"I'm having a mid-life crisis", Tony announced to the ceiling of his room. He was laying on his bed, spread-eagled atop of the blanket, and staring upwards. "A mid-life-crisis-induced sexuality crisis, and that's a thing now because I said it. And I'm also talking to my ceiling, but that's not important right now." With a long-suffering wail, he turned around and buried his face in a pillow. "I am not attracted to men", he muttered, muffled by the fabric pressing against his mouth, "I am not attracted to men, I am not... not... oh dear Lord, this is so fucking ridiculous, could someone just kill me already." He wasn't attracted to men.
He did have eyes though and, from a purely heterosexual point of view, could say that Loki was really nice to look at.
Purely. Heterosexual. Way. Shut the hell up, brain.
After grumbling into his pillow some more, Tony decided that there were more productive ways to spend his time and reluctantly swung his legs off the bed. It was still early and he had – despite Loki's reassurances and promises – not slept well, he had woken up several times during the night and had never quite fallen back to sleep, so at some point, he had decided that tossing and turning for any longer wouldn't really be restful.
He bathed, got dressed, shaved and it was still dark outside – just what the hell did early risers do with their time? There was literally nothing he could think of.
Well, actually... with a smirk, he slipped into his leather boots. Maybe there was something he could do, something that would pass the time and... and possibly atone for his behaviour from the day before, although he didn't believe that Loki would hold that against him. Still, in hindsight, he felt ridiculous. Might as well make up for that, since he didn't have anything better to do.
He sneaked past Loki's room and nodded towards the guards in front of the prince's wing, trying to look more at ease than he actually was, and tried to find his way to the kitchen. It did take him longer than when Loki had went with him, but in his estimation, he had only turned about three wrong corners and found his way without help eventually. The palace's hallways were surprisingly quiet, the only ones up were servants who scurried past him with their eyes on the ground and their shoulders hunched. Seeing it made Tony stand up straighter out of reflex – he was never going to be of the kind who desperately tried not to be seen. No matter how hard he was pushed, that was just not him.
With his full weight, he pushed against the door of the kitchen, half-expecting it to be locked or the room to be empty, but he was greeted by the same familiar smell as during his last visits. Someone had to prepare breakfast for their Royal Highnesses, after all. Quietly, he slipped into the room, which was much more quiet at this time in the morning, and stood there awkwardly for a moment, looking around for somebody he knew before he spotted Marianne and sighed in relief. For someone who was supposed to be a slave, he was surprisingly clueless when it came to actually doing something slave-ish.
He approached Marianne carefully and was relieved when she turned around before he said something. A smile spread on her face and she greeted him enthusiastically while pinching his cheek like he was eight years old again: "Anthony, you look so much better than just a few days ago, my boy. And in Loki's colours, I see! They do suit you."
"'anks", Tony replied, "'ut you could let go o' my face now."
"Of course, dear", the cook answered with a large smile. "Now, what is it you're here for at this time in the morning?"
"Well, I..." The inventor rubbed his cheek with a hand. "I just wanted to... uh... You don't possibly know what Loki likes for breakfast, do you?"
"Of course I do, I have served him breakfast before he could do so much as order it", Marianne responded and beckoned Tony to follow her. He complied and tried not to think about a chubby baby Loki with large, green eyes and small, clumsy hands wrapped around a silver spoon while he uttered incoherent syllables of baby garble. Marianne kept talking about how Loki had always loved the sweet things, and the image of baby Loki in Tony's head got an additional smudge of chocolate on its cheek. Awww.
Together with Marianne, he put a breakfast together that included some soft and probably sweet pastries and the porridge that they had eaten some days before. When Marianne wasn't looking, Tony slipped some more berries into Loki's bowl, remembering how the prince had picked them out to eat first when they had had breakfast together. Not that he had memorized that. It had just stuck with him because it was so adorable. No. Weird. It was weird, yeah, that's the word.
"You're so hopeless", he muttered to himself under his breath, shaking his head, and put the two bowls onto a tray together with the sweet pastries.
"What was that?", Marianne asked with a quirked eyebrow, looking more amused than offended.
"Uh, nothing, nothing at all", the engineer replied hurriedly and picked the tray up from the counter. "Thanks, I'll be going then. Wanna be back before he wakes up."
"A surprise!", she exclaimed with delight. "You, young people, are so sweet with each other." Tony sputtered and was about to reply, but she just waved it off and placed two mugs and a kettle on his tray before she patted him on the back. "Go, Loki is an early riser. Shush." She practically shoved him out of the doors and Tony sighed. She was just a funny old woman with a mother complex. It didn't matter what she thought.
He considered knocking when he stood in front of Loki's door, but since his hands were full, that wasn't really an option. He pressed the ornate door handle down with his elbow and leaned against the door with his back (goddamn Asgardian doors). He shuffled into the room quietly as soon as the gap was wide enough. Outside of the window, it was only just starting to dawn and the prince was tangled up in his bedsheets, a completely peaceful expression on his face, his lips slightly parted and black hair tousled. Tony caught himself staring for a second too long and winced as the door clicked shut behind him with a small thud. The sound made Loki stir and the inventor hurried over to the desk they had eaten at before, but it was already covered in scrolls and quills again. He really didn't want to mess with any of that.
After a moment of indecision, he looked at the sky outside again and slipped out onto the balcony, placing the tray on the bench that stood next to the wall. Then, he entered the room again and moved towards Loki's bed. The god had pulled his blanket up around his shoulders and was curled up on his side, which was (once again judged with a purely heterosexual point of view, of course) absolutely adorable.
Tony cleared his throat and leaned down. How did you wake a prince? Quietly, he called out: "Loki? Wakey-wakey?" Loki turned around and pulled the blanket over his head. "Seriously now? Come on, you big baby, you're the early riser", the engineer grumbled. "The sun's smiling for you, blah blah blah, give me your attention or I'm going to steal your blanket!"
"What is it?", the god's muffled voice mumbled from under the covers. "Nightmare?" He raised the blanket with an arm as if inviting Tony to join him while he muttered: "It's fine, come here..."
Tony took a few steps back and shook his head, torn between laughing and groaning in exasperation. "I am not joining you in bed, you lazy sleepyhead, you're supposed to get up! No cuddles for you." Dear god, was he blushing? He wasn't, nope. Loki hadn't even meant it like that, he was half-asleep, he couldn't be taken seriously. "Not snuggling, waking up. You. Come on." Another advantage of the god not being quite awake yet was that there was a chance that he would just forget Tony's embarrassing ramble.
Finally, Loki opened his eyes and blinked at him, tired and apparently confused, before sitting up slowly and running a hand through his tousled hair. "What is it?", he repeated, voice heavy with sleep, and the adorable image made the inventor laugh. For the first time, he really missed something as trivial as a camera.
"I brought breakfast", he replied, "but I'll eat all the berries if you don't come."
Sighing, the prince rubbed a hand over his eyes and blinked. "You?", he asked. "You, the most disobedient, unusual, insolent, non-slavish slave I have ever met, have made breakfast? What did they do to you?" From anybody else, the enumeration of adjectives would have been insulting, but Loki made them sound fond and slightly amused.
"I can be nice, you know", Tony responded sulkily. "But I can eat it on my own, that's no problem, I'll just go and..."
"Hush, hush, I am up", the god interrupted with a small laugh, tossing the blanket aside. "That might be the one chance I get in my whole life to be actually served by you."
"Shut up or I'll really eat it alone", the inventor grumbled and pointed towards the balcony. "Out there. The sun's rising right now, that's a wonderful picture." He wasn't sure when had he started to appreciate things like that, but maybe he had needed not being able to see them to be able to worship them.
He chose not to think about that too closely as he followed Loki outside and gestured towards the tray on the bench. True to his word, the first rays of sunlight were colouring the sky in a soft red, contrasting with the dark blue that still hung over most of Asgard. Loki, still in dark green silk pyjamas, sleepy eyes and tousled hair, sat down with a smile towards the morning sky and Tony was, for once, completely content with fulfilling his tasks as a slave when he put one of the bowls with the porridge into the prince's hands before sitting down next to him and taking his own. It was something else with Loki; he wasn't forced to do it, he had chosen to do it himself and it was appreciated and not taken for granted. It didn't feel like slavery at all.
He saw Loki glancing into his own bowl, definitely noticing the unusual amount of the strange, sweet berries in it, and had to smile at the way the god's face lit up at the sight.
"Thank you", the prince said with a bright smile and Tony stared at him in surprise. That was unexpected. Loki was actually thanking him for something that should be normal, expected from a slave. Not only that, but the fact that someone was thanking him at all – nobody had done that in ages – rendered Tony speechless for a moment, but Loki, still sleepy and relaxed, didn't seem to notice.
"Just, uh... don't get used to it", the inventor muttered and started to eat (and no, he was not picking the berries out one by one like Loki did, it was enough if one of them had that silly habit, wasn't it?), watching the sun rise over the railing of the balcony and, for some minutes, not talking at all. They took their time to finish and the silence was comfortable, a pleasant absence of mindless chatter or conversations about bothersome topics.
It had to end, though, and when they both had finished off the last bits of their pastries and had mugs of tea in their hands, the prince turned towards him and asked: "Is something wrong?"
Tony huffed into his tea and rolled his eyes. "Is me, not acting like a prick for once, such a big deal?" He didn't want to admit that it was sort of an apology for the day before – he knew he didn't need to apologize, but still, he knew that their quarrel could probably have been avoided if he had just listened. Not that Loki had made no mistake at all, but... well. No use thinking about that now. "I just didn't sleep very well", he admitted, "and was bored, so I thought I could do something with my time. I hope I didn't wake you too early, by the way, but Marianne said you were an early riser."
"I am", Loki reassured. "And you could have come to me if you had nightmares."
"Still not a cuddler", the engineer muttered.
"I didn't say anything about cuddling, did I?", the god asked with a raised eyebrow and Tony stared down at his tea, praying that Loki would take his flush as an effect of the red sunlight. "I merely offered company."
The inventor cleared his throat. "Well", he murmured, "I, uh..." Time to initiate a subtle change of topic. "So I've been thinking about Freyja", he announced, making the god frown. "Wanna tell me about your plan?"
Loki is quiet for a moment – Tony's change of topic hadn't been that subtle, after all. He'd probably have to work on that. But after some seconds, he nodded slowly and began: "I cannot tell you every detail, but I think it will be enough." He leaned back against the wall, apparently thinking about what he was going to reveal and how. "The ceremony will begin", he explained slowly, "but I have taken care that a... distraction will end it before Thor is actually king. Therefore, the bargain with Freyja will not take effect."
"Okay", Tony said, drawing the word out long. "So the ceremony is going to be initiated, with guests and everything?"
"It will", the prince confirmed.
"So we've got to make it look like we're keeping the deal", the inventor stated. "How do you transfer slaves in Asgard? Is there a contract? As in, a written one? Are there special ceremonies, do..."
"Stop", Loki interrupted. Tony looked up to see the god's jaw clenched.
"Stop what?", the inventor asked, confusion written openly in his face. "I'm just trying to..."
"Stop talking about yourself like that", the prince cut in sharply. "Like you are... an object, an item to trade with."
"But that's what all this is based on, Loki", he responded.
"I know!", Loki snapped and Tony flinched at the sudden increase in volume. Quieter, the mage repeated: "I know, but hearing you talk about yourself like this... it feels wrong." He sighed.
"Really, now?", the inventor asked, unable to keep a hint of cynicism out of his voice. "You know, you did buy me. Like someone buys an object."
"Could we not fight again?", the prince asked, exasperation clear on his features. "It leads nowhere and you know that just as good as I do, so drop it now." Tony tore his gaze away and looked at the sky because Loki's eyes looked far too open and honest as he quietly continued: "You know that you are so much more than that."
That didn't leave much room to make a witty reply, so Tony just didn't. He sipped at his tea, stared at the sky and waited for the moment to pass because he didn't feel like he was able to deal with it right now. Loki didn't bring it back up either when the engineer finally asked: "So, what will we do now? Not about her, I mean, but now. As in, right now."
The prince looked down at his silk pyjamas and replied: "I suppose I should make myself presentable, and after that... I think I know just what to do with our time." The mischievous glint in his eyes promised that it would be a lot of things, but, definitely, not boring.
#
An hour later, they were on their way to another breakfast with Thor and his friends. Loki, still grinning in a way that promised mayhem, insisted that they should pick Fandral up on their way to Thor's room – despite the fact that the thunder god's quarters were a lot closer than Fandral's. But Loki obviously had some sort of plan, so Tony followed him without complaints.
They met the swordsman just as he was leaving his quarters and Tony couldn't help but feel a bit of pity as he saw Fandral's eyes widen at the sight of Loki approaching. Pining over somebody who didn't want you was a horrible thing and to do it for centuries? Being immortal was probably not always pleasant. Not when it came to that sort of thing.
With a slight shake of his head, he forced those thoughts into the back of his mind and watched the prince greeting Fandral. The blond threw an arm around Loki's shoulders and pulled him to his side while walking, and to Tony's surprise, Loki let it happen, his mischievous grin only growing. Something seemed wrong about that, something was off, not quite right...
...or it's just you being jealous, the unhelpful voice in his mind supplied.
Shut up, he commanded grumpily. He had no reason to be jealous, that was ridiculous. Even when Loki actually leaned into the touch and clasped a hand over Fandral's – why should Tony care? It wasn't like he had any claim on Loki or something like that. Nope, he was just being irrational. And it was Fandral's fault. Everything was Fandral's fault, anyway.
"Don't look so sullen", the swordsman whispered into his ear when they were about to enter the room, winking with a wide grin.
"Shut up, I'm not sulking", Tony snapped, crossing his arms, and no, he did not stomp his foot while saying that.
Well, maybe a little.
But then, Loki ducked out from under Fandral's arm with a sweet smile and was at the inventor's side in an instant, leaning down to breathe softly: "There is no need to glare at us like that." Tony just huffed as they sat down next to each other. "Let me show you something. Look around." Tony obeyed, albeit confused, and studied the persons at the table. Thor was greeting Loki enthusiastically, sitting next to his warrior girl and opposite from his brother. On his other side sat the Asian-looking warrior (Hogun, if Tony remembered correctly) and Fandral had taken the seat next to him, a confusingly leering grin in place. Next to Loki sat the corpulent, axe-swinging, bearded warrior, busily stuffing his face with food. "Now, let me show you how Fandral sees this", the prince whispered, touching Tony's hand under the table.
He needed a moment to tell the difference, but when he did, he had to feign a cough to hide his laughter. Next to Fandral sat, instead of Hogun, a beautiful, black-haired woman, and the swordsman was eagerly chatting her up. In a hushed voice, Tony demanded: "Wait, you did that? You mean Fandral sees... her, because of that?"
"Shht", Loki silenced him, suppressing a chuckle but not quite succeeding, "you are too loud! Just wait. That is why I let him touch me, by the way. Bodily contact helps casting the spell." The look in his eyes was far too knowing to be comfortable (but there was nothing to know, right?), so Tony just turned to look across the table again. His vision had turned back to normal and Loki had withdrawn his hand, so Tony clasped his fingers around a mug of tea and raised it to hide his growing grin as he gazed across the table.
"Are you seeing someone, gorgeous?", Fandral asked, earning an unimpressed look from Hogun. Tony wondered if he had ever heard the black-haired man saying anything. "I suppose not, seeing as you are obviously Thor's guest – oh, but I understand, I will have to work to make you even answer me, won't I? Fine then. Did anyone tell you today how wonderful your hair looks in that braid?" The others were starting to glance over at the pair – after all, Fandral was the only one subjected to the illusion. Tony didn't dare to take a sip of his tea because he might spit it all over the table when he started laughing. "What are your plans after you finished your meal? Whatever the answer is, I am sure I could be much more entertaining." Tony coughed, trying desperately to keep himself in check. This was getting good. "Still not an answer? Oh dear, I see how it is", Fandral continued with a confident smirk. He raised a hand and threaded it through the hair on Hogun's neck.
By now, Loki was the only one who was still seeming completely unimpressed – although Tony did see how he kept glancing towards two certain persons at the table. Hogun was finally looking up at Fandral, a mixture of confusion and annoyance on his features. Still, he did not say a word.
"Fandral, do you not think you are going a bit far?", Sif spoke up sharply from Thor's other side.
The swordsman just grinned and leaned closer towards Hogun as he replied cockily: "I do not hear any protest – do you?" Directed at the man next to him, he continued: "I shall see if I can get a noise out of you when we are not in the company of others, dear."
Apparently, that was overstepping a line, because Hogun snapped around and punched him in the face without any sign of warning. Fandral fell from his bench, apparently too stunned to regain his balance in time, and Loki choked on the bit of bread he had been chewing on. He waved a hand, apparently discarding the spell, because a moment later, Fandral bit out a string of violent curses and pointed an accusing finger at the god: "It was him, I know it, he..."
"He will have to be going, actually", Loki cut in, standing up and pulling the inventor with him, "because there is... something that needs attention. It was a joy to eat with you." Before anyone could utter a word of protest, he and Tony disappeared in a whirl of black and green, re-materialising somewhere in the gardens, and the engineer leaned against Loki, clutching his sides as he finally laughed freely. The god joined in without hesitation and they collapsed onto a near bench, both rendered speechless and howling with laughter.
"Did-", Tony began after a minute, gasping for air and trying to suppress a fit of giggles before trying again, "did you see his face when he realized it? Jesus, he looked so done for a moment, I'm... I have literally nothing to add to that. That's rare, Lokes, that's rare. My god, laughing hurts. You're such an ass, did anyone ever tell you that? Fandral is going to murder you."
"He is not", Loki stated with a large grin. The bad thing about that was that he was probably right.
"He is not", Tony agreed. "Still gonna be pissed, though."
"Well", the prince replied slowly, not commenting on the inventor's choice of words (not everyone was made for Shakespearian English, dammit), "maybe that means he will not try to sleep with me for a week. That might be quite refreshing."
The dry comment sent Tony over the edge again and he crouched with his arms wrapped around himself as he started laughing anew. Loki's company was unhealthy, he was going to die from this one day. Suffocate, probably, if he didn't manage to breathe in-between his fits of giggles. The only thing that was missing now was Frigga walking in on them again.
"By the way", Loki added nonchalantly, studying his fingernails with deep fascination, "they might be more busy with getting Volstagg to wash out his mouth."
Tony raised an eyebrow. "Loki, what did you do?"
"Me?", the mage asked with a scandalised look. "I am innocent. Pure. But for some reason, Volstagg must have bitten into the wrong sort of pastry. He might find unhealthy amounts of pepper in there."
"You're a horrible, horrible person", Tony stated, although it wasn't like he was any better. He enjoyed this far too much to exclude himself from the god's pranking war.
"And if Sif uses the same hair lotion as yesterday", Loki continued with an ever-growing, malicious grin, "she might wake up with an unusual hair colour tomorrow. What do you think, would green suit her?" Tony didn't even bother replying anymore. It would be hard to get a word out, anyway, he was too busy choking on his own laughter. "Also, Thor might find it difficult to lift Mjölnir today", the prince drawled, crossing his legs and leaning back. "I might or might not have tried a new sort of extremely sticky substance on her. It is his own fault when he leaves her on his night stand, though."
"That's it, Lokes, I'm dead", Tony announced. "I'm seriously, officially dead, I'm going to – god, I don't even know how I still speak so much."
"Me neither", Loki commented drily. "But there is still a castle full of people right in front of us, so I suggest you calm yourself and we go to... entertain ourselves."
"I am so in for that."
#
That was how they spent day eight. From there on, they followed a more or less normal routine, only interrupted by Loki's... carefully phrased, interesting ideas of entertainment. Tony couldn't say that he minded.
Day twelve ended with both of them covered in flour and the palace's kitchen in a mess.
Day fifteen involved horseback-riding and a stable boy who had really not deserved Loki's pranks.
Day nineteen began with Tony waking from a nightmare, but ended with both of them watching the sun go down in the gardens. Tony thought he had seen Frigga sneaking past them at some point, but he couldn't really be sure.
The day after that, Loki began to teach Tony how to read the Asgardian runes (which was about the most complicated thing he had ever tried to learn). Not too much later, he was able to roughly translate simple sentences, and it would be a lie to say that the glint of pride and fondness in Loki's eyes when Tony caught on to something wasn't almost half of his motivation.
There was one thing that Loki never was, and that was boring. There was always something to do, something to explore and explain, someone to taunt or to meet, a story to tell or a place to see. Time whirled past in a haze that was... surprisingly enjoyable, even with the coronation day looming over their heads.
When he stood in the workshop in front of the forge some days later, working on a pair of handcuffs (because if he was going to stand in front of Freyja in chains, then it would be his own), Tony realized with a slight shock that he had stopped counting the days.