The morning came swiftly; Loki woke up early and after dressing himself in black jeans and a dark green dress shirt, he wandered out of his room and to the library. There was a wide range of book subjects—some obviously some of Stark's impulsive buys that he never got around to actually reading—from text books to teen books, and even some children's books mixed in. Loki was very relieved about this. He had been worried that all Stark would have will be science and physics reading material—and while Loki intended to read those too, he did enjoy Midgardian novels. He would read mostly history texts on his previous trips to this realm, and they would be enjoyable, but he was always drawn more to the books that would tell you a tale that was made up by the author. He thought it was fascinating how the mortals could come up with such stories without going on the actual adventure, and makes them so much more enthralling with just their words, instead of demonstrations of how you cut down this troll, or how that monster was gutted with only a dagger. Much better than the nonsense that was told on Asgard.
Loki ended up picking a children's tale about magic that had seven books, all separating a different adventure and school year, called Harry Potter. After that was done he wandered into the living area—which was disgustingly modern; Loki preferred the Victorian era for style, it was much more elegant then the sharp lines and jagged edges of now—and once he was relatively comfortable on the uncomfortable sofa, began to read. He had gotten about a quarter of the way through it when the Avenger named Steve Rogers—Captain America—came in. The tall blond looked mildly surprised when he noticed he was the first one awake; and awkwardly stood in the door frame for a few minutes, obviously trying to find something civil to say to their new resident. It looked to be very hard work.
"Would you like some breakfast? I was just about to make some waffles, and you probably don't know how to work a stove, right? Thor was—and still is—absolutely useless in the kitchen, even though he eats half of what's in there by himself." Rogers was rambling; how cute. Loki really really wanted to laugh. The mortal thought him to be as ignorant as Thor, when Loki knew perfectly well how to cook here in Midgard; he had thought that those lessons he'paid' for had been fun, and it was definitely worth getting away from the feasts on Asgard on Wednesday's for six months. Plus, the food on Midgard was so much healthier than the boar and bread and mead that seemed to be all the chefs had to offer—it was too rich for Loki to ever become accustomed to.
It had also been a secret rebellion of his, because apparently it was not fitting for an Asgardian prince to be in the kitchens with the servant's. Loki had only really bothered because it was frowned upon—borderline forbidden—for a prince of Asgard to be capable of feeding oneself; forbidden things were always the most fun. Loki sighed happily though his nose; the mortals still hadn't noticed his mouth. It was so much more fun this way.
Steve coughed. "Loki?"
Loki snapped back to attention, trying to ignore his mental evil laugh saying how blind the mortals were. He shook his head, declining Rogers's offer of food that he could not eat and continued reading. He wondered briefly if Captain America was as dumb as Thor; they were both blond, both big, and both obviously had a very strict moral code of conduct. Loki had always found it tiring to put so many restrictions on himself. He didn't want to dominate the worlds, but he also liked to have some fun, and if that fun wasn't legal then he would just have to lie and pretend and act his way out of punishment.
Eventually the other Avengers ventured out of their rooms, probably following the scent of freshly made waffles. When Thor came down, he became quite the nuisance. First he pulled Loki out of his reading, dragging him to the table where all of his hero friends were just beginning to eat. Why did he interrupt Loki just to get him to socialize? It wasn't as if Loki could actually eat the meal, let alone talk. His adoptive brother was just so oblivious, and Loki had to wonder if Thor had been dropped on his head when he was a small child, but that didn't make sense because Frigga was a wonderful mother and would never drop a child. So, Loki concluded, his brother was just abnormally slow. He sat in the chair Thor had pushed him into, feeling quite irritated. The second thing he did was, when he started eating, he ate with absolutely no manners. It was like watching an ape that had been particularly hungry and didn't care about the taste of the food that was going into its mouth was like, as long as it was edible. Loki was sure though that even an ape didn't snort like a pig.
Every one of the table's occupants tried not to look at Thor while eating their own portions, for fear of getting sick. Loki just tried to get back into reading his book, but apparently it wasn't meant to be.
"Loki," Thor said, using his chiding voice, "you know father doesn't allow you to read your books at the table. It's rude, you know, and I cannot imagine that they are that interesting, books are far from that important." Ah, how Loki had not missed the numerous hints at his own faults. Yes, Loki was not as strong as those of Asgard, but was that really his fault? He trained just as hard as his brother, but just didn't have the brute strength that Thor did. Loki was not in the mood for any of Thor's talk of Odin either, and that was where it was going, so he decided to mix things up a bit. Discreetly, of course.
Stark, who had fallen asleep at the table, was suddenly subjected to a scarily real dream. His dream contained the knowledge that every woman that he had ever slept with had his illegitimate children, and that Thor was to be his wife. Thor wore a beautiful dress for their wedding day, which had Thor already pregnant with Tony's child. Tony hadn't wanted another illegitimate child, after all. Then it flashed forward to Thor giving birth; there was blood, and gore, and umbilical cords—
That was when Tony woke up. Screaming.
Stark immediately picked up his orange juice and threw it in Thor's face, all the while shrieking in an embarrassingly girly voice, "No! No! You cannot carry my children! And I'm not marrying you, so just forget about it!" Then, Tony Stark, famous playboy and womanizer, ran from the room, leaving a thunder god covered in orange juice, several stunned avengers, and an entirely too pleased god of mischief.