PS: This is post Civil War. Thor Ragnarok hasn't happened, but Thor's discovered Loki's impersonation of Odin, in which Loki flees and is sooner captured and held on Midgard.
Tony's thoughts are in [Italic Square Brackets.]
Loki's thoughts are in {Italic Curved Brackets}
XXX
"What brings you here, little bird?" [The nickname's getting' real old.] Tony deadpans approaching, from where he'd emerged through a slide-panel wall, that no one save him of knows. He did design the place.
Towards the railing he strolls by the glass cage, leant against it arms crossed. Eyes on the god captive sat on the bench stay, for a moment, before the ground next.
Loki sits up. "What's wrong, love? Cat got your tongue?"
"Who headed the invasion?" Tony asks, like he's wanted to ask for a long time. The only one sure. Surer now when he looks, and all humor on the god's face gone. He straightens nears persists: "How much time, Loki?" No response expression illegible. "Can we stop 'em? If we work together?" that's how desperate he is.
"…I'm afraid I've no idea of what you speak."
"Figured the God of Lies would be better at lying." Greens harden for a beat, before resolve the Stark's features and he says: "I wanna help."
"With?"
"Just said."
"You insinuate and presume."
"Why are you all hush about it? Think you can do it alone, or you know we stand no chance at all?"
No answer.
"…Fine. But, you know, if you change your mind, I want in," he kneels, settles cross-legged on the floor back perched to the railing and his face forth. Incredulous Loki's eyes narrow, scrutinize the man's stiff form. Change, much of it apparent, in the weariness the lines on his face the look in his gaze, dimmed.
"…What happened to you?" he asks, the one person that'd bothered to ask him, the right questions.
"A lot…" Stark says, and adds: "Not here for your pity." Loki rose and approached with a wry smirk.
"Bold of you to assume I'd bear any form of sympathy for you." Tony's amusement went not past the upward tug of his chapped lips.
"Then we're good."
"Good?" Loki kneels beside him. "I recall trying to kill you, several times."
"Really? I don't. I'm still here, aren't I?" there is intent in his gaze Loki cannot place. He's been subject before to eyes distraughtly shrewd but these, knowing yes yet, a certain lightness to them, voiding needs for concern. Loki's decline and he takes notice. He tabs his own chest twice asks:
"Where is it?"
"Took it out," looks away brows furrowed with a slight frown. "…Miss it sometimes, in a sick way."
"Mm," Loki hums in assent. He can understand that. "Why didn't you before?"
"Risky."
"What changed?"
"…I did, or my life did, I thought," browns go distant. Loki asks him:
"…Where is your team?" and the Stark scoffs, his chuckle dry. He hums once more, leaned then against the glass his back to Stark, who a beat after probes, more curious sounding:
"…D'you seriously prance around as your dad-"
"He's not."
"Right, sure. But still."
"Yes."
"Why, I mean. I get wanting to be king, though. I don't know," he drawls and Loki inclines his head to the smith's thoughtful features. "Honestly? I don't see it."
"See what?"
"You, wanting it." Loki's gaze grows condescending.
"You know nothing."
"Nuh uh. Probably not, but," he tilted forth elbows to knees, a shine returning to his worn eyes. {Very pretty eyes,} Loki snaps out of it. "What do you want, really?" A strange question. "To do, I mean. What's your aim? Put aside all the, family drama the whole adopted thing-" Irritable now and moreso that Stark ignores the obvious warning, "-all of it. What do you want?"
"What does it matter?" he asks quite out of patience.
"Humor me." Loki cannot read him and it highly aggravates him. Or would, were it not for curiosity prevailing.
Still. The answer's not as simple.
"…It's okay." Far greens return to browns somber. "I don't know either. What should we do about that?" he quirks his head and Loki's confoundment shows before he can veil it. He bodily turns to properly face him.
"What do you want, Stark?" retorts because he'd like an answer right about now.
"Just said; don't know," Tony shrugs audaciously, adds: "If you broke outta here, where would you go, you know, after laying low for a while?"
"Why by the Norns would I tell you?" Did Stark think him really so foolish? Stark rolls his eyes.
"You're not getting the game," he states and Loki's aware this is some game some ploy, but of what nature? "I mean like. Would you, try and overthrow All-daddy again, find another planet to screw with, build a farm on a cliff. What, sounds, more appealing?" he asks with wide, zealous eyes. And Loki remembers, sharp caution to them their methodical tentative nature, that day at the tower. When Stark was really trying to play him distract him, annoy him profusely. But all, artifice and cunning in his gaze lacks.
The real Tony Stark speaks now, having surfaced from mask after mask. And Loki, reinterprets their discussion from start to now.
"What does for you?" he enquires of the man, the mortal that had so intrigued him, his story his craftwork in contrast to Midgard's remainder.
"I'm thinking it's high time I hauled-ass off Earth, really." {You are rather out of place here.} "That'd be nice. I can build a spaceship. How hard can it be?" Loki smirks.
"For you? Less a challenge than others, but I suspect you lack a great deal of input. And I imagine Thor hasn't been much help."
"Oh my god you wouldn't believe." Loki smiles and, the way Stark's whole posture alters uncoiling and his face lights up, that spark to his eyes returning, Loki finds himself strangely by fixed. "The dude's clueless – I thought you guys were like a thousand something years old!"
"In your comprehension. The flow of time on Asgard is different. He is merely a hundred and twelve, I ninety-nine."
"Wow, really?! That's, definitely a topic I wanna dig into. But you still haven't answered my question."
"You mean my 'goals and dreams'?" he mused satiric.
"Yes, Shakespear. Not that far just, what do you want, right now?" And Tony realizes he's giving this way more significance than needs be. He can't really recall why he'd come here, why he'd snuck in why'd he'd stuck surveillance on loop and mute so no one'll hear them, interrupt them.
He does not know what he wants of Loki. He'd suspected the question he'd come to at first ask Loki wouldn't actually answer, at least not directly or not yet because. If Tony's right in speculation, if they swapped places, Tony wouldn't be keen to speak too.
But then he'd stayed. In his defense he'd had an awful lot of days, weeks, months, etc. And then Loki was asking things and taking his answers at face value, and the liar's eyes were far too understanding but how far-fetched was it? Since he so too understood him.
It alarmed him the first time, how well he could fathom Loki's intent conclude his plans grasp his methods. Not so much now, the more he heard the more Thor told he realized, under different circumstances, they might have even been friends. Or, would probably had tumbled into bed, more likely. Loki was all pale flesh and sharp lines, tall, dark and brooding by definition. He was terribly suggestive and his voice alone was toxic.
"Right this moment?" the god iterates slyly.
"Yes, Rudolf." And he leans just closer.
"…I wanna show you the world." Tony deadpans now, scowls.
"Not cool. I'm not trynna play you," he tilts back annoyed and Loki's smile faintly widens.
"Who said I was playing? I've grown fed of it all, like you." Tony doesn't find that hard to imagine. "I could use the respite, till I'm inspired of some greater aim."
"Yeah and when? You dump me on Mars?" Loki's soft little chuckles does not reassure him.
"Don't be silly. Somewhere more civilized; I am not cruel." Tony shoots a bemused glare only heightening the god's mirth it seemed.
"And I should trust you?" he shot back [still hypothetically speaking, obviously.] Obviously he was not actually considering running away with the God of Mischief.
"Should I you?"
"Fair. Well, not really cause you'd have the upper hand."
"In what way, cherry?" [Quit with the pet-names – they're not funny.] {I don't mean them to be.} Tony's rather sure Loki's trying to get under his skin and reevaluates the wisdom of having stayed and indulged him thus far. And proceeding.
"God and human. Playin' field ain't very leveled."
"Yes about that…I find myself greatly inclined to offer you something invaluable." [If you proposition me into being co-king of Asgard or something then buddy you are about to be sorely disappointed.]
"Yeah, what's that?"
"The Apple."
That, Tony hadn't expected, cocked a brow high.
"Iddun's Apple?" he's read plenty.
"Mhm. Don't tell anyone, but I may or may not have a secret stash, and I'm prepared to spare one, for you."
"Why?" incredulous asks because [seriously what's he getting at?] More startled then when the god, rather gravely says:
"Because you're aging, too quickly. There's too much for you to see, learn. You've too much potential to have fade with time, because of it." And now Tony, is, rather speechless.
Why would Loki care at all?
Show him the world, why?
And- [no wait a minute. God of Lies, remember?]
"…How do I, know you're telling the truth?" he asks a stupid albeit reasonable question.
Loki shrugs.
"You'll have to find out. But I give you my word, Anthony Stark." [Lot of good your word does. And don't call me that.] "I wish you no harm. You were right, I could've killed you, numerous times and in numerous ways. And if I'd needed to I'd have dealt with the rest in kind, but you." Tony's pinned under the gravity of the god's voice now, eyes and words. "I'd have bothered with the effort for an alternative outcome."
"…Why?"
"…For the same reason you a here now…"
The reason, that remains yes shrouded but. Like the fog lifts and yet he still does not fathom. What has brought him here what has brought him to Loki, the Loki whom he had all but caught a glimpse of, at the end, when he'd quipped "I'll have that drink now," made to his feet had been restrained unprotesting, a weariness to him brief he was hiding, the glint of mere mischief in his eyes that on him had fixed when he'd laughed, out loud earning several unappreciative looks especially from Rogers, whom Loki had shifted into only to mock. That Loki, Tony'd realized and pondered as they sat in that shawarma shop and he'd dazed off, was, different, in a way he couldn't place, different like the Loki now before him, and rising, and walking towards the cell's door.
And it just opens.
Tony stumbles to his feet alarmed as Loki rolls his shoulders, and simply steps out, towards him, a mischievous smile on his face as he neared, so and Tony unmoving – why wasn't he moving?
Loki stops just before him, and he's too late to notice the hand now pinching lightly his chin as Loki drawled lowly: "What say you, little gem? Run away with me," winks. A blush rushed up his cheeks as Loki's thumb continued to stroke at his goatee-
Suddenly everything clicks into place – all he'd long suspected, Loki's role scribbled out by another. Loki's efforts to win meek and lackluster, for the Loki that could've made his escape hours ago or possibly the moment he'd been captured. This Loki, who can kill him still, could have killed him the day they'd met efficiently and swiftly, bearing mischief in green eyes.
And longing. Tony knows for what, and knows he is damned for understanding.
He halts Loki's cool hand caressing up and down his cheek, grips it as he stressed: "…I've been betrayed far too many times."
"As have I." Tony can see that. "I swear." The hand in his grips in turn. "I will not hurt you that way," sounds so sincere, that Tony falters.
"God of Lies," he mumbles.
"But you see," Loki nears maneuvers their clasped hands to the short space between their thudding hearts, whispers his voice, his eyes too raw:
"…You see."
And Tony knows he is damned that he does.
Looking at Loki now, felt more akin to looking through a distorted mirror.
It was as unsettling as it was, strangely consoling.
He looks down away skeptic, worried and really asking himself: [what the hell am I doing?] "I don't know," he answers himself, when Loki's other hand rose to guide upwards his face guide back his eyes, to Loki's
that could see.
"One step at a time then. Apple, ship, destination."
So simple it sounds. Check-list one thing after the other and really? What's the worst that could happen?
What does he have left to lose?
"…Okay," he says,
and Loki's heart leaps with anticipation, he had not endured in a long time.
"First we gotta get out of here."
"Oh right," Loki notes, and Tony gets no warning no chance to gather his bearings, when Loki teleports them away.