Once morning rolls around, things are looking better. Tony sleeps solidly until quarter after eight, then avoids having to deal with real life for a while by spending half an hour on the john reading a year-old Time magazine. After a nice hot shower and shave he's feeling refreshed, regenerated, and ready to face whatever Loki-batshit the day throws at him.

In the kitchen, somebody's already cleaned up the breakfast dishes and wiped down all countertop surfaces. There's a fresh pot of coffee brewing and a ham sandwich waiting in the fridge. Tony's not sure how it's possible, but Thor actually makes a pretty good housewife. And Loki makes a pretty good snotty teenage goth son. Maybe this is what it's like to have a family. (The kind of family that drives men to become workaholics and spend every waking hour at the office.)

"Morning, family," he says as he joins them in the living room. They're cuddling and watching TV again: a home improvement show about building a deck. Loki's still wearing a towel instead of pants, but at least Thor's fully dressed, so that's an improvement over yesterday. Tony will take what he can get.

"Good morning, Tony Stark," Thor replies. "Did you sleep well?"

"Like a baby. You?"

He gives Loki a dark, sideways glare. "No." Loki all-too-innocently ignores him.

"You know this house has four bedrooms, right?" Tony asks them. "You don't have to share."

The two of them exchange a look, then turn to Tony with matching expressions that seem to say, 'Oh silly Tony Stark, we are creepy space brothers. Why would we not share a bedroom (and therefore also a bed because there is only one room in this house with bunk beds that your bitchy cousin Katie insisted on for her little hellions, and you already have a sinking feeling we're not in there)?'

"Just a suggestion," Tony mutters. "Don't mind me, it's only my house and my planet, what would I know about appropriate behavior?"

As expected, Thor and Loki don't mind him. They're already back to watching TV. Tony lets them for a couple minutes longer, mostly because he likes how staring mindlessly at a screen keeps Loki's mouth shut. But the clock's ticking away, and he can't afford to waste any more time than he already has. "So. Thor. Plans for today. I think we should have a team meeting in the kitchen."

"Why not here?"

"Because Loki is here, and he's not part of the team, and we don't want him overhearing our secret plans for world un-domination."

Now, the reasonable thing for Thor to do here would have been to stand up and go to the kitchen. However, since 'reasonable' and 'Asgardian' are mutually exclusive these days, what he actually does is pick up Loki, hammer and all, and haul him kicking and screaming off down the hallway. (Well, maybe more like squirming and cursing, to be fair.) When Thor returns, it's with a smile of smug accomplishment. "Loki is removed."

"Oooooookay," says Tony. Not what he was expecting, but who can argue with the result? He'll just ignore that loud, repetitive banging coming from the bedroom and pretend Loki isn't trashing anything he cares about. Push that to the back of his mind. "Right. Commence team meeting. First item on the agenda: did Loki divulge any ground-breaking new information this morning?"

"No," Thor replies as he sits back down on the couch. "Did he say anything to you last night?"

"Some garbage about conjuring serpents and turning me into a spider. Typical charismatic Loki stuff. He also maligned science and told me a bunch of places where the Tesseract wasn't. Sweden. Switzerland. Spain. Those names mean anything special to you?"

Thor shakes his head: no. Tony hadn't really thought they would, but it's still a disappointment to see yet another dead end. "They have to mean something," he insists, maybe mostly to himself. "Something made Loki choose those places. Sweden, okay, I get why he'd pick that, but I don't get Saskatchewan and Stanford. Why those two? What's the reason? And there'd better be a reason outside of 'list a bunch of random names that'll drive Tony Stark nuts when he tries to connect them'."

He sighs as he rubs his face, pressing his fingers into his eyes and swearing under his breath. Really, he should've punched Loki when he felt the urge. "Singapore. Shanghai. South Korea. Stanford. Saskatchewan. Spain. Switzerland. Sweden." Listing the places again doesn't help. "Loki said he'd given me satisfactory information. Do you think he meant it and he'd actually given me enough clues to figure this out, or would he just say that to throw me off track and lead me on a wild goose chase?"

Thor looks almost apologetic as he breaks the bad news. "Both are equally valid possibilities with Loki."

"Yeah, I was afraid of that. But I guess all we can do for now is assume he did give us the info we need and try to figure out what that is."

So what did he divulge? All that stuff about his magic... probably not relevant. The threats... also probably not relevant. The place names would be relevant. What else was there? Not much, apart from a couple snide comments about the superiority of magic over science, which-

And Tony's train of thought comes to a sudden, crashing halt. What exactly did Loki say? 'Bend light with magnets?' Why would he use that specific example unless...

"Thor," he says, doing his best to speak calmly despite a great big bubble of HOLY FUCKING SHIT rapidly expanding in his chest. "Do you have particle accelerator physics on Asgard?"

"I do not think we have those words on Asgard," answers Thor. "Why?"

"What Loki told me last night." Tony jumps up; he can't help it. "Bending light with magnets! It's a crude oversimplification of what a synchrotron accelerator does, but it's probably what someone like Loki would understand if someone like Dr. Selvig tried to explain it to him. All those places he named are the sites of accelerator labs around the world. Sweden has MAX, Spain has ALBA, and in Switzerland, the granddaddy of them all: CERN. So what he means when says the Tesseract isn't at any of those places is...?" He pauses to see if Thor's on the same wavelength and can see where he's going with this.

No. Thor looks lost. Oh well.

"He means it is at a similar facility! Which makes complete sense and son of a bitch, I can't believe I didn't think of this before. Whatever his little followers are doing, they'll need access to a lot of specific equipment to build their doomsday device. Naturally, Selvig would know where to get it. And that also explains why Banner was unable to track the radiation output if they're hiding in a radiation-shielded lab." Tony's pacing now. He forces himself to stop. "D'you think Loki's the kind of guy who hide his loot in the safest, farthest possible place, like Australia, or would he try to pull this off right under our noses while laughing about how ignorant we are? My guess is... option two."

"Option two," Thor agrees.

"Then suit up," says Tony. "I think I know where the Tesseract is."

ooo

There's just one problem with Tony 'n' Thor's preferred battle tactic of flying off to deal with whatever comes up as it comes up. This time, they actually need a plan.

It's like one of those classic fox-chicken-corn problems. Thor can't fly without his hammer, but if he takes the hammer that leaves Loki free to escape. So if Thor goes, Tony has to stay behind to guard Loki. If Tony goes, Thor has to leave the hammer, but he can't do much without it so he might as well stay home too. Because hell if they're bringing Loki along with them.

To Tony, the answer is obvious. "I go alone. I can fly up there, blast in, grab the cube, and be back here in a couple hours tops. You hang out with Loki, watch some TV, maybe cuddle a bit like you seem to enjoy so much. Before you know it I'll be back with your ticket home."

"Now wait, Tony Stark."

He's grabbing Tony's hand again. When they're done with this Tesseract business, Tony's going to have to sit him down to have a talk about boundaries, personal space, and all the numerous things that could be considered sexual harassment.

"The Tesseract is a relic of Asgard that once belonged to my father. I know its power. In its awakened state, you will be unable to maintain prolonged contact, especially when you wear your metal armor. The energy may overwhelm and destroy you."

"I'm willing to take that risk," says Tony.

"And this?" asks Thor, reaching up to touch the arc reactor. "If it ceases to function, will you not die?"

That also constitutes sexual harassment. Tony takes a quick step back, out of touchy-range. "Like I said. Willing to take the risk. You go back to the couch and I'll tell you when I've saved the world."

"I'm afraid I cannot stand by while you endanger yourself and race toward failure."

Tony was expecting him to say something like that. "I'm a grown-up, Thor. I've endangered myself before, and you can bet I'll make even more bad decisions in the future. I'm not too worried about this. The suit can handle a lot. Remember when you tried to Wrath of God me with the lightning?"

"The Tesseract-" Thor begins, but Tony cuts him off.

"I'll deal with it. I just need a couple minutes to put on the suit and I'm out of here. Besides, it makes more sense for me to go. I'm the one who knows where this place is. I'm the one who'll know where to look once I get there. You're the one who's better at controlling Loki, so you should stand guard. In case you haven't noticed, Iron Man's debonair alter-ego, Tony Stark, does not have any superpowers that are relevant to the task of babysitting an Asgardian psycho god. Tony Stark is better at wearing armor and visiting scientific research facilities. In fact, you could say those things are my top two skills. You make me stay here with Loki and he'll probably tear my head off, which would be a permanent waste of my talents."

"Loki would not do that. I assure you-"

"My head. Off. He will grab me by the ears and pull until my head is no longer attached to my body. I'm convinced of this. He looked like he was in a decapitation mood when you hauled him away earlier. I'd rather not be part of that."

"He will not harm you," Thor starts again. "I promise you this. You saved his life, Tony Stark, and by his honor he is now bound to you until that debt is repaid."

"Honor. Right." Now there's a word that's certainly applicable to Loki. "That makes me feel a lot better."

"And he likes you."

Tony's running his hand through his hair when Thor says that. It freezes about three-quarters of the way back. "...Wha...?"

"He likes you," Thor repeats with an encouraging smile that seems to say, now the two of you can be splendid friends!

"Do you do this often?" Tony asks. He has to shake his head as he does; the conversation is getting too absurd. "Try to find friends and set up play dates for your little brother? Because it's not going to work. Historically, the only people who like me are entourage bimbos and guys trying to run a scam. If I had to put Loki into either of those categories, it wouldn't be the one that's at least fun to have around for a couple hours, and, since I don't want to be scammed... No. I'm going. You're staying."

"But-"

"No. Final answer. My planet, my country, my decision. You did a great job as the Brute Squad springing Loki from jail, but now it's my time to get down to business. So." He jabs Thor in the middle of the chest, hard. "Go back to the couch, puddin' pop."

Looking halfway between insulted and enraged, Thor narrows his eyes and bares his teeth in a wolf-like warning. "Tony Stark..."

"Sorry, pal. Can't always get what you want."

The animal sneer lasts a couple seconds longer before fading into a slightly less vicious frown. Just slightly. "Fine," he growls, elongating the word and finishing it off with a hissing breath. "But wait a moment. There is something I must tell you before you leave."

"Make it quick." As long as it helps him to shut up and let Tony get to work, Thor can say whatever he wants.

"The cycle of Loki's magic lasts nine days. With each passing day, his powers grow stronger, but also more unpredictable and difficult to control. And Loki himself becomes more irrational as the power builds."

"Right, because he's usually so level-headed," says Tony. "What does any of this have to do with the price of tea in China?"

"It is a warning. For your safety."

"You think he'll try to voodoo me once he realizes what I'm doing? Or warn his henchmen?"

A little flicker of something crosses Thor's face. An... apology? "No."

Tony sees it coming too late. Thor holds out his hand and in the blink of an eye, his hammer comes flying down the hallway. It's followed closely by a howling Loki, who's still attached to the handle and being dragged on his ass. The second the hammer's in Thor's hand, the chain falls free. The second after that, Thor's moving the shackle from Loki's ankle to his wrist.

"What the hell are you-" Tony begins, but he doesn't have time to finish. Thor's hand is on Tony's wrist next. Thor's hand and...

For a long and terrible moment, all he and Loki can do is stare at each other. Stare at the gleaming, rope-like silver. Then, as if on cue, Tony jerks his arm back and Loki starts scrambling in the opposite direction across the hardwood like a dog on a leash. The chain's on there good and solid. And Loki wins the tug-of-war. Tony is hauled forward to fall sprawling across the kitchen floor, landing hard enough to knock the wind out of him.

"Forgive me, Tony Stark," Thor says as Tony gasps for breath. "This was the only way. The power of the Tesseract is beyond you and everyone else in this realm. I must retrieve it myself."

"You... chained..." He coughs and tries to raise himself up on all fours, which would be a lot easier if Loki didn't keep backing away and pulling his arm out from under him.

"Again, forgive me. But I need Mjölnir for this task, and Loki must remain bound. You are the next most secure thing in this house."

Next most secure thing? He'd punch Thor for that, if only he could stand up.

"I will return as soon as I can."

Then he's out and away, leaving Tony shackled to a genuine raving loony by way of a mere six feet of enchanted chain. Tony lifts his head again. For once Loki stops backing up, and Tony's able to sit. Loki's staring at him with an expression of horrified disbelief that holds a sharp edge of menace. He stares right back.

Thor said Loki liked him. Looks like that theory's about to be tested. For the sake of his continued existence, Tony sure hopes it's true. Even if it's only in some small, partial way that will keep Loki from utterly (and probably painfully) destroying him.

"How about this," he says, holding up his hands to ask for a truce. "We're the team now. You and me. Your stupid shit-dick brother's kicked out. And the minute he gets back, we both work together to murder him. Deal?"

ooo

It takes Loki all of four seconds to realize his superior Asgardian strength makes him leader of the chain gang. Since Tony is nowhere near as immovable as Thor's hammer, all Loki has to do is tug on the chain and Tony goes stumbling after. Tony, meanwhile, can throw all his weight into hauling on that thing and Loki won't budge an inch. Loki is apparently also made of dark matter.

That's why they spend the afternoon doing whatever Loki decides. If Loki wants to sit on the couch and watch TV, Tony also sits on the couch and watches TV. If Loki wants to pace in circles around the kitchen, Tony paces right along with him. If Loki takes a piss, Tony tries to ignore Loki taking a piss. And if Loki says he wants to have a shower... Tony sits on the edge of the tub with his head in his hands, wondering what he ever did wrong in a previous life to deserve this.

"I know you're only doing this to be a dick," he says, loud enough to be heard over the pounding spray of water. "Can I surrender now? You win. Whatever contest this is, you beat me. You are the boss. I bow down to your amazing powers of being a complete fuckstick." He pauses to see if Loki has anything to say, but no. There's just the splashing water and the gentle clink of the chain against the bathtub, punctuation to each of Loki's small movements. "Can we please drop this now and go back to sitting on the couch and ignoring each other until Thor gets back?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Loki airily replies. "I need to take a shower."

"You showered this morning. I saw you. Your hair was wet."

"Yes, but then Thor dragged me down the corridor and I became covered in dirt."

"The dirt in that hall is negligible."

"I am a god, Tony Stark. I have far higher standards of cleanliness than you. Do you mind if I use your girlfriend's shampoo?"

"Yes," Tony snaps. "Yes, I mind! I told you, use the guest shampoo. White bottle. I think I'd have to kill myself if you smelled like-"

What he should have said instead, he realizes in that moment, is, 'Yes, Loki, you must use Pepper's shampoo. I insist. And don't you dare touch the stuff in the white bottle: that's for guests only.' Why does he always think of these things too late? The familiar, sexy smell of coconut and mango is now wafting through the bathroom.

"I like this scent," says Loki.

"So did I," Tony mutters into his hands. Unfortunately, it'll now forever be associated with this moment. It's been ruined by the God of Assholes.

Loki takes his sweet time in the shower, using Pepper's conditioner and body wash along with her shampoo. By the time he finally asks for a towel, Tony's clothes are sticky and clingy from steam and sweat because the bathroom has turned into a goddamn sauna. "Thanks," Loki says, grabbing the towel as he steps out of the shower. He gives himself the barest and most perfunctory drying-off before chucking the towel aside and dragging Tony over to the mirror. He magics the fog off the glass somehow (okay, even Tony has to admit that's kind of impressive), then stands there humming to himself while he screws around with his hair (not impressive at all).

Is he doing this because he cares about how he looks? No. He spent all of yesterday with a hairdo like a whorled guinea pig, so he can't care that much. Is he doing this to piss off Tony Stark, who has to stand there and wait while he preens in his birthday suit? That sounds more like it.

Can two play at this game? As a matter of fact... they can. Loki obviously wants an audience for his shenanigans. Okay. He just got one.

Casually, Tony moves over to sit on the edge of the countertop. He slides right up to Loki, so close their legs are almost touching, and locks his eyes on Loki's face. Loki tries to ignore him for a moment. And a moment longer, carefully pushing back a strand of hair. Then his resolve cracks like cheap plastic and he looks at Tony with one eyebrow raised in a question that doesn't need to be asked out loud. "Um..."

Tony holds his gaze just long enough to make a point before slowly, purposefully, and very obviously sliding his eyes on down for a better view.

For the first time in what might just be the history of ever, Loki looks like he's been taken by surprise. He blinks and hitches his breath, opening and closing his gaping mouth like a goldfish. Only for a second, though. He manages to clamp down that mask of composure and twist his shock into a sneer quick enough. "Enjoying yourself?"

"Not really," Tony answers. "But since you insist on putting that offer on the table, I figure I might as well check out the goods before I turn you down and break your heart."

"I... you what?"

Tony can't help but grin; it's nice to have Loki on the uncomfortable, speechless end of the spectrum for once. "I'm just saying thanks-but-no-thanks. Good try, though. Maybe if we were in college, and really drunk... you never know. Or if you were a chick. If you were a chick, I'd hit that. For sure. More than once."

One of Loki's eyebrows rises. Then the other, though the rest of his face remains carefully neutral. Stone cold and thin-lipped. A thought flashes through Tony's mind, along with a trickle of apprehension: did he go too far? Did he poke the bear too hard? Is Loki, a guy who probably doesn't take well to being on the receiving end of a joke, going to make good on one of yesterday's promises to turn him into a spider or something equally nasty?

No: Loki just cocks his head to the side like he's feigning interest in Tony's antics. "Is that so, Tony Stark?"

"Yep," he hears his mouth say before he can stop it.

"You would be so presumptuous as to attempt to bed me, were I a woman?"

"Damn straight. You'd make a hot girl."

He should probably slap himself for that. What the fuck is wrong with him? It's like being this close to Loki makes him absorb the God of Assholes vibe. It brings out the worst of his dipshit jerk side and he loses all semblance of a verbal filter in favor of being a raging tool. That comment had to have gone too far. His whole body tenses, preparing for the inevitable flying fist and a broken nose. Or broken whole face.

But again, no. Instead of taking offense or even looking annoyed, Loki just smiles. He finds this amusing. "I shall keep that in mind."

"So will I, if you know what I mean," says Tony's mouth, while his brain shouts, Jesus Christ you nutsack, shut your pie hole and stop talking before you say something even worse! "Sorry," he immediately adds. "That was... I'm just being a dick now, aren't I? Not that you don't deserve a dick, but... okay that came out wrong." Really wrong. Fuck fuck fuck. "Can we please go watch some exploding cars on TV now?" I need a drink.

"Yes," Loki agrees. And his shoulders are shaking with barely suppressed, silent laughter. He finds this really amusing. Awesome.

Tony holds out his hand. "Truce, bro?" The sooner Loki lets them leave the bathroom, the sooner he can get a drink, and put this whole scene behind him, and have another drink, and forget about it forever. Loki, for once smiling in a way that doesn't make him look like a serial killer, returns the gesture.

Unfortunately, Tony forgot one little detail. One vital detail.

Do not let him touch you.

The electric current flies through Tony's body, radiating up his arm and through his shoulder, down to his stomach and filling his legs. It's stronger than it was the previous night. It pulses and hums, flooding every cell and setting his blood on fire, standing each hair on end with a tingling shudder that ripples over his skin. And it's not a bad feeling. Nope. Not at all. In fact, Loki's magic feels a lot like... the sensation of watching porn made physical. It shoots right to his groin and stays there.

"Uhhnnn," he manages to say. What the hell kind of word is that? He tries to pull his hand back, but his slackening muscles put up a meager effort and it's not enough to break ol' pit bull grip.

Loki frowns. "What?"

"Your... uh... I..." It's no use trying to speak; the porn-touch sees to that, filling up all available space between his thoughts and his tongue, muddling everything.

"My what?" Loki asks. "Tony Stark, are you about to be ill? Because if you vomit on me..." He lifts his other hand to Tony's arm as a steadying brace

That, naturally, is about as effective as trying to extinguish a fire with gasoline. A second dose of crackling sex-magic leaps from Loki's hand to Tony's skin, overwhelming every last nerve in his body and turning his bones to jelly. This is too much. It's all compounding and concentrating in the most inconvenient place, playing up and down his hips and thighs like the caress of a teasing ghost. Shit. His knees buckle. His stupid, treacherous body is too preoccupied to do anything more than let itself fall.

At least he doesn't fall into Loki, though it's a pretty sad state of affairs when he can consider collapsing to the bathroom floor to be the upside of a situation. The downside is that now Loki looks almost concerned, kneeling at his side, and keeps touching him. All over. A squeeze on the arm. The press of fingertips against his forehead. A hand cupping his chin. Each little snippet of contact sets him alight. Each one sends a white-hot bolt of desire straight down to where it counts.

"Tony Stark?"

If Tony pours all concentration into his speech, he can just manage to hiss something halfway intelligible. "Pleasssssse... sssstop..."

"Stop? What do you mean? Stop what?"

It takes a lot of effort to pry Loki's hand off his arm. Not just because of Loki's strength, but because (and, oh holy hell, it hurts like a bitch even to admit this secretly to himself) there's a base, slimy, dark, dirty place deep inside that's maybe kind of enjoying this feeling. Okay, more than 'kind of'. And that base, slimy, dark, dirty place would rather lean into the touch than force it away.

"Stop touching you?" Loki guesses. "Why? I suppose it makes you uncomfortable?" As if to make a point, he presses one deliberate finger onto Tony's chest just above the arc reactor.

Tony can't help it. His back arches up off the floor and an undignified, borderline obscene moan escapes his lips. That porn-touch is way too effective. He can feel himself growing hard, and when Loki leans over... Oh please, Rational Brain, he prays, don't let Frat Boy Brain do anything that will make me want to drown myself in bleach tomorrow...

"Ohhhhhhh," Loki murmurs as he trails his finger down Tony's chest. By the time he reaches the belt buckle, he looks uncannily like a childhood nightmare clown about to burst from pure mischievous glee. "I see now. How interesting!" He taps his fingertips against Tony's belt, punctuating each syllable as he speaks: "How ve-ry in-te-res-ting! I never even considered it might affect you in this way. But I should have guessed, shouldn't I?"

Loki pulls both his hands away and rocks back to sit on his heels, still grinning like the Cheshire Cat. With contact broken, the magic running rampant through Tony's body subsides. It doesn't disappear completely, but it does fade to a more manageable level. A warm tingle of desire lolling inside him. Tony's able to lift his head and prop himself up on his elbows.

"Uh," he begins. There are a hundred things he wants to say, questions to ask and threats to shout, but his sex-hazy mind can't find the right words for any of them. He has to settle for, "What?"

"This," says Loki, prodding Tony's arm and releasing another wave of intoxicating porn-magic. "The energy has quite the effect on you. Everyone responds to it differently, usually in a very dull way, but this..." Trailing his hand down Tony's thigh, he laughs softly to himself. "I quite enjoy this."

"I don't," Tony growls.

Smirking, Loki glances at Tony's jeans. "Your body language might suggest otherwise."

"Don't listen. My body makes a lot of bad choices."

"Is that so?" He pauses to trace the line of Tony's thigh back up, hand lingering at the hip. "What manner of bad choices? Do tell."

Tony lets himself fall back to the floor. There's not much else he can do with Loki's hand sitting where it is, radiating dangerous electricity. It's more or less impossible to concentrate on keeping his head up while simultaneously concentrating on not squirming into Loki's touch like a shameless hussy. Fuck you, he tries to say. Fuck you and your horrible magic! All that comes out is a hoarse grunt: "Magic..."

Regardless, Loki still gets the gist of what he means. "Inert magic. Nothing more than accumulated energy, transferred between us, which manifests in you as what I can only guess to be... extreme sexual desire? This is none of my doing."

But it is, and the way he's smirking, he knows it full well. His grip on Tony's thigh tightens, squeezing, before he slides his hand upwards. Under the hem of Tony's shirt. Grazing bare skin. Tony clenches his teeth and tries not to whimper (doesn't work) as Loki's hand splays across his ribs.

"Oh, Tony Stark," Loki purrs. "We will have such a wonderful time tonight!"

Well. This definitely constitutes sexual harassment. And Tony can't do a single thing about it as Loki lies down on the bath mat to cuddle up next to him, head resting on his shoulder. Except maybe think to himself, not for the first time, how much he hates his life.