Chapter Text
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Tony had only just turned five when the car had turned a little too far down the road.
Howard had taken a hand off of the wheel for just a second; gesturing to his wife, Maria, that she explain to Tony why he wouldn't be having a birthday party this year. It'd been same reason as every other year really, but Tony hadn't complained this time and had only nodded his understanding, tugging at his seat-belt again and again instead — clipping and unclipping the buckles whilst his parents had argued. So, really, it had only been that one little moment, where Howard's hands and eyes hadn't been on the job, that had been just enough for the car's tyres to jar over the water from the rain and to turn them all off of the road and down the hill beside.
And vaguely, in nightmares mostly, Tony remembers screaming and falling. Remembers the rush of water and the crack of bone.
And to this year, he still doesn't know himself just how much luck had favored him that day. Unbuckling his seat-belt — just before the crash — had literally saved him from what had happened to his parents and it had been at around 2am in the morning when his unconscious body had finally been found, by the lonely resident of the nearby manor. The manor that Howard had been on the way to anyway, in fact, to discuss business with the elderly man.
Unable to save the parents by then and knowing that no one else in the town had really been aware of the family living here — with them having moved so recently from America — Tony's savior knew that the child had had nowhere else to go.
So by late morning, Tony had been settled in a bed, had been sipping soup and been calmly telling the only adult in the room his name, his age, his birthday and his —
Tony's memories stopped there and other than a vague recollection of his parents as figures in his life, Tony hadn't had any idea what they looked like, who they had been and where they had gone whilst he had stayed in the manor. And so, when the police had come to take him away, along with a few care-givers, social services had seen the child's distress and attachment to his savior and had taken action.
Meetings had been held, papers had been signed and Tony Stark had then officially become Tony Burison.
And it had just been a shame, really, that when Sir Bor Burison had died three years later, his son had then become eligible to take the estate and, with it, the adopted now-eight-year-old boy and the money and family business. Having already lived a lot of his life, Sir Odin Burison had had plenty to fill the empty rooms of the manor and Tony's hiding spaces and secret spots had then been filled with statues and trophies, his bedroom taken by Odin's eldest son, Thor, and the roof emptied of all memories and toys and photographs.
And by the end of it, Sir Bor's home had then become Odin's and his sons had explored whilst Tony had only hidden away and had tried to pretend that everything in his life had not been twisted around all over again, until nothing he recognized or knew had been left for him to cling to.
Odin, however, never did consider giving Tony back to care or even threatening to, but he did hide away the adoption papers, along with the certificates and the official wills that named Tony owner of Stark industries after his eighteenth birthday.
Bor had never explained to Tony the circumstances of his parents' death, letting the child mourn and hoping that he would live long enough to tell him the truth but time had taken from him and the explanation had then fallen to Odin.
Odin, however — seeing opportunity and not really understanding why his father had adopted a child that, in his mind, should really have died in the crash as well — had told a lie despite knowing the truth and with his wife and children ignorant of it themselves, there had been no one to oppose him and Tony had believed.
And the lie sticks with him to this day.
Your parents abandoned you child. You are only here out of the goodwill of this family. Are the words that Tony remembers. Followed by the statement that still rings like a law to him even now, reminding him always of his place here.
And you must earn ... your keep.
Ten Years Later.
~
The pencil snaps after a particularly harsh full-stop and Tony curses, tossing it into the bin quickly and folding the sheet of paper in half so fast it almost tears; bundling it into his bag until it's a horrible, crumpled mess. The footsteps that he'd heard before, just outside of his room, pause at the sound and his heart literally hops up into his throat.
Rolling over, he burrows his head into the pillows and hurriedly switches the bedside lamp off, thanking whatever deity there is up there that Odin hadn't gotten it fixed yet; the light still being a little too dim than is healthy for the eye but right now he couldn't be happier with it being that way.
The floorboards creak closer now and Tony carefully looks through a hole in his blanket at the door, tensing when the handle turns, slowly, and shutting his eyes to fake his sleep before Odin can accuse him of staying up late. If he's ever caught after midnight, Odin tends to use it all as an excuse if-or-when Tony makes a mistake — claiming that he's obviously too tired to complete his work properly, and that he'll just have to have double the amount as punishment.
When the door opens — and it doesn't groan or click anymore; Tony's fixed that little problem already, when Thor had once decided that it would be hilarious to open and close Tony's door numerous times when he'd been trying to sleep — but whoever it is sneaking into his room stumbles anyway, which defeats the purpose of being quiet.
So. It's definitely not Odin then.
Sneaking a hand under his pillow, Tony curls his fingers around the can of hairspray that he had once found, and prepares to spray it in Thor's face in defense — before he delivers whatever crude prank he's probably trying to set up right now. He prays that Odin doesn't pile more onto his workload as well, if he's caught and blamed for the sting of redness that it'll cause the dumb, blond's eyes.
Sitting up in a rush, however, startles whoever it is in his room and when Tony squints and sees the thinner, just-as-tall figure of the younger brother, Loki, he sighs angrily and turns the lamp on immediately — all the better to show how unimpressed he is.
Loki blinks at him, shielding his face from the light as he squints back at him.
"What are you doing?" Tony hisses, glancing at the now open door and hoping that no one else walks past in the middle of the night, "Loki — It's 5 am. Couldn't you have — "
"Oh spare me the complaints and just hand me over the work, will you." Loki interrupts him, not even bothering to lower his voice until he notices Tony cringing at it's volume, "I'm doing you a favor here anyway, so you — "
"Me doing your homework is a favor to me?" Tony asks him, raising his eyebrows and reaching into his bag, ignoring the ruined paper that he'd just been using and pulling out a neat pile of folded sheets covered with equations and writing, "I didn't do question 7, by the way," He comments, "Because you didn't understand that the last time so it would be just a bit weird of you to suddenly miraculously get it now." Loki ignores that and looks over the work quickly, looking over at the lamp in annoyance, "Yeah, you don't like it? Get your dad to fix it." Tony mutters, sliding under the blankets for warmth.
"It is a favor." Loki murmurs, ignoring him and only answering Tony's question of disbelief before, "You wanted to be able to use your brain, remember. So. I gave you the opportunity."
"Using my brain does not equal doing math equations and essays on Historical monuments. I meant you giving my personal thesis' to your professor to see what he thinks."
"And hence the favors. You do me one by saving me time, and I do yours by giving my professor your, ah," Staring, Loki looks as Tony pulls sheets upon sheets of lined paper out of the little rucksack beside his bag, " ... work."
"It's not finished yet," Tony explains, flicking through it all and quickly numbering the corners of each page with his broken pencil, "There's still a few theories that I need to add but your holidays are coming up so I won't be able to — "
Snagging it from his hands, Loki folds the papers down until they are a fifth of their size, placing them into his pocket; impatiently, "I honestly doubt he'll even read it, finished or not, if I tell him that my servant wrote it."
Tony looks at him, chewing on the inside of his cheek, "So don't tell him that. Tell him, uh, tell him your 'friend' wrote it or something." Loki raises an eyebrow at him, "Oh come on, please. You lie constantly, what's one more?"
Sighing, Loki turns away to leave finally but at the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs from the first floor, the both of them freeze. Tony shrinks back under the blankets and watches as Loki quickly tries to hide before he's discovered here. He won't be able to, Tony's room is small enough as it is, without placing a wardrobe or a chest and there's really nowhere he can go. All there is, is a bed, a table with the lamp, and a window. Tony tends to make do and piles his only five outfits on the floor beside his bed, washing them consecutively throughout the week.
So before he can even move from where he's standing, Loki looks at Tony as though it's his fault that he hasn't anywhere to go and Tony barely manages to make a face before Odin is in the doorway.
Great. Just great.
"Is it not a little early in the morning for a chat? Anthony?" Tony swallows, looking down. Loki glances at him once, and then palms the pocket he'd placed Tony's thesis in before moving the hand when Tony looks at him pleadingly when Odin slides his eyes along the room, "Loki. Return to your room."
Straightening his back at the tone, Loki glances at Tony again before opening his mouth, "Father — "
"I will not repeat myself."
Tony winces, more on behalf of Loki, and bites his lip. Nodding twice, Loki visibly clenches his jaw before walking past his father to go upstairs. Tony doesn't watch him go and instead pins his gaze onto Odin.
"My sons have a test tomorrow morning and a full nights sleep is what they need right now." Under the blankets, Tony's hands automatically curl into fists at the blame that's so casually placed on him, but he's learnt not to comment by now. It only makes the lecture worse. "They do not need to be traipsing around at night with you."
"Loki came to my room, sir." Tony corrects, "I didn't ask him to." Shut up, Tony.
Odin leans back slightly, his arm brushing against the doorway but he can't come inside. So far, the only person in the house that can fit under that doorway easily enough — without bending over or sliding in sideways — is Tony, which is the excuse that had been given when he'd first been told to sleep here. And one night had turned to another, to another, and soon this had been known as his room.
Servant.
"Well." Odin starts, his one eye narrowed as he looks at Tony calmly, "If you are up so early, then perhaps you can start on breakfast now instead then. As you seem to have time on your hands, make use of it, Thor is leaving at 8 today and not 9, so be sure that something is ready. A big breakfast, for his test, and something for all the rest of us as well."
Hunching his shoulders, Tony breaks his gaze and looks out the window at the dark, "We ran out of bread and margarine yesterday. I didn't get a chance to top up before your business party came and then I was serving tea, so there won't be any — "
"The shops should open in two hours, so no, there will be bread and margarine, as you will go and fetch some for us."
"But it's — "
"I did not ask for an answer."
Tony blinks slowly. It's winter. Freezing outside all of the time now in this season, especially at night and early morning, but if he's getting the tone right, then Odin actually means for him to go outside now and actually wait for the shops to open.
It's more hardship than cruelty but, really, he hadn't slept at all tonight and his room is cold enough indoors that he can't even imagine what outside is going to be like — starting work so early usually only ends up with him having one of those exhausting days where he just collapses in bed afterward and doesn't get even a chance to write more on a thesis or a set of equations. In other words, it's a waste of a day in his mind and a good use of his time in Odin's.
He's got a secret personal statement that he keeps hidden too, as well as an old textbook on engineering, that he works on after he's finished the housework but today he's definitely not going to be able to do anything with any of them.
Sliding out of bed slowly, he reaches for a set of clothes behind him and slips his shoes on.
"Yes, sir."
~
It's absolutely bitter cold outside and Tony hasn't even got a coat today. The only one that he has, had been left out to dry yesterday afternoon, but he had had to swap it with Thor's dress shirt afterward which meant that it had only tried to dry out during the night. The hem and it's sleeves are still soaking as a result and he'd rather not be ill so he's left it and gone without. Big mistake.
Shivering, he wraps his arms around his torso and holds the money sack tight in his fist, looking up at the moon. No one else is out and it's actually quite peaceful out here, in the town where no cars pass in the middle of the night and where it's rare to even see an airplane fly past. He sighs at how mundane it all is.
It must have snowed at some point last night too, not by a lot, only an inch, but Tony genuinely enjoys crunching through it all on the way to the grocery shop anyway, so it's not so bad.
The shop's closed. Obviously. He leans against the door with a sigh, sliding down to sit on the nearby bench, after brushing off the snow over it, and swinging his legs back and forth. Eighteen years old and he's still sent out to do jobs like this, Odin could at least appreciate them when they're done and not just give him more to do.
Someone's Christmas lights flash at him and he smiles, watching them blip in and out of existence — red, green, blue and yellow. He wonders if, this year, he can join in on the festivities in town and not just serve Christmas dinner until it's too late to do anything else.
Closing his eyes, he can feel himself gradually begin to drift off, willing himself not to because —
"Tony?" Startled, he looks up and around, squinting in the dark while the streetlamp blinks down at him, "What are you doing out here so early, it's freezing."
"Yeah I know." Tony mutters, standing and moving aside to let Pepper past, "Tell me about it."
She glances at him with a smile, guessing correctly first time, "Odin?"
Shivering still, he nods at her with a dry smirk and rushes inside gratefully when she opens the door, trying to warm himself up by shuffling. Pepper bends and turns the heating on full blast, shutting the door behind her and keeping it still on "closed".
"I've not seen you for a while now. How's the university stuff going? Got an escape plan yet?" She grins when he glares at her, hoisting himself up onto the counter just as she starts to get everything set up, "Just a question Tony."
"Laugh it up Potts, but when I get an interview at MIT — "
"Tony you didn't even attend high school, you'll never — "
"I attended the exams!" He protests, "I have qualifications."
Opening up her till and turning all of the lights on, Pepper just giggles to herself and lifts up the bread that she knows Tony will be after. He slides off the counter and grabs the margarine himself, getting an extra bag of flour and rice just in case too.
"All I'm saying is don't get your hopes up. There are other things you can do, here, and Odin isn't exactly going to live forever. Once he's gone maybe you can make your own life."
Tony looks at her, taking the money from his bag and placing it on the counter whilst she heads over toward the door to turn the sign backward; letting the early risers know that it's now open, "Maybe." He echoes. "I don't want a maybe. I want out for definite. And it's not all just Odin alone, anyway — though yes life will definitely be a whole lot better when he's gone but the entire town is the problem too."
Pausing, Pepper looks at him, her hands half way into the bag she'd put Tony's products into, "What's wrong with the town?"
"Everything.” He mutters, taking the bag and tossing the receipt into the bin, "It — look, it doesn't matter anyway, it's just me being a dick." She raises an eyebrow, stifling a laugh as she lifts Tony's bag out of his reach.
"You must have learnt from Loki, then." She tells him dryly, waggling her eyebrows now and if Tony's eyes could narrow anymore ...
"I'm not talking to the idiot, actually, so you can keep your — "
"Not talking?" She moves then bag when he tries to snatch at it, "Why not? Is he not appreciating you doing his homework enough?"
"The asshole snuck into my room to collect some and didn't even bother being discreet enough about it that I was caught by Odin. Hence me being here so fucking early in the morning." Pepper half smirks, half frowns at him.
"That's all?"
"What do you mean that's all?" Tony glares at her, grabbing the bag finally only for it to rip when she flings it to the side, "Last time he came into my room, I asked him to not again and he's clearly ignored that. I even said please — "
"Wow."
"And the dickhead just comes inside anyway and gets me into trouble. He knows, I bet he knows, that he won't be blamed for anything, so he just takes advantage of that! And I'm sick of it. Thor's a bully, yeah, but I can avoid him and get my own back most of the time but with Loki, I never know if he's lying or teasing or actually, genuinely helping me, and he just — "
"Sounds like you have the crush of the century." Pepper informs him, incredibly seriously, there's no doubt that she's mocking him. Tony looks at her, deadpanned, before lunging for the bag again.
"If this is what a crush is, then God help anyone else with one because — look just gimme my stuff Pepper, I'm late! It's already 7:10!" Blinking, Pepper turns to look at the clock and then immediately hands it over with an apologetic smile, her cheeks flushing as they usually do whenever she feels bad for going overboard with her teasing. Tony takes it quickly, giving her one of his own smiles to tell her that it's okay, knowing already that she doesn't mean to get him in trouble.
Unlike some people.
He ends up running back to the manor this time, panting and holding the bag tight, and he waves when Rhodey calls after him in greeting; making his way to the public high-school. Tony pauses for about a second, watching him mingle over there with friends and peers and discuss homework and teachers and essays and PE, and he wonders —
But the moment passes and he turns away, because he's already late, damn it, he hasn't got time for wishes.
His eight year old self learnt that lesson pretty easily.
No one's downstairs yet, thank God, when Tony stumbles into the kitchen but going to a private school with different timings sort of explains that anyway. Lie-ins all around for everyone, but Tony.
He places his purchases in the fridge and the cupboards and quickly defrosts some meat for Thor's breakfast, toasting the bread that he'd just bought and letting the kettle boil while he waits for it all.
He's just starting to boil and fry some eggs when Jarvis, the butler, wanders downstairs from having made sure that the other, non-occupied rooms are presentable and clean, and with him comes Frigga. She gives Tony a smile when he hands her the tea that he'd made for her and he tries to return it but honestly, his hands are already aching and it's barely just turned 7:50. God it's going to be a long day.
Odin comes down shortly after with Loki and the both of them sit in chairs far from each other, as usual (Tony's learnt not to mention stuff like that out-loud, if he ever wants to save his fingernails from the scrubbing) taking the food that Tony places before them and it's not a minute later that Thor comes barreling downstairs too. Late, as always. Tony chews on the inside of his cheek to stop himself from commenting angrily when the eggs are just snatched straight from the pan, especially when the boiling hot oil is then splashed onto his hands enough to make him nearly drop everything. He lays the plates down carefully on the table and washes his burn under cold water as quickly as he can, glaring at the tap and hating the fact that he can practically feel Loki's stupid gaze at the back of his head.
He stays by the sink then, and shakes his head in answer to Frigga's request at sitting down with them and eating too, because the last time he'd actually done that, Thor had subjected him to kicks under the table and Odin had subjected him to stupid, probing and embarrassing questions that he'd really rather not hear all over again.
Still, the offer is sweet, and it is nice to remember that there are at least two people in the manor that care about him just a little. Frigga's never really ordered him any more than just a few politely-phrased requests and she actually asks about his well-being now-and-again — and had even once taken the time to look after him when he'd been down with flu. And. Well. Without Jarvis around Tony would probably be lost half the time, so that sort of goes without saying.
Odin stands when it finally turns around 8:05 and he and Thor leave to go out toward the car; to get to the school early. Loki's likely going to wait for the bus as his test isn't as early and though usually Tony would love the extra time alone without Odin to have a chat, today he finds himself wishing that he had some sort of job to do before instead. Pepper's words at the shop haven't stopped running through his mind and the anger that he'd felt this morning no longer seems as important or as infuriating as it had been before, and he doesn't want to feel like that. He wants to piss Loki off for pissing him off first, and if doing that means ignoring, then he will.
Besides. Today is going to be a complete hell, likely, and if it hadn't been for Loki — who's unappreciative about everything that Tony does for him anyway — he'd not have to —
"You look younger when you're angry." Loki informs him when he passes to place his plate in the sink, nodding at his mother when she turns to leave for her weekly slot of volunteering in the hospital. "Childish." She gives them a look, pulling on her coat, and adjusting her little badge before taking the second set of car keys from the hook and walking out of the side door in the kitchen that leads toward the extended driveway.
Tony gives Loki a dubious look of his own, twisting the tap on behind him and spinning around to start washing up, "Do I." He answers curtly, and fucking damn it, what happened to not talking? He grips the sponge tight enough that it grows thin in his hands until he lets go.
Well, at least he was curt.
"Mm." Loki hums beside him, leaning on the counter and watching as Tony scrubs at plates and glasses and cutlery as though it's the most fascinating thing in the world, "Tony." He finally murmurs after a while, "This morning. After I left. ... Did he talk of anything?" Tony overturns the plate in his hand and sets it on the rack beside him, "My father I mean. Anything about me?" Of course. It's always about him. Tony squeezes the sponge again, draining it of the dirt and filling it with soap and water instead, turning the tap off and reaching for the towel, "Tony. I've need to know, so — "
"Shouldn't you be getting ready for school?"
Loki straightens, looking at him with a glare now, instead of that almost worried expression before that Tony is so pointedly trying not to notice, "Unlike my brother, Tony, I like to ready myself early, and I'll begin to walk to the stop in a few minutes if that is alright with you." Tony shrugs coolly, opening the cupboards and placing the plates he's dried inside. Loki sighs, "I suppose you're being punished then. Is that why?"
"Is that why, what?"
There's a sigh and Tony restrains himself from smirking at that. "It is strange you know." Loki then adds, surprisingly calm despite Tony's rudeness and isn't that annoying. "To see him blame you so much."
"Is it."
Loki nods, ignoring Tony's sarcasm, "He usually reserves that for me."
Rolling his eyes, Tony turns the mug by the sink's corner over and places all of the recently cleaned forks and spoons into it, "Are you seriously feeling sorry for yourself? Mr-I'll-get-my-servant-into-trouble-but-it's-okay-because-daddy-blames-me-for-everything-else-anyway-so-it'll-all-pan-out-okay-for-me. You know, I kind of want my hands to still work in a few years and if you keep getting me into trouble like this I'll — "
"It isn't as though I do it all on purpose." Loki snaps at him and Tony strongly resists the urge to throw the towel in his face.
"I asked you to stay out of my room before and you didn't listen. You're so completely entitled you — "
Scoffing at him loudly, Loki surges past him, purposefully colliding their shoulders together and stopping the beginning of a rant immediately. But, without looking back, he then mutters to him, almost bitterly, as he passes — and it's mostly because of that tone that Tony can tell that he's telling the truth. "Alright. I'm sorry then, for whatever it is worth." Tony turns fully around to stare after him but all he ends up seeing anyway is just the kitchen doors swinging shut after his exit.
The front door opens and closes a few seconds later and he sighs, dropping the towel and sitting on a vacant chair at the table with a groan. This has got to be the thousandth time that Loki has pissed Tony off or gotten him into trouble and after a few words from the guy, everything is somehow, suddenly forgotten. Grinding his teeth together, Tony's hands itch to do something other than clean and he ends up wandering over to his room instead, after a while — to at least make use of the time that Odin isn't in the house.
~
Thor's room is booby trapped. It's horribly clear the exact moment that Tony steps inside; he instinctively shields himself with the mop in hand when he senses the shadow of something about to fall and is first assaulted by the smell of old socks (the usual) before a large bucket of water and broken-eggs topples from the arch of the doorway to land just beside his feet.
He stumbles back quickly, blinking twice in shock and feeling his face grow both hot and cold with anger because if that had fallen on him, he'd —
Odin wanders past with notebooks and check-sheets, giving him a look before continuing past, "It seems we have time for practical jokes as well, now."
Tony stares at him, open-mouthed at the fact that despite seeing the string connecting it to his own son's room, Odin still - "Like I would even bother to — "
"I did not ask for a discussion."
"I wasn't — "
"Clean it and come to my study, Anthony. You are, clearly, long overdue a talk."
Clenching a hand around the mop until his palm stings, Tony watches as Odin hauls himself up the rest of the stairs to the second floor, hating how the anger dissipates into dread. He sighs and turns toward the mess, soaking the mop in his own bucket and swirling soapy water through the egg and dirt. He only scrubs at that one area, for now, knowing that Odin'll only send him back here anyway once he's given him a new load of work to do in just a minute.
Leaving the floor to dry, Tony hurriedly dumps the mop into the bucket, balancing it against the wall, and walking up the stairs quickly; wiping his hands on the sides of his thighs as he goes. He knocks even though he's expected and enters when Odin grants him permission to.
The study is one of the smallest rooms on the second floor of the manor and is still twice the size of Tony's; Bor had used to sit here and act out his times of war with the swords on the rack. Now the swords sit in a thick, glass display above the electric fireplace, and Odin sits in Bor's seat.
"Sit down." Tony does as ordered, sitting on the stool in the corner, chewing on the inside of his bottom lip. Odin turns a page, signs the last of his contracts before finally looking up. There's another pause, however, while he straightens and sorts through his pens. Tony sits in silence, waiting, and listening to the fake-crackle of the fake-fire in the wall - wishing it were real and wishing —
He would stop being so childish about wishing.
"This morning." Odin begins and Tony snaps his head toward him quickly, blinking old memories away, "What was Loki doing in your room?" Tony's stomach twists horribly tight. Odin flips over a page and scribbles something down. "I'm waiting."
"He'd left his homework on the table." Tony lied immediately. Calm, clear. Now if only he could stop his hands from shaking. "I — I put it aside when I'd tidied it away so he came to collect — "
"Strange that he could not wait for morning to do so."
Tony flushed. "I — um. I think he must've just remembered or - or something, and then just wanted to get it before he forgot ... ? Maybe. I don't know, you'd have to ask him." Shit. What if he did? What if Loki tells him? Or if Odin finds Tony's work anyway. His personal statement, his university research, his thesis', project drafts, textbooks — everything'll be taken away from him if —
"Perhaps I will." Odin turns another page while Tony inwardly panics before him, praying again and again that this is all forgotten by the time Loki comes home. "In the meantime, however, as you've obviously the energy to stay up all night — "
"I didn't wa — "
The pencil pot shakes when Odin's fist slams into the table. Tony jerks upright immediately, his back painfully straight and his face as blank and as un-argumentative as he can make it look, "Interrupt me again, Anthony. And I swear to you." The threat is left unfinished, the possibilities of what Odin can do to him quite endless really so there isn't really a need to complete it, the point comes across well enough anyway.
"I'm sorry, sir." Tony murmurs quickly, chewing back his pride by biting down on the inside of his cheek after speaking. Odin ignores his apology and continues on from before as though nothing had happened.
"You can use your energy elsewhere. I've a business party coming this evening and the manor must be clean for their visit. The rugs in the meeting rooms will be cleaned. The windows there also and the fireplace will be checked for any animals or insects." Gradually, in his head, Tony resigns himself to the list to help remember it all, feeling as his shoulders sag slowly down as Odin gets on with it, "The old tapestries will be re-stitched and repaired for decoration, the floors will be mopped, the stairs dusted. The display cases will be — "
"I finished them yesterday, they're done already."
"Interruption." Odin growls at him, his one eye narrowed now and Tony ducks his head down in response to it, bitterly wishing that the childhood fight Odin had had as a child had taken more than just his stupid eye out. A blind Odin would be much easier to deal with than one that can see. "And you will do them again in that case."
"Yes sir."
~
~
Loki is called into Odin's study as soon as he returns home and from the expression on his face as it gives Tony a look — when he passes him on the stairs — makes it clear that he knows that it's not just to ask how his day has been.
Thor undresses in the middle of the hallway when he follows his brother inside, and he dumps his shirt on the stair that Tony's kneeling on, not even bothering to tell him what to do with it and just bounding up the stairs to tease his brother about being in trouble with father. Tony finishes the last step before lifting Thor's shirt and kicking open the laundry basket to take them all for washing up.
He slams the washing-machine's lid shut, hard, in his anger at the family and his fear over what Loki and Odin could be discussing. If his work is discovered, he's stuck here. Indefinitely. And that's a life that he can't even bring himself to think about with regards to the future because without something to look forward to ... what else has he got?
But Loki hasn't got any reason to keep Tony's personal stuff a secret and any second now, his life will be —
"Are you washing today?" Tony drops the washing powder box on his foot and hisses at the sting of pain it causes. He quickly picks it up before any falls out and turns to find Loki leaning against the doorway, shirtless and frustrated, "My shirt." He states, handing it over. Tony wordlessly takes it and shoves it into the washing-machine as well, "Oh and, no. I didn't. Before you demand an answer of me." Pausing, Tony stays bent over, turning the dials after a minute so that the wash can begin.
"What do you mean?"
"I told him nothing of your work. I promise." Looking at him slowly, Tony straightens and — a little bug-eyed, actually — stares. "... what?"
"You — why?"
Scoffing, Loki rolls his eyes and starts to turn away, "A word of thanks is all I'm aft — "
"Thank you!" Tony blurts out before he goes. Loki stops, looking over his shoulder, "Really. I — thanks." Loki turns back around, fully, and folds his arms across his chest; looking at him as though he’s half miffed, half intrigued.
“You thought I would tell him. Didn’t you.”
Tony shrugs at him, giving him a sheepish half-grin that isn’t returned in any way, “Well. You haven’t exactly got any reason to not tell him. Plus — from what I know about you two, you’re not exactly on the best — ”
“My father and Loki’s stand is not any of your business Antony,” Tony stiffens automatically at the sound of Thor’s drawl but the face Loki makes before he turns around helps some, “If you notice things, keep them inside. It’ll do you good to learn that.”
Tony turns away from him, lifting the basket of dried clothes that he’s just collected from the dryer before, muttering to himself quickly, “It’ll do you good to learn how to wash your own clothes.”
Thor takes a step forward, frowning, “What?”
Tony hitches the basket onto his hip, giving him a cool look in return, “What?” He echoes, squeezing past and heading for his room; where he’ll sort through the clothes before putting them in whosoever's room that they belong in. He only vaguely hears Thor’s reprimand of ‘you should not talk with him’ before leaving but unfortunately — or fortunately, depending — Loki’s reply is far too muffled by the walls to hear afterward.
But still. He'd kept quiet about it. About all of Tony's work and his secret studying and working, and that in it's self is —
INGONG
Tony blinks, looking at the door. Oh no. Nononono. The business party can't be here, he hasn't finished yet! Shit. Odin's going to —
The bell rings again and he quickly places the basket by the edge of the stairs, running over to unlock and slide it open, brushing his hair out of his face and stepping back to allow the man standing on the steps through.
"Ah, thank you. I thought you'd leave me out there forever." It had hardly taken that long, Tony wants to say, before realizing that the man isn't being rude at all anyway. He pauses for a moment, wiping at his glasses and shaking rain out of his hair. Tony hadn't even noticed the thunder storm outside, he'd been too busy before. "Now." The man adjusts his suit and takes out a stack of folded paper from inside his jacket, "Where can I find — ?"
"Mr Burison is in his study if you want him, sir." Tony finishes for him, trying hard to be polite even though he's really growing a little impatient right now. He needs to finish his work before Odin notices that he's a little behind and if —
"Professor Banner?" Tony looks over his shoulder at the sound of Loki's voice and steps to the side to let the two of them see each other. All the more easier for him to subtly continue to sort the basket out. "I — is something wrong?"
"Loki!" Banner shouts out happily, so unnecessarily loud that Tony winces beside him, "I was hoping I'd see you." Loki walks toward him dubiously, glancing at Tony once with an unreadable expression before looking down at what the professor has in his hand. Banner waves it forward and it's then that Tony recognizes it, "That work you gave me before. Well done . It's incredibly advanced, I'm impressed."
Wait, what?
Tony turns to looks at Loki, slowly, a furiously disbelieving glare forming over his face. Loki, clearly knowing that he's busted, visibly chews on the inside of his cheek but doesn't even bother to return the look. "Thank you, sir."
Oh my God.
That. Fucking. Bastard.
"But, I do have to admit that I did kind of use the internet for at least three hours to check — and double check — for plagiarism. But it's clear. All original and it's very fascinating. Really. Well done."
Tony's hand tightens on the door and his glare turns cool, his face expectant as he watches Loki almost flush under the scrutiny, "Thank you, sir."
Banner frowns at him under the glasses, "Is there something wrong?"
Tony hums, leaning back, "Yeah Loki. Is something the matter?"
Loki grits his teeth, looking over at Tony with a roll of his eyes, "No, sir. Nothing."
Banner smiles, "Good. Now I need to talk about the — oh wait. Ah," He looks at Tony, shrugging his coat off and handing it over, "Would you mind?" Giving him as sincere a smile as he can, despite how hurt he feels inside, Tony takes the sodden coat and goes to hang it up. When he returns, he sees Loki shutting the door to one of the seating rooms and can hear them talking while all he does is just lift up the basket again and continue on with his work.
That should be him in there. Should. Doesn't he deserve that, at least?
Well. It's his fault, he supposes. For ever trusting an asshole.
.