A/N: Sorry for that crazy delay, guys. Life has been unbelievably stressful lately, and the cat – my cat – that inspired much of this fic is very sick. There were a couple times this week when I thought this was the end, but... well, I don't want to jinx it, but she seems to be improving, thank God. Anyway, worry, stress, and lack of sleep are not conditions conducive to fanfic writing. Hopefully we're over that hurdle, but we'll see.

Anyways: Loki kind of goes off his rocker here, which was bound to happen sooner or later. Don't worry, he and Tony will be having sexy tiemz verrrrrry soon. XD

(Also: RuinNine, I do believe you owe me a muffin. *waits expectantly*)

The Art of Being a Douché

Tony spent the rest of the day thinking about green-eyed gods of mischief and poppy seed muffins. Throughout the meeting, Pepper kept texting him to pay attention. Tony smiled and didn't listen to a word.

Loki spent the rest of the day drinking and cursing Tony Stark. It was dangerously weak for him – a god – to be so enamored with a mortal. If they went back to being enemies, he decided, then he could convince himself that all this extra emotion was anger and nothing more.

Pepper's long-suffering sigh came right on cue. "Really, Tony?" she asked, eyebrows arched. "Sunglasses? In a museum?"

"You're just upset because I make it work."

And because he might be a little tipsy. At least the shades obscured his puffy, bloodshot eyes. Made it a little hard to see, naturally, but it wasn't like it mattered: all art looked the same to him, anyway.

"So how long do I have to play nice before I can skedaddle?" he asked. He liked the way the consonants of that last word danced off his tongue and said "skedaddle" a few more times just for fun.

After the fourth "skedaddle" Pepper asked, "Tony, are you drunk?"

Tony tilted his head back and gave that question serious consideration. "You know, I'm not sure," he said. "I wouldn't say 'drunk' so much as 'not sober'."

Another long-suffering sigh from the redhead. Pepper rubbed at her forehead. "Okay, just... leave the talking to me. To answer your question, you're staying as long as you need to. You could use the good PR after that thing at Bon Jovi's party."

Tony smirked. "Now that was a night!"

"And..." Pepper paused until she was sure Tony was listening. "You should show at least some interest in the paintings you donated."

"Mmm? I donated paintings here?"

Pepper's look morphed from weary to exasperated. "Yes!" she answered, her voice rising an octave. "The Miró? The Mondrian?"

Tony scratched his head. "Which ones were those? Were those the ones with the squiggles and the cubes? Oh wait! They all look like that!"

Pepper pursed her lips, and Tony had the wisdom to look abashed. She stared at him for a long moment, cheeks red and jaw tight, as though trying to find a retort to adequately convey the many levels of her frustration. In the end, she only shook her head. "Come on," she said, spinning on her heel and leaving Tony to follow. He adjusted his stride to match the click of her heels.

They weaved through the press of bodies and past sculptures until they found themselves in a vaulted hallway packed with smartly dressed men and women, holding glasses of wine and nibbling on pastries. From floor to ceiling, the walls were covered with painting after painting in a contrast of styles, colors, and compositions. The canvases varied in sizes, growing progressively larger as they reached the top. Combined with the low buzz of the crowd, it was sensory overload.

"Oh, hey!" Tony exclaimed, catching sight of the refreshment table. "They have muffins!"

His smile turned bittersweet as he remembered his run-in with Loki that morning.

"Yes, Tony, they have muffins." Pepper patted his arm as though she were humoring a small child. "Hey," she added, pulling up next to him. "Before you start kibitzing and stuffing your face, there's a painting on loan here that I want to show you – "

"Yawn," Tony said dryly.

Pepper glared but continued. " – and that I think you will find amusing." She hooked her hand about his elbow and started to steer him towards a corner of the ginormous room.

"Oh, hey," he protested even as he followed, "if you're trying to cheer me up with one of those paintings of naked chicks, I wouldn't bother. Most of the chicks in those paintings are fat with tiny boobs, which is just... the worst of both worlds, really."

Pepper paused to level a disgusted look in his direction before continuing on a with a scowl. "Don't worry," she sighed. "No 'naked chicks'."

"Ah. Well, then I'm losing interest."

Pepper said nothing else. She pulled them both to a stop and gestured at a painting taller than they. People trickled in and out as Tony blinked at the canvas.

"Okay," he said slowly, pulling off his sunglasses. The light glinted off and obscured the top corner of the painting but provided no other illumination. "It's a very large painting of a very naked man in a boat, with a... sea serpent on a leash?"

He was not sure what Pepper thought about his tastes. She rolled her eyes and pointed at a plaque to the side of the painting. "Read the title," she said.

Tony took a step closer and squinted. It read:

"Thor Battering the Midgard Serpent, Henry Fuseli, circa 1790."

Tony blinked, reread the title, and stepped back to better take in the painting. He stared for a moment and then clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle a snort of laughter. "It's Thor!" he snickered, drawing questioning looks from people around him. "And it's not just Thor, it's naked Thor!" His shoulders shook with laughter. "Steve needs to see this."

Pepper watched in amusement as Tony pulled out a Stark Phone, took a picture, and sent it to Cap. It had taken a few months, but Tony had finally made Steve understand the ins and outs of his own matching phone. This was confirmed minutes later when he received a three-letter response:

lol!

"I'm surprised he even knows what 'lol' means," Pepper commented, looking over Tony's shoulder.

"Well, I wouldn't say that exactly." Tony bit back a smirk as he slipped his phone back into his jacket pocket. "He... may or may not be under the impression that 'lol' means 'lots of love'."

Pepper arched an eyebrow but looked less than surprised. "And when do you plan on telling him otherwise?"

"After he uses it in some horrifically inappropriate manner?"

Pepper sighed and shook her head the way she always did when she was amused but did not want to encourage Tony's antics. Just to verify, she sent Steve a text that read: my grandmother just died.

His response: lol :(

Pepper bit back a snort of laughter. "Alright," she said, clapping Tony on the shoulder. "Behave yourself. I'm going to go talk to the curator."

The click of her retreating heels was lost in the hubbub.

Tony was aware of someone standing at his shoulder moments later. He assumed Pepper had returned until he heard a distinctly male voice say in his ear, "Muffin?"

A set of long, pale fingers entered his line of sight, holding a chocolate muffin in front of his nose. Tony followed the fingers up the length of an arm into a familiar, smirking face.

"Uh... hi, Loki."

He realized then that that one word breathed into his ear had sent his blood pooling in places it shouldn't. Tony Stark had experienced many things, but it was the first time he had ever found himself turned on by the word muffin. That was just all sorts of wrong.

The god's smirk inched higher, and this close Tony could count the laugh lines that curled around his mouth and at the corners of his eyes. Loki arched a delicate eyebrow and glanced meaningfully at the muffin in hand. Tony took it from him without even thinking about it. He stared ponderously at the bit of pastry.

"It isn't poisoned, is it?" he had to ask.

"Only one way to find out."

Tony decided that was good enough for him. He shrugged and took a bite of muffin. He watched Loki, swiping his tongue over his teeth to dislodge any unattractive bits of chocolate. Loki watched him back with a sly look that reminded Tony of his cat form. There was something... off about him though, something unsteady in his expression.

"So, Loki, what brings you here?" he asked. He was torn between signaling Pepper to bring him his suit and putting on the moves. He landed somewhere in the middle and decided to just finish his muffin.

"I was bored."

Tony had expected as much. "I'm sure I can keep you entertained."

It was when Loki laughed breathily that Tony was aware of the smell of alcohol. He thought, for a moment, that the smell was from him. Then he realized that it had the faint grape scent he associated with wine, when he had stuck to the harder stuff today. He stared at Loki for a moment, somewhere between impressed and worried at this unexpected behavior. The god's eyes, he realized, were just this side of bloodshot.

"You're drunk," he noted.

"So are you," Loki replied, a tad defensively. He was enunciating his words very carefully.

"And as for your suggestion," Loki said. "I already have some entertainment planned."

The next thing Tony knew, he was staring down the barrel of a gun. He was only vaguely aware of the shrieks and gasps of horror around him, of the wide-eyed stares, and of the crowd giving them a wide berth.

"Really, Loki?" Tony sighed. He knew he should probably be more concerned about having a gun pointed at his face, but all he felt, oddly, was disappointment. "I didn't think guns were your style." He took another bite of his muffin, watching Loki closely.

The Trickster smirked and tilted his head. "I like to keep you on your toes," he said. "Besides, it's more for the symbolism of the thing."

Loki snapped his fingers, and there were more gasps all about them. Tony looked around, searching the room for signs of magic, and did a double-take when he got to the Fuseli. Where before stood a painting of Thor attacking a sea-serpent, there was now a painting of Loki on a throne, petting the sea-serpent and using a kneeling Thor as a footrest.

Loki nodded in satisfaction. "I think it's an improvement, don't you?"

Tony sighed. He could care less about a missing painting, but he knew that there were people here who did care and that this particular painting was probably worth a boat load of money. "Where's the painting, Loki?" he asked wearily. Why was Loki doing this now?

Loki defiantly returned his stare. "Tony, Tony, Tony," he sighed melodramatically. "I had thought that you'd be more concerned about the missing person than the missing painting."

Missing person? Tony's blood ran cold. There was something dark and angry in Loki's smile. "Loki," he murmured, almost pleading. "Don't do this, not now. I don't want to be your enemy – "

"We are enemies, Tony Stark!" Loki shouted. "Or have you forgotten?" There was hate and madness in Loki's eyes, but he was still smiling. That look, those words, hurt in a way that Tony should be used to by now.

"Loki..."

"You humans, always so in awe of yourselves and your own meager achievements. You!" Loki kept his gun trained on Tony, but turned to address a plump woman with a name tag. Next to her stood Pepper, who exchanged helpless glances with Tony. The plump woman – the curator – jumped and shook like a leaf at the address. Loki scratched his head with the muzzle of his gun. Even without the gun trained on him, Tony knew better than to see that as a moment of weakness. "I will return one to you: a Mr. Newcastle or this painting that you revere so much." Loki gestured vaguely in the direction of the painting. "Pick one."

The woman's eyes widened. "P-Please return Mr. Newcastle," she said, though there was great pain in her eyes. Tony wanted to punch Loki in the face for doing that to someone.

Loki frowned. "And leave a piece of history with me? All humans die at some point anyway, but artwork like this could exist forever if taken care of. Wrong choice."

The woman shook even harder. "T-Then give back the Fuseli?" she said, her voice little more than a squeak.

"You would abandon one of your own like that?" Loki replied in mock horror. "Mmm, no, still the wrong answer."

The woman burst into tears, and Loki laughed.

Tony clenched his hands into fists. He wanted to grab Loki by the throat and shake some sense back into him. Maybe, in a way, he could. "Then I have a third solution," he said. He knew he should probably think this through, but by then he might be too late. Loki looked back at him, head tilted in curiosity. "Return Newcastle and the painting, and take me as your hostage instead."

He recognized the blurted, "WHAT?" that followed as belonging to Pepper.

Tony kept his eyes trained on Loki. He tried to find traces of the god who had saved his life, watched bad Spanish soap operas with him, drank coffee with him, and kissed him within an inch of his life. He was still there, he knew, under the anger and the alcohol and all that gods-damned emotional baggage. Loki, please, he wanted to say, but the god was too far gone to listen right then.

The Trickster stared back at him for a long moment, his expression inscrutable. "Done," he said at last. He snapped his fingers again, and the world seemed to lurch sideways.

Footnote: Guys. The next review will be number 300. There are no words to express how much I love you guys and how much your words of encouragement have inspired me. To say I'm honored would be the understatement of the century. *sniffle*

MUFFINS FOR EVERYONE!