Author's note: Again, thanks for all the support and reviews for this story, it's so lovely reading all your comments. :D
He's huddled up at one corner of the couch in the living room, staring blankly into the wall, legs drawn up to his chest. Right now, he doesn't feel like he has any energy left for much of anything; both his body and his mind are so tired, so terribly weary, as if he's been drained of every last speck of strength.
Lately, his emotions have been in such turmoil, all the ups and downs having worn him down. And he has a hard time digesting it all; there are so many things for him to come to terms with. Fleetingly, he wonders whether his world is perhaps about to stabilize itself from now on rather than continue to rock wildly back and forth, jostling him so fiercely that he has to struggle to keep his footing.
The concept that his life might basically have consolidated itself at this point, reached some semblance of status quo, is both reassuring and disturbing.
Reassuring, because it means that his life in Tony's tower is unlikely to get much worse than it currently is. Disturbing, because it also means that he will have no choice but to continue his pitiful existence like this. Like a slave.
The aversion churns inside of him at this prospect, but it's a weak and feeble stirring; right now he can't muster up much of anything; it's like those recently raging feelings left a hole in their wake once they subsided.
He picks at the sleeve of his shirt, pulling at a loose thread. At least Tony is away on business, and the man's absence brings him a certain sense of relief. After all, he's still here under Tony's sufferance, and it's very clear that the man doesn't want him here. To top it off, he's still at a loss as to how to act around him, still confused as to what is expected. Sure, Tony gave him a brief outline during their little talk – behave, do as he's told, don't make any trouble – but those were only very general things, nothing detailed or specific. And of course, all that goes without saying, which makes it neither helpful nor informative. Given the strict and comprehensive rules governing the lives of slaves in Asgard, it's not much to go by. To add to his confusion, Tony's opinion of what constitutes proper behaviour doesn't seem to have a lot in common with those of slave masters in Asgard, beyond the basics.
And Tony's presence makes him uncertain, not quite knowing what to do with himself. Not long ago, he thought he knew what he could expect, and now that certainty has left a gaping void that he doesn't know what to fill with. It's like fumbling in the dark without a lantern to light his way and prevent him from stumbling on the uneven ground.
In Asgard, there are clear standards of conduct for everyone, be they a slave or a member of the royal household or anything in between. But here, there are none, or at least none that he can see, beyond the obvious. As bad as his former expectations were, at least he had thought he knew what to anticipate, and now that rug has been pulled from under his feet, leaving nothing to replace it.
First and foremost, slaves in Asgard would never have been left idle like this, would never have been allowed to lounge around the way he's been doing during most of his time here. If their masters don't have any work for them for the time being, they'd be hired out to perform labour elsewhere. Slaves don't eat for free, after all.
But Tony has already told him that he's to stay here, as opposed to being turned over to someone else's custody. At times, it's like he's almost forgotten that he even has a slave around, like Loki is only part of the furnishing and beneath notice.
Of course, there is one type of slaves who aren't usually required to do much work and mostly sit around the house for decoration and their masters' pleasure, but it has already been made clear that Tony has no such intentions for him.
One thing is obvious, though – Tony is bound to be happier the less he sees of his slave, the less time he has to spend in Loki's presence. Even though it would seem that he has mostly come to terms with the situation by now, despite his never wanting it, it's obvious that he's still not pleased with it.
His musings are interrupted by the hum of the elevator ascending through the duct, faint but clearly discernible in the silence. Unfolding his long limbs, he pushes himself up from the couch and heads for the library, just managing to clear the field before a soft ping and a whoosh of elevator doors opening reverberate through the air and Tony steps out into the living room.
There is one thought taking up most of his free brain capacity as he stands there in elevator, watching the little yellow light move up the number panel on the wall – he needs to find Loki something to do. And judging by the recent incident with the clay pellets, the god is more highly strung than a fine-tuned Stradivarius.
Yeah, leave it to a jittery god of mischief to make something as supposedly soothing as becoming one with nature through greenery care turn into a nerve-frizzing angst fest.
He sighs, raking a hand through his hair. He needs to make sure Loki's occupied with something. After all, being idle with nothing to do is the most sure-fire way to let your mind stray into all sorts of dark and destructive directions. He should know, since his time in Afghanistan. After his return home, he had spent endless of hours in his workshop during the long nights that followed, focusing on some project or the other to prevent all those things eating away at him from totally devouring him. Merely keeping his hands busy had proved the most effective way of keeping his negative thoughts at bay.
So yeah, putting the god to some kind of work might help to put the cats in the bag a little more at ease.
It's not easy to think up something an alien powerless god might be useful for, but finally an idea does come to him. Yeah, maybe there is something he can occupy Loki with for a while that is simple enough for him to be able to handle just fine.
There's a ping as the elevator comes to a halt with a slight jerk, and the doors open. Immediately, he makes a beeline for the couch, tired after long hours of boring negations with stubborn clients. Sinking down on the cushions with a sigh of contentment, he kicks his shoes off and lets his head fall back, enjoying a moment of doing absolutely nothing.
It doesn't take long before the feeling starts to creep up on him that something's a little off, and it's only a few seconds later that he realizes what it is.
The couch is still warm.
Before he's even made it halfway down to the library, Jarvis' voice rings out from the ceiling, stopping him in his tracks.
"Mr Stark would like to see you in the living room."
So he has no choice but to go back to where he just left, though the prospect of sitting down with a book is far more appealing than being in the same room as Tony.
The man is slouching on the couch as he enters, on the very same spot Loki was occupying only minutes ago. He comes to a halt at a reasonable distance away, waiting for Tony to speak whatever is on his mind.
"Rudolph," Tony says as way of acknowledgement. "Just wanted to talk with you for a bit."
There's a pause as Loki waits for Tony to tell him to sit down, if that's what he's intending. Granted, Tony hasn't insisted on the usual displays of deference owed by slaves to their masters – kneeling, gaze directed at the floor, the ubiquitous 'master' tacked onto the end of utterances, and so on – but he still thinks it might be unwise to seat himself down before Tony tells him to; slaves are of course supposed to wait until they're given permission for such.
The pause stretches into a long silence as nothing happens. "In case it wasn't obvious, that's the cue for you to sit down," Tony finally says as he waves a hand towards the non-occupied end of the couch.
Loki gingerly sits, and Tony watches him for a while before speaking again.
"Are you avoiding me?"
The blunt, almost ridiculously straight-forward question takes him by surprise. Really, what is he supposed to answer to that? If Tony's noticed, there's hardly going to be any point in trying to deny it.
"I assumed you would feel more… comfortable at a distance," he manages as way of explanation. And most importantly, he would as well, but he isn't going to say that out loud, of course.
Tony picks at his nails for a few heartbeats before replying.
"You know, we're going to have some really long years ahead of us if we're gonna spend them trying to avoid each other, don't you think?"
Well, his years are going to be long regardless, but that's another fact he isn't about to point out to Tony.
So instead, he makes no reply.
"I don't bite, you know," Tony says flippantly, though it sounds like there's a hint of exasperation in there as well. "I thought you'd already gotten that memo printed out for you."
Loki looks out the window over Tony's shoulder, the greyish clouds spattered like dirty pieces of cotton in the rain-heavy sky. There's a part of Tony's previous talk with him that suddenly emerges, regarding something that slaves aren't normally supposed to be doing – voicing their concerns.
"What is it you expect from me?" he says, his voice sounding strange in his own ears, like it's a foreign, alien presence that doesn't belong in here.
Tony raises an eyebrow. "Didn't I make that clear last time? It's simple, really – behave yourself and don't cause any trouble." He gives Loki another one of those searching gazes. "However, I suppose you've been a bit idle lately, so I'm going to put you up to doing something useful around here. There's all these-"
He's interrupted by a buzz on his cell phone. Grimacing, he digs the device out of his pocket with two fingers, throwing a brief glance at the display, and then sighs. "Alright, gotta pick this one up before I bring you up to speed on your task. Wait here until I'm back."
And with that, Tony makes for the door, phone pressed to his ear. Loki can't hear any of what the person at the other end of the line is saying, but he doesn't miss the angry creases marring Tony's forehead.
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