II.

He is absolutely, one hundred percent fucked.

Pepper, standing next to the-the-kid, is smiling, triumphant, like she knows it. Of course she knows it. She probably hand-picked him herself.

Fuck.

Tony has a type-leggy, mouthy, and smart. Most people expect him to say something else, but Tony doesn't care at all what sex they are-alpha, beta, or omega. He's just more careful about Os, because the only constant to any of his relationships-if a one night stand can be called that-is consent.

(Good time or not, there's a line a mile wide between sex with someone who wants it and sex with someone whose biology has decided to fuck them over. Literally.)

The problem is Loki. Loki who has legs a mile long, a mouth that can keep up with Tony when he's feeling sassy, and smart enough that Tony is about 89.9% sure that Loki has managed a modern miracle of a cologne that entirely erases his scent.

Tony knows at least four people off the top of his head who would kill for the recipe, and he's one of them.

Genius-how Pepper found him is beyond him.

Tony reminds himself, daily, that Loki has a background that suggests he's probably asexual and is thirteen years younger than him.

Besides, they have a working relationship, Tony is absolutely not ruining another working relationship by making it something more (see: Pepper, though that might be a bad example on second thought). He might comply a little more easily than normal because Loki has a nice smile-when he lets himself smile-but ultimately there is absolutely nothing happening.

Exactly according to plan.

Then there's poker night, everyone arguing about what Loki is, Loki all blurred smiles and utterly drunk (actual kid, can't even hold his liquor-doesn't he have a heart condition? should he even be drinking?), and Tony can't stand the way they're talking about what sex Loki is, like it's just a thing, like Loki's a thing and not actually there.

Stupid goddamned hormones. He should have kept his mouth closed.

It's entirely downhill from there.

"Mr. Stark, apologies, let me just—"

Tony tries desperately not to watch Loki bend over to grab the wrench that Tony is sure Loki knocked off on purpose. He fails. Loki has an absolutely amazing ass.

Fuck.

Loki's talking, and here's Tony trying to deal with being half-hard and totally tuning him out in favour of a wisp of hair that's fallen out of place. He doesn't think-he pushes it behind Loki's ear.

Loki stops talking, staring at Tony like he's lost his mind. Tony isn't sure he hasn't, then realizes he's never actually seen Loki touch anyone, let alone be touched.

"Could scratch your eyes," Tony says. "Lab hazard."

"Mm." Loki is still watching him, green eyes half-lidded. Loki does that when he's thinking. Great. Tony is totally transparent. Dum-e would be smoother than he's being right now.

Except he's not doing anything. Absolutely.

(Right.)

"You have an appointment in thirty minutes with the board and Ms. Potts," Loki says, then turns and struts out of the lab. For someone he can't smell, Loki sure doesn't have any problems turning him on. It must be extra hotness to make up for the lack of scent. Minus that bit where Loki's just wearing a cologne to hide his scent, which throws that right out the window. "Mr. Stark."

Model, Tony reminds himself as he pulls his gaze up from Loki's ass. Loki's smirking, one eyebrow raised.

"Twenty-nine minutes, Mr. Stark."

Tony is tactile. Apparently somewhere in this trainwreck that is him refusing to pin Loki to a table and fuck his brains out, Loki figured it out. Loki doesn't touch anyone else on the team (even though the traitors have decided Loki's part of the pack)(even though Loki is oblivious they've decided he's pack), but he's certainly brushing against Tony all the time-which means now Loki's doing it on purpose.

"I thought I said no fans," Tony says to Pepper, because her office might be one of the only places he's sure Loki won't follow.

(That's a lie. There's a lot of places. Tony just tends not to go to them, because there's a part of his mind that really just wants to know how far Loki's going to push. So far, just close-for all Loki knows how to move, he's got no idea what to do, and Tony has to fight how both endearing and attractive he finds the combination.)

"He's not," Pepper says without looking up. Tony thinks about hating her for a moment, then Loki's knocking at the door and sticking his head in.

"Press conference," he says. "I did try to call."

"You planned this," Tony accuses, pointing at Pepper. Pepper only tucks her hair behind her ear, smiling, but she doesn't look up.

The absolute worst thing, the point where Tony realizes that he's not just fucked, he's fucked, is when Loki gets hit by the bullet meant for Tony at the press conference-a crystalline moment Loki crumples.

After that, it's just rage.