Tony wakes when it's still dark, and he's slightly confused because these are definitely not his Egyptian cotton sheets. He sits up, tugging down the blanket to allow the arc reactor to light the room for him, and looks around. It takes him a moment, but it comes back to him in a rush that makes his heart palpitate. No, this is definitely not his room. It's Loki's, and Tony is naked and alone in his bed.
"I did not think you would wake so soon."
Tony starts as Loki appears, already dressed in his Asgardian leathers. He looks like a specter, glowing blue from the light of the arc reactor. Tony can't really read the expression on his face. That makes him nervous.
"I don't really sleep much," he replies, as casually as he can.
"I see."
They remain silent for several moments, just staring at one and other, and Tony is beginning to regret allowing himself to give in when Loki makes his way to Tony's side of the bed. He perches on the end of the mattress, head tilted and dark hair spilling over one shoulder. The metallic smell of blood is gone, replaced by the clean scent of soap, and from what Tony can tell in the meager blue light, he isn't as pale and his eyes are bright.
"Did you heal yourself?" Tony asks, eyes traveling from the god's face to his abdomen.
Loki's lips curl into a devilish smile and he nods. "I did. Thank you for your— what did you call it? Vigilant nursing, I believe, are the words you used."
Tony snorts. "Did you just make a sex joke?"
Loki raises a brow. "Perhaps," he murmurs.
The second silence that settles is much more comfortable. Tony feels brave, so he reaches out to tuck a lock of hair behind the god's ear, allowing his fingers to linger. Loki's eyes close briefly, his jaw clenching and the pulse in his neck jumping, and Tony is startled by the strained expression that settles there.
"What's wrong?" he asks. "Are you regretting this? Because let me tell you, no one's ever regretted sex with me before, so if you are, I'm going to need to see a therapist."
Loki laughs humorlessly. "She is almost here. Your computer will alert the Avengers momentarily of her presence."
Tony blinks. "Who?"
Loki licks his lips. "Amora. I am sorry, Stark. If you do not regret this coupling now, you very well may in the hours to come."
Tony's stomach bottoms out.
Loki stands, turns away, and he's almost out of reach when Tony finally snaps out of the shock and grabs his wrist, yanking him back roughly. The god doesn't try to turn away, but he looks resigned, tired, and Tony has never seen a scarier expression on Loki's face.
"What the hell are you apologizing for?" Tony demands. His heart beats wildly in his chest, so wildly it hurts. "What did you do?"
Loki's lips curl back in a snarl. "I cannot speak of it because of the wretch's—" He stops speaking and then cringes, face contorting in pain.
Tony's eyes widen as he watches the latticework of green light crawl across the god's neck before Loki hisses and covers it with his hand. His pupils are pinpricks despite the lack of light in the room, and his eyes are practically glowing. Tony stands as Loki stumbles back, not caring that he's naked, and tears Loki's hand away so he can see the trail of green leeching through the god's circulatory system.
"What the hell is this, Loki?" he whispers.
Loki just shakes his head, and after a few moments, the light fades, leaving his skin pale and unmarred once again. Loki exhales like he's been holding his breath. He keeps a hold of Tony's hand, interlocking their fingers, and as his breathing slows, they're inhaled by the blackness.
Tony stumbles backwards into his dresser when they land, hip colliding with a corner. It's even darker in his room with the specialized curtains he had made to accommodate his odd sleep schedule, but he can feel Loki's cold hand still gripping his. He needs to see his face, he realizes, and snaps, "Jarvis, lights. Dim, please."
Jarvis doesn't say anything, knows well enough, even though he's just a computer, not to say anything when Tony uses that voice, but the bedside lamp flickers on. Tony doesn't have a chance to adjust to the flush of light before the god crowds his space, his leather tunic sticking to Tony's bare skin. Loki's lips are on his a moment later, frantic and seeking, and his free hand caresses up until his fingers spread across the arc reactor.
The kiss feels oddly final to Tony. He doesn't like it. He doesn't know why he doesn't like it, or why his heart feels like it's crawled into his throat. He's starting to freak out a little bit. He's surprised at how gravelly his voice sounds but then again he isn't, because he's really starting to freak out. "Tell me what's going on."
"When she arrives," Loki murmurs against his lips, "use your device. Shut her down."
Tony pulls back slightly, both eyebrows shooting up. "How do you even know about the device? You haven't been around the last week."
A ghost of Loki's aggravating smile tugs at his lips. "You may sleep very little, but I sleep even less."
"Did you sneak into my workshop?" Tony asks. He isn't sure whether to be impressed or pissed. He settles on a mixture of both. "That is like a relationship 101 no no. You don't see me checking your email or your text messages."
"When will it penetrate your thick, Midgardian skull that your references are beyond me?" Loki whispers, eyes over bright. He takes a step back, then another, until there's a foot of space between them, except Loki still hasn't let go of Tony's hand.
Tony knows that once he lets go, something's going to break. He licks his lips. "You're not going to tell me?"
Loki grits his teeth together. "I quite literally cannot, Stark."
"Stark, huh? Back to that." He sighs. "How soon until she's here?"
As if on cue, the alarm blares, and Jarvis states, "We have an intruder, sir. The Avengers are being notified and lockdown is being initiated."
Loki lets go of his hand and Tony stands there, naked and cold, and watches the red alarm lights set Loki's skin on fire.
"Set off the device, Tony," Loki states. And then he's gone.
Tony doesn't move for several seconds, clenching and unclenching his fists. His mind is rushing to the worst possible scenarios, and "how did he know she was coming?" repeats like a mantra in his head. Because if Loki played him, if he played all of them, Tony isn't sure he's ever going to be able to forgive the god.
Or himself for being so careless.
With a curse, he pulls on a pair of track pants and a t-shirt before he leaves his room at a run.
"Jarv," he yells over the blare of the alarm, "I want the elevator operational for Avenger signatures only, and get it to my floor right fucking now."
"Already on it, sir," Jarvis replies.
"Where is everyone else?"
"Mr. Odinson is already en route to the roof, sir, following up on the threat emitting Asgardian Amora's energy signature."
"What the hell is it with these Asgardians and my roof?" Tony snarls. "What about the others?"
"Captain Rogers, Dr. Banner, and Agents Barton and Romanoff are on the ground floor, sir. Skurge has broken through the lobby doors."
The elevator door is open when Tony arrives and he skids to a stop, slamming into the back panel as it closes behind him. Tony presses his palms against the walls to steady himself as it plunges down the elevator shaft, more quickly than normal because Jarvis is a peach, and Tony takes off the moment the doors start to open.
"Jarvis, prepare Mark XXIII on the pedestal now."
"Yes, sir."
He's barely on the glowing surface before the familiar gold and red metal is unfolding up his body. He keeps the faceplate open. He wants to see the bitch's face for himself when he sets off his newest project because this feels personal, and Tony is always a spoilt sport.
"Jarvis, for shits and giggles, give me the chance of success for the magical EMP."
"I cannot say, sir, since no diagnostic testing was performed."
"I'm firing you when all of this is done."
"I anticipate a very substantial severance package, sir."
Tony snorts as he makes his way over to his worktable. A few things are knocked over and there are dents in the wood where Loki held tight, but the device, a small cylinder with a red button on top, sits in its protective case, untouched. Tony swallows the lump in his throat and grabs it.
Yeah, it's personal.
When he finally makes his way up to the roof, the sky is a tumultuous mass of gray clouds, backlit by the barely risen sun, as Thor swings his hammer. The Thunderer stands on the opposite side of the roof as Amora. Lightning sparks around Mjolnir and the wind slams through the air. Tony uses his repulsors to steady himself. Amora just grins, her blond hair and green dress whipping around her.
"Amora, you will stop this," Thor calls. "Whatever this game you are playing, it must end."
"There is no game, Son of Odin," she replies. "I would have the Trickster. He has tried my patience, and I would finish the job my Executioner started."
"Motherfucker," Tony mutters. The insanely clean cut down Loki's abdomen makes sense now. Oh, yeah, definitely personal.
Thor blinks, confused, but the look quickly morphs to an overprotective glare Tony's seen many times before. "Loki is not here," Thor booms. "Is this why you have terrorized Midgard? In an attempt to coalesce my brother? He is no longer of that constitution, Amora. He has changed."
Amora laughs, high pitched and grating, and doesn't stop until a loud crack of thunder roars. Her eyes shine unnaturally brightly as she studies Thor with glee. "He has not told you, then, how he came to Midgard?"
Tony's pretty sure his stomach relocates to his feet, and Thor looks about as pleased. His eyes narrow, but the hammer swinging above his head loses speed. "What is this you speak of?"
"Why am I not surprised?" she says, sighing dramatically, though she still grins. "He is the Liesmith, through and through."
"Tell me!" Thor bellows, and the roof shakes.
Amora bites her bottom lip coyly, struggling against the grin that finally breaks across her face. "The Trickster promised me information in exchange for safe passage out of Asgard." She laughs again, shaking her head like she's just heard a good joke.
Tony wants to repulsor-blast the look off of her face. He doesn't, though, because he really wants to know what the hell is going on, and Amora seems to be in a chatty mood.
"Heimdall was not fooled, you see," she continues. "Even Loki cannot hide from the the all-seeing watcher, not entirely, and though you snatched him from his cell and spouted tales of his bravery, he is still a wanted criminal."
The look on Thor's face rivals the expression he wore when he told the Avengers of his brother's death, except this time the grief and anger are mixed with something that looks like betrayal. "What information did he promise you?"
"It is none of your concern," Amora purrs.
The lightning crackling off of Mjolnir is bright white and becoming wilder by the second, reaching for Amora. Thor grips the handle tighter. "Is it not? I would think differently, as you come here and demand him of me."
"He has no loyalty to you," she sneers, her pretty lips curling. Tony doesn't like the way her eyes flash. She's got a similar aura to Loki misting around her, glowing a faint green. "He has betrayed your secrets, Son of Odin."
Thor's nostrils flare and he takes a step towards the Enchantress. "He would not."
Amora shrugs delicately, flipping tangled ringlets of hair behind her shoulder. "Maybe not," she agrees, "but I am well versed in your brother's ploys. I made it so he would have no choice."
"No choice? Explain yourself."
Thor is too much talk, and Tony just wants to shoot her. So badly. He unclenches his fist and feels the energy of the palm repulsor firing up.
Amora licks her lips, smile back in place. "Loki Liesmith is broken. He is destroyed by anger. It eats him alive." She holds up her hand, flexing her fingers, and watches the verdant magic swirl around them. "Powerful he may be as a sorcerer, but all men such as he are weak enough for their hearts to be swayed to my persuasion. I merely instilled in him the need to divulge to me what I was promised, and prohibited him from speaking of it."
"Well, Tony says to himself, "that explains a lot of things." It starts to eat at him, but he can't pinpoint it yet, what is it that's nagging. He finally turns on his comm. He ignores what the others say and speaks over them. "Guys, what is with super villains always just spilling their plans?"
"Nice of you to join in," Clint grunts.
"Tony, we talked about the comms," Steve says.
"I'll take detention later," Tony replies. "I'm about ready to shoot her in the face, though. This is the worst monologue ever."
If they reply, Tony doesn't hear it. All he hears in the silky voice whisper in his ear, "The device, Tony."
Tony switches his comm off, because he does not want them to know, and all but pirouettes in the air, turning to find himself facing Loki. "You son of a bitch," Tony grinds out.
"I need you to use the device," Loki states. "I need it for—" He grits his teeth and makes a gesture towards his chest.
Tony's fury is barely leashed. He tries to swallow it down. He isn't sure who he's mad at anymore. "It will short circuit you, too, idiot."
"Then I hope that you incite its function in the next ten seconds while I visit elsewhere," Loki says with a shark-like grin. "Take care, Man of Iron. Mjolnir will be none too pleased with your toy."
Tony's about to punch him with his metal-encased fist, but the god vanishes.
"These fucking Asgardians," he hisses to no on in particular and presses the big red button on the cylinder.
For two very long seconds, nothing happens. Tony's about to toss the piece of junk metal down, not caring if it impales a civilian's head, but then he feels the build up, feels a change in the atmosphere. Without warning, the air caves in on itself before expanding out like a tsunami.
Amora turns towards the rush of energy seconds before it engulfs her. She screeches, loud and high, before falling to her knees, clutching at her chest. The magic aura flickers and dies like a snuffed out candle. Thor's face pales as the storm clouds falter in theit swirling trajectory, and then he falls to his knees, too, cradling Mjolnir to his chest.
"Well, shit," Tony says, and turns on his comms again. "How are you guys doing?"
"What the fuck was that?" Clint exclaims.
"Oh, just my genius," Tony replies smugly.
"Skurge is down," Natasha says. "How long?"
Tony purses his lips together. "I have absolutely no idea."
Steve's voice is stony. "Stark, I need a report."
"Well, I've got Amora and Thor on their knees. I'm going to admit that this isn't a sexual fantasy I've ever considered, but now that it's happening—"
"Are you really doing this right now?" Steve asks in his best disappointed father voice.
"I think I deserve a— holy fucking shit."
The others' voices are blaring in his ear, Steve still demanding a report, but all Tony can do is stare at Loki. He is standing above Amora, his fingers wrapped tightly around her thin, pale neck. The pure, unhinged fury contorting his features doesn't look like the Loki who sat at Tony's bedside when he was sick or the Loki who's face softened when he discovered the shrapnel in Tony's chest. He isn't the Loki who's been living with them for six months, slowly worming his way into their lives.
Tony can't blame the fury. He understands it all too well. He remembers what it felt like, being played by the man who was more father to him than his own father. The stab of Obie's betrayal nearly broke him, and he still finds emotional splinters here and there, splinters that he'll never be able to rip out. Maybe it's not the same between Loki and Amora, but betrayal is betrayal.
And that's why Tony can't forgive it. The realization hits him like a punch to the gut. Loki knew what was happening even though the magic prevented him from speaking of it. He still followed Tony around his goddamned workshop, still allowed Fury to appoint him as a consultant to the Avengers, still allowed them to brief him on classified information.
He allowed Tony to sleep in his bed, and for fuck's sake, Tony didn't even regret it in the morning. He knew it was going to blow up in their faces, but Tony never considered that he would actually get hurt in the process.
The fact that it hurts makes him want to drink an entire bottle of whiskey as quickly as possible. All in due time. He doubts this is going to go well.
Amora's eyes are bulging now and she's gasping for breath, clawing at Loki's wrists, because her superhuman strength is nothing compared to his, not when there's still magic burning in his eyes.
"I should kill you," he snarls. "How dare you play these games with me."
"Loki, do not," Thor calls as he stands. He still holds Mjolnir to his chest, but the clouds have started to move again. "Her life is not worth sullying the changes you have made."
"Changes?" Loki throws Amora down so hard the concrete beneath her cracks and whirls around to face Thor. "You are so pitiful, brother, to think one such as myself as changed."
Thor doesn't back down. "But you have changed. I have seen it. You are not so skilled to have faked such happiness."
Loki flinches at that, teeth bared and grinding together.
Tony watches them face off, the others still screaming over the comm, and knows what he's going do to. He's angry. He knows how vulnerable Loki is without his magic. He saw it last night before he bent the god over his worktable.
And he can take it away.
"Jarvis, now that you've seen it in action, how much juice do you think this baby has left?"
"According to my calculations, there is another pulse available, but it will only function at a maximum of twenty-six percent capacity."
"Perfect," Tony whispers, then presses the red button.
Amora flattens herself to the rooftop, fingers clawing into the concrete when the pulse reaches her, and Thor stumbles, craning his head to stare at Tony, but it's Loki who is most affected. The pulse drags him back several feet. He remains standing, but Tony sees something in him fall, sees it crumble, as his pale skins melts away to the deepest blue Tony has ever seen and his eyes flare red. He stares at Tony with an expression of pained surprised that Tony didn't know the God of Lies and Mischief could sport.
He's literally used a red button, old-school villain style, to shatter a relationship that just barely began. The irony rips a strangled laugh from his throat.
The second pulse is definitely not as strong as the first. The wind picks up speed within fifteen seconds and soon the clouds are seething and building speed. Loki's skin reverts back slowly. His eyes are the last to change back, and he stares at Tony until they are green again. His jaw works, the muscles twitching, and Tony thinks he's going to say something— he hopes he will, just to break the horrible silence that's settled— but he doesn't.
He just vanishes.
Thor looks so distraught Tony has to turn away. He feels the same, maybe worse, and he just can't deal with anyone else's disappointment right then.
The rest of the morning rushes by in a blur. Thor suddenly has these bands, magical metal bands that dampen magic from Asgard, similar to the muzzle Loki left Earth wearing after his failed invasion. Tony wants to ask why the Thunderer didn't think to use them immediately, instead of letting Amora blather on, but he doesn't really care, just watches with an odd sense of numbness as Thor slaps them on Amora's wrists.
She looks positively pissed. He flicks her off and offers her his winning PR smile when she glares at him.
When things are settled on the roof, Tony flies down to the ground level. Skurge is barely moving by the time the Hulk's finished with him, and once his matching bracelets are in place, Natasha punches him in the face hard enough for a bruise to blossom.
The villains are locked in SHIELD cells to await transport back to Asgard. The debrief goes the same way it normally does and ends with Steve lecturing Tony in the hall for never communicating properly. Tony nods, takes it, and doesn't miss the flash of concern on the Captain's face when there's no lip given back.
The others loiter, like they always do when Tony gets yelled at. Clint looks puzzled. Natasha looks concerned, and Tony just can't deal with it because he's pretty sure Natasha, with her feminine wiles, has ideas that he hasn't even begun to ruminate on.
"Tony, are you all right?" Bruce asks, brows draw together. "You don't seem all right."
Tony swallows the lump in his throat and manages a smile. "Jarvis says my vitals are normal and that I can still procreate, so we're all good." The smile turns a bit real when they all roll their eyes. "I think I just need to sleep."
He starts to leave and almost walks into Thor when the god blocks his path with his big blue eyes and an even bigger frown.
"Tony Stark," he says. "You and my brother—"
Tony holds up a hand and shakes his head. "Not now," he says quietly. His voice doesn't sound like his own. "Or ever, for that matter. Let's never talk about it."
Thor stares down at him, his expression almost unreadable, but then he moves. Tony leaves. They don't follow.
When Tony gets to rooftop bar, the same bar where he offered a certain God of Mischief a drink and then flew out the window, he pours himself a glass of whiskey. And then another. And then another.
By noon, he's good and drunk, really drunk. He thinks he'll stay that way for a while.