Thor and Jane were making out in front of the TV when they first heard it. Loki was reading a book in his bedroom when he heard it. And smiled. Widely. Smugly. Tapping his finger to the tip of his tongue, he turned a page in his book and went back to immersing himself in East of Eden.

Thor had started to pull away from Jane to investigate, but she wouldn't let him go. They only had so much time, she had said. They would be in separate rooms that night and wouldn't be able to really be together. Thor's weakness was her soft brown eyes pleading with him. And it helped that she was wearing a button-up blouse that was easy to pull aside, a bra that clasped in front, and a skirt that allowed him to easily slip his hand underneath. So they stayed on the sofa, and Thor was glad Frigga's voice was louder than Jane's moans.

Frigga paced. Her arms flailed. Her eyes flashed. And Odin sat on the end of the bed with his arms crossed over his chest and his lips pursed in an angry pout, as he listened to her berate him. And dinner had gone so well.

Thor had brought home his girlfriend—of nearly a year, they learned—to meet him and Frigga. Jane Foster was a budding scientist, a well-bred young lady from New Mexico, in Washington D.C. on an academic scholarship. It was disheartening to learn she had no family. Her parents had perished in a plane crash just a few years before, her senior year of high school. They had left her in the care of her father's best friend, Dr. Erik Selvig, who had encouraged her to take the scholarship to D.C., though she was fearful of leaving. She had plans for her future and seemed ambitious and headstrong. And she was a pretty little thing that clearly had his oldest boy smitten. Odin had never seen Thor look at any of his past girlfriends with such a goofy smile on his face before.

Odin was pleased. And to make the dinner even better, Loki had actually behaved himself. As was usual these days, he kept quiet through the three-course meal, but there were no scoffs, no grunts, and no unimpressed mocking noises from his side of the mahogany table. He wondered what had happened to bring on the change. Then he retired to his bedroom, with Frigga hot on his heels, and found out.

Loki had ratted him out. Odin wasn't surprised but since nothing had been said for over a week he wrongly figured he was in the clear. And now, for the better part of an hour, Frigga had been laying into him, calling him every name in the book, making accusations and threats, and not letting him get in one word edgewise. She was starting to go hoarse so he hoped that meant the tirade would be over soon.

"Give me his cell phone and car keys," she demanded, holding out her open palm to him. Odin lifted his one-eyed gaze to hers.

"Frigga, would you let me—"

"Give me the phone and keys first." She wouldn't even look at him, choosing instead to stare up at the ceiling. With a heavy sigh and some effort, Odin pushed himself to his feet and moved to the nightstand by his side of the bed. He pulled out the cell phone, long dead by now, and the car keys hanging from a key chain with the family crest engraved on it.

"Frigga…"

"Of all the childish things, Odin," she spat, snatching the phone and keys from his hand. "At times I feel as if I have three children living in this house. You stay here. I'm not yet done with you."

Odin watched her spin on her heel and storm out, and huffed to himself. Even spitting mad, and at him no less, the woman still made his blood pump. Despite possibly incurring more of her wrath, Odin moved to the master bath and began to prepare for bed. He had managed to change into sleeping clothes, brush his teeth, trim his beard—when had it all grown white?—and removed his eye patch, something he only did in front of his wife, before she returned.

"Odin!"

"I am here, wife," he stepped back into the bedroom and stayed quiet at her flushed cheeks and blazing azure eyes.

"What were you thinking? He is not a teenager anymore. He is in college now; he's an adult. You cannot treat him like this. If he did not want to come home, you should have let him be." She moved past him now to enter her walk-in closet.

Odin's brows came together. "Let him be?" He followed her into the closet, not caring if she was undressing. "So you could mope and cry because he wasn't home for the holiday? No. I was not going to let him get away with that again."

She spun around, facing him in slacks and camisole. "So, like a tyrant you drive up there and drag him kicking and screaming home? That is not an improved solution, husband. I'd rather he be here of his own will or not at all than at gunpoint."

"I did not point a gun at him!" Odin cried indignantly. "Did he say that I did? You know he lies, Frigga."

"Oh, Odin, I was being metaphorical!" He flinched when she slapped at him with her beige trousers.

"Oh." Odin sighed heavily as Frigga placed her soiled clothes in a hamper. "Forgive me, Frigga. I am…I am at a loss with him. He is so…" He struggled to find the appropriate word, drawing Frigga's gaze at his silence, "hell-bent on doing nothing but displeasing me."

Frigga sighed herself, exhausted from the back-and-forth between her husband and son. "Then perhaps you should stop expecting so much from him."

Indignant, Odin shook his head. "Of what nonsense do you speak? I expect no more from Loki than I do from Thor. I have the same expectations of both my sons."

"Oh really?" she responded mockingly. She turned her back to tug the camisole over her head, tossing it into a separate bin from her regular clothes, and removed her bra, as she spoke. "When was the last time you sat down and had an actual conversation with him? When was the last time you discussed one of your political theories with him, as you do so fervently with Thor?" She slipped a nightgown over her head, fastening the few buttons at the chest.

"Thor is studying—"

Frigga whipped around and raised a hand to silence her husband. "Loki is much more intelligent than you give him credit for. You don't even give him a chance, Odin."

He pouted again, sour at her words. "He behaves like an ill-tempered child."

"Could that be because you—and at times Thor, I may add—refuse to treat him as anything but?"

Odin's face pinched into a frown, his hands dropping to his sides in tightly clenched fists. "I treat him as equally as I treat Thor!" He shouted each word as if they were short, succinct punches.

"You do not, Odin!" Frigga countered. "When he was a child you treated him as if he were a fragile creature that would break. As an adult, you get angry with him so quickly, you have reached the point where you do not even bother with patience or understanding and head straight to lashing out at him. With your fists, if you deem it necessary."

His face went red, and Frigga was certain it wasn't from anger. Satisfied, she ran her hands down the front of her nightgown.

"Thor told me what you did to him."

Ashamed, Odin lowered his gaze to the carpet. "I never meant for that to happen, Frigga. And I regret that it did."

"Good." She walked past him to the bath to free her hair from its pinned updo and comb it out. "But I must say, Loki's right: Thor treats him like a damsel in distress. And he learned it from you." She set to brushing her teeth and eyed Odin as he followed her, hovering by the doorway.

He watched her quietly, contemplating. "I am afraid, Frigga," he said quietly.

Frigga made a noise of agreement, which may or may not have been one of annoyance, too. She rubbed cream onto her face. "Of…?"

"That I've lost him."

Her eyes went to him in the mirror before facing him directly. When she did, she saw the tears he was trying to fight filling his eye and all the irritation she felt melted away. She went to him, gathering him in her arms. "You haven't lost him, my love. Not yet."

He pulled away, kept his head down, and sniffled. "Oh no? He wants nothing to do with me. Are you aware that he no longer calls me father?"

Frigga cupped Odin's face, caressing his cheek as she lifted it so he would look at her. "Then fix it."

He sadly shook his head. "I don't know how."

"The first step is to remember that he is hurt and upset, and that he puts all of the blame—of everything that has and is going wrong in his life right now—on you." Odin's face went dark and she rushed to calm him. "I did not say that it was your fault, husband." She looked away, sighed. "Put yourself in his place. Everything, everything, he believed to be true about the people who were to love him most has turned out to be a falsehood—in his mind. Now, I've already spoken to him, given him my piece. You will have to do the same. As will Thor."

Odin made an irritated sound in the back of throat, made a face, and Frigga wondered if either Odin or Loki knew they made the exact same noise and face when they were bothered. "Why does he misbehave with Thor the way he does? It won't be long before the press get wind of this."

Incensed again, Frigga dropped her hands and stepped away from Odin. "That is the least of your concerns, Odin. You let the press think what they will. Every family goes through hard times, but I am exhausted of being the only one in this family who seems to care that it is falling apart."

Odin fixed her with a steady gaze. "I care, Frigga."

"Then prove it and mend the relationship with your son." She stormed away, toward their bed, yanking back the comforter and sheets, and slid in. Odin wasn't far behind.

"How am I to do that? Especially with the way he behaves with me," he added glumly as he moved to his side.

Frigga threw up her hands, slamming them to the bed with a loud plop. "For Valhalla's sake, Odin. Must I do everything for you? Talk to him—not at him. Find out his interests; take an interest in what he is studying."

"What of when he returns to school?" He slid himself between the sheets, turning halfway to look at Frigga.

She grinned softly. "You speak with Thor at least once a week by phone. Begin including Loki in that phone call." She laid a hand over his on the bed. "I'm going to be frank with you; it will be hard at first. He will resist, most likely because he will know that I have put you up to it. Give him time and eventually he will come around."

Odin grunted in response. "And what if he does not, hmm? What if I'm only wasting my time?"

She removed her hand, rubbed at her eyes, and huffed out a breath. "I do not understand how you can think getting better acquainted with your son can be a waste of time."

"Well, he is so reluctant!"

She chuckled, startling Odin. "It is a wonder he is not your son." He narrowed his eyes at her. "You are both so stubborn."

"I am not stubborn! I am headstrong. There is a difference," he said obstinately.

Frigga sent him a patient smile, when he spared her a glance. "That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet."

Odin grinned and reached a hand up to her face. "I do love it when you quote Shakespeare." Frigga let him pull her face down for a kiss, placed a hand over the one on her cheek.

"Speaking of love…" she started when he pulled away.

Odin's eyes lit up. "Oh?"

Frigga pursed her lips, shook her head once. "No, not that."

Dejected, Odin dropped his hand. "Oh."

"He's in it."

"What?"

"Love."

"Who?"

"Your son."

Odin shifted to give her an incredulous look. "Woman, have you gone mad? I just met her this evening!"

She smacked a hand to his shoulder, laughing. "Not Thor, you silly old man. Loki!"

His face fell into a confused frown. "Loki? In love?"

Frigga twisted her lips, shrugged a shoulder. "He is…showing signs that he is. A mother knows these things about her children," she said at Odin's blank look. "I knew there was someone special in Thor's life before he told us."

"If Loki is in love, why is he so sullen?"

"They are separated at the moment," she offered. She glanced at her husband, took his hand again, holding it between both of hers. "Odin, I'm going to need you to practice your patience now."

"Why?"

She hesitated, biting the inside of her bottom lip, debating whether or not she should tell him now. He will have to be told eventually, she thought, and went for it. "I am fairly certain that whomever it is Loki…has feelings for…is not a woman." Her nose scrunched when Odin's face fell.

"No."

"Odin…"

"I won't have it, Frigga," he muttered as he snatched his hand from her grasp.

Still in the bed, Frigga sighed, exasperated, watching as he got out of the bed to angrily pace. "It is not for you to have, husband." He stopped, stared, at her firm tone. "It is for you to accept and understand. He needs not our permission, and if we believe what Thor has told us over the years, it isn't the first time he's tangled with an alternative lifestyle. And…" she rose from the bed to join him at the foot of it, taking his hands. "Whomever he is, he makes your son happy. That is all you need be concerned about."

"But Frigga—"

She threw his hands back at him. "If you mention one word about the press or anything related to your position as a senator, I swear on my life, Odin, I will strike you, right here, right now."

"Frigga!" he cried in shock.

"My son has had a hard enough life. This is a different time than it was for you and I; things have changed, perceptions have changed. People are much more accepting than you believe they may be. I, for one, will not stand in the way of anything that makes him smile the way I have seen him smile when he believes no one is looking. And neither will you."

Odin pressed his lips together. "What am I to tell people?"

Her ice blue eyes narrowed at him. "What do you tell people about Thor and his Jane?"

His brows drew together as he thought then he shrugged. "Nothing."

"Then why do you feel the need to explain Loki?"

Odin sighed, looked away, looked back, nodded. "You've made your point, Frigga."

"Wonderful. Now come to bed."

Odin watched her turn away before moving to his side of the bed himself. "You've been hard on me tonight, wife," he commented as he burrowed into the covers.

Frigga flicked off her lamp, settled into the bed. "Times come when a mother—and wife—has to do what she has to do."

Christmas passed with no fights, no arguments, and no raised voices. Loki noticed Odin was being more pleasant than ever, figured Frigga had stepped in, as concerned mothers do, and played along for while. It was awkward at times, but over the few remaining days he was there they found a peaceful middle ground—for Frigga's sake, at least.

The smile never left her face.

When she found out that Loki hadn't bothered with gifts, she dragged him out the morning of Christmas Eve and forced him to buy something, anything, for Odin and Thor. In the end, Odin received a red, blue and white tie with a tie pin; Thor got a dark blue coat with red lining. It wasn't much, but they both seemed pleased to have received anything from Loki at all that didn't involve them getting maimed or worse. And Frigga was over the moon about the diamond bracelet she received from him.

Loki stuck around for longer than he planned to, because of Frigga, but soon decided to leave. He hadn't been able to speak to Tony since before Christmas and the need to see him was beginning to feel overwhelming.

He had never felt like this about anyone before. There was a girl once, from the girl's academy that wasn't too far away from his in Switzerland. Her name was Sigyn and she was beautiful, with long flowing blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. She was his first and, at the time, he loved her. But it was a typical teen romance and didn't last long. She took it harder than Loki had and ended up leaving school and returning home to Sweden.

But whatever he had felt for Sigyn wasn't anything like what was starting to develop with Tony. He had to constantly remind himself to not feel so much. Just the thought of Tony made his stomach jumpy. He was uncontrollably excited about surprising Tony in New York on New Year's Eve. He made it to New York in less than the six hours it should have taken, and drove straight to the Stark mansion. It was a good thing Tony's father was so well-known. A quick Google search and he had the address. He should probably let someone know about that…

The search also mentioned the big New Year's Eve party Howard was throwing for his famous and not-so-famous friends. Loki remembered Tony mentioning it—well, more like complaining about it. Tony had said he hated these parties because every hour of the party Howard would seek him out and pretend to be so proud of his progeny and brag about Tony's accomplishments to the friend's Howard worked so hard to impress.

Amazing the man couldn't do that when the two of them were alone, Tony had said to Loki.

The article mentioned it was a black tie affair and Loki was grateful his tuxedo was in his closet at home, and that he never had to wear it to any of Odin's events. He adjusted the black bow tie now, hoping he would be able to get past the entrance.

He got lucky.

A woman in her late sixties, a former singer-dance-actress, saw him walking up to the multi-leveled home, passing through the limos, Mercedes Benzes, and Aston Martins parked in lines around the gravel driveway, and took a liking to him instantly. Her invite read plus one, but her actual plus one ditched her minutes before she was ready to leave for the party, to go back home to his wife of fourteen years.

So he got in.

He was a little taken back by the famous faces he saw as he escorted the former star in. He wondered how Howard Stark, a business man and, by all reports, a mass weapons manufacturer, made friends with A-list actors, sports stars, musicians, and well-known politicos. He frowned when he recognized a congressman he had seen once at an even for Odin and turned his back to him, not wanting to be seen by him.

Eventually Ms. Former Glory latched on to someone else and Loki was able to escape her very inquisitive hands. Once free, he made a beeline for the place he knew Tony would be: the bar. He found a few small stations with drinks and server, but the main bar was in what he assumed would be called the parlor. He was disappointed when he didn't find the genius there. He called for the bartender's attention and ordered a club soda. When it placed in front of him he sipped at it and casually asked if the younger Stark was around. The bartender directed him toward a room where music played and people were dancing on a large wooden square in the middle of it, into the next room, a sitting room, where he would see the doors to the balcony Tony would most likely be hanging out on. After shoving a few dollar bills into a tip jar, Loki left his drink and started toward the room the bartender pointed him toward.

His heart beat a little faster at the thought of being able to see Tony again; it beat a in time with the fast-paced bass-heavy music pumping through the over-sized speakers. He had to decline a few offers to dance—marveled at the fact that people seemed to think it was acceptable to manhandle and grope him in public—and found the sitting room.

Fewer people were in this room, milling about, speaking more softly compared to the loudness next door, but still an audible din. His ears picked up a loud, bawdy laugh and he smiled, instantly recognizing Tony, headed for him.

And his entire world came crashing down on him.

He couldn't breathe, couldn't think; he couldn't even move, his feet frozen to the burgundy carpeted floor. He stared blankly at the scene on the balcony.

There was Tony, handsome in his tux, bow tie predictably undone and hanging from around his neck, a glass of what Loki was sure was Jack Daniels—his favorite—cupped in his hand, laughing, smiling…and kissing Pepper Potts.

Like a man who had been choked, Loki sucked in a large gulp of hair, trying to drown out the voice in his head yelling, screaming, howling FOOL! He hadn't noticed the tears until he blinked and they began to fall, to spill, to pour from his eyes. Turning, he shoved and pushed his way through the crowd, desperately attempting to flee. Someone was bumped into hard, something fell, crashed, most likely broke, but he didn't spare anyone or anything a glance as he ran, as fast as his long legs would take him, until he reached the cold air outside, breathing it in, filling his lungs until he thought he might hyperventilate.

He made way for his car, fumbling with his keys, blinded by the tears, until eventually he was behind the wheel. Halfway down the hill leading back to the city, he slammed a hand to the steering wheel and, for the first time in his life, Loki Odinson swore.

Just one loud, pained word.

"Fuuuuuuck!"