Author's note: Well, at least that terrible misunderstanding finally got cleared up! So let's head on to the next chapter and see whether things will be improving from now on…
As always, comments and feedback make me a happy writer. :)
The mouthful of Cheerios is growing in size for every time he chews, and it is only with a heroic effort he manages to swallow it down. Tony is sitting across the table, sipping from a steaming cup of coffee, not speaking a word.
The silence is making sharp prickles of anxiety sting all over Loki's skin. Because normally, Tony is never quiet. He talks, all the time, constantly unleashing his well-filled arsenal of sarcastic wit upon his surroundings. No matter what, the man quips, mocks, jests, remarks, jabs. But he's never quiet.
Expect now, he is.
It's so uncharacteristic, and it surely can't be a good sign.
Perhaps Tony is angry. Maybe even for something that he did. He sincerely hopes that's not the case, though his brain is working full-speed trying to remember if he has done anything today that could have prompted such a reaction. Or not done something that Tony thinks he should have.
Nothing particular comes up, though.
There still hasn't been any punishment meted out for his previous actions, and he wonders whether it's a good or a bad thing that Tony is biding his time. He tries to tell himself that he should be happy about that, because the longer it takes, the more likely it is that the man's anger and resentment have cooled down. Or, if he's unlucky, the wait will only serve to make that anger and resentment fester even more.
He doesn't know which alternative is closest to the truth, and he wishes he were better at reading Tony. Or that Tony were better at voicing what he's expecting from Loki. Slave masters on Asgard tend to be very vocal when it comes to giving their slaves orders, making it abundantly clear what they expect them to do and how to act and what the consequences of disobedience are. But Tony hasn't been much like that, instead seeming to assume that Loki will know what's expected and act accordingly.
And he really doesn't. He's too unfamiliar with Midgardian standards, praxis and customs for that.
So perhaps he's just crossed an invisible line, disregarded an unspoken order or something of the sort. Perhaps Tony is waiting for him to realize his mistake on his own, slowly growing even more annoyed for every minute that Loki is giving no signs of being aware of his wrongdoings.
No, he has no idea, and it's just feeding his anxiety even more.
Okay, so this easily counts as one of the top three most awkward breakfasts he's ever had. After all, it only happens once in a blue moon that he is at a total loss for what to say.
And frankly, what do you say to someone who expected you to rape them?
He can't think of anything appropriate that won't come off as pointless and borderline idiotic, so instead he sips his coffee in silence, the only other sound apart from his soft slurping being the clangs of Loki's spoon every now and then scraping against the bowl of Cheerios.
And there's one uncomfortable thought that has been starting to intrude in his head, namely the realization that Loki is probably going to be here for the duration, much as he has tried not to think in those terms.
And that in turn brings up the question of what the hell he is going to actually do with him? There's just no acceptable solution to the problem, much as he tries to turn the issue around in his head as if it were a Rubik's cube that could be solved with a few tweaks and twists. A puzzle possible to work out with logic alone, not one imbued with all kinds of emotions and everyday practicalities and undesirable implications and god knows what other crap.
How could that high and mighty Council of Very Important People back in Asgard expect that he would be able to deal with all this? Do they even understand what mess they're making of his life? Do they even care?
How could anyone have thought it a good idea to hand Loki over to him as his slave, to dump this responsibility onto him of all people? He's not a responsible person, and never claimed to be one. Hell, he can barely handle himself, much less a god of mischief turned slave.
And Loki's expectations… ugh. That's the worst part of it all; the most fucked up thing of this extremely fucked up situation.
"You know, I never actually wanted you here," he hears his own voice saying, punctuating the silence with the superfluous comment that he just had to make. There are a few heartbeats of silence as Loki's spoon stops scraping against the bowl. Perhaps it's the wrong thing to say, but a part of him is desperate to point out that this situation is none of his doing, he isn't responsible for this shit.
Or perhaps it's a way of trying to alleviate his own guilt for what his actions, no matter how unwittingly, brought Loki to believe and perhaps almost do.
Loki says nothing, and for that Tony is half-grateful, half-exasperated.
Loki's fingers tighten around the spoon at Tony's comment, as he stares at the round things floating in the milk in his bowl. So that's what must have caused the man's current foul disposition, then – being forced to put up with a slave he doesn't actually want.
So in the end, it is Loki that has managed to put Tony into his bad mood, no matter how inadvertedly and barring the fact that this tower is one of the last places he would want to be if he had even the slightest say in his own destiny.
He hopes that Tony isn't going to blame him, or take his frustrations out on the slave that, when all is said and done, is the root cause of the problem.
But there is no one else here, of course. All the Aesir who had any influence in his sentencing are far away in another realm, and only Loki is here to answer to any accusations Tony might have in that regard.
Perhaps he will suffer for that too, either now or later. He grimaces. Being a slave is certainly bad enough, but being an unwanted slave is bound to be even worse. Particularly if Tony is going to hold him responsible for it.
And of course, in a way he is responsible. If it hadn't been for his actions in New York, he wouldn't have been here in the fist place. It makes perfect sense that Tony is going to blame him for that. Furtively, he lifts his gaze from the bowl to briefly glance at Tony, searching for signs that the brewing anger is about to transform itself into sudden violence, but the man's self-control seems intact for now.
Just to be safe, he decides to discreetly keep an eye on Tony, in case a fist should suddenly come flying his way.
The distrust in Loki's face is all too obvious as the god glares at him across the table with suspicion written into every line of his features.
Then again, Tony can't really blame him after what he made Loki think with his inappropriate reactions during that ill-fated foot massage. No wonder the god is sporting that sullen, accusing look, like Tony is a lesser form of being.
He probably deserves it too, for being such an idiot, lacking even the most basic sense of self-control and good judgement.
And he can't help but think that perhaps he should say something more regarding that, but what is there to say, really?
Somehow, he gets the feeling that Loki isn't interested in breaching the subject further any more than Tony is. And frankly, what good will it do bringing the topic up for conversation again? He's already made it clear to the god that his dreadful misgivings weren't going to happen in a million years, and what else is there he can say about it?
No, it's better to just let this die down, and after a while things might become less strained and awkward. Bringing the subject up will only make that long and painful path to blissful forgetfulness start all over.
And heaven knows that it is embarrassing enough as it already is.
He can sense the man's displeasure as he regards him, and it makes his skin crawl in dreaded anticipation of things to come. Despite knowing full well that Tony can't stand him, he's rarely felt it this sharply and clearly. Usually, the man keeps an impressively nonchalant façade, only occasionally letting his stark dislike for Loki breach through the surface.
But the displeasure that is emanating from Tony right now is nearly palpable in its conspicuousness, and it's making him more nervous by the second. Because this time, there seems to be nothing specific he has done that has prompted it; instead, it is his mere presence, his sheer existence in this tower that has been putting Tony into such a bad mood.
Of course, it's far from the first time he has displeased Tony, but the reasons so far have been fairly obvious, the cause and effect clear, what actions prompted the negative reaction possible to pinpoint.
Now, however, it's not, and it's just making him even more aware of the precariousness of his situation.
Tony could easily and quickly make things very unpleasant for him, should he decide to. And the man doesn't even need a reason; Loki doesn't need to have actually done anything. Arbitrariness and mere whims are just as valid, seeing as how slave masters don't need rationale or cause for anything they decide to do to or with their slaves.
Biting his lip, he wonders if there's anything he can do to put Tony into a better mood, any way to get into his good graces, however tiny they might be. Now that the threat of being turned into a bed slave has thankfully been removed, he finds himself more concerned about the other aspects of his immediate future that inevitably come with his position. And he has no idea just how harshly Tony intends to deal with him for all he's done. The dreams from only a couple of nights ago resurface unbidden, and he shudders inwardly. Might there be anything that could improve the dreary outlook of his future, lessen the severity of the punishments that are still awaiting?
But a part of him is doubtful. He isn't sure there's anything he can do. He can't even think of anything he's ever done that has pleased Tony, all he ever seems to end up doing is to displease the man.
Then again, keeping quiet and staying out of Tony's way is probably his best bet. Reminding him as little as possible of his existence, since that seems to be enough to prickle the man's skin.
Fingers clenching, he scoops up another spoonful of his breakfast. In the silence, the clinking of metal against ceramic is almost deafening.
And so, the misunderstandings continue… for a little while, at least.
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