There was no intention whatsoever in either to leave the bed, promptly so almost succumbing to sleep quickly and completely had Jarvis not intervened. "I'm sorry to disturb you, sirs. But your orders had earlier arrived. I hadn't wished to interrupt by informing you." Awkward as it was having Jarvis hear and watch their every move, Tony was used to it and Loki ignored it. The machine's loyalty stood strongly to the Stark that never would things so private be to others relayed, Loki knows, and honestly so what if they were?

The interruption wasn't bothersome entirely because they were both quite famished.

And they'd have come up sooner but were a tad delayed in the shower.

On the common floor everyone else in the lounge was stationed, already done eating save for Steve who was earlier working out.

He's come to learn it's some kind of contemporary unspoken rule: dinner and a show; you eat, you watch. When he comes up Friends was still on, from the kitchen grabs a burger and settles next to Thor, who was watching attentively, smiling or laughing at each joke despite having seen the same episode three times before. Everyone else gave the tv half a mind, preoccupied. Thinking, Bruce sits in some daze on the broad couch sipping chamomile, legs dangling off the armrest of her chair Nat surfs Facebook quite bored, Clint's immersed in a game of Pubg on his phone, angry she's sure for as usual frequently losing.

In the kitchen Loki and Tony fill their plates, a ridiculous amount of smirking and eye-contact in the span of two minutes exchanged before they make each for the sitting area. Eyes are on them they give no attention and on the long couch settle, Loki in the corner and Tony close enough there's room – in addition to Bruce who was at the opposite corner – for two other people beside him, flopping down tired both not caring how close, sides touching fully. Away from this Steve looks recalling Clint's insinuation, pooling focus in his food though his mind does wonder asking questions they'd all before asked, principle being: was this why all along? Partial anger seeing an obvious gap in the group especially.

There she'd sit never as close to Tony's side as Loki, away occasionally in a casual, normal manner unlike them who must always sit together. He ponders this, frowning now, refrains from asking if she'd ever come back, wondering and half-believing Tony had kicked her out. He doesn't ask but he's seething. Be it due to concepts foreign or the respect he held for Pepper seeing this in her right as intolerably unjust.

That gap there was they'd all noticed, sat a smart, sophisticated woman with a phone that buzzed frequently enough sometimes it was annoying, yet an authoritative tone that was rather impressive, despite her smile so innocent and friendly, her engaging, caring attitude. This they'd all miss each in different potency but most do too acknowledge, the rift that was between her and Tony that was never between those two sitting now so closely, together always literally enough that it was weird and to question why, wonder even if she had as well thought it so and if it bothered her, or had she thought nothing of it as Steve and Bruce, who clear enough see it now, the reason.

In Tony too there is an irateness mild but there, unexplained giving mind to the fact that she'd up simply and left. Efficiently enough things from this thought keep him, his body still in contact with Loki's, his very profound hunger half-way already through his sandwich and he's thinking of getting another [well, that's certainly new.

But then you try having sex three times in a row,] not of course to mention an acute need to sleep, sentiments all that Loki shared, althemore because his extensive use of magic these past days left him particularly worn.

"Hey Lokes," Clint calls from his chair and though he's told him once before not to call him that.

'Why not? Tony does all the time.'

'When you prove to possess the mind of an adult as opposed to that of a ten-year-old, then you may address me.'

'Because Tony's so mature? Just admit you like him better. A lot more than what's appropriate.'

'Whatever helps you sleep at night, little bird.'

'Littl-Fuck you, dipshit.'

Course the name he hasn't stopped using, and in turn neither has Loki. Though he'd be as insistent as Clint had been demanding of him to stop, he hasn't himself again asked due to the very fixed deduction that Clint had made. Yes, he liked Tony better. A lot more than what was appropriate.

The utterance of that term he feels is of endearment – from Clint's foul mouth progressively grew less bothersome, when at times he'd start too to notice the way that as justly hearing it annoyed Tony, face pulled instantly in vexation clear enough to him to notice. Though Tony'd never called Clint out on its usage, refusing to explain why he felt that only he should aside from the fact that he'd coined it first; he spoke it in a fondness between them that Clint certainly didn't share.

Nevermind that it remained annoying, the way Clint tones it especially in intent of mockery rather obviously pointing to said affinity, althemore now to Tony due specifically to all that Clint had said regarding Loki earlier in the meeting.

Now he quips jeering: "You want some ketchup with your plate?" Because it's Loki and he never eats this much this fast.

And Clint can verily guess as to the reason.

"Shut up, Clint," says Tony scathingly and from Loki he attains an expression so not in the mood for his bullshit.

But does that stop him?

"Make me, Tony," insisted like asking what the fuck he could actually do.

So in response, as Tony's glaring then,

Loki smiles.

Clint chuckles.

But no sound comes out…

Furrowed brows, he clears his throat.

But even that doesn't sound.

Eyes shot wide, phone tossed aside, sits up straight he tries to speak,

mute-silent.

Eyes are on him in wonder, wary with the panic on his face, turned to rage so swiftly seeing that smile that Loki makes, dark, troublesome. "That's better," the trickster says.

At him now's shot a heated glare and to his feet Clint promptly makes, urgency in his posture stiff and anxious he points a hard finger mouthing a demand to be unspelled.

A chuckle from Tony emits and at Clint Loki gladly grins, amused each having bested the brat. Meanwhile everyone else sits up alarmed, aggravated knowing this wouldn't end well. "Loki, that's enough," says Thor somberly but greens on the Hawk's eyes fix and slowly then that smile's more sinister Clint knows it means to unnerve, distress and unsettle him enough that next he thinks to sneer recoils.

And would he?

In turn Clint from behind emerges his hand on a knife. The agitation escalates, including Tony's. Loki's gaze remains unmoved unfazed. "Clint, come on. Put it down," tells Bruce incredulously as then he aims like to throw, glares at Loki indicating but the god's still so like a statue, telling to take his best shot.

…

…It's a bad idea,

what Clint's thinking…

and obviously weren't he sure that Loki could catch it never would this even stand in mind.

…

But there's intent to the move he decides is worth the consequence.

Mid-Steve calling his name in a single swift motion

flies from his fingers the blade,

aimed right at Tony's face,

frozen inches from striking, held by Loki pinched in place.

Panting heaves Tony's chest mind staggered, eyes wide. Those standing now – Nat, Thor, Steve – glare so profoundly shocked, hadn't time to snap at Clint and rage when two seconds and the knife's at his throat, floating midair, pushing through enough to cut, prick the skin for blood to drip and Clint's head to tilt up away, try to back but the blade follows, try to pull but it doesn't budge, doesn't move.

In Loki's eyes a chilling, sinister wrath. Clint levels his gaze, does his best to seem unfazed, unscared and he isn't. 'He won't do it,' he's so sure.

Loki sees this.

...When the blade next moves then does it show, wide wild eyes, a deeply fierce distress,

fear.

Where it aims now close so to Nat's eye, breathe too hard and right through it'd slice.

"Loki, that is enough!" barks Thor aloud, unmoving like them all scared to act, escalate a situation that'd spiraled so out of control so quickly.

In Clint's eyes a hard, menacing glare that matches Loki's venomous gaze.

Yet despite the sudden escalation of the situation, the point that Clint had sought stands clear enough. Though he'd not predicted how it'd come to light. It's been made and now to stop he knows not how, too emotionally compromised so long as that knife stay afloat to find a calculated outlet in which of this Nat walks unharmed.

"Loki. Put it down," says Steve steadily, carefully. No reaction is gained and at Clint remains that scornful gaze.

Clint stands his silence knows well speaking would more harm do than good because Loki here wanted nothing but to see him squirm under that fear that in him Clint had sought to instill.

This hadn't been Clint's intent it was to see at all if such a feeling in Loki could be found, for Tony like Nat had said. He needed for himself to see this, in the reaction justly flaming he has, althemore the retort against Nat and admittedly he hadn't seen it coming but it speaks loudly how Loki equates what to him Tony means to what to Clint Nat does.

It is Tony now that speaks, calling Loki's name but he doesn't answer doesn't look. "Lokes," cupping his chin Tony tilts it to meet his eyes, in them that severity vanishes literally, responsive awaiting the Stark to speak and when he does in his tone a hint like between the lines saying he was fine and this show can now be ended. "Put it down." A beat Loki's eyes don't blink boring into Tony's silent pondering whether what he's done has been for browns enough, they say it is and so he does.

The knife from Nat's eye dematerializes, plucked from existence then they're all again breathing, relieved, postures stiff now slacking.

To Clint once more Loki looks sees that ease in him, speaks because with him he was unfinished. When to him Clint turns, hears from Loki in his voice a hissing cold telling lowly: "…Don't underestimate me, Barton.

You haven't the faintest idea what I can do to you, how deeply I can hurt you…without laying a finger on you.

…Pull another stunt like that and I promise you'll see."

In the room a tension tighter pools waiting for Clint to retort so wary what he'd say, what he'd do.

Against everyone's expectations…faceless, he gives one sole nod.