Mind Control

Loki had known what he was doing on that day in New York…when Thanos had sent him to retrieve the tesseract. He had known that Thanos was after something called an infinity stone, something he'd learn about years later, even if he hadn't quite understood then. He'd known that his brother was joining a group of warriors called the Avengers. But despite knowing all of this, it hasn't been his voice. Mind control was a funny thing…he'd know what he was doing, but he hadn't wanted to do any of it.

He liked to cause mischief. He most often looked out for himself first. He resented his adopted father and his brother and he had, once or twice, wanted to take over Asgard. But he hadn't wanted to destroy all of the city New York on Midgard and he hadn't wanted to hear civilians die screaming.

But he also hadn't expected the Avengers to believe him about any of that. His brother rarely did, and the Avengers trusted him even less. Still, as intergalactic threats began to find their way to the planet that Thor had become so fond of, Loki had found himself visiting Midgard with his brother more and more, first meeting the Avengers officially, and then actually fighting on the same side once or twice. They were leery of him, but he was useful in a fight, so they tolerated his presence, especially when Thor vouched for him. Soon, the team felt like…well, an actual team, and over the months that he spent on Midgard, he found that he was…not happy. Maybe just comfortable.

So when he and Thor had returned to Midgard after nearly two years away, he wouldn't say he had been 'glad' to see the other Avengers, but he had appreciated the comfort of an old routine. Only…things had been different. There had been a tension between them that he hadn't felt before. Rogers and Stark had apparently had some kind of falling out, but things had seemed to be on the mend by the time Loki and Thor had rejoined them. Wanda had been quieter than usual, and she'd watched Stark with a kind of wary mistrust, but Loki had gotten the sense that they'd arrived at the tail end of this argument, because they'd all gathered together in the same room with the floor to ceiling windows at Stark's tower, which was also where he and his brother stayed when they were living on Midgard, and they'd all sat around the same table, with Rogers at the head and Stark at the other end.

But something else had been different. The room had been the same and the window had been the same and the view had been the same. His spot at the table had even been the same. But then a child had walked in, and Stark had dropped that bored smirk he so often wore in favor of something softer as he'd smiled at the boy. "Hey kiddo," he'd greeted softly, and the child had smiled back, dropping into a chair beside him. None of them had seemed overly surprised to see a child step into their seemingly secret, top level Avengers meeting, but Thor had glanced at him as well, seeming just as confused as Loki.

"Is this one of those servant children you employ here on Midgard?"

All eyes had turned to Loki, and Stark had shaken his head, tapping a finger to his ear. "I'm sorry…come again?"

"The…" he'd waved a hand. "You know. The ones that work for wealthy people in exchange for no money."

The child had laughed after a second, despite everyone else's confusion. "An intern?" he'd suggested, and Stark had huffed out a laugh when he'd nodded.

"I pay my interns, thank you very much. And no."

"I mean…I do have an internship with you…" the child had murmured, grinning when Stark had rolled his eyes.

"This is Peter and he isn't here as an intern. He's Spider-Man."

Loki had just lifted an eyebrow, looking the child over. The boy had met his gaze with some nervousness, but had otherwise looked…friendly. Which had been disconcerting. The Avengers were rarely friendly towards him. "And Spider-Man is…"

"An Avenger. In training. Junior Avenger," Stark had told him, and Loki had watched a hand rest on the child's shoulder, almost protectively. And that's when he'd realized.

This was Stark's son.

He had supposed nepotism was one way to get onto a team like this, but his relationship to his brother was often the only thing keeping him safe on Midgard, so he hadn't said anything about it. He had been less sure how Stark had managed to hide a child from them over the last few years, but hadn't cared enough to ask for specifics. Over the next few days, he'd learned that Stark child lived mainly with his Aunt, although according to Thor who had spent more time in communal areas, the boy spent a lot of time at the Tower as well. He also spent time in Stark's lab.

On the first mission they all went on together, which had been a trip to a country whose name Loki hadn't bothered remembering, the child had come as well, dressed in a red suit with a mask that covered his face. The 'spider' part of his name had become apparent when he'd hopped onto the ceiling of the building they'd been sneaking into, shooting webs at the humans they'd been fighting.

"Are you human?" he'd asked the child, wondering if maybe Stark had adopted him, which would explain why he had never seen him before, or if Stark had copulated with some sort of spider alien.

But the child had nodded. "Yeah…I mean…mostly. I got bit by a radioactive spider, and it messed with my DNA."

Well, Loki had thought, there went that theory. It had been a shame, too, as he'd been curious as to what kind of spider alien Stark might have found.

He hadn't failed to notice how all of the Avengers, and not just Stark, had kept a close eye on the boy during the fighting. And afterwards, when they'd all been on their way back to the jet, Stark had wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "You alright, Underoos?"

"I'm fine," the child had insisted, pushing him off, but he'd been smiling in that familiar way he always smiled at Stark. The two of them were close, and he rarely saw the child without Stark somewhere close by. At least, not for the first months.

Staring down at the boy who lay curled up on the concrete floor beside him, Loki couldn't help but think about the first time Peter had found him in the common room or the sitting room or maybe the living room…humans were fairly lax with terminology. Regardless, he'd been sitting in a chair, staring out the windows and, reluctantly, missing home as he'd watched the sun rise over the city skyline, when the boy had walked into the room, hesitating when he'd seen him before sitting in a chair beside him.

"Hi, Loki."

"Child," he'd greeted with a sign that he had been sure was a clear signal that he didn't wish to talk. But the boy hadn't left.

"What are you doing?"

Loki had shot him a look that had, more than once, driven his brother out of the room when he'd been bothering him. "Currently, I am staring out the window."

"Can I ask you something?"

"You just did so…"

"Mr. Stark…he said that when you were here before…" The boy had swallowed, looking nervous for the first time. "He said…it wasn't you, doing all that stuff. He said you were, like…being controlled or something."

"Yes."

Peter had nodded. "So…you aren't ever going to…I mean…you don't want to hurt us?"

"No. I do not." He hadn't expected the boy to believe him. People rarely did. But Peter had smiled.

"Good. I'm glad."

The next time Peter had found him, he had been seething after a fight with his brother, and had been feeling the urge to create some mischief…nothing world ending or life threatening…nothing so dramatic. But he had been angry. And Peter had seemed to sense it. But when their eyes had met, Peter had smiled. "Hey. Are you busy?"

At a loss for what the boy could possibly want, Loki had shaken his head.

"Do you want to get a hotdog with me?"

Loki had been passingly familiar with the food that Midgardians called 'hot dogs.' What he hadn't understood was why the child would want him to go with him to eat such a thing. But Loki had agreed, reluctantly, and together, they'd gone down to the boy's favorite hot dog stand, and they had eaten the food, and Peter had chatted at him about school and what he and Stark were doing in the lab and everything in between. And, for some reason, Loki had felt better by the end of it.

Over the last few months, it had happened more and more. The boy would seek him out, or run into him at the tower, and he would always smile. Always laugh at Loki's dry remarks and gently rebuff all attempts to be put off. He would sometimes bring Loki a hotdog or a coffee or, once, a bag of donuts. And he would chatter until Loki begged him to please stop his incessant talking, which always made Peter laugh. He would ask questions about magic, badgering Loki until he would make a dagger appear, or a trinket from the boy's room, which, inevitably, only led to more questions.

Peter Parker, son of Tony Stark, slowly but surely wormed his way into Loki's life.

The boy had been shocked the first time Loki had mentioned the familial connection. He'd gone quiet, wide-eyed as he'd stared at Loki in confusion. "My…my father?" he'd asked when Loki had asked if his father wouldn't be wondering where he was.

"Yes." The two of them had been at a beach, eating hot dogs once more, and although Loki had appreciated Peter getting him away from his insufferable brother, the sun had been starting to go down, and the child did have a curfew.

"My…um…Loki, I don't have a father. I mean…um…I did. Of course. Everyone has a father but my parents…they, uh…they died. When I was a little kid. So I just live with my aunt now."

That had been news to Loki. "I meant Stark."

"Mr. Stark?" he'd asked, as if the man's name needed clarifying. "Mr. Stark isn't my father!" he'd gone pale then, and Loki had let it drop, but later he'd found Stark in the kitchen, approaching him with no small degree of confusion.

"Is Peter Parker not your son?" he'd asked, and Stark had nearly spit out the green juice he'd been drinking.

"What? No…Peter's not…"

"All this time I assumed he was your son, but he insists he's not."

"Well, he's right."

Despite both of their denials, Loki didn't really believe them. The first thing Peter had said when he'd woken up on the floor beside Loki in a cell with bars that had electricity running through them was that Mr. Stark would come. Loki couldn't imagine anyone having so much faith in someone that wasn't their father.

They hadn't been on a mission. If they had been on a mission, Peter would have been wearing his suit and Loki would have been prepared and Stark would have been there. But the dart that had gone into Peter's neck while he'd been eating a hot dog had come out of nowhere and the gun that had been pressed to Loki's head hadn't taken the boy quite by surprise but his eyes had already been slipping shut and Loki had lunged to catch him when the gun had hit him in the back of the head and the next thing he'd known, the two of them had been in that cell, Peter sitting up beside him, looking down at him with fear and worry that he tried to hide.

"Mr. Stark's gonna come. He'll save us."

Loki hadn't doubted that…not for one second. He might deny that Peter was his son but they all saw it. Everyone knew that there was no one, apart from maybe Pepper Potts, that Tony Stark loved more than Peter Parker. Even now, three days after they'd been captured, he didn't doubt it. He just hoped Stark got there in time. They'd started off their captivity with a jug of water to share, and it hadn't been refilled yet. The food had been bread, twice a day, by the man who refused to answer questions and who kicked the trays over from the middle of the room, a gun trained on them at all times. Loki was starting to feel the hunger getting to him, so he could only imagine that Peter, who had to eat more than regular humans, was suffering. He didn't complain though.

The first day, he'd chattered like usual, an edge of nervousness making him talk a little more and a little faster than normal. Loki had just let him talk.

The second day, he'd been shaking so hard from the cold that Loki had pulled his own jacket off and had wrapped it around the boy, rubbing an arm over his back to try and warm him up. Peter had asked him to tell him about Asgard and Loki had obliged, talking until he was hoarse. He'd told the boy more about his own power, which was unfortunately useless when it came to getting them out of here, and about growing up with his brother. He'd told Peter everything he could think of, from the food they ate to how he'd been expected to dress for the feasts his father had thrown.

And now, on the third day, Loki stared down at the boy who hadn't woken yet. His hand rested on his back, and the slow rise and fall of his hand was all that told Loki the boy was still alive. He had to eat. He needed more water. He was too cold. He couldn't understand how Peter had become so important to him…didn't remember making a conscious decision to let this child into his life, but now, staring down at the shaking boy, he knew that he would do anything to save him.

Ever since what Thanos had done to him, no one had looked at him the way this child looked at him. Honestly, he didn't think anyone ever had treated him the way Peter did. No one else smiled every time they saw him. No one else took him out to eat hot dogs, or on little tours of the city he'd been forced to try and destroy. No one else had put on their favorite movies to watch together because they thought he might enjoy them. (He had, but if he was being honest, he had to admit, he might only have liked them because of the company.)

"Loki?"

"Yes?"

"You okay?"

"I am fine." That was, strictly speaking, not true, but he wasn't going to worry the boy. He wanted to ask how Peter was doing but he was too afraid of the answer, so he just kept his hand on the boy's back.

When their captor appeared that day, presumably to feed them, Loki stood, feeling Peter's eyes on him. "I must admit, I don't see the point of keeping us here only to starve us to death."

The man who'd taken them looked bored as he stared between the two of them. "It was only supposed to be him. I guess without you, the kid would have more food…not to mention, you deserve to pay for what you did."

Loki never had understood Peter's danger senses…had never understood how the boy knew trouble was coming, or if it only applied to himself, but the second the gun went off, Peter was on his feet. No…not just on his feet…he was between Loki and the man who had just attempted to kill him as casually as one would step on a bug. And the world seemed to stop because Peter went from pushing him out of the way to grabbing him, mouth open as he gasped for air he could no longer seem to take in and Loki lowered both of them to the ground, shaking his head, gasping for air as though he'd been the one to be shot.

"No…no, Peter…you…you stupid child you…"

Peter brought a weak hand to his side where a red stain was growing and Loki cupped a hand behind his head, easing him onto his back, his own heart beating out of his chest, eyes suddenly hot. He was afraid, he realized. So, so afraid.

"Well, I guess Stark has an incentive to hurry up," the man told him calmly, as though he were still safe…as though he hadn't just shot one of the very few people that Loki actually cared about. As though he wouldn't kill him before Stark ever got the chance.

The boy's eyes closed, jaw tight as he fought to keep quiet despite the whimpers that escaped, and Loki felt his own hands start to shake…with fury or power or fear, he didn't know, but there was a green haze growing around him and he pressed one hand to Peter's cheek and the other covered the hand the boy held to his bleeding side. "You're alright. You'll be alright," he whispered, feeling something wet on his face. The child would be fine because the child had to be fine! "Peter? You're going to be alright! Stay awake!"

The man stepped closer and Loki's head snapped up, the hand not pressed to Peter's side coming up, a dagger appearing, and without a moment's hesitation, he threw it. He hadn't dared before…he'd been too afraid that he would miss or too afraid that the man would manage to pull out his gun and shoot Peter before he could get the knife through the electrified bars or too afraid that without someone to give them food, they would starve. But the worst possible thing had already happened, and so it was with a vicious smile and a thrill of vindication that he watched the blade plunge into the man's throat, sending a spray of blood onto the bars as he dropped.

And then Loki closed his eyes and pressed both hands to the boy's side as he gasped for air, tears running down his cheeks. He had never been much of a healer…had never seen the point of learning to fix others, not when he cared about so few of them, especially not humans. He broke things. He didn't fix them. It wasn't something he'd studied and it wasn't a type of magic that had interested him but now, he poured his magic into the child until he felt like he might collapse. It had no shape…he wasn't trying to suture or sterilize or replenish the blood he'd lost. He wouldn't know how even if he'd been trying to. Instead, he thought about a boy who was Stark's son and his friend…a boy who always smiled when he saw him and who had become important to him against his will, and he begged.

Make him well. Please. Make him well.

Stark was the first one to reach them, turning off the mechanism that had electrified the bars and dropping to his knees beside Peter. Loki was still holding him…still begging, and he had no idea if it was working…at some point, he'd pulled the boy into his arms, and now Stark took him, pulling his shirt away from the place where a bullet had entered him…only the bullet was on the floor and there was no wound anymore. Without the child in his arms, Loki slumped against the wall, feeling more tired than ever before.

"Peter? Pete!" Stark called, cupping his cheek in his hand, and miracle of miracles, the boy opened his eyes.

"Mr. Stark?"

"Yeah…hey kiddo. Sorry I'm late. We got held up. Traffic, you know?" Stark was trying to joke, but Loki doubted there was anyone alive that wouldn't see through him. Still, Peter's mouth turned up into a little smile.

"That's okay. Was…was having fun with…Loki."

"Yeah? Good. I'll have to book another playdate. You okay?"

"Got shot…I think…Loki saved me."

Stark met his eyes then, looking so afraid and so grateful, and Loki tried for nonchalance. "Yes, well…if he died, I'd have no one to talk to on this Gods forsaken planet."

Stark nodded, eyes closing as he pressed a kiss to his son's hair. "Alright. How about we get you home, kiddo? May's worried."

"Okay…don't think I can walk…"

"That's okay, buddy. I've got you." Then he met Loki's eyes again, lips pressed together as he lifted the boy. "Thank you." Stark had mouthed the words, nodding a little, and Loki had nodded back, waving his brother off when he rushed into the cell, reaching out a hand to help him up.

"Don't. I'm fine."

In the end, Thor did need to help him up, but Loki could barely be bothered by the fact that he had to be half carried to the jet, or that a doctor at the tower insisted on looking him over and giving him an IV, making him stay in bed like an invalid. In fact, he didn't care about much of anything until he was allowed to sit at the boy's side once more, taking a seat opposite Stark who hadn't left. The bullet would was gone…it was like it had never happened. Malnourishment and dehydration were no joke, especially for someone with an enhanced metabolism. But the boy would recover and live to force Loki to watch more movies and eat more hot dogs and give more minor demonstrations on magic. And that was all he really cared about. So, not giving any thought to Stark's eyes on him, he took the boy's hand and watched over him as he slept.

Thank you for reading!