Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Since Loki had come to live in Stark Tower, Clint had taken it upon himself to be constantly on his guard. The entire affair was being handled with the utmost security, of course, but Clint knew this bastard like no one else did. He couldn’t allow anything to happen, not on his watch.

So he got thirty minute status reports on Loki’s movements from J. A. R. V. I. S., and whenever Loki wasn’t in the company of one of the other Avengers, Clint dropped what he was doing and went off to do what he did best: spy. So far nothing had come of it, but Clint knew Loki was only biding his time, and that, as a skilled liar, everything was suspect. Even the most innocuous past time could disguise a sinister plot. And Clint would be ready.

Today he got the message that Loki was alone around ten in the morning. Thor had gone to train for awhile, and Loki was currently on the balcony of the floor he shared with his brother. Clint couldn’t believe that his security clearance allowed him out there; he wasn’t allowed outside on his own, so why was he allowed on the balcony? Sure, it was thirty stories up but that wouldn’t stop Loki. Even if he was human and had no super strength or magic. He could … drop flower pots on people. Who knew.

It didn’t take long for Clint to locate a service door on the building schematics and in no time he was climbing out onto a window ledge on the floor above where Loki was currently located. He hid himself behind a pillar and readied his bow and arrow. He waited.

Not much was happening. Loki was sitting on a patio chair, his feet propped up on the balcony railing, reading. Clint couldn’t quite see what the book was, but it looked pretty thin. Normally Loki was always carrying along a door stopper of a book. This was therefore unusual behavior for him, and so Clint made a mental note of it.

The book was so short that it didn’t take long for Loki to get to the end. He appeared to stare at the last page for awhile, silently. He had a funny expression on his face. Clint felt a wave of tension go through him. Something, he was certain, was about to happen.

And something did.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly (others might not have been able to see it, but Clint wasn’t called Hawkeye for no damn reason), a tear tracked down Loki’s cheek.

Then another.

Loki’s face twisted up with annoyance, and he sniffled a little. Then, seemingly in embarrassment, he covered his face with one hand.

And so Clint sat there, perched on Stark Tower like a giant bird of prey, and watched Loki, ex-God of Mischief, cry over the end of a picture book.

Clint didn’t believe it for a second. Of course this was a ruse. He imagined that beneath that demure hand, Loki was grinning evilly. Perhaps he was aware he was being watched, and this was all a show to garner sympathy. Clint knew performance well, and Loki was a consumate performer. He gritted his teeth, and ignored the tremulous discomfort in the back of his mind telling him that perhaps he was intruding a private, vulnerable moment.

Eventually, Loki closed the book and stood, mopping at his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt. From within the bowels of the apartment, he heard a door slam and a booming voice shout, “Brother, where are you?” Thor was back. Loki scowled, straightened himself a bit, and went inside.

Clint sighed and relaxed. His work here was done.

As he made his way back to the service door, he didn’t feel sheepish at all. No siree.

*

Loki ignored his brother’s boisterous chatter and went into his room, where he hid his book into the middle of his (very sizeable) “read” pile, and surveyed his face in the mirror on his wall. Ugh. Ridiculous sentiment. He was above such things, wasn’t he?

Still, he rued the day he’d added The Little Prince to his reading list.

“Mais les yeux sont aveugles. Il faut chercher avec le cœur.”
“But the eyes are blind. One must look with the heart.”
- Antoine de-Saint-Exupéry, Le Petit Prince

Chapter Text

“What’s my secret power?” Natasha read, placing the black card down on the table.

All around her, there was a chorus of hmmmms as everyone sorted through their white cards, before each selecting and placing one on the table. She picked them up and began to read.

“My sex life.” She rolled her eyes and looked at Tony, who smiled innocently. She flipped over another card. “Giving 110%.” Several groans.

“Boring,” Tony said.

Steve blushed. “I don’t understand this game.”

“Maybe if you would use some of the cards you’ve been holding onto since the beginning, you’d be winning more.”

“I can’t!” Steve exclaimed. “They’re too ……. offensive!”

“That’s the point!” Everyone shouted.

“Maybe we should play Apples to Apples instead,” Bruce sighed.

“No!” Tony waved his fists like an angry toddler. “White Bread, deal with it! Be naughty for once in your life!”

“I’ll try,” Steve mumbled.

“May I continue?” Natasha asked primly, and read out the next card. “The Care Bear Stare.” Nods of minor approval. “Becoming a blueberry.” Bemusement. Finally, the last card. She blinked a few times; then her face twitched and she cleared her throat. “David -- David Bowie flying in on a tiger made of -- of lightning -- who picked this?!”

Loki cleared his throat.

“Do you even know who David Bowie is?” Tony sputtered.

“Ground control to Major Tom?”

“Who?” Steve asked.

“Jesus Christ, he learns fast,” Clint muttered.

“I’m not an idiot, you mean,” Loki said coolly, and held out his hand.

“What?” Natasha said, wiping tears from her eyes. “What makes you think I’m going to pick you? Maybe Tony’s stupid sex life card really amused me.” Everyone stared at her. “Oh, fine,” she said, and slammed the black card into Loki’s waiting hand. He grinned and added it to his substantial pile.

“How are you winning this so easily?” Clint asked suspiciously. “Are you cheating?”

“How exactly could I cheat at this?”

“You could be switching your cards with other people’s,” Bruce mused. “Or somehow picking certain cards from the deck.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Loki muttered, and crossed his arms and slouched back against the couch aggressively.

“Is that why you said Thor couldn’t play?” Clint asked. “I bet he’s on to all your tricks by now.”

“No,” Loki said emphatically. “Thor cannot play because he is simply too stupid to understand it. If he were here right now, he’d probably be trying to eat the cards.”

He had a point.

“Perhaps I’m just cleverer and funnier than you all. Did that not occur to any of you?”

There was a moment of silence. “I can see that,” Natasha admitted, and the others nodded.

Except Tony. “Excuse me,” he said, “I highly resent that.”

“Well, you are in second place.” Bruce smiled reassuringly.

“That’s it,” Tony said fiercely, “Tony Stark doesn’t do second place. I’m taking you down, Doctor Horrible.”

Loki leaned forward and spread his hands on the table, smiling wolfishly. “I look forward to laughing at your effort.”

“Whose turn is it?” Tony asked. “Bruce?”

“Okay, okay, calm down,” Bruce said, and picked a black card. He cleared his throat. “During sex, I like to think about __________.”

Tony cackled. “Cap, you better cover your ears.”

*

It was a game of Cards Against Humanity that would live in legend, stretching on long into the night (Tony owned several expansion packs), until Steve and Bruce had left, and Clint had fallen asleep, helped along by a variety pack of Angry Orchard. Only Natasha stayed awake to witness the end of the showdown; her presence required because, of course, you can’t play Cards Against Humanity with only two players. Finally, the last cards had been played, and Tony and Loki began totaling their black cards. (Natasha didn’t bother, choosing instead to use them to build an impressive and elegant chateau from hers, along with the ones abandoned by the other players. It was one of her lesser known talents.)

“Fifty-one, fifty-two, fifty-three.” Tony stopped and smiled.

Loki continued counting quietly to himself, then looked up and smirked. “Fifty-six.”

“No!” Tony shouted. “Let me count those! You’re full of shit!”

Loki pulled the cards protectively to his chest. “Hardly. I wouldn’t be surprised if a few went missing if you got your hands on them.”

“Bullshit!” Tony shouted so loudly that Clint stirred, looked around him, then snorted and went back to sleep. “God of Lies calling me a cheater? Ha!”

“Let me count,” Natasha sighed, and Loki reluctantly handed them over to her. A few minutes of shuffling later, she sighed. “Sorry, Tony. I count fifty-six.”

There were a few seconds of silence. Then Tony roared and flipped the table, before stomping away. Black and white cards fluttered everywhere. Clint shouted and rolled off the couch he had been stretched out on. Natasha rolled her eyes, dropped Loki’s cards onto the floor, and got up to go to bed, grabbing Clint by the arm and dragging him after her.

Loki laughed and laughed. He brushed away a few cards that had landed on him as a result of Tony's temper tantrum. It was good being better than everyone else.

Chapter Text

“Dude, shouldn’t you do something about this?”

“Hm?” Thor raised an eyebrow, can of beer poised at his mouth.

“Your brother is totally drunk,” Darcy said, and poked said brother where he was in a boneless heap next to her on the couch. Loki wriggled and made a whining noise.

Thor laughed. “My brother can handle Midgardian spirits, Lady Darcy. It does not affect us as it does you.”

Darcy and Jane had come to visit Stark Tower for awhile, and since Thor was desperately attempting to spend some quality time with his elusive brother, Tony and Darcy had conspired to get Loki to join them that evening with the lure of alcohol, food, and entertainment. The entertainment was a marathon of Mystery Science Theater 3000, but Loki hadn’t known that at the time. Four hours, two large pizzas, and many cans of PBR later, they were halfway through Laserblast and Loki was laughing at everything, regardless of whether or not it was actually funny, and intermittently singing out the theme song, even when it wasn't actually playing.

“Aren’t you forgetting something, Olaf?” Tony asked.

Thor looked confused.

“Your brother’s not a god anymore. He’s human. So he doesn’t have the same tolerance level he used to.” Tony smirked a little. He’d become very intimately acquainted both with Loki’s human nature, and its attendant qualities, as well as his tolerance levels over the last few weeks. Not that Thor knew that. Or should know it.

“Brother?” Thor asked, his voice mildly concerned. “Brother, are you all right?”

“Thor,” Loki slurred, “of course I’m all right you big … dwarf. No, not dwarf. What is it? Gnome? Orc? That’s not even real, that’s fucking Lord of the whatsit. Tony, why did you make me watch those movies, they are such bullshit! And no, I will not read the books, either!”

Tony blinked. He was impressed that Loki could put that many words together considering how much he had drunk, while simultaneously making very little sense at all.

“Are gnomes real, then?” Darcy asked seriously.

“Yes,” Loki said, his eyes half closed. “They … like to eat … socks.” His forehead crinkled. “No, wait, sorry. That was just a dream I had once. Gnomes aren’t real.” He frowned and turned to Thor. “Right?”

Thor groaned and shook his head. “I think we should retire, brother.”

Loki looked annoyed. “Nonsense! It’s only …” he squinted at the clock on the wall. “... Fourteen o’clock!”

“Brother …”

Loki held up his can of beer and drained what was left, then crinkled the empty can in his hand and threw it on the floor. “Another!” he shouted, and dissolved into giggles. “That’s my impression of you.”

Sighing, Tony stood and went over to where Loki was sitting, and began to pull him up. “Come on, Bruce Almighty. Time to pack it in.”

Suddenly, Loki’s expression changed. He slithered up off the couch and sort of draped himself on Tony, staring up at him with something like a leer, except he was too off his head to really do it well. “Are you going to show me that thing you told me about?”

“Uh, what thing?” Tony asked, getting a bad feeling. “He probably means something in my lab,” he said quickly to Darcy and Thor.

“No, stupid, the thing that goes … brrrrrr,” Loki explained helpfully. “That you put in your --”

“Okay, time for bed!” Tony said loudly, dragging Loki along. “Don’t worry guys, I’ll get him up there. He obviously doesn’t know what he’s talking about, he probably doesn’t even know who I am --”

Thor laughed. “My brother is very funny when he is inebriated,” he said. Ah. Gullible, innocent Thor, Tony thought.

Darcy, not so gullible and innocent, raised an eyebrow at him as he manhandled Loki into the elevator. “Have fun, you two,” she said sweetly.

“OAF!” Loki shouted as the doors closed. “That’s what I was thinking of! Thor, you are an --” The elevator closed and all Thor and Darcy could were some muffled thuds and shouting as it disappeared upwards.

*

“Darcy, I can explain,” Tony said seriously.

It was the next day and Loki was still sleeping off his major, major hangover; Tony was pretty sure it was the first one he’d ever experienced and he was being a really big princess about it. Tony had the feeling they wouldn’t be trying out the thing that went brrrrrr anytime soon, unless it served as an apology on his part after all hostilities had desisted. Vibrators for world peace, etc.

Having managed to get his very angry and sick ex-god suitably hydrated, comfortable, and comatose, Tony had gone down to the guest level to seek out the weakest link in the chain. Thor was totally oblivious, but Darcy seemed to know what was going on. Loose lips sink ships and all that. Tony wasn’t really ready to have SHIELD breathing down his neck just over a few weeks of being fuckbuddies with an ex-would-be-world conqueror.

“There’s nothing to explain, Stark,” Darcy said coolly. “It’s not my business who you stick your dick into. Even if he is a few Swedish fish short of a bag.”

“No,” Tony said, raising his finger firmly, “no. You have the wrong idea. No dicks are being stuck into anyone in this situation. Um, or anything else like that.” Ha! Who said the God of Lies had a monopoly on falsehoods? He could bullshit with the best of them.

“The lady doth protest too much, I say,” Darcy said. “That said, despite my lack of giving a shit,” and now her expression turned sly, “maybe this is something SHIELD should know about. You know, in the interest of galactic security, or whatever.”

“No! I swear! I’m not fucking Loki!”

Darcy looked at him seriously. Then her mouth twitched. In a moment she had dissolved into laughter. “I’m sorry, Stark. I couldn’t help it. Your face!”

Tony blinked. “So you’re not calling SHIELD?”

“Of course not! I know you’re not screwing Loki.”

“I’m … not?”

“No way, dude! I didn’t believe that act. I’m not stupid. Obviously he was just fucking with us all last night. Even if he was drunk, like, that’s what Loki does. He messes with people’s minds, makes them doubt each other.”

“Oh,” Tony said.

“It’s okay. Sorry about that whole I’m onto you thing, I just couldn’t pass up an opportunity to make you squirm. And boy, did you!”

“Great.” Tony passed a hand across his brow; he was sweating profusely. “Well, now that’s all cleared up … I’ll see you around later then.”

“Sure. Let me know next time you plan to get Loki drunk. It’s hilarious.”

Tony smiled lamely and waved goodbye as he stepped into the elevator. Never. Never again.

Chapter Text

They were all on edge.

Loki had been in the common kitchen area since just after breakfast. No one knew what he was doing in there, and no one wanted to go in and find out. Steve had ventured closest, then turned back and reported he heard a lot of thumping, some swearing, and then the sound of something breaking. And so it came to be that four out of six of the Avengers (Clint, Natasha, Steve, and Bruce -- Thor had gone back to Willowdale with Jane for a few days) hovered nervously in the dining area, staring at the closed door to the kitchen, wondering what to do.

“Why don’t we just ask J.A.R.V.I.S.?” Bruce said.

“Sir, it is specified that no one but Mr. Stark is privy to security data unless certain criteria for a potential emergency situation is met.”

“What?!” Clint said.

Natasha pursed her lips thoughtfully.

“Since when has this been the case?” Steve asked. “And why?”

“It has been the policy for approximately six weeks,” J.A.R.V.I.S. said. “Mr. Stark felt that there were certain privacy standards which needed to be upheld.”

“So Stark can spy on us whenever he wants, but we can’t see what Loki is doing?” Clint muttered.

“Well,” Steve said a little uncomfortably, “this is his building. We have to live by his rules.”

“This is bullshit,” Clint said. “We need to be able to keep an eye on that bastard.”

Natasha had been silent at J.A.R.V.I.S.’s revelation, but now she drew herself up and crossed her arms. “This is silly,” she said. “I’m going in.”

“Natasha, no!” Clint whispered urgently.

“I can take care of myself, Clint,” she said. And then she strode across the room, opened the kitchen door purposefully, and entered the room. She left the door open, just a crack.

For a moment they stood there, aghast. There was some murmured conversation from beyond the door, then the scraping sound of a chair being moved, followed by the clinking of dishes. Then silence.

Steve swallowed. “I’m going to see what’s going on,” he said. He crept over to the door and peeked through the door as best he could. His eyebrows raised up in confusion. He turned back and whispered, “Loki … cooked something.”

Dumbfounded silence.

At that moment, Tony strode into the room, and looked around at them, perplexed. “What’s up guys? Am I interrupting a game of freeze tag?” He snapped his fingers in front of Clint’s face a few times. “Hello?”

Clint scowled, and slapped at Tony’s hand. “Something’s weird.”

“What else is new around here?”

“Loki’s cooking,” Bruce said. “So that’s one new thing.”

Tony blinked. “Really? Loki? Six feet two inches of self-entitled royal snobbery? Doing a menial task?”

“Natasha went in there,” Clint said hollowly. “Steve, what’s she doing?”

“She’s …” Steve squinted, and said in awe, “She’s eating.”

Clint’s face spasmed. “We have to save her.”

“Do you have any idea what’s going on?” Bruce asked Tony suddenly.

“What?” Tony blinked. “Er, why would I know anything? The guy’s as much a mystery to me as he is to the rest of you.”

“Well,” Steve said, “you have been spending a lot of time with him lately.”

“Have I?” Tony said, trying to sound surprised and innocent, and not succeeding. “Uh. Well … I did notice him reading My Life in France the other day. Maybe that has something to do with it?”

“You mean the Julia Child book?” Bruce said in confusion. Everyone looked equally mystified.

How could Tony explain this? Having indeed spent quite a lot of time in Loki’s company of late, he’d become aware that he was incredibly prone to phases and tangents. He seemed to become obsessed very easily, and then switched to something new with alarming speed. There had a been a week where he had eaten almost nothing else except clementines -- boxes and boxes of clementines! Apparently Asgard didn’t have anything like citrus fruit, and Loki adored it.

Passionately.

For a little while.

“Hey guys!” Natasha called from the kitchen. “Get in here! Loki made a tarte tatin. It’s really good!”

“Is this real life?” Clint said.

“I don’t understand anything anymore,” Steve said, and opened the kitchen door, revealing a very pleased and flour-covered Loki, and Natasha, fork poised at her lips.

As Tony watched his teammates consume the tasty culinary creation of his secret -- lover? boy toy? frenemy with benefits? -- his Loki, he wondered how long this phase would last. At least it might have more delicious results than kissing a mouth that tasted perpetually as tangy as a bag of Sour Patch Kids had been.

“There’s one piece left,” Loki said. “You should eat it.”

“Hm,” Tony said, and took the plate, spooned up some gooey, caramelized apple goodness, and slid it in his mouth. “Not bad.”

Loki smirked. “Perfect,” he said. “When Thor finds out I didn’t save him any, he’ll likely weep.”

Tony groaned. “Do me a favor? Don’t use me as a weapon in the unending petty struggle with your adopted brother.”

Loki said nothing, just licked a piece of caramelized sugar off his thumb. Suddenly Tony was hungry for something other than dessert.

“So, question,” Bruce said suddenly.

“Oh, is this where we ask about the security feeds?” Clint asked.

“Pardon?” Ton said, but he had just stuffed some tart in his mouth and it came out somewhat garbled.

“Uh, actually,” Bruce said, “I was actually wondering who was going to clean all of this up.” He gestured with his fork at the disaster that was the counter space.

“Not me!” Loki crowed. He ripped his apron off, threw it on the floor, and got the hell out of Dodge.

“Um,” Tony said, and shoveled the rest of his food into his mouth. “Just remembered I have a -- a thing -- in the lab -- really, it’s a big problem. See you later!” He plunked the empty plate into the already filled sink and dashed off after Loki.

Silence reigned. “Wow,” Steve said. He sighed, stood up, and began collecting everyone’s dishes. “I’ll wash. Who’s gonna dry?”

“There’s a dishwasher,” Bruce said, laughing a little. “You rinse and I’ll load it.” He turned to Clint and Natasha. “You guys want to wipe the counters down?”

“What about the security privileges?” Clint hissed to Natasha as they cleaned.

“Don’t worry,” she whispered back. “I’ll find out what’s going on.”

Chapter Text

Tony had a problem. A big problem.

This thing he had with Loki … there had been all kinds of consequences, most of which he had never imagined were possible. There had been some regrets, but none like this.

God damn it, but he regretted with every fiber of his being ever introducing Loki to Katamari Damacy.

*

Loki needed a lot of entertainment. He processed everything so quickly, and his actions were so limited by the details of his parole. Tony found himself constantly trying to come up with new pursuits, just so that he could get work done without Loki bugging him.

Last week he’d had the terrible idea to set up Loki with a Playstation. Loki had been skeptical at first. But he’d taken to it like a fish to water. After blitzkreiging through Portal and Portal 2 in two days (after which he’d developed an unfortunate tendency to shout out “The cake is a lie!” and “I don’t want your damn lemons!” at inappropriate intervals), Tony had wracked his brains trying to think of another game he could play that would challenge him, but not contain material that might raise red flags with SHIELD if they decided to review Loki’s activities.

Katamari Damacy seemed perfect: a blend of strategy and pure, gleeful chaos and destruction. Also, Tony privately found it amusing that the main character was a little prince who wore green.

Now, a week later, Tony couldn’t get that damn song out of his head. When he found himself humming it in the shower one morning -- na na, nananana Katamari Damacy! -- he realized he needed to do something.

As soon as he’d dressed himself, he gave a few directives to J. A. R. V. I. S. to set his plans into motion, then marched into his living room, where Loki had been more or less camped for the past few days. He was splayed out on the couch, his bestockinged feet (Tony noted somewhat fondly that his socks were mismatched -- one blue, one green, like Loki’s own heterochromatic eyes) propped up on the arm. He was surrounded by the disemboweled contents of a box of Girl Scout cookies. His fingers were twitching rapidly over the Playstation controller, his eyes intent, and two Thin Mints were lodged his mouth, held there until his hands were free from trying to roll up Ursa Major.

Tony sighed. “Loki,” he said.

“Mmmmhmmm,” Loki said, and accidentally bit down on the cookies in his mouth, causing half of them to fall into his lap. “Shit,” he said with his mouth full, looking down, and his katamari sped off a cliff and into the ocean.

Tony sighed and plucked the controller from his hand. “I want your help with something,” he explained at Loki’s confused noise.

“But didn’t you just bathe yourself?” Loki said innocently, retrieving the crumbled remains of the Thin Mints from his lap. “You are insatiable, mortal.”

“Not that,” Tony said. He turned the Playstation off, ignoring Loki’s protests, and pulled him off the couch by the arm. “We’re going to my lab.”

*

“Now,” he said, setting Loki down in front of one of his computer stations, “when you hacked J. A. R. V. I. S., how did you figure out how to do it?” He called up a keyboard and display, and opened up CPython.

Loki shrugged, looking bored. “Your Midgardian computers are merely earlier, more rudimentary forms of the systems we use in Asgard. I simply took what I knew about our devices and worked backwards until I reached a primitive enough understanding.”

“So basically,” Tony said, ignoring the minefield of insults, “you figured out what you needed to know to get the job done, and ignored the rest.” Loki shrugged. “Right. Well, you’re going to learn how to program properly now.”

“Learn,” Loki said derisively, and laughed.

*

Loki had mastered Python by nightfall; the next day, he sped through all the Cs. In a few days he’d picked up Ruby, PERL, Java, and a host of others, including Lovelace, the language Tony had created himself to support his early AIs (he’d also found a few ways to improve it).

The next week Tony taught him how to solder - again, a concept he was not at all unfamiliar with, he simply needed to learn the hard, Midgardian way to accomplish it -- and before long, he was making his own little bots and gadgets.

Tony felt … proud.

Unfortunately, the other Avengers felt something more akin to fear, anger, and depending on Loki’s mood and intention, crippling embarrassment. How was he supposed to know Loki would immediately use his knowledge for evil and utilize his creations in terrible pranks?

“What have you done, Stark?” Natasha said hollowly. She was holding a squirming, spasming bug-like bot in one hand; it was one of many she’d found crawling around beneath her sheets that night. “This is a menace. Surely this violates his probation. We need to call Fury.”

“Aw, come on,” Tony said, taking the bot and examining it. It really was a beautiful piece of work; Loki’s sense of design was organic, yet almost otherworldly. And his inventiveness! He correlated ideas and created solutions that never would have occurred to Tony in a million years. It made his head spin. He loved it.

“Come on?!” Natasha repeated. “Yesterday he attached tracking beacons to all of Clint’s arrows so that they always hit the outer ring of the bullseye. He’s still ripping them all apart right now to clear the tech off. You must see the problem here?”

“I’ll have a word with him,” Tony said, suppressing a grin. “I’ll make him see the error of this ways.” Ignoring Natasha’s narrowed eyes, he headed off back to the lab.

*

“Bad Loki,” Tony said. He licked his lips, and his hand squeezed the reddened flesh of Loki’s ass appreciatively before he raised his arm back and smacked it again. “Naughty, naughty Loki.”

“Oh, fuck yes,” Loki moaned breathlessly, squirming around on Tony’s office chair, which he was presently bent over. Tony loved fucking him here. It was the first place they had ever done it, after all.

“Well, this doesn’t look much like words to me,” a voice said. It took Tony a moment to register it, and even longer to look up.

Loki had already twisted around to face their visitor. “Oh. Hello, Agent Romanoff. This is awkward.” He wiggled a little bit in Tony’s slackening grip.

“Shit,” Tony muttered, standing. “Jesus, Loki, pull your fucking pants up.”

“Must I?” Loki whined, but did it anyway. When he was clothed, he sat (somewhat gingerly) in the chair, and turned to face to Natasha, who was still standing stock still, arms on her hips, face expressionless.

“Natasha,” Tony said, “I … can explain.”

“What’s there to explain?” Natasha said with a shrug. “You’re fucking Loki. And have been for awhile, I presume.”

“Ah,” Loki said, “this conversation is somewhat … sensitive. I’m sure I’ll just serve as a distraction. I think I’ll go to my room.” He slunk off to the elevator, his mouth set in an amused smirk. Traitor, Tony thought bitterly.

“Look,” Tony said when the elevator doors had closed, “I did have a talk with him. Before … well. He promised to stop with the pranks.” He grinned. “I told him he could just prank me instead. See? Taking one for the team.”

“Indeed you are,” Natasha said wryly.

“He’ll get bored with it eventually, anyway,” Tony continued. He turned away and began moving things around on his desk needlessly. “He always does.”

“Bored with what?” Natasha asked. “Building and programming automata in order to torment the residents of this tower? Or having sex with you?”

“Both, probably,” Tony said mildly, ignoring the way his pulse sped up at her last words.

“You’re playing a dangerous game here, Stark. And I know you get off on that -- I’m not judging you, really, I mean in a way we all do, otherwise we wouldn’t be here -- but this is on another level.”

“He’s harmless,” Tony mumbled.

“He’s a maniac.”

“Yeah,” Tony said with a sigh. “I know.”

“Don’t get too comfortable.”

“I never do.”

*

He went down to Loki’s rooms after Natasha had left, promising not to inform Fury, but with an obvious intent on keeping an eye on them. He found his lover stretched out on the bed, jeans pushed down around his thighs, legs splayed, and hands very busy.

“I see you didn’t waste any time,” Tony commented. He knelt on the bed and watched with interest.

“I waited -- fuck! a little while. Are you just going to watch?”

“Maybe.”

Loki made a noise of frustration, and kicked his jeans off the rest of the way. He crawled over to Tony, leaned over, and pressed his mouth, hot and wet, against the growing mound in Tony’s pants. “Please,” he whispered. “I assure you I’m very repentant.”

Tony supposed some positive reinforcement couldn’t hurt at all.

Later, while Loki was toweling off from a shower in the doorway of the adjoining bath, Tony remembered why he had come down here in the first place. “I think you should do something to make up for all your transgressions. Something for the team. Something that might show them that you can use your skills for good stuff, too.”

“As opposed to tricks?” Loki said, his voice muffled by the towel. Tony couldn’t see his face; he was drying his hair.

“And trying to take over the world, yeah.”

“What would you suggest, then?”

Tony inwardly felt a little pleasure at how quickly Loki took to the suggestion. It used to be that he had argue with him for ages to get him to do anything he didn’t want to do. “We’ll brainstorm something in the morning.” He slid over in the bed, making room, and Loki joined him. Christ, his feet were cold! Like two icicles!

Loki yawned. “I look forward to it.”

*

Tony felt it was wise not to tell the others where the cool new upgrades to their weapons (or in Bruce’s case, his pants -- a brilliant use of nanotechnology on Loki’s part, he was in awe of it) came from until after they’d used them the first time in the field. Then he dropped the bombshell.

“I promise you, I checked, and double checked, and triple checked everything. Nothing nefarious going on. And all one hundred percent Loki’s work, I watched him make them. So see, he really is sorry.”

Everyone just stared at him, incredulously.

“If you don’t want them though, I can take them back.”

Steve clutched a little at his new shield, which was improved for extra charging and pummeling action, a little possessively. Natasha's mouth only tightened a little. She'd promised not to inform Fury, but Tony wondered if she'd told the rest of them. If they knew, they weren't letting on.

“All right, then. I’ll let him know you like his improvements.” Tony smiled. Harmony. It could be achieved.

*

When the elevator doors opened up on his living floor, he stood there for a moment letting the strands of that blessedly annoying music waft over him.

I know you love me
I want to wad you up into my life
Let’s roll up to be a single star in the sky

He wandered over to the couch, where Loki was perched, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth, rolling up a katamari on the television in front of him.

“Thought you got bored of that game?” Tony asked casually.

“Only for a bit,” Loki replied, distracted. “I simply needed a short respite.”

“Oh,” Tony said, and settled in to watch for awhile, feeling strangely content.

Chapter Text

Loki let out a gusty sigh and shifted slightly. It was the fifth or sixth time he’d done so in the last thirty minutes. Tony wondered if he was missing some kind of hint.

“What’s up?” he asked, closing the window he had open on his visual display. “Westeros getting you down, my moon and stars?”

Loki peered at him from over the top of his copy of A Storm of Swords and raised an eyebrow. Ever since he had started reading A Song of Ice and Fire, Tony had failed in many ill-conceived attempts to entice him into a kinky related roleplay. He insisted he could be a burly Dothraki warrior, but Loki was not convinced. (“I would not call you the stallion who mounts the world,” Loki had shot him down on one occasion. “Perhaps a Shetland pony. And you’d likely fall off part way through. It is known.”)

“I am fine,” Loki said. “It’s just a mild discomfort.” He rubbed the upper part of his stomach, frowning.

“You sure?” Tony said. “Maybe you should stop drinking so much coffee. You’re gonna give yourself an ulcer.”

Loki rolled his eyes and muttered something about hypocrites and feet of clay, and went back to reading his book.

*

Steve made everyone dinner. Sometimes Tony tried to get out of these big family meals; they made him a little uncomfortable. Tonight he was kind of feeling it, though.

It was nice, too, to have Loki there as well. He could tell Thor felt the same way. The team had slowly begun to accept Loki more; Clint was still a tad uneasy around him, but even that was fading. Tony was sure it was only a matter of time before he could tell them all about the two of them.

If there was still a two of them by then.

He was beginning to think, perhaps, that might be possible, too.

Laughing at something Bruce said, he turned to look at Loki, sitting across the table from him next to Thor, and his face dropped. Loki was not eating, his face a grimace of discomfort.

“You okay?” he asked, unable to disguise the concern in his voice with flippancy as he might normally do around the others. Everyone stopped talking and looked at Loki.

“Brother?” Thor asked, putting a hand on his shoulder.

Loki scowled, leaning away from Thor. “I am fine,” he said irritably. He rubbed that spot on his upper torso again, and pushed his chair away from the table. “I am simply not hungry.”

“Are you sure?” Bruce said. “Describe your symptoms, maybe I can --”

“No,” Loki said. “I think I will simply go to my room.” His eyes flickered over to Tony briefly, and Tony knew he meant your room.

“Well,” Steve piped up, “if you need anything -- just tell J. A. R. V. I. S. -- I’d be happy to --”

“Please,” Loki said, standing. “That is very kind of you, Captain, but don’t be concerned. I am simply fatigued.” He pushed his chair back in and left.

Everyone looked around at each other, confused. “That was … awfully … polite,” said Clint, chewing thoughtfully. “For Loki.”

“Guess we’re all rubbing off on him,” Natasha said, and smiled at Tony.

“Friends,” Thor said, his brow furrowed, “what might be troubling him? Should I trust him when he says he needs nothing?”

Bruce shrugged. “I don’t see why Loki would lie about this. Maybe he was just in a bad mood and wanted to get away from us.”

“Now that sounds more like the Loki we all know and love,” Clint said, laughing.

They all agreed.

*

When Tony went up to his rooms, Loki wasn’t in the living area, or the kitchen, or the bedroom. Tony finally found him in the bathroom, leaning over the sink, sipping a glass of water and looking very pale.

“Hey,” he said, and pressed his hand to Loki’s forehead. It felt clammy. Loki frowned at him, and moved his head away. “What’s wrong? If you’re feeling sick, you should let Bruce take a look at you. He’s not a medical doctor, but he’s had some training.”

“I’m not sick,” Loki muttered. “I just feel a little … woozy.”

“Poor baby,” Tony said, wrapping his arms loosely around Loki from behind. “Did you eat something weird? Maybe it’s food poisoning.”

“No,” said Loki, putting the glass down and squirming away. “I think I’ll go lay down.”

Tony huffed. “I don’t know why you’re so grumpy about being sick,” he said. “Don’t you want Nurse Tony to wait on you hand and foot? I bet you’d love that.”

Loki didn’t laugh. He just crawled under the covers and curled up in a ball.

“Hmm.” Tony regarded the lump under the blankets curiously. He wasn’t quite sure what to do. He thought perhaps Loki might get pissed at him if he fussed over him more; but if Loki wanted to be left alone, why was he here in Tony’s room, and not in the rooms which were technically his, but he never used? (Thor, God love him, seemed oblivious to the fact that his brother barely slept in his quarters anymore. He just assumed Loki was being antisocial, Tony guessed, which was nothing new.)

Finally, Tony refilled Loki’s glass of water, placed it gently on the bedside table, closed the blinds of the window, and went out into the living room to do some work, closing the door behind him.

*

A few hours later, he crept back into the bedroom. Loki seemed to be asleep; his breath was slow and easy. As quietly as he could, Tony shucked his pants off and slid into the bed, lying on his side and facing Loki. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he could just make out Loki’s sleeping face, curtained by dark hair and the pillow and comforter. There was a deep line between his brows and his mouth was set in a tight line. Tony reached out a hand, wanting to stroke that tense face, but stopped at the last moment, fearing he might wake him. So he just watched.

At some point his vision blurred; his eyes drifted shut he and he fell into a doze. He was in that weird state where he was only ninety percent asleep. Some small part of his mind was still awake, and aware of his surroundings, but everything was easily distorted, and his body was heavy as though trapped under great weights. So when he felt the bed shift and Loki sit up with a sharp little cry, he wasn’t quite sure if it was real, or if he was dreaming; and he couldn’t really do anything, anyway. Then Loki was getting out of the bed, he thought; and then there was sort of a crash, and the sound of someone retching.

That woke him up.

“Loki?” he slurred. He fumbled around and turned on the light; Loki made a shuddery groan, and there was the sound of vomiting again. “Holy shit,” Tony said, his heart thudding. He stumbled out of the bed, getting caught on the sheets. Loki was on the floor just outside the bathroom door.

“S-s-s-sorry …” Loki gasped in between heaves, “couldn’t make it --”

“Holy shit,” Tony repeated, unable to say anything else, and feeling like an asshole because of it. He ran into the bathroom and grabbed a bunch of towels and the garbage basket, ripping off the lid. He handed it to Loki and positioned it under him; threw one of the towels down over the mess on the floor, and held the other one to clean Loki up with afterwards. “I knew you were sick -- why didn’t you say anything -- J. A. R. V. I. S., wake Bruce up --”

“Hurts so fucking much,” Loki moaned. “I think I’m dying, Stark.”

“Bullshit,” Tony said unconvincingly. That was a lot of puke, after all. Lamely, he pressed his hand to Loki’s forehead again. “Jesus Christ! You’re on fire! Maybe you have the flu. Where does it hurt, baby?”

Loki seemed to have taken a break in expelling all his inner organs. He pressed his hand to that spot below his sternum. “Started out here,” he said breathlessly. Then he slid his hand to the right side of his lower stomach, near his navel. “Now it’s here.”

Oh. Something clicked in Tony’s head. Gingerly he pressed his hand alongside Loki’s own. The flesh felt hard as a rock. He pressed down firmly into it and let go. On the rebound, Loki let out a shout.

“What are you doing?!”

“Fuck,” Tony said. “J. A. R. V. I. S., where’s Bruce?”

“He’s almost done dressing, sir.”

“Tell him Loki might have appendicitis.”

“What?” Loki asked.

“I’ll explain later.”

“I’ve informed Dr. Banner, sir, and also contacted S. H. I. E. L. D. and requested permission to transport Mr. Loki to a hospital for urgent medical attention.”

“Hospital?” Loki repeated, blinking dumbly. “I’m not actually dying, am I? I was being hysterical when I said that.”

“If I’m right, you just need to having a stupid little useless organ taken out, that’s all. And maybe be stuffed full of a bunch of antibiotics. But it has to be done soon, or there might be complications.”

“I don’t -- what --” Loki started to say, and then he turned and vomited into the trash can again.

“Dr. Banner has arrived, sir.”

“How did Loki get up here?” Bruce said, rushing forward.

“Not now,” Tony said. He frankly didn’t even give a fuck right now if anybody knew. “Loki? Honey? Are you done hurling? Bruce needs to examine you.”

“This is awful,” Loki moaned. “Why are human bodies so useless? What the fuck did you mean by complications?”

“I guess that means you’re done,” Tony said, mopping up Loki’s face with the towel and pulling him away. “Here, lay down on the floor, away from all that mess.”

Bruce had Loki describe his symptoms again, and rate his pain (“On a scale of one to ten, with ten being the highest --” “Ten! Fucking ten! It didn’t hurt this much when you slammed me into the fucking floor, you bastard!”), did the palpitation test again, and had Loki lie on his side, which he really didn’t like. Somewhere in the middle of that, J. A. R. V. I. S. informed them that S. H. I. E. L. D. had approved their request for medical transport; Natasha and Clint would be escorting them to the hospital, and Thor and Steve were on their way up to help them bring Loki down to the car.

“Do you think it’s burst?” Tony whispered, as Loki weakly protested being carried into the elevator by his brother.

“Pretty likely,” Banner said. “He waited a long time. Why didn’t he tell us he was sick?”

“I don’t know.” Tony went into the bathroom to wash his hands and face, then went back into the bedroom to find his pants and some shoes. He should probably change his shirt, too, he thought.

Bruce was standing there, staring at the bed with its messed up covers; and two pillows, indented by two heads which had been until recently sleeping soundly. “Are you and Loki sleeping together?”

Tony froze for the barest of moments. “Yes.”

“Oh.” Bruce blinked, in that weird, nonchalant way of his. “For a long time, huh?”

“Yeah,” Tony said, taking his shirt off and finding another one in his dresser while pushing his feet into his shoes.

“Well.”

“Let’s go,” Tony said. “We can follow in one of my cars. J. A. R. V. I. S., what hospital?”

*

“He kept asking for you in the car,” Natasha said. They were in the waiting room; Clint and Steve were standing guard outside the operating room. As though Loki was going to leap off the table and escape, appendix leaking everywhere. “Where’s Tony, I need Tony. It was kind of pathetic, really.”

“Hm,” Tony said noncommittally.

“Also, he puked all over Thor. He’s cleaning up in a bathroom somewhere now. I wish you’d seen it.”

“I saw enough of it earlier, trust me.”

Natasha shook her head. “I never thought I’d see the day,” she said. “You’ve got it bad, don’t you?”

“What?”

“Tony Stark, braving bodily fluids at two in the morning, like a real human being who cares about other people.” She smiled. “Of course, it’s ironic that the other person in the equation is an insane ex-god who tried to enslave us all a few years ago, but I guess that’s just your style.”

“Enough, Natasha.” Tony was fucking exhausted. And worried. And he just wanted to see Loki, damn it.

Thor appeared shortly afterwards, wearing hospital scrubs instead of a t-shirt. “What is happening to my brother? He seems most grievously ill. Perhaps I should call upon Asgard.”

“It’s just appendicitis, Thor,” Natasha said, and proceeded to explain it. Tony tuned it out, because he could see Bruce coming to join them.

“I just spoke with the doctor who’s been assigned to Loki,” he said. “His appendix did rupture, but the infection has been walled off by his other organs, which is the best possible outcome. They’re giving him pain meds and antibiotics to try to clear up the infection and they’ll operate in a few hours.”

“Hours? It can wait that long?”

“Yeah, it should be fine. The infection isn’t spreading to the rest of his abdomen and it’ll actually be harder to operate with so much inflammation right now anyway.”

“Can I see him?” Tony said, not hiding the urgency in his voice, and ignoring the pointed look sent to him by Natasha, and Thor’s confused expression. “Is he awake?”

“He’s awake, but probably pretty loopy right now from the meds. I’ll ask if you can talk to him.”

About fifteen minutes later Tony was walking through the door to Loki’s room, ignoring the funny looks Clint and Steve were giving him. He found Loki hooked up to IVs, a sleepy half smile on his face, inspecting the plastic clamp on his index finger.

“What’s this do?” he asked, his voice slurring.

“It monitors your heartbeat.” Tony pulled a chair over to the bedside and sat down, resting one hand on Loki’s arm.

“What about all these?” Loki tugged loosely on one of the IVs hooked into his arm.

“Hey, don’t fuck around with that, you’ll pull it out.” Tony batted his hand away. “That’s giving you those awesome painkillers that are keeping you from being in crippling agony right now, dumbo.”

“I’m not a dumbo,” Loki said, grinning, and Tony caught onto their old joke immediately.

“No, you’re a smartbo.”

Loki laughed, and then winced a little.

“So, smartbo, were you going to tell us you felt like you were being stabbed in your gut at some point? What was that all about?”

“I didn’t want to be … whiny.”

“Give me a break, you whine all the time.”

“I dunno what’s normal for this stupid body, Stark. It seems to be sore all the time. B’fore sleeping, after sleeping, b’fore fucking, after fucking, whatever. How’m s’posed to know this isn’t just how I’m s’posed to feel?”

“Ask?”

Loki shook his head groggily. “What’s an appendix, anyway?”

“It’s just an organ we evolved out of using. There’s no point to it, it just hangs out in digestive tract and sometimes it gets inflamed and needs to be removed.”

“Stupidest thing I ever heard.”

“Hate to tell you, Buckaroo, but human beings are full of these useless things. What else? Wisdom teeth, for one. Do you have wisdom teeth? Did S. H. I. E. L. D. give you dental x-rays when you got here? Those might have to come out. The recovery is fucking awful when you’re an adult, too. Um, and tail bones. Those don’t have to be removed, but did you know human beings have tail bones, even though we haven’t got tails anymore? Do Asgardians have tail bones? I bet they don’t. Way too undignified.”

Loki was just staring at him, smiling. “Don’t stop,” he said, when Tony paused for a breath. “Like listening to you.”

“I’ll hold you to that for the future, then.” Tony passed a hand over Loki’s forehead. “Your fever’s going down. That’s good, right? The inflammation is subsiding? Anyway, this is nothing. You’ll have some stitches that will have to heal, and they’ll be itchy, but you’ll get to lie around in bed all day, and be lazy, and eat popsicles and ice cream -- no wait, maybe I’m getting that confused with tonsillitis. Hey, that’s another stupid thing about humans, we have these dumb things in our throat and -- I don’t think they’re useless, they have a function, but we can live without them. And sometimes they get infected and you have to get them out, too. See, look at all the cool surgeries you have to look forward to as a human being, Loki.” He smiled and squeezed Loki’s hand. His eyes had slid shut somewhere around ice cream and Tony was pretty sure he was asleep now.

He sat there for a few minutes, taking in Loki’s pale, relaxed face, the starchy hospital gown, the gentle beep of the monitor, the antiseptic hospital smell. It was so strange to see Loki in this environment; out of the Tower, in this banal, mundane hospital room. Who could have ever thought it would turn out this way? That he’d be sitting here, watching over Loki’s vulnerable, prone figure, stroking his limp hand with his thumb, and trying to figure out when he had started to care so much. In the span of a year, Loki had transformed from enemy, to distrusted prisoner, to plain old annoying prisoner, to sexy distraction, to friend, to lover.

How?

*

He went back to the Tower to take a shower and change. Someone had cleaned up the mess. J. A. R. V. I. S. must have called for cleaning staff.

After he showered, he stood in the bedroom, towelling off his hair, and stared again at the bed. The cleaning staff had made it, fluffed the pillows; his and Loki’s presence was erased. The glass of water he had put on Loki’s bedside table had been emptied, cleaned, and replaced. But next to it was was the half-read copy of A Storm of Swords. Tony dressed himself, and picked it up; then he took the elevator down to Loki and Thor’s floor, and went into Loki’s room. He hadn’t been in there many times. It wasn’t much used anymore. Still, Loki kept his clothing and personal items there. He poked around the desk. So many books! They took up an awful lot of space. He frowned, and placed a request to J. A. R. V. I. S. to order one of the prototypes of the new e-reader Stark Industries was producing to be sent up.

An hour later, he arrived back at the hospital. He found Natasha in the waiting room, reading Newsweek, or one of those other magazines you only ever read in waiting rooms.

“He just came out of surgery,” she said, turning a page and not looking up. “They said it went well, and it’ll be about an hour before he wakes up. They have to keep him for a few days, until the infection has mainly gone away. We’re working out a schedule -- I’m on shift right now, obviously.”

“Thanks,” he said. “But you don’t have to stay here, you know.”

“Stark,” she said, closing the magazine. “I’m here to guard the prisoner, not provide moral support.”

He deflated a little. “I know.”

“Where do you think this is going to end up?” she said.

“I have no idea,” Tony answered truthfully. “But I’m sure it’ll be an exciting ride.”

She frowned and shook her head. “Nobody’s very happy about this, Tony. But …”

“But?”

“But we’re willing to give you the benefit of the doubt.” She looked him square in the eye. “Because you’re our friend.”

Tony smiled. “And what about Loki?”

“Well,” Natasha said. “He’s Thor’s brother. No matter what he says.”

“So that’s that, then?”

“For the time being, I suppose.” She looked back at her magazine, and waved him away. “Go on. I know you aren’t here to see me.”

*

Thor had replaced Clint and Steve outside of the room after the surgery. Tony hesitated before approaching him, but it was too late; Thor had seen him.

“Tony Stark,” he said gravely. He looked somewhat unhappy.

Well, that confirmed it. Someone had filled him in. Tony braced himself, grimacing and closing his eyes. He waited.

The beatdown he expected did not come. Instead, Thor hugged him.

“Ahhh!” he said, or rather squeaked. Perhaps this wasn’t an embrace at all; Thor was just squeezing him to death instead of punching him.

“You must not let my brother break your heart, Tony,” Thor said, his voice deep with emotion. “He can be very careless with others.”

“Thor,” he managed, “you’re being a little … careless with my … ribs … right now.”

“My apologies, Tony,” Thor said, releasing him. He slapped Tony hard on the shoulder instead, and Tony resisted whimpering.

“I don’t understand,” Tony said, when he’d regained his dignity and breath. “Aren’t you pissed at me?”

Thor smiled. “Why ever for?”

“Well,” Tony hemmed and hawed, “I’m … well, sleeping with your brother, and he’s our prisoner, so it’s kind of a conflict of interests …”

“I think you are good for Loki.”

“You do?”

“Yes,” Thor said, “his attitude has improved greatly. And it is a great relief to know that rather than shutting himself up in his room, he has actually been spending time with you.”

“Ah,” Tony said. “Sorry about that, by the way. I’ve been trying to get him to spend more time with you …”

“And he has!” Thor beamed. “Why, just last week he bade me fetch him Ben & Jerry’s so that we could eat it together. For a whole twenty minutes.”

Tony sighed. As soon as Loki was recovered, he was going to have to work on this some more. “Well, thanks, big guy. It’s good to know I’ve got someone who’s 100% in my corner. Anyway, I’m going to go in and see his majesty now.”

He patted Thor awkwardly on the arm, and ducked into Loki’s room. It was quiet except for the beeping of machines, and Loki looked peaceful. His abdomen was rounded, by bandages or swelling Tony wasn’t sure. He pulled a chair over and sat down next to the bed. He watched Loki’s chest rise and fall. Was he good for Loki? Was Loki good for him? He wasn’t sure, but he didn’t think he could stop now either way.

 

Epilogue

“Ah, the delivery boy is here,” Natasha said, as she opened the door.

Tony smirked and waggled the pizza box he was carrying. “Half chicken and broccoli, half bacon and olives!”

Natasha wrinkled her nose and turned towards Loki’s hospital bed. “You’ve let him infect you with his disgusting taste, haven’t you?”

Loki was too busy laughing hysterically at the TV to answer.

“What are you guys watching?” Tony said, putting the pizza box down on the end of the bed. “The Soup? Loki, do you even know who half of these people are?”

“No,” Loki said breathlessly, squirming under the covers and giggling. “Ow, ow, ow.” He pressed on his stomach.

“It’s the drugs,” Natasha stage-whispered, as she opened the pizza box.

“Now,” Tony said gravely, handing a slice of the much maligned bacon-olive combo to Loki, “if the nurses ask if you ate any of this what do you say?”

“Namphtaloof?” Loki said, having already crammed half of the slice into his mouth.

“Gross,” Natasha said. “Aren’t you a prince? I thought you had better manners than that.”

Loki swallowed down the rest of the slice like a fucking snake, and smacked his lips. Tony and Natasha wrinkled their noses at each other. “I’m a frost giant,” Loki said, and smiled with a lot of teeth. “We eat mortal babies for breakfast. Or so say they say.” He reached towards the pizza box, and whined, “Another!”

“Slow down, Snow Miser. You’re still supposed to be on a bland diet, even if you are being released tomorrow. Also, where’s your pillow? You’re supposed to support your stomach if you laugh or cough or whatever.”

“It was in the way,” Loki muttered, pushing around a pile of books and the Stark e-reader prototype to get to it, then pulled it up and placed it over his stomach and pressed. “Ha ha,” he said pointedly. “Are you happy now?”

“Yes,” Tony said, handing him another piece of pizza. “But eat it slowly.”

They continued eating pizza and watching TV, Natasha leaving after Tony found Blade Runner on a cable channel. Loki was starting to get sleepy, but kept asking all sorts of questions about the movie; the pain medications made him very chatty. Tony found it quite endearing. Loki as a matter of course was very curious, but had a certain reserve and aloofness at most times which kept him from expressing that curiosity in a frank manner. Normally he simply tried to figure out the answers for himself, causing as much chaos as possible in the process.

It’s too bad she won’t live! But then again, who does?

“But what does the unicorn mean?” Loki murmured as they watched the credits roll.

“It means Deckard is a replicant.”

“Really?”

“Well, that’s what most people think. Gaff could access his memory banks, so he saw the dream with the unicorn in it. That’s why he knew about it.”

“Oh.” Loki blinked slowly, and yawned. “How … pointless.”

“Here,” Tony said, ignoring him. He had been tapping away at Loki’s e-reader. “I just put Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? on there. That’s the book the movie’s based on, though it’s pretty different. Also I downloaded some more novels by Dick. He’s my favorite writer, you know. Though he was crazy as hell.”

“How so?” Loki said, looking interested.

“He thought reality was an illusion created by Satan, and that we are actually living in 70 AD, waiting for Christ’s second coming.”

“Oh,” Loki said dismissively. “Christianity.”

Tony laughed, and leaned over and kissed him deeply. He could feel Loki’s lips curving into a smile against his own, and he thought of the deleted ending of the movie, which he’d seen on DVD: Rachael and Deckard driving in a car together, Rachael saying: I think we were made for each other.

“I’m going now,” he said softly. “I’ll see you in morning.”

“Farewell,” Loki said. He picked up the e-reader. “I’ll start reading your stupid books.”

Tony smiled, and left.

Everything, he was certain, would turn out right in the end.