Against all odds, the ham sandwich Thor made is the best Tony's ever had. Hands down. He went all out and must have used three different kinds of mustard, plus a perfect, light layer of mayo with a hint of black pepper and... is that brown sugar? Whatever it is, it's amazing, and Tony wishes he'd had the foresight to ask for two. Or five. And another side plate of little triangular cheese slices and pickle rounds. (Thor really thought of everything.)

Tony always thinks best when he's working, so he's come up to the mini workshop on the second floor to tinker with his suit. Currently, it's in about forty pieces scattered all over the carpet from his hasty and not exactly careful removal the night before. He needs to stick it back into some kind of working order. Easier said than done: this workshop isn't anywhere close to his normal standards. He remembers shipping some old stuff out here a year ago, enough for a bare-bones startup operation, but somehow fully outfitting a house in Atlantic City never really reached the top of his priorities list. Or even unpacking the crates.

And now in the absence of sufficient robotic help he's trying to get sand out of finger joints with a toothbrush and a hair dryer he found in the bathroom.

Just forget about the sand, he tells himself. Think about Loki. What's that dick up to? Funny enough, usually he's giving the opposite advice: concentrate on the job and don't think too much about the cocksucker who's trying to enslave the planet. Apparently this means that, at the moment, Loki is less annoying than sand.

So he'll just work it through. Logically. Starting point? Loki said his minions wouldn't activate anything until he gave the order. If this is true, that gives Tony and Thor an advantage: they could have days at their disposal to convince Loki that he doesn't really want to destroy the world and he should let them take the Tesseract. Or S.H.I.E.L.D. could find it first. And would that be so bad? Well, for Tony, Thor and Loki, yes. For the rest of the world, maybe not. It'd be back to status quo.

But then there's always the possibility Loki was lying about having to give the order to start up the doomsday device. Actually, there's a real good chance Loki was lying, since lying, bullshitting, twisting the truth, misleading and deceiving seem to be all he ever does. In that case... maybe Loki's so twitchy because the doomsday device has already been activated. Maybe that alien army Thor told everyone about is on its way right now. Maybe Tony should stop screwing around with a hairdryer and just suit up, sand and all.

He switches the hairdryer off and listens. The house is quiet. Not a sound from downstairs. No Loki struggling to escape, no Thor wrestling him to the ground to stop him. Still though, it's been almost two hours. Maybe he should go check on them. He has this feeling in his gut that trying to keep Loki imprisoned is kind of like trying to keep oil in a basket, no matter what Thor says about enchanted chains and magic hammers. He heads down.

"Guys?"

No answer. But the TV is on, playing something full of explosions and yelling.

"Guys?"

This time, Thor answers, "We're in the television room."

Good. That means no doomsday and no escape. That he knows of. Yet. Tony grabs a granola bar as he passes through the kitchen on his way to join Thor. When he rounds the wall separating the kitchen from the living room, he stops. The Asgardians have changed clothes in the two hours he was upstairs. Thor's still wearing pants, but he's lost his shirt. Loki's gained a shirt, but still no pants. And if that were the weirdest thing about the scene in the living room, Tony would consider himself lucky. But he's not lucky.

Thor and Loki are cuddled up together on the couch. Loki's eyes are shut as his head rests on Thor's shoulder, Thor's arm is draped over Loki's back to hold him close, and the two of them look all too comfortable. And when Thor's eyes flick up to notice Tony's presence... nothing changes. There's no momentary freeze or flinch accompanied by a horrified expression of 'oh god you caught me snuggling with my brother'. Nor is there any mad scramble away, pretending they weren't just doing what they were doing. Instead, there's nothing more than a slow, even nod of acknowledgement from Thor to Tony. A simple gesture that says, 'We're good here'. Meanwhile, his confident posture says, 'We do this all the time back home. Everyone does. There, it's totally normal for two
grown brothers to cuddle on the couch like bunnies. Not at all weird.'

Tony, unsure of the correct social protocol for this kind of situation, just stands where he is. Staring. Trying not to stare. Seriously, where the hell should he be looking? He settles for gluing his eyes to the TV. At least it's a show about exploding cars.

"Do you wish to sit?" asks Thor.

"Oh... uh..." No. "Sure?" He takes his place on the recliner again, sitting just on the edge in case things go downhill and he has to make a quick getaway. He opens his mouth to say something meaningless to break the tension, maybe about ham sandwiches or how much he hates sand, but the words that come out are, "How's Loki?" And he could kick himself for asking, because of all the potential conversation topics in the world, cuddly Loki is about the last one he wants to broach.

It gets worse when Loki, whom he'd assumed was asleep again, opens his eyes and smirks. "I'm so touched that you care, Tony Stark."

Fucking hell, when is he going to drop that?

"I think you are feeling much better, are you not?" Thor asks, speaking as much to Tony as to Loki.

"Oh yes," Loki answers. "Everything is lovely now."

He flashes Thor the most insincere smile, which Thor returns, sincerely. "You look better," says Thor.

Tony has to admit that's true. Loki's face no longer has the sunken grayness and waxy pallor it did earlier. He looks healthier. He looks almost normal, despite the lack of pants and the way his hair has dried in erratic loose curls sticking up all over his head, kind of flattened on one side.

He looks less normal when he scootches up closer to his brother, closing his eyes again as he presses his face against Thor's shoulder and wraps his arms more tightly around Thor's waist. Then Thor reciprocates by smoothing down Loki's absurd hair while leaning in to his ear to whisper something too soft for Tony to hear.

"Okay!" Tony says brightly, jumping up from his seat. "Thor, can we have a team meeting in the kitchen?"

ooo

This is how Tony begins: "As an employer, whenever I need to ream out one of my workers, I like to start off on a positive note. So, positive note: that was one epic ham sandwich you made. I mean it. Really good. I want you to make a whole plate of them for dinner. Now. Um. ...Did you notice that? The 'um'? The bad part always comes after the 'um', which I like to insert because it makes it sound like this is hard for me. Like I have to stall and search for those tough, disciplinary words. The 'um' softens the blow. And with that in mind..." He points to the living room wall. "Um, what the actual fuck?"

"I do not understand what you mean by that," says Thor. He's frowning just the smallest bit, brow ever so slightly creased in innocent confusion and concern. "Tony Stark, if you worry that I am in danger of being gulled by my brother, let me assure you: I do not trust him. But if it please you, I will pursue no action where he is concerned without first asking your opinion to ensure my judgment is sound and unclouded by our past."

Huh. "Well that's... that's very wise of you, Thor." Wise, but not at all what Tony was asking. "Thanks. But actually I just wanted to know what was up with you two being cuddle-bunnies on the couch."

Thor's frown deepens. "Is that problematic? He is my brother."

"Yeah, that's kind of why it's problematic. Most brothers here on Earth don't really do that kind of thing after age five or so."

"Truly?" And now his frown has changed to something sadder. "I am sorry to hear. Why is that so?"

"Because... it's kind of a little weird?" Tony offers.

"But surely the men of Midgard are not so cold-hearted as to feign they do not love their brothers!"

Tony shakes his head. "It's kind of a lot weird."

"Hm," says Thor. He still has that sad look, like he pities all the repressed clods on Earth who don't buy into the free love hippie revolution. "On Asgard, it is different. We do not fear what is in our hearts." Then, as if that's that and the matter's closed, cuddle-bunny heads back to the living room.

"Wait wait wait."

Tony's call stops him. Thor turns around, expectant.

"So you're saying," Tony begins, "just so I'm clear on this, back on Asgard everybody would be fine with you cuddling. Also fine with not wearing any pants. Maybe even cuddling while not wearing any pants."

"Yes," Thor confirms.

"Okay then."

Long, awkward pause. Thor raises his eyebrows in a silent question: are you done?

Asgardians are a cuddly people. Or maybe they're just a people incapable of doing anything in half-measures. They wage wars that span worlds and declare their love just as grandly. They are a people completely unfamiliar with the phrase 'tone it down'. They are a living, breathing Japanese cartoon.

"I'm going back upstairs," says Tony.

ooo

It's almost nine when Thor comes up to see him. By this time, Tony's given up on sand removal and is slouched against the wall with his helmet on, talking to Jarvis about the potential pitfalls (many) of trying to remotely access the bug he planted on S.H.I.E.L.D.'s network to see whether or not Banner's script has managed to pick up any hint of the Tesseract. (Verdict: too risky.)

"Tony Stark?"

Tony pulls off the helmet, partly because he can see better without it but mostly because he knows he looks dumb wearing it with his jeans. As soon as it's off, he realizes he shouldn't have bothered. For either reason.

Once again Thor has managed to change clothes. Only this time he's back to the towel, paired with Loki's Nagano shirt. However that came about, Tony decides he doesn't want to know.

"Yes, Thor?"

"I must make my report back to Asgard. Loki said up here would be best."

"For any special reason, or just to bother me?"

Thor pauses to think about that. "Likely to bother you," he admits. "Apologies. I should have thought-"

"No, it's okay." Tony rolls the helmet aside to join the rest of the armor heap and stands up. "I need to get some food anyway. You can... uh... How do you contact Asgard? You need me to help you rig up some kind of E.T.-Phone-Home machine?"

"No machine is necessary," says Thor. "I need only call out to Heimdall and he will hear."

"You're going to yell into space?"

"Yes."

Considering everything else that's happened in the last twenty-four hours, that actually doesn't sound totally unreasonable. "Let me know how it goes. I'll be downstairs. Is Loki still on the couch?"

"No," says Thor, and he looks down as if he might be able to see up through the floor to the room below. "He was hungry. I left him seated in the kitchen."

Loki in the kitchen. Something about that sounds like it has the potential for endless disaster. Tony, as the only trustworthy and mature adult in the house, better get downstairs.

"Wait, Tony Stark." Thor grabs his hand before he's two steps away. His hand. And then keeps holding it. Asgardians really are too lovey-dovey. "Beware. Loki is plotting something, and I believe it involves you."

"Of course he is," says Tony. "He's the God of Assholes."

Thor's expression, which until now Tony would have described as 'perpetually mildly concerned', shifts into 'disturbed and disbelieving'. It's a feeling Tony knows well.

"I didn't mean literally," he says, but it's too late. The mental image is already there. "Oh hell."

"Be careful, my friend," says Thor. "Do not listen to him, and, more importantly, do not let him touch you."

Tony raises an eyebrow, but Thor doesn't elaborate. He just stands there looking mildly concerned again, as if this is a common warning in Asgard and Tony should know what he's talking about. Casually, Tony pulls his hand out of Thor's grip. "Okay, thanks. Good thing I was already planning on not letting that happen, ever."

ooo

Down in the kitchen, Loki's sitting on a stool at the island, loudly sucking up the dregs of a juice box. He's wearing a burgundy chenille throw blanket like a toga. By this point, Tony doesn't even care any more.

"Are you going to tell me where the Tesseract is now?" he asks as he opens the fridge. It's time for another ham sandwich.

"Are you going to tell me what drove you to free me from S.H.I.E.L.D.'s prison?" Loki returns.

"No."

"Then we are still at an impasse."

Loki doesn't say anything else the whole time Tony makes the sandwich and microwaves a can of beans. He also doesn't say anything when Tony takes a seat at the island across from him. He just sits there sucking on that damn juice box and breaking a Triscuit into successively smaller pieces, rolling bits of crumbs between his fingers.

He looks worse again, shaky and too pale with shadowed eyes. But the bizarre pearly scars have healed a little, at least from what Tony can see: some of the ridges have disappeared and the purple-blue sheen is starting to fade. It still looks like it hurts, though, judging from the way he sits with his shoulders hunched and his head down.

Tony's always considered it a dipshit move when people point out you resemble something the cat dragged in. So that's exactly what he does. "You know, you were looking a lot better in the living room earlier," he says through a mouthful of beans. "Now you have that vampiric emo pallor again."

Loki rolls his eyes. He actually rolls his eyes. It makes him look even more emo. "I told you, a great deal of energy is required to heal my injuries. The extent of that energy expenditure has certain consequences. Some of them manifest outwardly."

"What about the cuddling? Is being weird and cuddly some kind of side effect?"

"No more than wearing a splint is a side effect of having a broken arm," Loki answers.

Tony freezes halfway through a bite of sandwich once he realizes what Loki means. "Wait, cuddling is the treatment?"

He's pretty sure he's sporting the same disturbed/disbelieving expression Thor had upstairs, because Loki's smile just got way too wide. "Physical contact is a means to realign energy balances," Loki explains.

"Are you serious?" asks Tony. "Because this sounds like the plot for a Care Bears episode where the evil wizard uses too much black magic but everything can be set right through the healing power of hugs."

When Loki keeps smiling, Tony has the feeling he's stumbled way closer to the truth than he really wants to be. "Allow me show you," says Loki. "Give me your hand."

Without thinking, Tony reaches out across the island. It's only when Loki's fingers brush his that he remembers Thor's warning.

Do not let him touch you.

Too late. Loki has Tony's hand in his grasp. As soon as there's contact, a jolt like an electric shock shoots up Tony's arm and straight through his body. With a shout, he yanks his hand away - no mean feat considering Loki has a grip like a pit bull's jaws.

"What was that?!"

"The residue of magic."

"Actual magic or 80s rock ballad magic?"

Loki ignores him, which might be for the best. "Though I hesitate to use the word 'magic' since it will surely bring to mind your cultural stereotypes of bearded men in pointy hats."

He's right. It does.

"Whenever I call upon any magical powers, it results in the accumulation of an equal amount of... let's call it inert magic. In small amounts, this has little impact. It eventually fades. But an excess of inert magic, built up when too much power is used in too short a time, can have negative consequences. I need to transfer it to someone else while drawing in new energy from that person at the same time."

"Right," says Tony. What he actually means is, 'Yeah right.'

"You don't believe me."

Tony shakes his head. "No. And not just the magic energy transfer, which - don't get me wrong - is ridiculous, but I'm more disbelieving of your sincerity in telling me all this. Why divulge your weakness?"

"I never said it was a weakness."

"You distinctly said 'negative consequences'."

"Did I specify that they were negative only for me?" And he grins again, the slimy bastard. "Your discomfort amuses me. I enjoy watching your limited human mind struggle with concepts fit only for gods."

Oh, this is going well. Why does he always let himself get sucked into these stupid arguments? Back on track, Stark. Focus on the reason you started talking to this douchebag in the first place. Only his mouth has other ideas. "If you want, I can start talking about aeronautical engineering. It'd be fun to watch you try to wrap your godly mind around some hyperbolic partial differentiation equations." Not what you were supposed to say, genius.

"Please do," says Loki. "Your realm is adorable, how your people think themselves so clever for learning how to bend light with magnets. Stunning science!"

"Science is what happens when you do real things instead of making up sparkly wizard hocus-pocus."

"I could demonstrate the reality of magic by conjuring a three-headed serpent that spits acid, if you like. Or shape-shifting you into a spider, though that may be unpleasant for both of us. You're far more tolerable in this form, with the correct number of legs."

"Okay, stop it," Tony says. He sets down his spoon, puts both hands flat on the countertop, and takes a deep breath. "We are both grown-ups here. At least physically. This is getting silly. I probably shouldn't mock you for not knowing about things that your average tenth-grade dropout could understand, and you probably shouldn't threaten to turn me into an arachnid. Let's start this conversation over."

He takes another breath. And another, because refocusing and getting himself back on track is in order. Actually, a drink is in order. He gets up, pours himself a glass of scotch (lots), and takes his seat again with the bottle in his hand. Better.

"Hi, Loki. How are you this evening? You want a drink?"

Without bothering to answer, Loki picks up his juice box. It's pretty much empty: only a few drops of unnatural pink liquid loiter in the straw.

"You want another juice box?"

Loki shrugs and looks away, but eventually nods yes.

"Alright," says Tony. "I can get you another juice box. Just need you to tell me one thing first. You tell me where the Tesseract is, I give you a juice box. In fact, I'll give you a whole lot of juice boxes. I will buy you a big-ass truckload of juice boxes. As many as you want, whatever kind you want. But for the love of Christ, tell me where the Tesseract is so we can stop this stupid charade and get back to our lives."

Leaning back on his stool and folding his hands behind his neck, Loki looks like he might seriously consider the offer. Oh please oh please consider the offer you crazy fucker. He runs his tongue over his teeth and makes a face like he's thinking. Of course it's probably a show just for Tony, but still, just because Loki won't listen to reason doesn't mean he won't listen to a bribe...

"I can tell you," he says slowly, "where the Tesseract isn't."

Well that's... a start.

"Fine," Tony agrees. "Tell me where it isn't and you get one juice box." Then maybe they can move on to more pressing topics. Like where the damn thing actually is.

"It isn't in Sweden," says Loki.

Tony nods. "Good. I was hoping we wouldn't have to go all the way over there."

"It isn't in Spain. Nor is it in Switzerland."

"Is it anywhere in Europe?"

"Ah-ah-ah," he interrupts with a smug grin, "it is my turn to speak. You listen. The Tesseract is not in South Korea. It's not in Saskatchewan. It's not in Shanghai. And it's not in Stanford or Singapore. In fact," he adds, snapping his fingers, "it's not anywhere that begins with an S."

"Nowhere with an S. Got it. And?"

"I want my juice box now."

"Not yet. You get your juice when I get a satisfactory amount of information."

Loki dips his head to the side like he's trying to be coy or some shit and looks up at Tony with wide Bambi eyes. "But I have given you satisfactory information, Tony Stark," he says, and licks his lips. The creepy fuck. "You're merely too blinded by your own conceit to see it."

ooo

It's always easiest to think of five hundred things to worry about when you're alone in bed in the silent dark. All the problems of the day have this tendency to boil down into one concentrated nugget of anxiety. Before falling asleep, these are the things Tony thinks about:

1) Fuck Loki goddamn motherfucking fuck.

2) Why is that dickbag just passively hanging out and not trying to escape? Does he really love pissing me off that much or is there some other reason?

3) Yeah there has to be some other reason.

4) Son of a bitch, I'm going to punch him in the junk.

5) And what's up with his cryptic mumbo-jumbo? Is he really giving me clues about the Tesseract, or is he just trying to make me think he's giving me clues to waste my time?

6) The Tesseract. Shit.

7) Nick Fury is going to kill me.

8) Jesus Christ, Pepper is going to kill me! I need to talk to her.

9) I wonder if she knows I ditched S.H.I.E.L.D.?

10) Of course she knows. Fury or Coulson would've gone straight to her the minute they noticed I took off.

11) Oh shit, what if they think Loki kidnapped me and I'm now his prisoner? What if that's what they told Pepper?

12) Is that worse than everyone thinking he's my prisoner?

13) Yes.

14) Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuuuuuuuuuuuck.

15) This was all a terrible idea and I've made a huge mistake.

16) Also I forgot to shave this morning and now I probably look like a hobo.

17) I hate my life.