Hello-ki, dear puny mortal readers! This chapter starts with a Loki POV beginning, timeline-wise, roughly in the middle of the last chapter — you know, when Loki leaves Tony and Pepper to their disastrous talk (see 'previously on ASAF' for the ending of that one), and walks out of the room only clad in a towel. You're welcome :p

PREVIOUSLY ON ASAF: Tony sprung up and followed. "Pep'! What do you mean?"

She abruptly spun around, and he had to swing his weight backwards so they wouldn't collide. "Are you stupid? We're over Tony! Now leave me alone!" She turned around again, hand on the handle, and walked out.

"Pepper!"

His only answer was the panel being yanked shut in his face with a bang.

CHAPTER 10

When Loki stepped outside Anthony's room, still only clad in a towel, he stopped short, wondering what to do. He could wait here, in the empty corridor – even if that meant anyone could come up on him, and he would be alone and unarmed; he could use some magic for self-defence, but he would prefer letting his core heal correctly instead. Or he could go to the only other person who would defend him against any enemies – such as a certain Clint Barton – no matter their current relationship. And Loki really did not want to count on him, however… The door was just in front of him, and it was open to boot.

Inside, the bed was a mess, armour had been haphazardly thrown all over the couch and floor, and – if this room's layout was the exact opposite of Anthony's – faint singing was coming from the bathroom. Knowing Thor, he must be bellowing some inane drinking song while lying in his bath, and the thick walls and door were mercifully muffling it to a low hum.

Loki sat down on the edge of the mattress, and tried to tune out the feelings slowly pulsing through the bond, arriving by tiny waves, like ripples of water licking the shore, pushed by a repetitive beat. Yet even though he tried to muffle them, to bar them entry, to silence the bond altogether, they still left an imprint in a corner of his mind, impossible to forget. He would do his best to ignore them instead.

The bathroom door opened and Thor walked out, completely naked. Loki had never understood his complete lack of propriety. Thor did not care whoever saw him in his full glory – he probably liked showing off his body. That was not surprising at all. Yet the oaf could at least think of all the people who did not want to see him naked – he had even left the door to the corridor open, for Yggdrasil's sake! Loki, for instance, would prefer not to see him at all, even if not a single inch of his skin was visible.

"What are you doing here, Brother?" Loki sighed. He was sick of having to repeat himself. They were not brothers! "Not that I am not glad to see you, I just did not exp—"

"Anthony is talking to his lover."

"Oh. I'm very sorry for that, Brother."

Loki huffed. As if he should care! But of course Thor would draw idiotic conclusions based on those stupid myths! It was not because every tale sported a romantic involvement that Anthony and him would be the same! Tales always made everything seem better; battles were glorious when told around a camp fire, but when your life was on the line and blood was coating every surface, it was anything but glorious.

"Mr Odinson, Mr Friggason, the clothes that Sir ordered have arrived and will be brought up shortly," Jarvis announced.

Thor stared at him very oddly, and it took Loki a few moments to realise why, but he had no intention of explaining himself. "Friggason?" Thor prompted, his blue eyes piercing through Loki's defences as if they were made of elven butter, and Loki looked away with a sigh.

"I refuse any name referring to any of my true parents, or false parents I never wanted. Only Mother remains in my heart – I merely hope she will not refute her connection to me now. She may not be my mother by blood, but she is the only mother I ever had, and ever shall have."

"Of course Mother will not repudiate you! She will be honoured that you chose to bear her name. Father, on the other hand, will be disappointed."

A humourless smile lifted Loki's lips. "Yes, well that is nothing out of the ordinary, it is? And either way, I do not care what Odin thinks. He is nothing to me now! Nothing!"

Thor's face was full of sadness. "What about me, Loki? Am I nothing to you as well?"

Loki wanted to spit in his face and tell him that, yes, he couldn't care less about Thor, but that would be a lie, and he was so sick of lies. He had always looked up to his big brother Thor; Thor the perfect warrior, Thor the beloved prince, and Loki had always hated him as much as he had loved him. Now that he knew they were not even linked by blood, now that Thor's golden perfection was so much further out of reach, he resented all the moments of his childhood where Thor had been his whole world. Yet it was not Thor's fault they were not born of the same parents – they had both equally been kept in the dark. What he truly resented was Thor's capacity to completely disregard their lack of true familial link.

"You are more a brother to me than Odin ever was a father," was all he said, but to Thor it might as well have been a full declaration of brotherly love, if his blinding smile and crushing hug was anything to go by. Hugged by a naked Thor – in all his years this was probably a first, and he would prefer it to be a last as well.

A throat was cleared in the direction of the open door, and Loki did his best to push against his bloody oaf of a brother, to no avail. He tried to turn his head to see who was there, but he only managed a half turn as Thor's beefy arm and thick head were in the way. Still, he caught the eye of an unfazed Natasha Romanoff, and the fleeting gaze of a blushing Steve Rogers.

"Thor, if you do not let me go right this second, I shall spell your nether regions bright green the moment I am able to do so."

At least that seemed to work; never had Thor jumped back as quickly from anything before. He appeared to realise the presence of his fellow Avengers then. "Greetings, good Captain, Lady Widow." And still he did not care for his nudity. Loki rubbed his face with a hand, exasperated. This was going to be a very long day.

"We've got some clothes for you, courtesy of Stark. It looks like you need them," the redhead said. As Rogers, who was the one holding a pile of bags, was still motionless – and speechless, and red in the face – Romanoff picked them up instead and walked over to Thor. "You even get to choose between outfits. And you're lucky, it looks like Jarvis has impeccable taste. Except when it comes to Clint's clothes. I wonder why." She said the last sentence while glancing at Loki, as if he had anything to do with this!

"Do they perhaps contain the colour yellow?"

The woman's eyes narrowed. "How do you know that? Did you do something to them?"

"Not at all. Anthony mentioned the colour 'tweety' yellow, though I have not the faintest idea which shade that is supposed to be."

Romanoff's eyes widened, and a corner of her mouth spasmed; Loki was certain she was trying not to smile. "Stark. That explains the shirt with a big Tweety on it. Or the yellow boxers with the 'I tawt I taw a puddy tat' line on the back. I take it back, Jarvis, you always have impeccable taste."

"Thank you, Agent Romanoff."

"All right, you two, I want you down in five for… I guess it's called brunch at this hour. And take Stark with you." She turned around and walked out, followed by a slightly less blushing soldier.

Thor had flung the bags on the bed and had started emptying some of them on it. Loki quickly gathered those with his name written in Midgardian letters, and moved to the bathroom. The bags contained various styles; each had a complete outfit, from the strange mortal underwear to their curious footwear, some of them more formal than others. The colour combinations were rather well chosen, so Loki simply took one of the bags that he thought contained 'casual' wear and started to get dressed. This way he might perhaps look more approachable.

He was combing his hair with his fingers and battling with his parting that simply refused disappear without the help of magic, when a strong wave of foreign panic blurred his reflection and he had to hold onto the washbasin cabinet to stay upright. He was already halfway through Thor's room when Anthony's door was jerked open by Potts.

"Pep'! What do you mean?" said Anthony's voice behind her, and she turned towards him.

"Are you stupid? We're over, Tony! Now leave me alone!"

Anthony had barely the time to cry out "Pepper!" before she tugged the door shut with unnecessary force. Her eyes landed on Loki then, and her glare could have melted down all the glaciers of Jötunheimr. "He's all yours!" she spat before stomping down the corridor, her oddly formed shoes making an awfully impractical racket as she went.

Thor was still shrugging on a striped button-up shirt, his denim trousers still opened and hanging low on his hips. "Perhaps you should go see Tony, Brother." Loki was not so certain he should. Surely the mortal would like some time to process the rejection of his lover – and yet he felt drawn to that closed door, and against all reason he stepped up to it and knocked.

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Tony stood stock still in front of the door, eyes unfocused and mind muddled. He wasn't sure what had just happened. Had Pepper…? Yes, she had broken up with him. It wasn't really surprising, given the circumstances. His too weak feelings. Loki, his soulmate. His recent recklessness. And all the times they almost broke up, and he had managed to change her mind with kisses and promises he never held. He hadn't been a very good boyfriend. Honestly, he'd probably been an abysmally bad one. But that was who he was. Unless it had to do with the strength of love he should have had? He didn't know. He didn't know anything anymore.

Someone knocked on the door, and he couldn't care less. Still, his hand moved to the handle, and he didn't stop it; he knew who it was. Loki was located just a few feet in front of him. He paused his movement, fingers curled around the polished metal, closed his eyes and gave up the struggle. His palm pushed down and pulled, and the door opened slowly.

Loki was now fully clothed; he was wearing a forest green low V tee-shirt sporting some artistically drawn tree encircled by a snake eating its own tail, a pair of black skinny jeans with various rips from thigh to knee, and a pair of black-grey converse shoes with dark green laces. His hair had dried a bit, making the waves bouncier, and he had swept most of it to one side of his head, some of the locks partially obscuring one emerald eye. One thing was certain; J.A.R.V.I.S. knew how to pick out an outfit for Viking-styled aliens. Loki suddenly looked so much younger, and so very human.

Tony, on the other hand, was still only wearing sweatpants, and he was pretty sure he must look older than his age, and kind of zombie-like. He stepped back with a sigh and let Loki inside. Not that he wanted to see him right now. Not that he wanted to see anyone. But at the same time it could serve as a distraction. A distraction for his confusion, because he wasn't sure how he was supposed to feel.

Loki stepped up to the windows without a word and looked out. The view must be just as alien to him as Asgard would be to Tony. The male body standing there, in his room, with the black, curly hair, the large shoulders and narrow hips, the great height… It was wrong. It should have been straight strawberry blond, curvy, womanly, and high heels cheatingly making her taller. It should have been Pepper. But because of Loki, it wasn't.

Tony walked inside his giant, overflowing closet so that he would not have to see. While he picked out a tee-shirt, he berated himself for his ridiculous self-pitying, and especially his lying to himself. Really, even if he hadn't suddenly stumbled upon his soulmate – courtesy of Fate if Loki was to be believed – his relationship would probably not have lasted that long anyway. It might even have ended today as well, given the Tony-almost-got-killed-by-aliens-and-a-portal-to-outer-space situation.

He didn't want Loki here right now, because it reminded him even more of his fresh and still bloody break up, and yet… And yet while he dressed, the silent presence of Loki, even though out of sight, felt reassuring. It shouldn't, Tony was certain of that. But there was someone out there who would always be there for him, in some way. Someone who couldn't flee him even if they wanted to; they were linked for life, linked in life, right? No matter how much Tony fucked up – which he always did – Loki wouldn't be able to leave him, or not for long anyway. Of course, the opposite was true as well, and he'd have to put up with that mischievous, super strong (and old) voodoo-wielding alien, but considering everything… Maybe it wasn't all that bad. Especially if they managed to become friends.

Tony stepped out, fully clothed, in a style that in the end looked rather similar to Loki's, if only a bit less form-fitting. A red tee with a crown and 'King of the Lab' printed on it, baggy-ish blue jeans, and a pair of worn, silvery-gold sneakers. And why not; casual was great. He wasn't going anywhere today. If it was up to him, he wouldn't even see anyone, he'd just sleep for a week. Or lock himself up in his workshop when he couldn't sleep.

"We have been summoned to something called 'brunch'," Loki informed him, still looking at the cityscape.

Great… That meant that everyone would be there, together, to eat; he so wasn't in the mood for this! "Let's go, then," he sighed. He walked out of his room and down the corridor, with Loki silently following half a step behind him, all innocent-looking with his hands held together behind his back. Tony chose the stairs, going down slowly so they wouldn't arrive just yet, and his protesting muscles made him regret it instantly. Still, he was a stubborn son of a bitch, so instead of taking the elevator on the next floor, he went down all four floors on foot.

When they arrived in the kitchen he had never intended to really use – he had tucked this area in a forgettable corner for that exact purpose – he found all his 'guests' sitting around the oblong table, on a variety of chairs they had cannibalised from other parts of his penthouse. And on said table there were heaps of food he knew hadn't been hidden anywhere in his fridge or cabinets.

"You people don't have the same definition of brunch as me," he commented as his gaze swept over the assortment that had been displayed. Coloured boxes of cereals, multiple types of breads and spreads, even every possible food for a full English breakfast were available; but also, again, pizza, and cheeseburgers, and a bunch of different sandwiches, and something that smelled like Thai, and was that a half-empty platter of sashimi? And the strangest of it all was the inexistent order of the dishes – you didn't get to see glazed donuts right next to sushi every day.

Two seats had helpfully been left vacant between Thor and Capsicle; for some reason Tony still didn't feel very comfortable being close to Steve Rogers, his childhood hero, but when he saw what Thor had on his plate, he opted not to sit next to him. If he wasn't mistaken, that was some sort of goat cheese sandwiched between strawberry Pop-Tarts, Nutella adorned with corn flakes on that slice of Quattro Stagioni and a croissant drowned in milk and dripping with some kind of syrup. At least this made him momentarily forget his own problems!

Tony quickly sat down to try and forget that vision of horror, and grabbed a bowl from the pile of clean plates sitting in the middle of the table. He filled it with Fruit Loops and milk, and while it soaked – he didn't like them crunchy – he filled a mug to the brim with coffee and held on to the thermos it came from; this was now his coffee, all of it, and it was probably not even enough. All this food was most likely his as well – J.A.R.V.I.S. had probably been tasked to provide it, which meant Tony had paid for it all. Not that he minded, he had more money than he could spend – and God knew he had tried – but if he had paid for this coffee he could certainly keep it. It was the only thing his kitchen never lacked, so they couldn't blame him for taking it all.

Next to him Loki seemed at a loss, and between two sips of this divine black brew, Tony wondered if he should help or not. Perhaps Loki didn't want any help… But if the danger was the same disaster as what his brother was munching on… Tony would take the risk of angering his soulmate any day.

"What d'you want to eat? Something cold? Warm? Sugary or not sugary? All of the above? Brunch can be both breakfast and lunch, so whatever is fine."

"I'm not certain what mortals eat depending on the time of day. I'm not familiar with most of Midgard's many dishes." Loki looked the table over. "Many, strange dishes," he added.

"What do you usually eat in the morning?"

"I suppose you mean, what did I use to eat on Asgard? And not, what was I given when I was imprisoned by the Mad Titan's minions." Right, Tony hadn't thought of that. Loki might not have eaten anything he liked for quite some time. "Either way, it is irrelevant. There is nothing comparable served here."

How helpful! He could have at least described it or something! Well, he'd just have to try things out, then. Tony put a spoon in his bowl and pushed the whole thing towards Loki. "How about you try this? It's called Fruit Loops." Loki picked up a few engorged, unnaturally coloured cereals and slowly put them in his mouth. His face didn't show any change, but Tony knew this was definitely not it. He took back the bowl and the spoon that had been plunged back into it – alien saliva, oh well… It probably wouldn't kill him. "Okay then. Let's try something else. Maybe in link with your accent. Who knows, maybe it will predispose you towards their food as well."

He took a new plate, stood up and went around the table, picking up bacon that was still warm enough, fortunately, and the last two fried eggs. He skipped the horrifying beans, and it took him a while to locate the sausages, but when everything except the toasts were on the plate, he put it down in front of Loki, and walked over to the toaster. Slices had been forgotten inside it, so he put them to quickly warm again, and waited next to it. And all this time, eyes had followed him without pause. Loki's eyes, which he expected, and Clint's eyes, because he was a paranoid bastard.

He locked gazes with the archer and flicked an eyebrow in question. "Say, Stark—" Clint started.

"Tony," Tony grunted, annoyed at the constant repetition. He hated having to repeat himself.

Clint ignored him. "Was it just a one-night fling or do we have a new Mrs Stark in the making?"

Tony blinked in confusion. What the hell was Clint going on about? Did he know about him and Pepper, and their now non-existent relationship? If he did, he sure was an arsehole to bring it up less than an hour after the fact! Though the question was, how the fuck did he know?

"Don't look so surprised, you're the one who let me follow that guy," Clint said, pointing at Loki, "on my phone. Too bad I didn't get audio, because I would have loved to hear what your girlfriend said. Though seeing how she stormed out, I guess it's ex-girlfriend now. Poor woman. Having your boyfriend cheat on you with an alien psychopath, that's gotta be hard."

There were so many shocked eyes on him now that all he managed to do was bury his face in his hand and grunt his exasperation.

Naked-Thor/towel-clad-Loki hug! I hope the Thorki fans out there appreciated the image XD And Clint is being such a bastard – don't worry, I don't hate Clint or anything, I didn't intend to make him this way, he just turned out like this… Sorry, Clint :p

Spread the Luv!

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