Author's note: Thanks for all the reviews and comments for last chapter, they're always so much fun and inspiring to read! :)

This was a totally impromptu chapter that wasn't part of the storyline only a few days ago, but I simply had too much fun writing these mutual misunderstandings and misinterpretations between Loki and Tony to give it a break just yet…

Already the next morning, he has the misfortune of running into Tony.

And it's such a bad coincidence, because he had been intending to spend the day in his room, venturing out as little as possible to avoid the risk of encountering Stark Tower's other inhabitant. Of course, he knows that the man can call on him any time he wants to, but it gives him at least a fragile sense of security not having to be in his immediate presence. To have him out of sight. To be out of sight.

But after a while coped up in the confines of his room, the walls were starting to press in on him. Perhaps if he had been able to open the window to let some fresh air inside he could have handled it, but the window was still as firmly locked as the first day he came here. So he decided to get out for a little while before he choked on the throat-constricting combination of stale air and nervous thoughts.

It was just supposed to be a quick walk through the corridors, but he freezes in his tracks when a door to his right unexpectedly opens and Tony materializes in front of him like a nightmarish ghoul. Just woken up, it would seem, judging by the unkempt state of his hair.

He winces at the sudden closeness, hoping that Tony is going to keep walking to wherever he was headed. But, of course, he doesn't.

"Well isn't it nice to see you up and running," Tony comments with a raised eyebrow as he eyes Loki. "Already back in shape after yesterday's strenuous exercises, huh?"

Loki isn't sure if he's expected to deign that with an answer, so he keeps silent.

The man gives him a long look and then shrugs. "Well, if you have that much energy left to spare, then how about you get your ass in there and make my bed." He gestures with a thumb over his shoulder, indicating the room he just exited from.

And even though Loki's insides turn to sharp and jagged icicles at that, he wrestles down the part of him foolishly yelling at him to make a run for it, to get away from here – despite there being nowhere for him to run – forcefully silencing the urge. So with heavy feet dragging behind him in nervous trepidation, he walks through the doorway, and into Tony's bedroom.

He's never seen it from the inside before, and he'd been – futilely – hoping for things to remain that way. The room opening up in front of him is large and airy, huge window panes letting the sunshine in. Though for all Loki could care, it's the dreariest place he could have imagined. Even his cell in the dungeons was less depressing.

And he sincerely wishes that all the man will want from him this time is what he said mere moments ago. Surely that will turn out to be a vain hope, but he clings to it anyway for lack of anything else.

There are some clothes strewn on the floor and draped across the furniture, as well as a whole collection of various other personal artefacts and useless trinkets. Though, the most notable object is without a doubt the humongous bed that's standing in the middle of the room, large enough to host four people with room to spare.

Swallowing the bile rising in his throat, he approaches the opulent piece of furniture with its mess of wrinkled linen and tangled sheets. It looks more like a pack of lions have been fighting in it than a single man having spent the night in it. Perhaps Tony doesn't make a habit out of making his own bed, and that's why he's taking the opportunity to have Loki do it for him. At least he hopes that is the only reason why he is at all near Tony's bed this morning.

So he starts to carry out the order, his hands fumbling clumsily with the fabric as they try to pull the sheets and covers straight. The things are big and unwieldy, and despite his efforts, they refuse to align themselves properly. His own mind isn't exactly helping, supplying him with disturbing pictures of him lying naked on top of the very sheets he's pulling at, Tony's equally naked weight pressing down on him.

And he can feel the man's eyes on him as he's working, tracking his every movement. The burning gaze is making his skin crawl like there's an entire colony of fire ants taking a morning stroll across his back, but he resists the urge to rub at the unpleasant itch.

A few more tugs of sheet, and the bed is as good as he can possibly make it. Task finished, he straightens up and turns towards Tony, dreading what is coming next.

Tony is lounging in the doorway with an arm up against the wall, effectively blocking Loki's exit. The eyes are still fixed on him, intently staring.

The sight makes a cold hand reach out with frosty fingers to grip at his throat, making him painfully aware of how there's nowhere for him to run; he's effectively trapped in here. Instinctively, he takes a step back, wanting to put some distance between himself and Tony. But as his leg hits the piece of furniture behind him, he realizes all his efforts resulted in was to bring him closer to the bed.

And Tony just keeps staring at him, gaze unwavering.

One of the things that Tony's noticed when it comes to the god now living in his tower is that he has always had a pale complexion. And perhaps it's only his imaginations, but he can swear that right now the shade looks more ashen and pallid than it usually does. Sickly, almost. Something that Count Dracula would have been proud of.

He really doesn't remember Loki being that pale. Granted, he is unlikely to have seen much sunlight since his rampage in New York and subsequent incarcerations with SHIELD and then in Asgard, followed by his stay here, but still.

So while the god is busy making the bed, he watches in silence, trying to find out if there's something wrong with him. Perhaps the guy is coming down with something? That would explain the pastiness, at least.

In that case, he sure hopes it isn't serious and needs professional medical attention. That could prove… problematic. Then again, are Asgardians even susceptible to human diseases? Perhaps gods without their fancy superpowers-probably-including-immunity-to-all-possible-ailments would be? Could they get the flu, or a fever? Or do they contract their own kinds of nasty bugs and weird contagions?

Hmm…

Well, perhaps it would do Loki good if he got something to eat. That might improve things. He eyes the bed, grimacing a little at the unsatisfying sight. Making beds is clearly not one of Loki's hidden talents, much as Tony had hoped that it would turn out to be.

Oh well.

"Alright," he says, giving the pallid god in front of him another prodding look. "Time for breakfast. You look like you might need a bit to eat."

"Want some peanut butter with that? I swear, the stuff tastes a lot better than it looks." He holds the jar out like an exotic offering, butter knife sticking out, but Loki merely shakes his head.

"Suit yourself, princess." With a shrug, Tony removes the knife, which makes a soft slurping sound as it's pulled out, and licks off the sweet substance still sticking to the sides.

Whistling to himself, he sticks the same kitchen utensil into the big jug of strawberry jelly to his right, digging up a big glob of gelatinous goo and smacking it down on top of the peanut butter already plastered over his slice of bread. Loki gives him a quick lop-sided look out of the corner of his eye, clearly of the opinion that Tony's table manners leave many things to be desired.

Yeah, as if the gods in Asgard don't chow down on their pork steaks using their fingers and smash their empty mead cups on the floor.

He starts to spread the strawberry stuff more evenly over the top of his sandwich, though he has a feeling that there's a lot more gelatine and preservatives and chemical aromas in there than actual berries, despite what the pictures on the jug would have you believe.

"So," he says, mouth stuffed with sandwich and red, artificially sweetened gelatine. "Got any particular plans for today? Sulk in a corner? Mope in your room? Brood under the bed?"

He doesn't even know why he's trying to make conversation with Loki. It's not as if the god is showing any appreciation for his valiant efforts, despite not having had anyone to talk to besides Tony for quite some time now. Jarvis doesn't really count.

Loki picks at his butter-covered sandwich with long fingers, not seeming to have much of an appetite. And despite Tony always having pictured Norse gods as fully capable of downing an entire pig and drinking a bathtub worth's of beer in one sitting, Loki is now seated at the edge of his chair, fiddling with his food like a prissy primadonna whose tea and scones have been served five minutes too late and now has to make sure the world does not remain ignorant of her highness' displeasure.

"Well?" he prompts, as no answer seems to be forthcoming.

"No, I don't," the god offers, then. Mechanically, eyes not leaving the sandwich.

If Tony didn't know any better, he'd call that look apathetic. And to top the impression of miserable wretchedness off, Loki looks as if he has hardly slept at all.

Hmm.

He tries a few other comments, but they yield no proper answers.

"So the silent treatment, huh? And here I thought your mouth was always your greatest asset." He smacks his lips. "I'm disappointed, Rudolph. I expected better from you."

Loki looks at him like he's a fly, buzzing around and annoying people.

Tony takes another big bite out of his sandwich, deciding to check out his previous suspicions, just in case.

"You're looking a little on the pale side this morning, Bambi. You're not getting sick or anything, are you?" he asks between chews. "I'd hate to think what sort of nasty diseases alien gods can come down with."

"No."

Alright then…

He gets up from his chair and heads to the kitchen counter, pouring himself a smoking hot cup of espresso, inhaling deeply. Ah, the smell of caffeine in the morning. Nothing beats that. Sighing in contentment, he takes a sip out of the still smoking cup, wincing as he scalds his tongue on the hot liquid. Yeah, so maybe patience is a virtue after all.

He gives Loki another furtive glance, noticing the restless, impatient way his fingers are still playing around with the sandwich. So perhaps the god is just suffering from sheer boredom. Maybe that's why he flipped yesterday, like a teenage brat starved for attention trying to create a little drama for lack of other ways to amuse himself.

Well then. He has a board meeting and then another dull charity event to attend to, but if that's the problem, he figures they can sit down and watch some kind of movie when he's back. At least it's entertainment, some kind of a distraction. And watching moviescertainly serves to put him in a much better mood.

His gaze flickers towards his wrist watch, which is probably about as good a conversation partner as the sulking god. And damn, he should probably be on his way already, unless he wants to be late for his own board meeting. Again.

"Bored, huh?" he asks, hoping to gauge whether he has nailed the root of the problem.

Loki gives him a blank look that looks very much like a 'yes'.

"Well, don't worry, princess," he says, downing the remaining coffee in his cup. "I have some stuff I need to take care off today, but when I'm back this evening we'll spend some quality entertainment time together, just you and I." He flashes the god his sunniest smile. "How about that, huh?"

Loki remains sitting at the table long after Tony has left. His body feels numb, and he isn't sure his limbs would have obeyed him, had he tried to move them.

So tonight, then.

Tony isn't going to wait any longer. What he's been dreading is finally about to happen, and there isn't a thing he can do to stop it.

The sandwich in his hand makes a slurping sound as he squeezes it between his trembling fingers, as he reduces it to the useless, pathetic piece of jumble that is his own existence.

He's not sure his nerves or his sanity can deal with another excruciating wait.

Well, I suppose Tony deserves some credit for finally starting to notice that something is a bit off about Loki…

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