truly belonged to Loki, not even things he had been gifted.

Stark ran his hand through his hair. He was nervous, Loki realized, and was trying to hide it.

"I don't even know how to start this talk," the man admitted. "This is a weird situation, and yes, you were right, you depend on us for protection. But…" He hid his face in his hands. "Dear god, this is so hard."

Loki sat back and watched the man through half-closed eyelids, for it was a peculiar sight, to see him squirm in place, trying to get the words out and it mattered little that the words would weigh on Loki's entire existence. They were coming, either way, so Loki might just as well enjoy the road.

Stark sighed, sat up and placed his hands flat on his thighs. "Okay, here's the deal. We don't own you. Not metaphorically, not because of some obscure rule and definitely not in the literal sense of the term. Nada. Niet. None of that. You're here, because you had a run-in with a couple of awful people in a row and ended up in a bad spot. Which we got you out of not because we wanted to claim you for ourselves, but because you needed help and we could provide it. End of story."

Loki opened his mouth to speak, but it apparently wasn't the end of the story, since Stark started talking again.

"Seriously, I can't believe I even have to say it. You're a smart guy, I can tell you are, yet for some reason, you got so hooked up on the whole dependency, master-slave-whatever bullshit that you're failing to see the truth that's staring you in the face!"

"Huh?"

"Have anyone here treated you badly? Told you to do something you didn't want to do or tried to exploit you for personal gain?"

There was only one proper answer to that. "No," Loki said and, just as he did, he realized it was actually true. There was that situation with Romanoff and the scans they ran, but it all looked infinitely worse in his head than it had turned out to be in reality.

"Tell me, what did we do anything to warrant this then?"

"Nothing," Loki said quietly and turned away, unable to hold Stark's gaze anymore.

"Okay, to be fair, I did punch you in the face and locked you up in my basement for a while," Stark said. "But that was before we knew you didn't attack Cap on purpose."

"I'm not holding it against you. I would do the same thing if I were in your place," Loki said. "That was hardly a sufficient punishment for my crime."

"What crime? It was an accident, Loki!"

Loki shrugged. It didn't matter that he hadn't meant to do it. He hadn't meant a lot of things that he had been punished for in the past. Starting with being born.

Stark sighed. "Okay. One step at a time. We will get to that. For now, lesson number one: nobody owns anybody here. You registered that part?"

"Yes," Loki said.

Stark breathed a sigh of relief.

"Does that mean I have to leave?"

"What?! No!" Stark almost yelled, a bit of an overreaction from Loki's point of view. He was just making sure. "I mean, if you want to…"

"No, I'd rather stay, if it's the same to you. At least until I get my magic under control."

"Now we're getting somewhere," Stark smiled. "So, welcome aboard?" He leaned forward over the table and extended his hand towards Loki. It was fascinating, how unperturbed the humans were with initiating physical contact with a Frost Giant, but, in this case, Loki wasn't going to complain. He shook Stark's hand and the force that's been constricting his chest and making it hard to breathe for so long now was suddenly gone, as if a physical burden lifted from his shoulders.

Stark must've noticed the expression of relief on his face, because he laughed. "See? We did resolve this like reasonable adults. Now, I'm going down to the penthouse to check what Bruce is cooking for breakfast, feel free to join us."

"Thank you, Stark."

Stark breathed out a laugh and got up. "How did your talk with the Manchurian Candidate go?"

"What?!" The surprised exclamation got out before Loki could stop it. The name meant nothing and the All-Speak got absolutely lost on it too, but it was still clear who Stark meant from the context. Which was even more baffling, because why would the man be here, talking to Loki calmy while he knew about Loki's late-night excursion?

"Cap's pal."

Loki sighed. "Your AI had reported on me already."

"Well, I'd think so, too, but apparently not. Jay decided the conversation needed to happen and it looks like he has more emotional intelligence than me. Which is weird, because I programmed him."

Loki blinked, completely lost.

"Long story short, I got up to get a glass of water during the night, checked the feed from the basement to see if everything's in order, saw you there, panicked, and woke Romanoff up. Then I realized I'm an idiot and got back to bed. Jarvis says you got him to calm down and talk to you. That's more than Romanoff has managed. Cap's going to be overjoyed."

So, Rogers hadn't been informed yet. There was a sliver of hope then. "Don't tell him," Loki said. "Please."

Stark tilted his head and frowned. "Why?"

"I went to talk to his… friend without permission?"

"Okay. Then why did you?"

Loki shrugged. He wasn't sure what the answer was anyway. It was just some unnamed feeling that drove him to go and talk to James. Perhaps he did it because he had spent enough time alone, knew how it felt for the loneliness and silence to become so overwhelming they felt like a physical pain at the back of one's mind. Perhaps he did it because he knew how it felt to have one mind pulled out and reaved to shreds, until there was nothing left but a disconnected sense of loss and yearning for things he couldn't even remember. Perhaps he did it because it could've been him in that cell just as well and he would want someone to do that for you. Or perhaps he was just bored.

It didn't matter. Stark didn't want the real answer anyway.

"I just like to meddle with affairs that do not concern me, on principle," he said. "Old habits die hard."

Stark scoffed and shook his head. "Whatever. I still think we should tell Cap. I think you can really help here. I'm not an expert or anything, but the guy sees Cap as his handler and Romanoff as his right hand. You're not a part of that dynamics and that could be useful."

"You want me to help manipulate him?"

"No, I want you to help to help him. I know you know he needs it. He doesn't need more people to tell him what to do. He needs a friend."

Loki's eyes narrowed.

Stark waved his hand. "I'm too tired for this. Coffee first, then we can talk about it more. Come down with me, I'll make you one too. Or better, I'll teach you to make it yourself, how about that?"

"It cannot be that complicated, if Rogers figured it out."

Stark rolled his eyes. "Come on."

It wasn't an order, but Loki went with the man anyway. Just because he felt like going.

"Hey, want a tour of my workshop?" Stark asked, when they entered the elevator. "I have to dispose of this damned thing before I lose it somewhere." He brought up his forearm which now had the collar slung loosely around it.

Loki did not particularly care, but it was a peace offering, plain and simple, the same the man had extended to Bruce the first time they'd met and it would be uncourteous to shoot it down. Besides, he might learn something from it, too. "It would be an honor," he said.

"I don't know about that," Stark laughed. "I haven't cleaned it up in a while."

Loki shrugged, remembering his own chambers on Asgard, stuffed with trinkets, half-finished projects, magical artifacts he'd collected on his journeys, piles of books he'd abandoned halfway through and never returned to – forever, it turned out. "I'm not against some chaos in the creative process."

"True that," Stark chuckled. The elevator stopped and he gestured Loki on.

Loki hadn't been on this level of the tower yet. He was basically familiar with his bedroom, the two living floors: penthouse and the lounge right above, the labs, the patio on the roof, and the basement, and that was but a small fraction of the estate. He should explore on his own a bit, test that extra freedom he had been granted. Yes, if he was to stay – and there seemed to be no other way for now – he might get to know his surroundings a bit better.

The workshop was a good start.

The whole floor was dedicated to Stark's designs, with smaller rooms divided from the hallway by glass partitions housing all sorts of machinery and displays. The main room – twice as tall as the rest for it seemingly cut into the floor above – was situated close to the core of the building, not far from the eastern elevator bank. There was a circular, raised platform in the middle of it and machinery hanging from above, the robotic arms dangling limply in their deactivated form. It looked rather ominous and Loki's mind served him at least six different ways in which the set-up could be used to inflict pain.

This is not why you're here, he told himself, to relative success.

Stark went on about the function of each machine they passed and Loki tried to pay attention, even though the All-Speak wasn't doing the best job at translating the terms regarding the technology. Loki could already catch some of the language the mortals used without a translation, but it got a lot harder when they were talking quickly and used specific language, like Stark was now. He still got a general idea and it had to suffice, for now.

And it was impressive, really. Stark had been manufacturing his armors on his own, from the design sheets to a working product, without any external help bare the supply of materials. There weren't many craftsmen capable of that. Even the Dwarves of Nidavellir had relied on specializations, with someone else handling material refinement, someone else being responsible for the design, or the crafting, or the enchantments. And Stark was doing it on his own, all without a sliver of magic.

"I see that you like it," the man smirked at Loki when he caught him staring at a machine that was in the middle of cutting a precise part out of metal with small blades and laser cutters, all without a touch of a hand.

Loki didn't get a chance to reply, before the AI's voice sounded from up above.

"Mr. Stark, I'm sorry to interrupt, but my security protocols have been breached."

"Shut it down," Stark said nonchalantly, then turned back to Loki. "They've been trying to get into my network since-"

"I'm sorry, Sir, but it's impossible. The attack is coming from inside the network and is using your own override signal to pass the security."

"Inside? Inside how?"

"The access point in the garage, Sir."

"Shit. Can we get a feed?"

"There's no need. The intruder introduced himself, Sir."

"Who is it?!"

"It's Director Fury, Sir. He is coming up to the penthouse as we speak."

"Fuck," Stark snarled.

Loki's mind served him a similarly juicy curse to utter but he bit it down.

"Is he alone?"

"Yes, as far as I can tell, Sir."

"Wake Romanoff. And the others, if they are not already up."

"I'm on it, Sir."

"Should I hide?" Loki asked.

"No. There's no point. He knows we're here. Let's see what he wants from us," Stark said and rushed out of the room and Loki followed, the familiar weight settling back on his shoulders.