"The world keeps spinning round,
My worlds turned upside down,
And I wouldn't change a thing.
I got nothing left to lose,
I lost it all when I found you,
And I wouldn't change a thing."
Spin, Lifehouse

Things were awkward the next day.

Tony and Loki rose with the sun; neither man had slept much and they were both glad of a reason to get out of bed. They had a bath together, washing each other's hair and cuddling in the water without really exchanging any words. Breakfast was equally quiet, the two of them taking twice as long as usual to get through their coffee and French toast. To make things less awkward, Tony opened a newspaper, occasionally chuckling and commenting to Loki about the ridiculous things in the various articles about his life.

After the painfully long breakfast, they both went down to Tony's workshop. Tony was tinkering with the engine from an old motorcycle, a surprise gift for Bruce's approaching birthday; since last time Loki was in New York and Banner had stolen some old piece of crap bike, he'd been obsessed with getting one that was halfway decent. Loki perched on a countertop in the corner, reading in silence, his brow furrowed and his lips pursed in concentration. Tony noticed the taller man's eyes kept flicking to the bracelet on his wrist, and he couldn't help wincing on his behalf. It was rare that Loki was as cheerful as he'd pretended to be the previous day, true, but he'd never given off such a negative vibe as he was today. Tony had seen Loki mad and upset and frustrated and distressed but this? This was something different. There was a depressed air around the lithe man; he seemed smaller, deflated somehow. Like all of his heart and fighting spirit was gone. It was depressing, to say the least.

At some point in the mid-afternoon, Loki disappeared from the workshop, saying the smell of motor oil was making him nauseous. Tony doubted the truth in it; he often smelled of motor oil himself and Loki never had any complaints about it. He didn't pull Loki up on it; he didn't doubt that some kind of argument would ensue if he did, and causing the raven-haired demigod any more upset was the last thing he wanted to do.

Loki did not know how long he lay alone on the sofa, staring at the ceiling in one of the first floor lounges. Usually at this point he'd open a book or look over some notes or try to finish a piece of research, but he simply could not be bothered. He had no motivation to do anything; part of it was sulking – how dare these pathetic mortals try to outdo him, how dare they think they could treat him this way and hot have some kind of consequence. But it was also partly jealousy; a horribly familiar pang that he had felt all too much about Thor throughout their childhood. What had happened was as much Barton's fault as his – it never would've happened if Barton hadn't goaded him so, hadn't mocked him to the point where he lashed out. And where was the archer's punishment? Loki highly doubted the mortal had even been reprimanded; it was easy for him to play the victim when everyone in the house antagonised him so. Loki considered asking JARVIS to provide him with evidence of what Barton had said – after all, the AI had constant surveillance on the whole building. But he decided that would be futile; the problem was that the rest of the occupants didn't believe that Barton had provoked him. It was that they thought he'd over-reacted, or that they just through and through hated him and didn't want to believe that any of his actions were justified.

The door opened and Loki heard a cautious voice in the doorway.

"Uh… Loki?" Steve Rogers stood in the doorway. Loki didn't give any kind of response, not even looking to the patriotic blond. Steve swallowed, cautious to cross the room. He knew there was nothing that Loki could do to harm him physically due to the shock bracelet that Fury had him wear. But he'd seen up close the effect Loki's famously cutting tongue could have on people; he'd damn near broken Natasha – the strongest woman Steve had ever met – just with what he said to her. Still, he was doing what he considered the right thing right now and trying to build bridges with the slender god. The latter let out a sigh, a sound so sad that Steve found his legs crossing the room of their own accord.

"You okay, there, soldier?" he asked. Green eyes met his in the coldest, most withering look Steve had ever seen in his life. "I uh… I knew you were down, so I made you a cup of coffee. I know it's not really a solution, but like Thor said – coffee can temporarily solve most problems, right?"

"My brother would have you believe the same about those damned Pop Tarts he loves so much," Loki commented, making the blond jump; he hadn't been expecting much conversation. Loki sat up, taking the mug from Steve and cradling it in large, pale hands. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it," Rogers gave him a small smile. "And… and just for the record. I think Clint's just as in the wrong as you are, with what happened yesterday. Tony told me what he said, he had no right to bring your family into it. He had even less right to say what he said about Tony and you. It doesn't justify what you did, but it kind of explains it."

The raven-haired man blinked at the soldier, taken aback by the fact that someone other than Tony or Thor was actually extending a caring hand towards him. He swallowed deeply then forced a smile at the blond man.

"Thank you," Loki said quietly. They sat in silence for a long while before Steve up and left the room.

It was around ten at night when Tony came up from his workshop and found Loki in the same position he'd been in when Steve had spoken to him. The mortal had taken a second bath and changed into comfortable old clothes; baggy jeans and a sweater. He was also bearing several bottles of alcohol. Loki looked up at him and Tony shrugged.

"I know you don't like drinking," he said, lifting Loki's legs to snuggle up to him. "But I felt like we could both use a stiff drink tonight. Like a pick-me-up, y'know?"

"I've never agreed with anything you've said more, Anthony," Loki said, sitting up. He noticed that Anthony hadn't brought any glasses with him, and so he simply accepted a bottle and took a large swig of vodka straight from it. He shuddered as it burnt on the way down, but took another swig. Tony laughed.

"Whoa, easy there, Rudolph. Pace yourself," he said, patting the darker haired man's arm.

"No. I intend to get – damn, what's the word you use? Hammered?" Loki said.

"You wanna get hammered?" Tony asked, feeling a mixture of shocked and impressed. Loki nodded and Tony grinned wide. "Sure, baby. Let's get hammered."

Thor found the couple in the small hours of the morning; he'd ventured to the bathroom in the middle of the night and noticed that a light was switched on where it shouldn't have been. The two were fast asleep on the sofa, Tony flat on his back, one leg hanging off of the couch, a bottle loosely clasped in his hand. Loki was on top of him, his head resting on the mortal's chest, just above the Man of Iron's arc reactor. They were locked in a loose embrace, one of Loki's hands tucked beneath the littler man's torso, the other on his shoulder. Stark's free hand sat between Loki's shoulder blades. Thor couldn't stop watching for a long time; of course, he'd seen Loki sleep many times before – often when they were children he would sneak into Thor's chambers due to bad dreams – and a couple of times he'd seen Stark passed out drunk. But there was something that looked beautifully young and innocent in both men sleeping in each other's arms. Something that Thor did not want to disturb. So, rather than wake them or take them to bed, he simply tucked the tangled blanket around the sleeping pair, shut off the light, and headed back to his own bed.