A/N: *Sigh* so I can't Copy-n-Paste from Microsoft Word anymore, so I have to do it from the default word processor, so my formatting might be off... urg. I tried to fix everything, so whatever. If it's messed up, now you know why.

I'm not doing the disclaimer anymore. FFN doesn't say we have to. Plus, I already put it at the beginning of this story, so I figure that's good enough.

Thanks to all those who reviewed. Brings a happy tear to mine eye :')

Pepper woke in the dark bedroom, her wrist clasped in a vice like grip. Beside her, Tony lay rigid, his breaths stilted and labored.

This wasn't the first time she'd woken like this. "Tony," she murmured.

"I'm fine" he replied too quickly, his voice haggard.

Pepper placed her other hand on the one that was grasping her. "I know, Tony. It's okay. It's okay." Gently, she unwrapped his hand from her wrist, bringing them clasped up to his glowing chest. Pressing his hand to his heart, she caressed his damp face, and she couldn't tell if the moisture was from sweat or tears.

Wrapping her arm around him, she held him tight for several minutes until his breathing slowed and his body relaxed. "Tony?" she asked, knowing he hadn't gone back to sleep.

He sighed, "yeah?"

"I'm going to the kitchen, okay? I'll be back in a couple of minutes. Is that alright?" When he had woken like this the first night they'd slept in the same bed, she'd silently gotten up, trying not to disturb him. When she'd come back, his eyes were wide, and he shook slightly.

"Right." Tony nodded, locking his bright determined eyes with hers before turning his gaze to the ceiling.

Pepper leaned down and kissed his cheek, then stood, a flash of lightning illuminating the room, thunder soon following. "I'll be back soon, Tony."

"I'll try to stay awake, but no promises," his false bravado showing itself. Tony was good at hiding behind humor. Pepper decided it was how he coped, and that was fine with her. As long as he could be honest with her when they were alone, then he could joke all he wanted with everyone else.

Walking down the stairs from the master suite to the penthouse living area, she made her way in the flashing darkness to the small kitchen. The thunder had actually become almost nonstop, and the lightning was near constant, lighting up the area enough for her to see where she was going without turning on any lights.

Pepper opened the fridge looking for the one thing that seemed to really calm Tony, that seemed to lull him back to sleep. Pulling out the milk, she retrieved a glass from a cupboard and filled it to the brim.

"Lady Pepper," Thor's voice startled her from behind, and she nearly dropped her cup.

"Thor!" she gasped.

"I am sorry," Thor dipped his oddly wet head. Actually, he was completely soaked, dripping water onto the tile floor.

"What are you doing up so late?" she asked, regaining her composure.

The thunder god glanced away, a sudden shock of lightning lighting the room, "I have had a difficult time sleeping as of late. My thoughts trouble me."

Pepper's heart twisted at the expression of hurt and confliction on his face. "I'm sorry. It sounds like things are pretty crazy for you, considering…everything." She looked out the window, something occurring to her, "Is the storm you, then?"

Thor gazed out the window, "Yes. It tends to happen when I am uneasy."

Pepper sighed. Apparently being with Tony Stark meant living with a bunch of emotionally compromised, super humans and assassins. The cultural perspective was that superheroes were invincible, morally infallible, one-dimensioned people who had everything under control, when in reality they had so much more on their plates than everyone else. Pepper had to agree that heroes weren't born, but made. Made through hard lives, fighting, and trauma. And then saving the world brought its own pain and baggage. It wasn't as easy as the comic books made it to be.

Thor was one of these heroes. He wasn't an infallible god, but a person who happened to be from another planet with family problems and a history and life of his own. Pepper was pretty sure that he, along with most the others in the tower, woke at night wishing they had someone they could grasp onto when all was dark and the walls seemed too close.

Pepper held out her glass to the god. "Here. This always helps Tony."

Thor's brow furrowed as he looked down at the milk in her hand, but then relaxed as he took it, his blue eyes softening. "Our mother used to give us milk when we were younger. I often did not want to sleep, and Loki suffered from nightmares."

Pepper swallowed as she got another cup from the cabinet and poured another glass of milk. "Your mother was a smart woman."

"Indeed."

Putting away the carton, Pepper turned to Thor. "Go to sleep Thor. Everything will be fine. In the morning, things will seem much easier, and you'll feel better."

Thor nodded, more to himself than to her, "Stark is lucky to have you, Lady Pepper."

She smiled, "Yes, he is. It's a good thing I love him."

Thor let out a soft chuckle, "Goodnight. I hope the milk helps Stark as well."

As Thor turned, Pepper thought for a moment. "Don't tell the others about Tony's whole 'not sleeping' thing, Thor. We wouldn't want his image to be ruined, would we?"

Thor grinned, "I'm sure it is nothing public drunken revelry would not fix."

Pepper laughed, and went back to Tony, ready to soothe him back to sleep.

Clint was on top of Stark's sky scraper. Tallest building in New York. A good place to see things, to think. It was cold and windy, but the sun shone glaringly above him in a light blue sky.

A blaring screech rent the air, and Hawkeye readied his bow. Chitauri were climbing up the building in droves, and as each one clambered over onto his level, he would send an arrow through its throat or eye-socket or gaping mouth. He didn't miss. He never did.

"Working out some more aggression, are we?" asked a familiar voice. Clint whipped around, his arrow still notched to find Loki, an eyebrow raised as he glanced around the rooftop.

Hawkeye smirked as he aimed right for the god's eye, "I'm going to like this."

Loki rolled his eyes, "Please, didn't we already do this? Tell me, how did that turn out again?"

The Chitauri seemed to have stopped their attack as Clint shut his eyes as memories began to return.

"How many times must we do this, Barton?"Opening his eyes, Clint glanced at his taught bow. Some part of him raged still, howled at him to release the arrow, to kill the god who fucked up his life so much. But as Barton glared at Loki, blue eyes meeting green, he couldn't. He knew if he did, the archer would feel worse afterwards. Such is the nature of revenge. The hatred he once felt for the god had morphed into hatred for the situation, for the God-damn circumstances of all that went down. He wanted to hate Loki. He really, really did. But for some reason, Clint had believed his words, believed that the trickster was—if just barely—a victim like Barton himself. Only barely. The guy was still an asshole.

Lowering his bow, Clint sighed, turned towards the view of the city, and sat down. "You're out of your cage."

Loki walked out to the ledge in front of Clint and peered over. "It appears so. I must admit, I am surprised. Apparently some part of you trusts me. It's almost laughable." Loki then, with all the grace of royalty, sat, his coat flaps neatly spread out behind him and his legs dangling over the edge.

Barton huffed, shaking his head, "Yeah, hilarious." He watched as the Trickster seemingly sat in thought, again rubbing his lips with his fingers almost like he was feeling for something that he couldn't find. Glancing down, the god saw a rip on the cuff of his jacket. Suddenly the rip was gone, and Loki had gone back to staring out at the city.

"Hey wait," Barton called, "I thought you couldn't do magic."

Loki looked back in apparent ignorance, "Hm?"

"You just did magic," the archer gestured to the god's arm.

Loki scoffed and rolled his eyes, a sneer settling on his face, "Don't be ridiculous. That wasn't magic."

Barton growled in frustration, "then what was it?"

Loki sighed a long-suffering sigh, "I am projecting my conscious into yours. I appear before you as I choose to. If I lose a certain amount of concentration, how I appear may alter based on certain...exterior and mental factors."

Barton thought for a moment, "You're really pissed about the whole no magic thing, aren't you? It can't be that bad."

The god spun around and stood up with such vehemence, Barton was surprised he hadn't fallen off. Pacing, Loki rubbed at his wrists, "Imagine this, Barton," he began darkly, his brow furrowed and his gaze on the ground, "you were born with a set of lungs and a set of gills. For all your life you used your lungs to breathe. You reveled in oxygen. You loved the taste, the smell, the feel of it. You knew nothing else. Then someone throws you into a river, a boulder strapped to your back, expecting you to breathe. You were never told how to use your gills, so you continue to try and use your lungs, only to find yourself drowning. As you hit the bottom, and as you think you are about to die, the smallest amount of oxygen reaches your brain because somehow you are barely breathing. Using those damned gills of yours to filter out what small amounts of oxygen there is under water to live, to survive. Your chest aches in protest, and your eyes dim in the darkness, but you live. You can no longer feel the breeze on your face, or smell the sweetness of grass and trees in the air that you so loved. You are forced to lie on the bottom of the river, straining to exist as you gaze up at the surface where the sun shines and birds glide on the wind." Loki stopped pacing and looked over to where Barton sat, "That is how 'bad' it is."

Barton watched as the god took a few deep breaths, his eyes closed and his hair trembling in the breeze. Clint hadn't been there when Loki had been placed in the shackles. He wondered what the god's reaction had been. "So is that your punishment then? No magic and jail time?" For a second, Clint's natural reaction was 'that's not enough' but it was quickly tempered with the memory of Loki's story. With the things Thor had said about who Loki was before he went crazy. What did the god deserve? Damn.

Loki let out a dry laugh, "If only it were simply that, though I can assure you it would be enough. No, no. The All-Father gives judgment tomorrow actually. I am on the edge of my proverbial seat as I await his just and righteous punishment" he finished sarcastically.

Barton sighed, running a hand through his short sandy hair. Then, out of nowhere a bucket appeared beside him filled with colorful, fat water balloons. He glanced down at them, then back at the moody god who had gone back to rubbing his lips thoughtfully. He hadn't noticed the sudden appearance of what Clint was now calling 'anger management'. The archer grinned deviously as he picked up one, reveling in its fullness.

"Hey, Sand Man!" he called, Loki's green eyes flitting up, "Suck on this!" and with the true aim the archer was known for, the purple balloon flew through the air, almost seemingly in slow motion. Barton fed off the surprised look on Loki's face and the subsequent hit to said god's face. The satisfaction of the impact tasted like expensive chocolate.

Loki stood stock still, violet latex stuck to his face, his hair and leather top soaked. Barton cackled with evil glee, "Entertaining enough for you?!"

As the archer looked back at the god, suddenly to his horror another bucket of water balloons popped into existence beside Loki. Slowly looking down, a familiar manic grin appeared on the trickster's face.

"Hey wait! What the fuck is that?!" Barton yelled up into the sky. His own brain had apparently evened out the playing field.

Large crates, like the ones they always have in video games, popped up on the roof, creating places to hide and attack from.

Loki palmed a balloon, tossing up into the air like an apple. "How quaint, Barton. You do know you will pay for that."

The two enemies faced each other like two old timey western movie characters. No one would be surprised if a tumbleweed bounced by.

"Feelin' lucky punk?" asked Clint in a very good imitation of the actor who shared his first name.

Loki smirked, "Very."

Stark's rooftop erupted with chaos as the two fought a battle of epic proportions. There were shouts of victory and anger as they jumped and hid and threw and dodged. For that short period of time, Barton forgot who he had killed, and Loki forgot whatever it was he needed to forget.

Neither of them noticed when the grey mist began to take over.

A/N: The logistics of Stark's tower makes me all squirrely in the head. I just don't know where things are beside that one living room-ish area that is in the movie. I figure there would be a kitchen attached. Also, I have decided that Tony's master suite is in one of the few upper floors above it, accessible by stairs. I figure that the R&D (labs) area would be located closer to the ground floor. The sleeping areas for everyone else, somewhere in the middle. All these are accessible by elevator, and emergency stairs. I like to think that the labs also have a separate elevator for Tony's (or the Avengers) use, since Tony spends so much time there. We'll see if that even makes it into the story. The main floors and ground floor are where the employees for Stark's company work (though, what does he do now that he doesn't make weapons?) If someone wants to help me with this whole tower/Stark industries thing, I'm open to advice. (sorry that was long and probably unnecessary).

I like character development. I think that I could have a whole story about characters without any plot whatsoever. But, there is a plot, and it will show itself at points.

I like Pepper. I think she's awesome. I love what she and Tony have together.

Water balloon fight between Clint and Loki? Yep, it happened. I hope it fit. I think Clint's subconscious was tired of all the heavy and serious stuff it was being fed-of everything being so complicated. So it lightened things up a bit. Like I said, and will probably say again: Dreams are weird.

I just want to tell you, if you do review, I often leave detailed and informative responses (just ask any of my previous and lovely reviewers!)

Fun Fact: Clint secretly loves chocolate. He'd love it if you shared a Godiva bar with him.