"Trouble in Paradise"

Chapter 7

Loki was up, as the sun rose that morning. As he stepped onto the balcony, he shivered when the air wrapped around him. He wasn't really cold, but the air was shockingly cool, so he was surprised anyhow.

He looked up at the pink-orange glow that was stretching across the sky. In the distance, he could hear sea fowl waking for the day.

"You really would still marry me?" He asked to the waves.

There was, of course, no answer, but he liked to think that Heimdall would send the message to Sigyn.

"Midgard's earth is quite beautiful, isn't she?" Thor joined him at the balcony railing.

"She is…" Loki answered, barely thinking about Thor's question.

"Brother, are you not cold?" Loki turned at the sound of Thor's second question.

"Frost-giant, remember? I do not easily chill."

"Loki–" Thor warned.

"I jest." Loki cut him off, "I am not cold." After a pause, he asked, "Were you listening to me?"

"I…"

A sad smiled graced Loki's lips, "You cannot lie so easily as I can, brother."

"I was."

Loki nodded and turned out. He could be angry, but he said nothing Thor would not have known.

"She would marry you. She wants to, should you ever return to her." Thor reached out to clasp Loki's shoulder.

Turning his face back to the waves, Loki's face blanked, except for the crease between his brows. "I would, but I fear, my dungeon would make a poor marriage bed."

"I do not actually think she would mind…and, maybe, when we return, you will be released from your cell."

Loki laughed and turned to Thor, cocking his head, "You don't think that will actually happen, do you?"

Thor opened his mouth, but Loki barreled on, turning back to the room, "Maybe I do not deserve the hatred I have garnered, but I do not yet deserve freedom."

Thor sighed, before following his brother.

Tony woke up a little fuzzy but not really hungover, with Bruce's head resting on his chest. He and Bruce had eventually moved to Tony's bed. As Tony recalled, he had pulled Bruce up from the floor and forcibly pushed him onto the bed.

He ran his hand lightly through Bruce's hair, physically perfectly calm, as his brain commenced a meltdown.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Tony could have killed himself right then.

Tony did his best to keep his breathing steady. It would really not do for Bruce to wake up, when Tony was having a panic attack.

Whatever Bruce thought of himself, he deserved a much more special night than a drunken, emotionally desperate romp, and Tony was kicking himself for not providing it.

For god sake, the Pacific Ocean is right out the window. It was a beautiful night in a fancy hotel room. Really, Stark, you had all the pieces laid out for you, and you can't take the time not to fuck it up?

Jesus Christ, and Bruce probably will feel really used once he wakes up. He will probably think you only want him when you're drunk, and oh god, really Tony, what the hell was wrong with you?

Yeah, Tony really hated himself.

Bruce was resting calmly. So sweetly, Tony thought. You could have made this vacation for the two of you, but no, you need to get drunk enough to stop thinking about anything other than what you wanted…

Dammit, Tony! Bruce Banner deserves a little romance in his life! Heaven knows he's been lacking it, on the run for so long.

Goddammit.

Unable to stay longer in Bruce's arms, without hyperventilating, Tony slipped out of the bed, being careful not to wake the sleeping scientist next to him.

Quickly, he penned a note on the pad of paper on the desk: "Out for a walk. See you at breakfast."

Shaking, Tony dressed for the day and slipped out the door.

Bruce woke a couple hours later. As he stretched in the bed, a helpless grin spread across his face. He covered his face with his hands and giggled. He was surprised that Tony wasn't still in bed, but he figured that if anyone would have a quick recovery time with alcohol, it would be Tony Stark.

It was oddly quiet, and Bruce wished he could hear the shower or Tony's electric razor, any sign of life. Warily, Bruce pulled on a shirt and pair of pants, when he spotted Tony's note. After reading it, he frowned, but put on his socks and shoes and left to meet the team for breakfast.

At the buffet table, Tony was still on the verge of a panic attack, the walk having done nothing to calm him down. He nearly jumped out of his skin, when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Son-of-a-cocksucking–Hi, Bruce."

Bruce's eyebrows shot up. "I've never heard anyone change gears quite so quickly…" he mused.

"Ha…" Tony tried to laugh.

An expression crossed Bruce's eyes. "Are you okay?" He reached up, laying a hand on Tony's cheek. When contact was made, Tony flinched. Bruce drew his hand back. "Am I not allowed to touch you in public?"

Tony's eyes went wide, searching, and to his horror, finding that Bruce was absolutely serious about that question. Unfortunately, Tony's panic-stricken brain, was so amazed that Bruce hadn't punched him yet, that he didn't answer the question before Bruce spoke again, a few seconds later.

"I see." Bruce turned towards to table, picking up slices of bacon and placing it on his plate.

Tony's brain suddenly caught up with the conversation and raced ahead, faster than his mouth could take him, "I–I–no–uh–Bruce–"

"It's fine."

No, it's not fine. You're not looking at me. Tony thought, his eyes bugging-out, as he watched watched Bruce get silverware. Christ, you have nice hands–NOT the time, Stark. It took all of Tony's self-control not to beat his head against the wall.

"You know, I'm not really hungry right now." Bruce set his plate down, and turned on his heel.

"Shit, Bruce, stop–"

But, Bruce continued walking.

Tony looked up at the ceiling and groaned, before he gathered food and looked for the Avengers table. He could have followed Bruce, but his mouth already seemed dysfunctional, and he never worked well on an empty stomach.

When he reached the table, he was thoroughly lost. Steve and Coulson, usually engaged in some conversation, were absolutely silent, and Coulson was glaring at his patriotic idol. Clint and Natasha seemed to observe the same silence as Steve and Coulson. Next to Thor, Loki was sitting, eating a plate of pancakes. The two Asgardians looked…normal, which was weird in itself.

Loki looked up at Tony and asked quietly, "Where is Dr. Banner?"

"Why do you care?" Tony snapped.

"I–" Loki opened and closed his mouth, "I was only curious. You were sharing a room and seemed to work in tandem, I only wondered where–"

"Well, I'm not Bruce's keeper, goddammit."

Loki stared at Tony for a moment more before turning his head back to his food. Thor gently patted his brother on the back, and Clint looked at Tony, a little confused, before he shrugged and downed some orange juice, which may or may not have been spiked.

Tony mused that this was very likely the first awkward silence ever shared by the Avengers. They didn't always get along, but usually, it was loud disagreement. Then, after the Battle of Manhattan, they were sometimes quiet around one another, but there was a sense of family. He wasn't sure if it was just Loki's presence, but this silence…it was not comfortable.

"Well, I'm done." Tony said louder than necessary, when he had cleared his plate.

After he had left the buffet hall, Tony jumped, "Holy fuck, Clint!"

Hawkeye had appeared in front of Tony, practically out of nowhere. His sunglasses were on, even though they were inside, and his arms were crossed over his chest.

"Where the hell did you even come from? You were just at the table–"

"What did you do to Banner?" Clint interrupted.

"I–I–what?"

Tony could feel Clint roll his eyes at him. "You and Bruce have been damn near inseparable since we got here. What happened?"

"Nothing." That sounded unconvincing, even to Tony's ears.

"Cut the crap, Stark."

"I…" Tony crossed his own arms and adopted his best bitchface, "It's none of your business."

"Thor isn't the only once concerned about family, Tony."

"Well, I'm sure Steve has something to say. Why isn't he out here?" Tony asked.

"He's got his own issues."

"Well, so do we all!" Tony shouted. "What about you and Nat? Don't think I missed that face you gave her our first breakfast here."

"Shut up–"

"No! If you're going to call me on the way I treat Bruce, I at least want to know what the hell's up with you and Ms. Widow!"

"Tony–goddammit!" Clint tore off his sunglasses and rubbed his eyes.

"What?" Tony smirked.

They stared down one another for several seconds, before Clint gritted out, "When you sort through your issues, then you can counsel me with mine. Not a second before." Without another word, Clint turned back to the buffet room.

Tony sighed and turned down the hall. Not that he really wanted to give Barton any advice concerning his relationship with Natasha, he was really the last person who should be doing that, but he needed to find Bruce. He fingered an apple he had swiped from the hotel. If nothing else, Bruce should eat something.