"Hey, ain't it good to know you got a friend? People can be so cold.
They'll hurt you and dessert you. Well, they'll take your soul if you let them."
You Got a Friend, James Taylor
Loki didn't wake Tony up when he arose in the morning. He didn't even lie in bed to watch the smaller man sleep, as he usually did.
He went straight down to the kitchen and poured a cup of coffee with relatively little injury. He sat at the table, nursing the mug in his hands, thinking. Thinking about the first time he and Anthony truly connected.
Loki had come to expect Stark's visits; they were now a daily occurrence. He didn't mind too much – he was not keen on the mortal, not in the slightest, but the silence of his own company was maddening, and at any rate, Stark was better company than Thor; he was comfortingly less cheerful and the conversation decidedly more stimulating.
"Morning, Reindeer Games," the little mortal entered the basement, an annoyingly wide grin plastered all over his face. Loki simply scowled, provoking a laugh from the man. "Wow. You're such sunshine and light. I love it."
"You're irritatingly happy today," came the lean man's reply.
"Yeah," Stark agreed. "I guess I am. How about that, huh? Me, all happy and stuff. You, all miserable and stuff. What an interesting and unexpected turn of events."
"Dear lord, you are annoying," Loki rubbed the bridge of his nose, sighing.
"I try," Tony sat cross legged on the floor, pulling out a book and flicking it open. Loki bit his lip there. He yearned for something to read. Despite what the years of his adulthood had done to him, he still had that old childhood ache for knowledge; he was happy when he learned new things.
"What are you reading?" the question escaped him without him meaning it too. Tony's eyes left the page and he smirked.
"A Brief History of Time," the mortal said. "By Stephen Hawking. It's pretty interesting – though I guess you know about the history of time don't you, big fella?"
"Actually, history's not been something that's ever interested me. Why should I be concerned with what happened so many years ago?" Loki challenged, and Stark grinned.
"So you're a 'live in the now' kinda guy?" he said. "I guess I shoulda figured that much. Not many non-impulsive people have tried to destroy the human race."
"I didn't try to destroy the human race," Loki said, haughtily. "You misunderstand. Humans require subjugation. You positively crave it. Why else would you elect leaders like your presidents and prime ministers? Why would you want to look after your own laws and the suchlike when someone else can so easily do it for you? If anything, I was doing your planet a favour."
"Huh. Interesting point of view," Stark said, and looked genuinely impressed. "Didn't really go too well for you though, huh?"
"Evidently not," the demigod sighed, pushing a weary hand through his hair. Tony had to admit, he was shocked with how Loki's general appearance had deteriorated. He was thinner, his cheeks and hipbones now prominent, and his hair was messy, falling lank and tangled to his shoulders. His eyes were tired, with dark circles underneath. Tony knew from consulting JARVIS late at night that the raven-haired man wasn't sleeping much; he often paced his cell like a caged tiger until the small hours of the morning. Tony thought he once even saw the thin man crying, but he had been so shocked by it that he brushed it off as a trick of the light, or a fault with the AI's cameras, or simply his own eyes tricking him.
"So this Hawking," Loki was kneeling now, just inches away from the glass separating he and Tony. "He's one of your scientists?"
"Uh. Yeah. Widely considered the smartest guy in the world," Stark said, alarmed at the demigod's interest; he'd always seemed indifferent and uninterested in their conversations before. "Do you have scientists back in Asgard?"
"We have our scholars. They're similar, but I always found their company most tedious," Loki sniffed. "They're so damned serious, they'd practically faint at the thought of ever doing anything fun or dangerous."
"You got up to a lot back there, then?" Tony asked, amused. Loki grinned back.
"Oh, certainly," he chuckled. "I remember once when we were very young – heavens, I must only have been sixteen – Thor and I sneaked out of the palace at midnight one night, he was seeing some girl the family didn't approve of and I suppose I just enjoyed the thrill of rebelling. Incidentally the girl stood him up so we did what we considered the next best thing and drank far too much beer. We both thought we'd gotten away with it, but we rolled in drunk at first light and Odin was waiting for us. He wasn't very happy."
"I can imagine," Tony chuckled. "I gotta say though, I'm impressed at how teenage the two of you were. So what did the big guy do then?"
"Shouted a lot," Loki recalled. "If I remember rightly, I fought our corner and got beaten senseless for my troubles."
"Ouch," Tony winced. "He was big on the tough parenting thing then?"
"Very much so," Loki frowned. Then his face softened. "Mother was always quite different to Odin. Much softer. Gentler. But strict in her own way. She hated Odin's physical punishments but she had a way of looking and speaking that would make you feel… disappointed in yourself. Guilty."
"She must be a talented woman to make you feel guilty for shit you do," Stark commented. Loki laughed humourlessly.
"She is the most talented and beautiful woman in the Nine," the demigod informed the mortal. "I couldn't ask for a better mother."
"You still call her your mother, but you won't call Thor's dad your father," Tony observed, and he wasn't sure he meant to say it aloud. Loki glared at him.
"As far as I'm concerned, I do not have a father. Laufey left me for dead as an infant and that… man is not my father," his voice was quiet and dangerously calm. "I suppose I should've realised it long before he told me, but I was too blind or too stupid to put two and two together. He always favoured Thor. He never truly cared for me, even as a child. He took me in for the sake of peace between Asgard and Jotunheim, not because he loved or cared for me. He's a… he's a bastard."
"Huh. I guess dads are bastards whatever realm you're in," Stark mused.
"Yours is too?" Loki sounded curious and almost… sympathetic.
"Oh yeah. Big time," Stark nodded. "I was the replacement kid, see. Second best – you know how that feels, right? My folks had a kid of their own, but he was sick. They needed a healthy kid so these space freaks wouldn't get pissed. I was more for his good than my own too. I was sent to boarding school when I was six. That's how much he cared about me."
There was quiet between the two men for a while. Then Tony broke it.
"Weird. Never thought I'd have anything in common with you, Reindeer Games," he said. "I'm not sure how I feel about this. Comforted and creeped out and, I'll be honest with you, a little aroused."
"You are a strange man, Anthony Stark," Loki said, but he was smiling all over his face. To Tony it almost seemed… like a compliment.
Loki's train of thought was interrupted by a half-dressed Thor, followed by a nightdress-clad Natasha entering the kitchen.
"How many times, Thor? It's YouTube, not MyTube," the redhead was saying. "And I'm not putting it on for you again. There's only so many times you can see it before it gets annoying."
"But Natasha. What could ever be annoying about a cat playing the piano? I find it most humorous," Thor complained.
"I know you do, big guy. You haven't shut up about it since I showed you," she said. Then she spotted Loki at the table and rolled her eyes. "If there's one thing I admire in you it's your patience."
"What do you mean?" Loki's brow crinkled in confusion.
"You must have the patience of a god-damned saint to have put up with him for all these years," she jabbed a thumb at the blonde, who had busied himself making Pop Tarts. "I'd've either killed him or killed myself years ago."
Thor looked confused and offended; unsure if the little woman was joking or not. It was his expression more than anything that made Loki laugh.