Author's note: Well, as many of you noticed yesterday, FFN was having an evil glitch that prevented newly posted chapters from showing, including chapter 26 of this story. So I took the chapter down, and now that everything is (or at least seems to be) working again, I'm uploading it again.

One thing, though – since what was supposed to be uploaded yesterday as chapter 26 is one of the most pivotal and important chapters of the entire story (okay, well, so it's my favourite chapter at least), I don't want to risk people missing it because of this glitch (not sure if email notifications will at all be sent out when uploading the same chapter again). And that's no good.

Solution – While waiting for the error to get sorted, I typed up another scene that will now constitute chapter 26 instead. So the *something* that was promised in last chapter will have to wait until chapter 27, I'm afraid. Sorry about that, but I don't want to risk that particular chapter getting lost to readers in all this mess… ^^

Well, at least there's one good thing in his life right now. The new beta-electro-transformer that has been riddled with a seemingly unsolvable glitch for so long has finally proved itself cooperative and fixable, and now that he's past that very annoying speed-bump, he can get some real work done on it.

He readjusts a few of the cables lining its innards, the deft motions automatic and routine. The progress has been quicker than expected, to boot. Only a few more days, and he should be able to do the first test runs together with his suit.

Yeah, at least something good deigns fit to happen, something that works out the way it's supposed to.

He tries to find some solace in that thought, while carefully doing his best not to listen too closely to that other quiet but insistent part of his brain that is whispering that all he's really doing down here in his workshop is hiding. The transformer is just an excuse, given that he's left that project on ice for months, not returning to it until just now.

Tony Stark, hiding from the awkwardness and embarrassment and guilty conscience awaiting him outside of the familiar safety of these four walls – who would have figured.

The concept is strikingly bizarre, because he's never pictured himself as someone going to pains to avoid conflicts. Quite the opposite, he would often be the one to instigate conflict, at times taking an almost perverse pleasure in watching annoying people squirm as he blurts out uncomfortable elephant-in-the-room kind of truths or otherwise giving voice to what everyone is thinking but no one else than the uninimitable Tony Stark dares to say out loud. Because that's just him – boisterous, basking-in-attention, ever-cocky and sure of himself.

No, conflict and awkwardness never bothered him much. Not until now, that is.

Which is of course ridiculous, because it shouldn't matter what Loki, a bat-shit crazy war criminal, thinks of him. But somehow, inexplicably, it still does.

But really, he doesn't want to go there. After all, it was all those improper thoughts and fantasies that started this crap that ended with him hiding in – no, scratch that, retreating to his workshop as to not have to stand face to face with the other counterpart so inextricably involved in all this shit. So instead, he forces his wandering thoughts into another direction, one much more harmless. For the moment, his brain seems irritatingly unwilling to let go off the subject that is the green-eyed god living in his tower, but at least he can focus on more neutral aspects relating to that topic.

So yeah, he's really impressed that Loki managed to ruin no more than one single shirt during his ironing stint, as Jarvis later informed him when he enquired about the results of the little task handed out. It had been tempting to tell the AI to bring up the recorded security feed showing the whole spectacle, because the image of Loki ironing would have made for quite a remarkable sight.

But in the end, he decided not to. The idea only held a vague appeal for a few seconds, because he knew that merely watching the god on a screen, at a safe distance many rooms away from his immediate presence, would still make all those embarrassing memories rear their ugly heads in his mind.

And it's odd how, mere months ago, he would have paid good money for the opportunity of seeing the crazy Norse god ironing shirts, no less Tony's own, but now the concept doesn't seem the least bit funny. Just disturbing, because he knows that regardless of how little the idea appeals to either of them, Loki is stuck here indefinitely, and nothing they can do will change that. And he has no choice but to come to terms with the current circumstances that unfortunately involve him risking running into the god at any time and in pretty much any place in his tower.

So instead, he let himself be content with Jarvis' report stating that Loki had managed to fulfil his job assignment for the day without burning either himself in the process or any of the other shirts after that initial mishap. No need for him to watch the proceedings for himself; Jarvis words were good enough for him.

And perhaps it would be a good idea for him to find the god some new task to occupy him, but something inside of him violently protests at that idea. Because he doesn't feel up to confronting Loki again so soon; and the more time he spends alone in this workshop, effectively shut off from the world and the rest of his tower with only his equipment and technology for company, the more reluctant he feels about facing the good again. So maybe he could have Jarvis instruct him to do something, but he's not sure what exactly. And besides, he's not sure even Jarvis' and Dummy's combined efforts would make satisfactory replacements for a human instructor giving a run-down of what would for a god most likely be unfamiliar Midgardian doings.

No, it's vastly preferable sneaking down here, where he can toil away undisturbed. Loki will never show his face in this place, so at least he can feel safe in this little sanctuary of his.

At that, a slash of bad conscience comes over him, because lately he has been taking most of his meals alone in his workshop, only pausing briefly in his work to wolf some food down, preferring to eat on his filthy, oil-smeared workbench just so he won't have to sit across the god's accusing stares, the well-known pair of eyes boring into him like needles. So instead, he's had Dummy deliver Loki food to his room (it's not like he's going to let the god starve or anything). But he sure as heck isn't able to muster up even a shred of appetite sitting there with Loki's suspicious gaze hovering all over his airspace like a pissed-off chopper.

And if he is to be brutally honest, he's certain that Loki vastly prefers this arrangement too. There is no reason why he should want to spend any more time than necessary in Tony's presence.

He fiddles with the electro-transformer in his hands. How much simpler it is to deal with the dependable constants that are technology and science, where he knows his way around, where things are reliable and act more or less as expected. They're logical, predictable to a fault. Not like other… situations, that only throw him into loops he can't keep track of.

Again, he wonders if he should perhaps say something more to the god, but really, what is there to say that hasn't been said already? Oh, he can talk until he gets blue in the face, but that's not going to change a single thing. What's happened has happened, and he can only deal with the fall-out the best he can.

At that, a heap of jumbled recollections float to the surface, reminding him of certain off-hand comments he's let slip lately, entirely unaware how they might have been interpreted by Loki.

Most of all, there was that oh-so-innocent remark about quality entertainment time, forgotten until now because at the time it wasn't important, just another one of those endless comments being delivered by the never-stopping conveyor belt connecting his brain to his mouth – the memory rises unbidden, slamming into his awareness with full force. And he feels like a blithering idiot. How must that have sounded to someone expecting to be taken advantage of?

Perhaps he should have seen those signs earlier. Like, a lot earlier. Interpreted that paleness, the edginess, the wanton living room breakage, the non-existing appetite, as something else than mere craziness and sulking and obstinacy, or whatever other explanations he had made up for himself.

Yeah, he had had a million rationalizations pre-packaged and ready, but none of them came even close to the truth.

And he wishes that Loki had said something a lot earlier, too, before it got as far as it did. But he supposes he can full well understand that the god didn't. How do you even bring up a subject like that, unless you're prompted to?

Ugh.

So the god is still acrimonious and antagonistic, of course, which is only to be expected. The tenseness in his manners and the accusations in his eyes speak their clear language. He's just surprised the god hasn't said anything scathing to him yet, spewing forth all the disdain and vitriol that his godly haughtiness can possibly muster up.

Perhaps it will come eventually, once Loki has grown tired of merely eyeing him like he's an ugly stain on the carpet. In some ways, it would probably be preferable, rather than this silent treatment that's really starting to wear thin around the edges.

Oh well. Maybe it's just as well that the two of them stay clear of each other for a little while, until this whole mess has sort of died down. Until it won't be the first thing that comes to mind in either of their heads whenever they encounter each other.

Yeah, that is probably a good idea. Some things just can't be rushed, after all. They have to settle in their own good time, right?

And by then, the images of a naked Loki lying in his bed might have stopped intruding in his head too.

Chapter 27 is coming soon. In the meantime, please review. :)