"Nicky. Back so soon? Might as well pick a room." It was afternoon, just the day after.

As expected.

From a chair by the couch sat Tony to Loki's side who was lying, phone in hand. With what seemed a folder Nick approached them.

"You two have been busy, I see. Going on dates, kicking ass and taking names." He said in a tone that propped between vexed and unimpressed both. Loki smirked and Tony quipped:

"Think you can not be a spy for like five seconds? Were you born that way? It's disturbing-"

"What disturbs me, is waiting on a call from you. And I got impatient, so," on a table to his side Nick slapped down the folder within stacked several files. He explains: "Stories." The two tense. "Take your pick. That," his index he puts to the folder, "is for the public. Now as for the UNSC." [Say what?]

Loki knows who they are.

And Nick's looking at him then.

"You want in? They want the truth."

"Hang on." Tony stands, and quite tiredly Loki sits up. "This wasn't-"

"Wasn't what?" Nick raised a brow. "D'you really think they wouldn't get involved?" he shrugs. "Figured I could pull some strings, avoid the commotion," to Loki looks, speaks scathing. "But they're none too pleased with the idea of having a former war-criminal armed out and about." The god regards him dully, and to Tony Nick then turns, says: "Either Loki offers his full cooperation," faces again Loki, "or maintains his current status, as a prisoner."

"What does that entail? Full cooperation?" Peeved Tony demanded. Nick's unfazed.

"They just wanna talk, sit him down, ask some questions. Why he did what he did," eyes Loki, "exactly who was actually behind the invasion, and where and who you were with for over a year."

He makes it sound so simple, trivial even, these queries so harmless,

but just referring to said year shoved Loki right back to the rim of the edge it had taken days, weeks, months to from distance.

And Tony's never of this heard a word and needn't, all he sees is Loki, Loki,

turning in his sleep.

"And if we refuse?" he prompted sternly.

"Perfectly fine. But he steps foot outta the tower again without supervision, or participates in a fight without their consent – and mind you, they do not consent – they'll take it up with the big guy."

"Big guy?"

"Odin." {[…}]

"…Are you kidding?"

"I'm afraid not. And if they can't get to him, they're entirely willing to put up a fight."

"Against who?"

"Whoever, Tony. You included, naturally. But why stir up a civil war, hm?" to the god he speaks this: "What's a couple of questions?"

What's a couple of questions.

"…I'll let you talk it over. I'll be upstairs. Bear in mind that I don't plan on leaving without an answer."

XX

Laughter.

Low, guttural, cold.

He'd laugh at him, Ebony Maw.

As he bled him.

As he cut him,

probed his mind,

tore it to shreds and put it back, to start again.

And he'd just laugh.

XX

All it took was just a look.

He was still, unmoving, green eyes unblinking,

he was silent.

"…No," Tony had decided, firm.

Be damned. He'll jimmy rig or devise whatever plan like always, sidestep the line or move around it, over or under.

Ideas in his mind already gather as to Loki he walks returning. "We don't have to play along-"

"What are our options?" Loki shot back with an audibly tested temper. Tony sat again to his side and on Loki spoke without facing, features plain though almost weary. "Odin will never set foot on Earth. Not for any reason and most certainly not for me." Tony would love the opportunity to meet Odin and give him a piece of his mind. "Even so, he knows nothing; what would he tell them? Chance's more likely he'd take their side and haul me back to Asgard-"

"That's not-"

"I don't mean to agitate you." Greens softer locked to browns distressed. More steady, like inarguably Loki told him: "I'm not going anywhere."

Like it was a choice and he was choosing to stay,

starts a flame in Tony's heart that was fervid…

For a beat Loki paused in thought then said: "…Breeding conflict on this won't do us or them any favors, and I've no intention to step down." Much as he hadn't the intention to place Tony in a compromising position, stood against everyone as Tony for him likely, bull-headedly, would.

Saying no would do the Stark more harm than him.

"…So lie," Tony tells him, and it was the natural solution. "They have no way of knowing if you're telling the truth. You can tell them whatever the heck you want."

{"You wanna tell people the truth?"} that in his head was whispered, and he knows not why asudden it is of some impact.

"Something tells me you'll be pretty persuasive," Tony's tone fell lighter and Loki looked to a smile of subtle humor as Tony reached for his hand and took it in his, said winking: "God of Mischief and all." Loki at his lover smiled faintly, squeezed abrief one of the hands cupping his. Tony at it looked down and caressed the top with his palm gently, back and forth.

…His own smile sooner faded.

What Loki would say was not the problem.

The issue dwelled in what to him would be said, what questions would be asked, what tone would be adopted, what they would and wouldn't take and just how hard they were willing to push to find some semblance of an answer that would satisfy.

He dreaded how Loki would from under the pressure resurface.

He remembers those times so scarce what slightest of questions he'd ask him, the faintest signs he'd strife stubbornly to hide of distress that showed just briefly. How greens would wade away, darken in recollection, how he paused between words, how dragged his voice had sounded, how stiff like just the effort to stand was straining.

And all that Tony would after pursue

was a way to pull him back

to now.

"…I hate," he finds witless he's speaking, "…putting you through this. I know-"

Tighter Loki clenched his hand and up he looks to greens that just barely harden. Voice stern he said: "You've done nothing," then more almost pleading than impatient adds: "don't be aggravating."

As abruptly his gaze lenifies, eyes that in that moment to Tony looked so dimmed and worn when in a general numb-like manner Loki next says: "They've every right to be cautious. Quite frankly, they're rather reasonable if you look at it objectively."

"I'm not," Tony clutched his hand firmly. "I'm looking at it from here. And I know you don't wanna do this." A warmth in green eyes returns as at those browns so for him troubled and understanding he gazes.

He tells them: "…There are things I want more," turns so they're rightly face to face, closes over Tony's hand his, rubs it and with a light smile to reassure he adds calmly: "It's a small price to pay."

Tony studied him and so well saw through that seamless face, those words.

It was no small price.

…Closer he edged and asked him softly: "…What do you want?" Loki looked at him.

"You know what I want."

Maybe he does but he can't in words phrase it, trace what precisely – he just knows…

Loki tilts pressed together their foreheads, breathed like in exasperation, stiff then slack, greens closing. He listened in to the sound of Tony's heart beating, that rapid rate unsteady he placed full focus, the warm air from his nose leaving, the hands that were rough caressing his then one moved, then the other, then they were on his face, slid to the back of his neck and brought him closer.

Tony spoke in his voice that was deep yet so tender and quiet. "Lemme take you away. Let's suit up and fly outta here." Lighthearted and warmed Loki chuckled lowly.

"Give Nick a stroke." Tony grinned.

"Plus have every country on the planet on our asses."

"Sounds like fun."

"Doesn't it?" They giggled laughing, in smiles and eyes faded. Loki pulled him into a kiss that was soft, then again another deeper, more urgent and Tony kissed him as strongly, as hard. Then Loki pulled away and pursed his lips, for a beat sat still though the fabric of Tony's shirt was balled in his fist, pulling but faintly. He stole another kiss, brushed a thumb across his face, said: "Come on," then to his feet was rising.