This is how I'm going to die. I'm gonna die because I stopped remembering how to breathe. Breathe, Tony, fucking breathe!

Steve said something to him—he had no idea what—but Tony just waved him away. He couldn't take his eyes off of…a god. Loki looked like a goddamn god, in…in those fucking pants…and that fucking shirt, with his gleaming chest exposed and his hair slicked back, and those damn eyes, walking around like, "Why, yes, I do know that I am a sexy ass motherfucker." Damn it!

Tony's thoughts were interrupted by a chair scraping across the floor next to him. He watched Clint get up and walk around to take Steve's vacant seat—where did the lovebirds go?—to sit next to Natasha. He was pretty sure Clint didn't see the look she and Loki shared. No words spoken, but a conversation was had.

Later, when he was alone, Tony would think about his reaction to seeing Loki walk in, and have a serious conversation with himself. Until then, he was going to take the opportunity of being next to the guy and finding out the answers to some of his questions.

"Hey, Loki." He turned in his chair, throwing an arm over the back. All Loki responded with was Tony's surname, flatly, and kept his gaze straight ahead. Tony fleetingly wondered why Loki didn't use his first name. "So, how's your—" His mouth froze half-open; he realized he wanted to ask how he was doing after the scuffle with Odin and that maybe Loki wouldn't want to talk about it here. And that finishing that question with 'face' or 'body' would probably sound…weird, to say the least. When did Tony Stark start censoring himself?

Loki finally looked at him with a concerned look. "Stark, are you having a stroke?"

His face pulled into a grimace. "What—no! I just…I was wondering how your first semester of college was going?" Nice save, dumbass.

The concerned look was swept away and Loki returned to staring straight ahead. "Fine."

"Yeah?" Tony rested his cheek on his fist. "How do you like living in the dorms?"

A blink. "Fine."

"Keeping up with your classes, okay?" Tony bit the inside of his cheek when he saw Loki's eyebrow quirk and he looked at him once again with questioning, suspicious eyes.

"Why do you want to know?"

He shrugged, his bottom lip pursing with it. "I'm just curious." Tony felt a slow rush of heat start to climb up his spine as Loki's green eyes held his for several long seconds before he looked way again, without answering his question. Tony frowned, feeling disappointment that Loki didn't seem like talking—and that the rush was so short-lived. Wasn't Loki known for his way with words? His gaze was drawn down to Loki's feet when he sat up and bent his outstretched legs, pulling them to rest his feet on the bottom rung of the chair. His brown eyes traveled up his seated form, starting at Loki's booted feet, over his slim but toned legs, taking in every detail. The thought went through his mind that Loki sure sat with a wide stance, his knees as far apart as they could be. Then his eyes paused at the juncture of his legs, perfectly outlined by the tight trousers. Hello! He was sure his cheeks were on fire as tiny pricks of heat stabbed at the back of his neck and his armpits, making him want to fan himself like a star-struck teenager. He subconsciously tugged at the collar of the dinner jacket as his eyes continued up, over crossed arms until he reached Loki's face, studying the perfect profile for a moment.

And then Loki spoke.

"Are you quite finished?"

Fuck.

Loki's eyes flicked to Tony, and deliberately slow, so the genius could watch, he lowered them down the length of Tony's body, angling his head slightly as he reached his slippered feet. Tony felt like he was sitting in a sauna. He saw the line form between Loki's eyebrows as his eyes traveled back up his legs.

"Hugh…Hugh Hefner." No, his voice did not just crack.

He smirked. "I beg your pardon?"

Tony cleared his throat. "This—me—I…I'm supposed to be Hugh Hefner. You know. The Playboy guy."

Loki's eyebrow cocked in an annoyingly attractive way. "Hm. Appropriate." Tony frowned, about to ask what Loki meant by that but Clint interrupted.

"Yo, Loki, where've you been hiding this girl?"

Natasha's head jerked back. "Excuse me, 'girl?'"

Clint's eyes moved from Loki to her. "Chick? Babe?"

"Stop before you hurt yourself."

Loki grinned. "Try woman, Barton. Or lady." He took Natasha's hand and raised it to his lips. She didn't smile or giggle, like any other female would. But the way she looked at Loki told Tony they had a very unique friendship. "Better yet, stay with 'Natasha' and you may keep your kneecaps."

Clint waved a hand at them. "That's what I meant. Why have you been keeping her all to yourself? How come you haven't brought her around more?"

"Because I don't share very well, Barton. Have you not discovered this yet?" His roommate chuckled heartily, especially when Loki smiled; he only knew Loki as an extremely private but generous—to his friends—kind of person.

"You're a funny guy, Loke. You want to get a drink with me, Tasha?" The smile that so rarely presents itself on Clint's face faded when Natasha's head whipped around and she stared at him. "What? What did I say?"

Tony, who had been watching this whole exchange in silence, looked at Loki, who had turned his own head at Clint's confused question to study Natasha. He raised a hand to her shoulder. She glanced at him, they shared another glance, to which Loki gave her a subtle nod, a small grin, and chucked her on the cheek with his forefinger. This relationship—among other things—intrigued Tony.

Natasha shook whatever it was that came over her off and gave Clint the best smile she could. "Yeah, sure, let's go." She got to her feet and sent Loki a wink before walking with Clint to the drink table. Loki returned to staring straight ahead—what was so damn interesting on the dance floor?—and folded his hands in his lap. Tony quirked an eyebrow noticing for the first time that his nails were perfectly manicured.

"What was that all about?"

Green flickered his way briefly, never looking at him directly. "What was what all about?"

"Why did she freak out about being called Tasha?"

His lips curved up but there was nothing light-hearted about it; it was more facetious. "It is not my habit to discuss another's private life in public when they are not present." He glanced toward Tony again, his eyes hooded, as if he was looking down at Tony, and his face had disapproval written all over it. "Particularly with someone I hardly know."

Tony leaned forward on his elbows, which was apparently too close for Loki, who backed away several inches. "How is it your brother is probably one of the nicest guys I know, like to a fault even, but you—is it impossible for you to say one nice word to me?"

He watched Loki's eyes as they studied his face. Tony wondered what he thought. He was vain enough to silently let Loki drink in his broad forehead, his perfectly shaped eyebrows, his deep, dark eyes framed with long, naturally curled black lashes, his never-been-broken nose, and his nicely plumped lips set above a strong chin.

"I believe I've said two such words to you, Stark."

"Oh, yeah? What words were those?" He didn't move as Loki did, inching forward again, not but two breaths away from Tony. Close enough for Tony to see the gold flecks in his green eyes and feel the coolness of his breath when he spoke.

"'Thank you.'"

Tony's lips tightened. Like that counted.

"As for the differences between my…brother and myself…" Tony's interest was piqued at the way Loki said the word brother and the telling sigh that followed. And another thing Tony filed away to review and analyze later: why did his throat go dry when Loki turned that emerald gaze onto him? "I'm afraid they go much deeper than a mere dissimilarity in personalities."

Tony licked his lips as he contemplated his next question—though, he had to admit to himself, he found it difficult to concentrate when Loki looked at him like that, and spoke the way he did. He had the feeling that Loki being so snarky was a mask…but a mask to hide what? He was about to bluntly ask but Clint and Natasha returned before he could.

"Here, I got you a cup of punch," Natasha said as she set the cup in front of Loki. Tony watched him lift it to his lips and swallow it all down in one gulp, his brown eyes stuck on watching that long, slim pale column he called a neck work as he did so. Then Loki jumped up.

"Darling, would you care to accompany me to the dance floor? I believe this music is actually danceable," he said as Big Bad Voodoo Daddy came through the speakers. Natasha laughed once.

"Are you serious? You can dance?"

Ignoring the jab, Loki took the cup in her hand and placed it on the table. "Your shock is duly noted. Come and see for yourself." He held out his open hand to her and with a nod, Natasha took it.

"Okay, sure."

"I get the next one."

Natasha looked over her shoulder at Clint as Loki pulled her away. "When you ask nicely, maybe I'll think about it." Clint grinned at her and took Loki's seat next to Tony.

"That one is a spitfire. She called me on all my shit, didn't take the bait once. And I used my best lines! She totally shot me down." He watched Loki twirl her twice before taking her in his arms. "I am so turned on right now." He glanced at Tony, tilting his head at the sour look on his face. "Who pissed in your cornflakes?"

Well, this was a surprise.

Loki recognized that look in Tony's eyes, even if Tony himself didn't—which he could guess the playboy heir did not. And he knew exactly what he was feeling himself. Something was developing in the air between them. And it wasn't entirely bad. In fact, if Loki hadn't already been aware of Tony's relationship with the freckled redhead—the one with the odd name; a seasoning?—and the shorter man wasn't currently sharing living quarters with Thor, Loki might not have hesitated flirting with him or even closing the short distance between them right now and laying his mouth on those pretty pale lips he had just moistened with his tongue.

Oops. Loki sat back again. His thoughts were getting away from him. Thank god Natasha brought him a drink. His throat was as dry as the Sahara. He needed to get away and not be in any proximity to Anthony Stark, for the moment. A dance would be a good distraction. It worked better than he had hoped. Once he and Natasha were done bopping their way through a few songs, Clint managed to build up enough nerve to properly ask Natasha for a dance. Loki stepped aside, and could see he was clearly in the way, so he returned to the table to retrieve his coat. Tony Stark was gone.

Loki wasted no time wondering where he went. He had probably run off to find his missing girlfriend. As he was heading toward the exit, he ran into Maria, dressed as a TV character he wasn't familiar with, with a new beau on her arm. He was happy there were no awkward or uncomfortable feelings between them and with a peck to her cheek he left the party, almost relieved. He knew Natasha was right that he needed to get out of his room after eight days of being surrounded by the same four walls. But his healing injuries were still taking up a lot of his energy. He probably shouldn't have danced. It wasn't rigorous, but it wore him out.

"What, no goodbye?"

Loki halted in the middle of the path and looked over his shoulder. Not good. "Do you often hide out in the shadows to frighten passerby, Stark?"

"Nope," Tony answered stepping out from behind a tree. "Maybe you're just special."

Loki chuckled and faced him. "What do you want? I'd like to get home."

Tony threw out an arm toward the path. "Don't let me stop you. We're going to the same place anyway, remember?" He said this as he stepped forward to Loki's side. He gave Tony a nod and they started down the path together.

"Are you to be my escort home then?"

He lifted his hands innocently. "I just wanted to finish our conversation."

Loki's brows came together. "I wasn't aware we were having one." He continued before Tony could cut in, "As I recall, you were engaging me in a game of 20 Questions I neither signed up for nor wanted to participate in."

Tony snorted. "Can't a guy ask a few questions? I mean you're the one who said you hardly knew me. Here I am trying to get to know you and all you do is give me shit for it. I'm just playing nice with my roommate's brother who happens to live across the hall with someone who happens to be a friend of mine. It's all a coincidence, right?"

He grinned cheekily up at Loki, who only rolled his eyes. The man was irritating, especially when he felt he was in the right. "Yes, I said I hardly know you. But it was not meant as in invitation to have you breathing down my neck with inane questions all night, at a party no less."

Tony shrugged. "What can I say? I know how to have a good time."

"Are you doing this because of Thor?" Loki stopped in the middle of the path, asking the question between his teeth, glaring down at the shorter man. "Did he ask you to? Did he put you up to it? Answer me!"

"Give me a chance to!" Tony countered. Loki inhaled and gestured for him to speak. "Look, I don't mean to sound like a dick, but are you really that insecure that you think I only want to be friends with you because of Thor?"

"I am not insecure." Did he just say he wanted to be friends?

"Then why would you think the only reason I would want to talk to you is to get information for him? If he wanted to know something, wouldn't he just go to you himself?"

"No, he would run to Odin like the lost little boy he is!" Embarrassed and angry at his outburst, Loki huffed out a frustrated breath and walked away. He felt rather than saw Tony catch up and match his stride. The mood had grown tense and the only sound was their feet hitting the pavement and Loki's harsh breathing.

"Is that what happened?" Tony's voice was small but strong. Loki didn't respond. "Did Thor go to your father about something and that's why he came to see you that day?" Tony jumped back when Loki turned on him, his eyes bright green in the darkness, his face peering down into his.

"It would do you well, Anthony Stark, to keep your nose out of my business. This is the second time I've had to say this to you. Don't make me do it again." Loki felt his chest rising and falling fast with his angry breaths. He turned away again.

"Loki—"

"Leave me!" He shouted over his shoulder. He stomped all the way back to the dorm.

Tony Stark was persistent, Loki would give him that. Somehow the damn genius figured out his routine, and every day for a week, popped up everywhere Loki went; outside his Advanced English Composition class, in the hallway between their rooms, while he was studying in the library. And once, outside the Social Sciences building as Loki exited a meeting with his advisor.

And he always acted as if it was all a coincidence.

Loki walked away from him every time, ignoring his questions and requests to talk—"just gimme five minutes." Loki did not have time for it. The semester was more than half over; projects and papers needed to be perfected and finished up, and then there was Loki's own agenda of actively avoiding the big blonde oaf next door, and before they knew it, finals would be around the corner. Tony stopped appearing after Loki continuously rebuffed him, and he had hoped he was rid of the shorter man for good. Mostly.

But there was still the big blond oaf to worry about.

After Loki walked out on him the day Odin appeared, he didn't see Thor again for awhile, not even after his self-containment. He didn't know when Thor had returned from wherever he himself had hidden out, nor did he care. But it bothered him that every time he ran into the giant man in the hallway or somewhere on campus—which, thankfully, rarely happened—his supposed brother's face would fall into a sad frown, his blue eyes would drop to his feet shamefully. It infuriated Loki that Thor would feel sorry for himself when everything that happened was of his own doing.

It surprised him then when a soft knock on his door one night had Thor waiting on the other side. Loki tried to shut the door on him, but Thor's mighty hand swung out and kept it open.

"I won't be long. I just need a moment."

Loki stared, though the other man could not even look him in the eye. The absence of 'brother' in Thor's greeting struck him harder than he thought it would. Silently, he crossed his arms and motioned for Thor to continue. Thor frowned and glanced around the noisy hallway.

"Would it not be better for me to come inside—?" The end of the question was lost, choked off and covered by a sigh. Loki guessed Thor had stopped himself from slipping into old habits.

"If you only need a moment, you won't need to come in." Loki's voice was low, nearly a growl.

Thor sighed, his shoulders lowering with it. "Very well," he murmured. "I came to ask when you were planning to travel home…to Richmond." Thor's eyes briefly met Loki's, then lowered again to rest them on his plain white shirt peeking out beneath a dark cardigan sweater. "I'm leaving tomorrow and I wondered if maybe you would want to go with me—"

"I'm not going."

Thor's brow wrinkled and he lifted his eyes for only a second. "What?"

"I am not going," Loki repeated.

"But…" The blond shook his head in disbelief. "Loki. It's Thanksgiving."

"I'm aware." Loki watched Thor's eyes search his face, seeking an explanation.

"Loki…mother will be—"

Loki's lip curled slightly at the mention of Frigga before he calmed himself. "Seeing as I don't have anything to be thankful for this year, I've elected to stay here. With the only person I can trust—myself." He had fleeting feelings of regret and satisfaction at the way Thor's face crumbled. "You can tell your parents I had an extremely laborious paper to work on that is due first thing Monday morning. Have a good weekend."

And with that Loki stepped back and shut the door.

Thor couldn't move. He stared for a while at the dark wooden door with a dry-erase board hanging from it that read "Clint B. & Loki"—no last initial for Loki. It had been erased weeks ago. Thor had hoped that after nearly three weeks of leaving Loki be that his anger would have subsided at least a little. But no, in his emerald gaze Thor could feel the hate and resentment flowing from him. Yet he could place no blame on his baby brother.

Yes, he was still his baby brother. It mattered not that they did not share the same blood; genetics meant nothing to Thor. The moment Frigga told him that the dark-haired green-eyed little boy he towered over, even at age twelve, was his new brother Thor made a vow to himself to protect him, to care for him the way the older brother was supposed to. Of course, his notions of brotherly heroics came from storybooks and fantasy films, but that didn't mean he couldn't really love him like a brother. He could see right away that Loki was a little more fragile than other the kids, but extremely intelligent. It took him a while to break the ice around the former orphan, but once Loki knew he could trust the blond boy, who rarely called him anything but "brother" from the moment they met, they were attached at the hip. And it remained that way when they traveled to Switzerland for school.

But something happened in the years they were separated. From what Odin had told him, Loki had somehow discovered that his adoption was a means to better Odin's political persona. Thor shared Loki's anger in that respect, and he told Odin as such, for which he was immediately reprimanded. When Thor got the call from Frigga about what had happened between Odin and Loki, he ran clear across campus to make sure his brother was all right. When he saw for himself the bruises blooming purple on his brother's pale face, he knew he had made a mistake. He should have never called Odin.

It was none of his business what Loki did privately, or whom he did it with, he realized that now. Thor never questioned him about the rumors in boarding school, because there were rumors of females, too. But, of course, that wasn't nearly as scandalous as an American senator's son being intimate with other males, he supposed. And now the trust that Thor had worked so hard to earn had been shattered to pieces. He had not lost hope, not yet. He still believed if Loki would just put aside his anger for one moment, Thor would be able to explain himself and apologize and win back his brother's love. He had missed Loki the two years they were apart and it broke his heart more than he would ever admit the way Loki brushed him aside.

Glumly, he entered his room. He heard the blasting sounds of the heavy metal his roommate loved so much, and with the first genuine smile on his lips in weeks, he stomped into Tony's room.

Surprised, Tony spun around in his desk chair, a pencil behind his ear, one in his mouth, and a ruler in his hand. He aimed a small black remote at the stereo and lowered the volume on Black Sabbath. "Dude, Thor. We talked about this. Remember? That whole 'knock before entering' thing?"

"Apologies, my friend. I have something urgent to speak about with you."

Tony ignored him and continued chattering to himself. "One day I'll have a system set up to warn me when people are approaching my room, or house, or whatever. And I'll be able to just yell out something so it can turn down the radio for me. Yeah…I like it…"

"Tony."

"What? Yeah? You wanted to talk or something? Well, hurry up and discuss it urgently; I'm working on something here." Tony took a closer look at the giant in his doorway and aimed the ruler in his hand sharply at him. "You're smiling. You haven't smiled in forever. What's going on? What happened? Did something happen?"

Thor stepped further into Tony's room, cluttered with books, takeout boxes and scraps of paper everywhere, even his bed. Sometimes Thor wondered if the genius' mind ever slowed down enough to remember he needed sleep. "I have a favor to ask of you."