A/N: Yeah, yeah, I know. I haven't been on/writing. Bad writer. I'm just so busy… Now that its summer break, I should be able to find more time…

So I saw Iron Man 3; it was BEYOND awesome! Since my fic is really far from what Tony has done in the movie, I've decided that IM3 will NOT have any effect on this story. The Mandarin/A.I.M. stuff might come up eventually (especially because I'm making this somewhat more free throughout the Marvel universe), but it won't be the same as IM3.

So here's the story again. Hope you enjoy. DFTBA.

It was a typical morning at S.H.I.E.L.D.; the helicarrier flew across the wide expanse of blue ocean water and the various agents bustled about, doing their normal routines. Director Nick Fury stood, watching it all with his one brown eye, silently approving. News of the Thor sightings had reached him quickly, though he really didn't do much about it. There was really no point in confronting the god, and if there was trouble… that's when he would intervene.

"Director, we have a visitor," Agent Hill stated simply as she strode towards her boss, stopping a few feet away from him. He nodded in acknowledgement, and Hill took a step back.

The new-comer's eyes were a bright, shining blue, curiously gazing at the technology around him. He was about as tall as Fury, but his muscles were much more visible. The man was clothed in new jeans, which were not too long, nor too short. His white tee-shirt was clean and looked nice with his black business suit. His brown hair was gelled back and neatly styled, making him look very educated, despite his young age.

"Sir, I'm Robert Edstein. I was wondering if I could apply for a job here," he stated, cracking a smile at Nick Fury. Fury examined the man with his eye for a moment.

"Agent Hill, take him through interrogation, than see how well his skills are. Report back to me when you're done."

Days went by, and not much had happened at Steve's apartment. Loki would flinch every time someone made a move to approach him and he slept with the lights on at night. Bruce would occasionally come down and visit, to check on how Loki was healing.

"Good…" Bruce muttered quietly, half to himself. He stepped away from Loki and looked at him through his square glasses. "You're healing."

Loki nodded once, his eyes not meeting Bruce's. His knuckles were white from gripping the edge of the sofa and his lips were pressed together tightly in a thin line, Bruce sighed softly and walked back over to Steve, quietly explaining what Loki's condition was.

As the two men talked in hushed voices, Loki's grip released slightly, but not completely. He watched both Bruce and Steve with a piercing green gaze, which was filled with fear. A pang of hunger stabbed at the god of mischief's stomach and he tried to ignore it. He rarely spoke and refused to eat any food that Steve gave him, no matter how good it looked or smelt. He would weakly crawl into the kitchen in the night or when Steve was gone and get small portions of food. He didn't want Steve to know that he was "stealing" in the middle of the night, for fear that he might move the food supply.

To be honest, most of Steve's days were boring. He had to spend most of it with Loki, who would sit in a corner, rocking back and forth or would be sleeping. Steve didn't see Loki get up often; he only saw it when Loki would fall down and have to pick himself back up. For a long time now, Steve had wondered what he could do to help the trickster recover, but nothing really came to mind. Obviously, none of the Avengers hanging around would make Loki feel better, and S.H.I.E.L.D. would take him prisoner at once.

The captain glanced back at Loki and, noticing the fear, murmured, "Loki? Are you okay?"

At being directly addressed, Loki shrank back, his grip tightening once more on the sofa. He didn't say anything and stared at the two men, heart thumping wildly in his chest. The fear he felt… He hated it. Why did he have to be afraid? It was just another thing to add onto the long list of reasons why he hated himself. Why he had sunk so low into this insanity. He looked away from the two Avengers, closing his eyes tightly.

An image of a bulky, purple faced menace caused Loki's eyes to snap back open, shaking with fear. The evil smirk that had lined the titan's face had spread across his entire face, bright blue eyes shining maliciously. Why did he want Loki? What was his purpose to the evil man?

Tony Stark was drinking.

This wasn't the first time, however.

Pepper had left for a conference the day before, leaving Tony all by himself in the newly built Stark Tower. And what was a billionaire awaiting his inevitable doom from an angered god of thunder? Drink. So Tony drank, laying on the couch, bored out of his mind. He wondered what to do… What to build…

His thoughts slipped to Loki and a shudder shook his body. Why was he helping the god? What was the point? Loki had tortured them all, by means of mind tricks. Tony had nearly died because of Loki and now that Loki was the weakened one, he expected Tony to be kind and just help without a second thought?

Damn, Tony's clouded mind thought. He slowly hoisted himself up from the couch, wobbling slightly as he walked over to his cell phone. His beer bottle was still clutched in one hand and he was close to dropping it. He dialed the number with stumbling fingers, then held the communication device to his ear. As he waited for someone to pick up, he plopped back down on the couch, taking another swig of the drink.

"Stark, what do you want?" said an irritated Nick Fury.

Tony giggled slightly at the demand in his voice and replied groggily, "I have a present for you."