I had fun writing this chapter. I hope you all enjoy. :)
Steve's in DC for some press conference. Bruce is in India for a rocket scientist conference. Thor is in Asgard for some Asgardian conference. The wonder twins are on a classified mission, but Tony assumes they must be at some fucking conference, too, because apparently everyone has a conference to be at but him.
He's kind of jealous. He doesn't think he's ever wanted a press conference to be at before, and he'll never tell Pepper about his sudden change of heart— she'll use it against him— but he's bored. Really bored. It's been almost two months and he's still benched. There have been a few calls for the Avengers, and he's wanted to go, hungered for it, but instead he sits at base and watches everyone fly off into the sunset because his broken ribs are taking their sweet time healing.
What it boils down to is: Tony Stark is about ready to lose his mind.
It's one thing when he has options but decides to sequester himself in his workshop and forgo sleep and sustenance. It's a whole different story when that is literally the only thing he can do with his time besides watch reruns of Iron Chef. And it's not like he can do what he wants to in his workshop, anyway. There's a list, a goddamned list, prohibiting him from an array of things— all of the things he wants to do, yearns to do. No heavy lifting. No testing suits. No forging. He can tinker with little things, play with wires as long as he isn't going to electrocute himself, and build gauntlets until the cows come home.
But goddamnit, he just wants to blow something up.
He isn't sleeping much, either, and that's always been his way of doing things, depriving himself of sleep, except this time, he has no say in the matter. Sleep won't come, avoids him about as well as a certain Norse god, and the insomnia combined with the overall weight of boredom is slowly wearing him down. When he does sleep, when his body finally gives in, he's wracked by nightmare after nightmare until he wakes up sweaty and panting, his bruised and broken ribs aching from thrashing and fighting his way back to consciousness. Sometimes he's in a cave, surrounded by the scent of hot metal and blood. Sometimes his chest is an empty hole and the shrapnel migrates like Natasha's special bullets, straight to the target. Sometimes he's cold and bleeding out in a fissure of rubble.
Tony Stark never thought he feared death. His nightmares are making him rethink that stance, though.
So he drinks coffee, pot after pot, sometimes mixing it up with caffeinated, sugary energy drinks or little cups of espresso that Pepper occasionally indulges in, and he tries to keep himself busy.
But today he's alone. It was him and Bruce, up until last night when the doc flew out. The tower is painfully silent. He decides it would be a good time to take one of his cars' engines apart and put it back together with a little bit more zest. He's been tinkering with ideas of arc-powered automobiles, and he doesn't really love the idea, but there's not much else to do, and he can't trust Jarvis to keep his secrets if he decides to do anything reckless to his healing process. He's already blabbed to Pepper about his occasional glass of liquor, and then he had to sit and listen to her rant at him about why he shouldn't be drinking with so many narcotics going through his system.
"Jarvis, bring up the schematics of the car, will you?"
"Of course, sir."
The screen flickers to life and he's just getting read to pry the hood off of his Bugati when the building shakes.
"Uh, Jarv, anytime you want to explain the big bang would be great."
"The Big Bang occurred roughly thirteen point six billion years ago—"
"Jarvis, I swear to god!"
"Speaking of gods, Mr. Odinson has returned, sir."
Tony rolled his eyes. "How long has he been gone again?"
"Nearly two weeks, sir."
"Huh," Tony says, swiping at the car schematics, willing them away. "I thought he was going to be gone longer." He stands up and stretches. "At least I'll have some goddamned company."
Tony is almost to the elevator when Jarvis says, almost sounding unsure, "Sir, Mr. Odinson is inside the building, and he is not alone."
"Who's with him?"
"Mr. Laufeyson, sir."
Tony clenches his fists, heart palpitating. He expected Jarvis to list any number of names, but he didn't expect that. "Shit," he says dumbly. "Do I need the suit?"
"I do not believe so."
"Prepare Mark XXVI, anyway," Tony replies tightly. "And have the pulse juiced and ready to go just in case."
"Yes, sir."
"Where are they?"
"The rooftop bar."
Tony doesn't rush upstairs. He goes slowly, using his time in the elevator to steady his racing pulse. He's nervous, but the nerves are trumped by residual anger that still courses through him almost a year after the god disappeared. He knows he has no right to hold onto it. He was the one who pressed the button, even though he still maintains he did what he thought was right because no one ever tells him anything. He knows that he was in the wrong. And anyway, there was nothing between Loki and himself aside from a very, very tense friendship, followed by flirting and one night that was easily in Tony's top five.
And some otherwise unreciprocated possible feelings, but he ignores those whenever possible. So, he knows he has no right, but he holds onto it, anyway, because if it's not anger, it's going to be something else entirely, and he still isn't sure if he's ready to deal with that.
The elevator doors open quietly and Tony steps over the threshold. The floor is relatively dark, only the dim lights around the bar turned on, but it's enough light for Tony to make out the two figures. Thor sits on one of the sofas on the far side of the lounge, arms draped over his knees. He is uninjured, from what Tony can see around the shadows. When he looks up and spots Tony, his smile is tired.
"Tony," he says lowly. "I am sorry."
Tony doesn't ask what he's sorry about. He doesn't need to. Loki is standing behind his brother, staring at Tony impassively, his arms hanging at his sides. There's no armor, nothing to hide his lithe figure under the green and black leathers, and Tony knows he's thinner than before. His cheekbones are more prominent. His hair is longer, too, curling just past his shoulders. He looks as tired as Thor, but there's a mask in place. Tony want to shatter it, and not because he's pissed off that he's been blindsided.
"I am sorry to intrude," the God of Lies says.
Tony sees the tick of his jaw, the way the long shadows of the room highlight the pulse in his neck. Loki's not lying. He doesn't want to be here. It's as plain as day in the stiff way he stands.
Tony doesn't let it get to him. At least he won't admit it.
"I'd offer you a drink, for old time's sake, but seeing as how I'm not allowed to drink yet, I'm not letting you, either," he drawls, trying not to smirk at the flash of irritation he sees skirt across Loki's features. He tears his gaze away and refocuses it on Thor, walking towards him. "You look like shit, big man. What's going on?"
"I have been magicked," Thor grunts.
"Of course you have," Tony sighs, and he wishes, really wishes, he could have a drink. He considers it. He doesn't think Pepper would blame him, not with this situation.
"It is potent magic," Loki supplies, tilting his head. "Amora has a sister, named Lorelei, who wasted no time scouring the realms when she learned of her sister's capture. They do not treat traitors well in Asgard."
Tony snorts. "You would know."
Loki's eyes narrow. "Tread carefully, Stark."
"When have you known me to tread carefully?" He taps his arc reactor and flashes a fake smile. "What are you asking me for?"
"I am a threat to Asgard," Thor grounds out. His face is contorted with frustration.
"How so?"
"As I mentioned," Loki says with a rolls of his eyes, "if you would perhaps listen to anything besides the sound of your own voice, Amora's sister has cast a spell on him. It is similar to the spell she cast on me, meant to control."
"We believe she wishes me to release Amora," Thor answers, "and I therefore cannot stay in Asgard. While the healers and mages may yet find a counter, I am compromised."
Tony nods. "Makes sense. So you just want to hang low here until they figure out an antidote?"
"You possess a device that will douse the magic immediately." Loki smiles thinly. "I have firsthand experience of its capability. Any foreign magic does not regain control."
Tony laughs. He can't help it. It rumbles in his chest and makes his ribs throb, but he can't stop himself. "You're asking me for a favor?"
"I do believe you owe me one," Loki says, still smiling, though there's a dangerous edge to his voice. "If I had not intervened, you would be dead. And if not for me, I cannot imagine you would turn your comrade away when he comes to you seeking aid."
"Must run in the family, this weakness to busty women and their magic," Tony quips. "Are you sure you're not related by blood?"
Loki takes a step around the couch, his eyes dark. "Do not try my patience, Stark."
Tony's pretty sure there's smoke pouring from the god's nose he's so angry. "Fine," he says, and then smiles, all teeth. "Jarvis, you heard the man. Pulse away."
"Activating pulse, sir," Jarvis intones.
Tony's perfected the pulse well enough. He can hardly feel the density of the air change, become weighted, but the fluctuation is still there, and Loki's eyes widen with surprise. The expression drags a sense of bitter pride from the recesses of Tony's chest, because he can still surprise the god. Good, he thinks. He's tired of being the boring one in this ugly dance.
Thor's body goes rigid and Mjolnir, strapped to his hip, starts to fizzle, but the sparks die down quickly. Loki is not nearly as unaffected. The skin showing, the pale skin of his hands, face, and neck, bleeds to blue. His eyes flicker until they're as red as Tony's suit.
"You've done this to me before, Stark," Loki whispers, and the words are strained, angry, like he's holding back a force behind them that could level the room. "You dare do it again?"
"Sorry, can't hear you over the sound of me doing what you asked," Tony says sweetly. He takes a step forward, refusing to look away when Loki bares his teeth. "You look good in blue." He's sincere. He actually thinks the god looks good enough to eat— or ravish—but he says it with bite because he's still afraid to admit to anything, not when Loki is the wildcard.
Loki's anger is almost as palpable as the pulse. He starts to charge forward, but Thor grabs his forearm and drags him back.
"You will control yourself, brother," Thor snaps, blue eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. "You are a guest here."
Tony smiles impishly while Loki seethes.
"Is that enough?" Tony asks, rocking back on his heels. "Can I turn it off?"
Thor looks to Loki, who nods once, chest rising and falling quickly.
"You're not going to kill me once you have your hocus locus back, are you?"
Loki stares at him for a moment, and then a grin spreads across his face. "I promise nothing."
"You're nothing but honest," Tony deadpans. "Jarvis, pulse off, if you please."
The heaviness in the air dissipates, and Thor visibly relaxes. The tired smile returns. "Thank you, Tony."
"My pleasure," Tony says, gives a little wink, then watches as Loki's skin becomes alabaster once again. "I like you this way, too. In case you were wondering."
Loki looks like he might still try to strangle him.
"We will stay to rest, if you will allow it," Thor says, speaking slowly, carefully, like he's afraid something's going to break.
Tony almost laughs when it hits him. The Thunderer's a shit liar and an even worse actor. He can tell Thor has something up his armored sleeve. He assumes it has to do with him and Loki. He's not playing into it, though. He's keeping his hand of cards close to his chest. "Sure, whatever." He points at Loki. "Stay the hell out of my workshop."
Loki offers a mocking bow, then vanishes.
"I fucking hate when he does that," Tony says with an eye roll. "What a diva."
"He was hesitant to come here." Thor stands slowly, smoothing his hair away from his face. "He did not think you would welcome him."
Tony shrugs and starts back towards the elevator. "I don't care anymore. It's been too long for me to care. Jarvis, elevator, please."
Thor's voice goes quiet and soft. "For a god of Asgard, it has not been overly long."
Tony stiffens. He knows what Thor is trying to say, at least he thinks he does, and it sends a shiver up his spine. He can't give in to it, though. "Well," he replies casually, as casually as he can, "I'm not a god of Asgard."
They ride the elevator down to the shared floor in silence, and Thor doesn't bring it up again, to Tony's continued relief. They order a pizza, because Thor is like a tornado in the kitchen and Tony doesn't just doesn't want to cook. They watch an action film, eat, and Tony is glad someone is there because he really didn't want to do this by himself.
"Will you return to Asgard tomorrow, then?" he asked as the credits roll.
Thor nods. "I must, to inform the Allfather that I am well."
"Are you taking tall, dark, and bitchy with you?"
"You mean Loki?" Thor asks, a laugh rumbling in his chest. "He will accompany me, if he so desires. The Allfather has given him reign to travel. He has been returned to Asgard for the last Earth month, and he has been of a great aid to Asgard. The Allfather has lessened his sentence."
"Man, prisoners have it easy where you come from," Tony muses. "Try to take over a planet? Break out of jail? Fake your own death? Slap on the wrist, and make sure to visit mom and dad soon"
Thor stiffens. "Loki never has it easy in Asgard. I have come to understand that as of late."
"So it seems."
"You taunt him, with his Jotun form."
Tony rolls his eyes at the disapproval. "I don't, not really." He pauses. "Okay, maybe I do, but honestly, I meant what I said." He looks Thor in the eye and waggles his eyebrows. "I think it looks good."
Thor raises a brow. "Loki does not."
It went completely over his head, Tony thinks, and forces the smile away. Instead, he says, "No shit," then stands and stretches. "I think it's time for me to take some more pain meds and sleep, big guy." It's a lie. A partial one, at least. He'll take more pain meds, but he won't sleep. Even if he wanted to, the nightmares aren't worth it, and he's not sure he trusts taking a little shut eye with the God of Mischief teleporting around the tower. As soon as he's out of earshot, he plans to tell Jarvis to start a pot of coffee in his workshop.
"I should rest, as well. I will depart at dawn, Tony Stark."
Tony offers him a salute. "Travel safe. Say hi to dear old dad."
He's barely to the elevators when the air shivers. He turns in time to see Loki's face only a few inches from his own, his expression dark, before the god grabs his hand and they're enveloped in the vacuum of darkness that is Loki's magic.
When they land, Tony barely has a chance to steady himself before he's herded back into a wall, the god's body pressed flush against his own. Loki doesn't kiss him, but his breath chills Tony's lips when he speaks, he's so close.
"Why do you incite my anger?" he questions lowly.
"My ribs are still broken," Tony growls, teeth clenched. Even the light pressure of Loki pushing against him is too much. "Ease up, will you? Fuck."
Loki does, just barely, and then slips a cold hand up Tony's shirtfront. Tony hisses out a breath at the feel of icy fingers trailing his abdomen, unable to stop himself from jumping. Gooseflesh breaks out across his skin.
"You're really cold," he winces.
"I thought you liked my Jotun form?" Loki hisses, and then his skin is darkening. Even in the low light, Tony can see he's dropped the Aesir look. His eyes glitter like rubies in the darkness. Tony can make out the ridges that line his face, curling around his cheekbones, that he didn't notice before. He wants to touch them, trail his fingers along them, but he doesn't. He doesn't want to jump down that rabbit hole, and he thinks Loki's at some breaking point, and he isn't sure he's ready to pick up those pieces.
And holy fucking shit, the god's skin is beyond cold. It's icy, glacial enough that it almost hurts. Tony can't help but shiver.
"Have you nothing to say, Man of Iron?" the god sneers, pressing close again, until Tony can actually see his breath steam between them.
Tony maintains eye contact and then just goes for it. He's not used to apologizing, but there's a first time for everything. "I'm sorry for using the magic EMP on the roof, way back when," he blabbers, teeth almost chattering. "I was pissed. I thought you were playing us for Amora. I also didn't know it would do this." He gestures to Loki's current form, as much as he can with the god crowding him. "Not that I don't like it. I think you look fantastic, really. But obviously you have some issues with being an honorary member of the Blue Man Group—"
"Do not toy with me!" Loki snarls, and the cold hand on his stomach goes from New York winter cold to Antarctica cold.
Definitely at a breaking point. And that breaking point kind of really hurts.
Tony puts his hands on Loki's chest and pushes in an attempt to shove the god away, fingers digging into leather. Loki is stronger, though, and doesn't budge. If anything, he leans into Tony's touch, exerting more pressure until Tony's battered bones sing. He's pretty sure the last two months of healing are completely fucked now, but he can barely put two and two together over the mind-numbing cold sinking into his goddamned nerve endings. His skin burns, and Tony bites back a scream. He's pretty sure it's what frostbite feels like. The searing pain is quickly starting to tingle.
He's about ready to have Jarvis call for Thor, because he's not dealing with Loki's temper tantrum without his goddamned suit, but then Loki steps back abruptly, hand sliding away. Tony gasps at the sudden sensation before promptly sliding down the wall, clutching his stomach. His heart beats so quickly he can hardly catch his breath. He stares up at Loki, who looks down at him, expression guarded and shadowed.
"You son of a bitch," Tony growls. He's so angry he's seeing red. He's never wanted a drink more in his life, and he's going to tell Pepper to shove it— nicely— if she faults him for drinking after the shit show that was his and Loki's reunion. "This is how you take an apology? Fuck you."
Loki straightens to his full height. The air around them warms as his skin switches yet again. "You lack sincerity, Stark."
"Oh, I am sincerely telling you to go fuck yourself." Tony forces himself to his feet even though his legs feel wobbly. The skin over his abdomen is burning, too, and he can feel the damage, feel the pulling, but he ignores it as best he can. "Jarvis, turn on the goddamned lights."
The lights flicker on. Tony isn't surprised that the god's expression is blank, but he knows it's fake, knows there's something simmering below the surface. Loki wouldn't still be here if there wasn't.
"Did you not hear me?" Tony seethes, clutching at his stomach. His seared skin is sticking to the inside of his t-shirt. "I thought you were selling us out. I was pissed off. What did you expect me to do?"
"I've expected too much of you," Loki replies darkly. "Did you not piece the puzzle together, you bumbling mortal? I thought you a genius by Midgardian standards."
Before Tony can reply, Loki steps forward again, bending so that his hair brushes against Tony's cheek as he whispers, "I purposefully vanished when you began work on something of importance. I cast spells during your mundane debriefings to minimize my knowledge. I was very much aware of what information I was or was not taking in." He exhales slowly, cold breath tickling Tony's ear. "Your computer was monitoring my magic, was it not? And still you could not figure it out?"
It all stings, because he's right, but Tony doesn't back off. "I wasn't exactly looking for a reason to distrust you. My bad."
"I am the God of Lies," Loki taunts.
"Don't pull that bullshit with me. You could have thrown me a fucking bone."
"Are you my dog, Stark?" Loki laughs. It isn't a gentle sound. "It was good of me to leave, then, before this evolved into something more tedious."
Tony leans back against the wall as the god retreats. He feels like he's been punched in the gut. Something more, the god said. Something more. Tony's circuits are about to short out, because it means it wasn't just him. He's a little disgusted with himself— he's hanging on to that after all the god's said, accused him of, insulted him with— but he doesn't care. Fuck it. He was an idiot to think he'd ever avoid it if the god decided to show his face again.
Rabbit hole it is.
"What are you even doing here?" he asks pointedly. "Thor could have asked me for help on his own. He didn't need you to babysit him. So why are you here, Loki?"
The god stops, looks over his shoulder, dark strands of hair falling into his face. He doesn't smile, doesn't do anything, just says, without any ceremony, "It was a mistake."
He's going to just vanish, Tony knows it, so he does all he can think of to prolong the inevitable. He orders, "Jarv, pulse."
Loki's eyes widen as the air condenses. He turns blue and red, and he gapes at Tony with such a startled, accusatory expression that Tony almost laughs. He kisses the god instead. And it's cold, really fucking cold, but Loki makes a sound in the back of his throat, part frustration and part want, and Tony finds that he doesn't really care if he freezes to death.
There are worse ways to die.