Archive of Our Own ^beta

Tony lands in the driver’s seat with a quiet little huff, wiggling his eyebrows at Bruce and grinning with all the giddy excitement of someone who, against all odds, got away with something potentially dangerous and definitely stupid.

“For the record,” Bruce has to shout over the howling of the engine, “I’m still firm in my belief that this is a monumentally bad idea.”

“And yet here you are,” Tony winks at him over the rim of his shades, guiding the car out of its spot and speeding up as soon as they hit the road.

Bruce sighs. “Here I am.”

“It’ll be fine, don’t worry,” Tony drawls and waves a lazy, dismissive hand at Bruce’s face, yelping indignantly when Bruce swats at it.

“That’s not even remotely reassuring coming from you.”

Tony blows him a kiss and cranks up the music.

The cage is Bruce and Hulk tested, the glass shatter- and bulletproof and the edges and corners reinforced with all the Vibranium Tony had managed to charm out of the Wakandan king.

Which wasn’t much, but enough. Hopefully.

He lets his eyes wander over the engravings, painstakingly scratched into the concrete walls all around the room, and smiles to himself. Thor had been eager to explain the power and meaning behind the different runes, their suppressive and anchoring qualities.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Tony pulls the door closed behind himself and carefully approaches the curled up figure huddled between the bed and the dresser. He holds a bottle of water out in front of him as a peace-offering.

“Brought you something,” he says and slowly sets it on the floor just out of arms reach for the man, crouching down next to it. “I also know how to get all that metal off of you so you can, you know, actually drink it.”

Biting his lip, Tony rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet, waiting.

Nothing.

“Look,” he grimaces, “I know this isn’t what you expected, but you and me? We need to have a talk. And you’re not leaving here before I get what I want, so. Might as well let me help you get comfortable, because I’m getting the feeling that this could take a while.”

A twitch from the lump under the blanket.

“I’m not your enemy here, believe it or not,” Tony goes on, one hand tapping a nervous tattoo against his Arc Reactor. “Something about this, all of this, isn’t right. Something doesn’t add up. And I think you know exactly what that something is. Am I right or am I right?”

Tony can’t be sure, but the jerk that question elicits may be a nod. Good enough.

“All right, then,” he beams and reaches out, only to earn himself a violent flinch when his hand comes close to the man’s shoulder. “Hey, easy there. Calm down. I’m just gonna-“

Blanket clutched in one hand, Tony’s voice cuts off abruptly, mouth hanging open for a long moment before he remembers to close it with an audible plop.

Loki is blinking up at him with intense, ruby-red eyes, squinting a bit against the sudden influx of light. He’s also blue.

“Well,” Tony manages to croak after a moment of surprise, “this is new.”

Without his armour - and where did that go, Tony wonders idly, because Bruce’s Tesseract contraption was only supposed to conveniently redirect Loki to his tower instead of Asgard and not strip him, but whatever - the God looks impossibly small, thin arms wrapped tightly around his folded legs as much as the shackles he’s still wearing allow it.

“How about I get all this crap off you and some clothes on you?” Tony offers, then smirks. “Not every day I say that.”

Loki continues to stare impassively, so Tony cautiously scoots closer, keeping his movements slow and predictable as he fumbles with the buckle on the back of the gag. It clicks open after a moment and Loki coughs, whole body shaking with the strain of it, his lips cracked and bloody.

“All right, you’re all right, c’mere,” Tony soothes, opening the bottle and cupping the side of Loki’s face to help him take a few small sips. “Do I want to know if they fed you at all?”

Predictably, there’s no answer to that but Loki grasps for the bottle and starts drinking greedily which, really, tells it all. Tony purses his lips and goes to work on the cuffs.

Sure, he isn’t Loki’s biggest fan right now, but Tony’s got some ideals and mistreating prisoners, no matter who they are, sorta clashes with what he believes is right and fair. This, whatever it is, just got personal.

“You okay there, Bambi?” Tony asks, wincing in sympathy when he sees Loki’s wrists left red and raw by the metal.

“He’s coming,” Loki rasps in reply, eyes wide with what Tony realises must be genuine fear, hands scrambling for purchase against Tony’s shirt. “Mad Titan.”

And Tony can’t tell why or how, but suddenly he’s back inside that void, dark emptiness creeping in around him, suffocating him, and all he hears is that laugh, that laugh that’s been haunting his sparse hours of sleep ever since the battle, bone-chilling and absolutely terrifying.

A man, no, not a man, something else entirely, something with mad eyes and purple skin and that laugh, smirking down at him, at all of them, promising destruction and death. Doom.

“Thanos,” Tony breathes and Loki twitches violently, clutching at his head, rocking back and forth as he mumbles to himself. “Who- why do I know- hey, hey! Loki, come on, hey!”

Tony’s arms shoot out when Loki pitches forward. Settling the trembling man against his chest he presses his own face into Loki’s hair, unable to breathe or make sense of the sheer terror suddenly clawing at him.

“You saw,” Loki whispers and Tony nods wordlessly, helplessly, and can do nothing but hold on when Loki goes slack against him.

“The armour must have been magical,” Bruce muses, breaking the tense silence between them. “Which is why it’s gone now. And at least we know the spells work.”

Tony stays quiet and motionless, staring at the monitor in front of him, watching Loki toss and turn, all tangled up in his blankets.

“Thor mentioned adoption,” Bruce continues, taking off his glasses to clean and rubbing a tired hand over his face. “Different species, maybe? I mean, he’s, uh, blue.”

“Someone’s coming for us,” Tony says, voice cracking halfway through the sentence, and Bruce lays a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently.

“We’ll figure it out.”

Thor returns four days later with the unfortunate news of his brother’s escape.

Tony lets the rest of the team and scream and fuss and panic, taking the time everyone needs to calm down to consider.

“So, anyone know anything about a guy with a purple face?” he interrupts eventually, drawing everyone’s attention. “Because I think I remembered something and I’d like some sort of reassurance that I’m not completely crazy.”

Thor knows of the Mad Titan and going by the way he blanches and his usually cheerful expression turns brittle and scared, well, Tony figures they’re all in deep shit.

The Avengers are saddled with keeping an eye out for Loki while Thor vanishes back to Asgard to consult with his father and delegates from other worlds to prepare a pre-emptive strike against Thanos and what remains of the Chitauri in order to stop them from ever reaching the border to the nine realms.

Intergalactic war, it’s like a sci-fi epos come to life.

Tony leaves without mentioning Loki.

Loki talks whenever Tony goes down to his cell to bring him food or books or clothes or simply to sit with him. Tony is pretty sure it’s been a while since someone’s listened to what he has to say.

Apparently, the Æsir resolve family issues with war, genocide and banishment of children, resulting in attempted suicide and being coerced and tortured into taking over Earth.

At least Loki tried to lose which is kind of nice, Tony thinks, all things considered.

He gets the urge to hug his own father because whatever crap stood between the two of them? It’s nothing compared to Odin and his children.

At first, Tony takes Loki upstairs for a couple of hours only each time, always making him wear the special, anti-chafe, magic-suppressing pair of bracelets he created solely because he’s got an enormous soft spot for the God living in his cellar.

Kindred souls and all that.

Loki seems impressed with the craftsmanship and content to follow Tony around the penthouse or the workshop, trailing after him and actually asking questions that aren’t entirely stupid and providing insight from a new, refreshing point of view as someone born under a staggeringly different set of scientific circumstances.

They watch movies. Loki is a surprisingly talented chef. Tony enjoys listening to his voice, nestled into an armchair while Loki reads aloud from where he’s curled up on the couch. Loki is fascinated with the bots and spends hours playing fetch with DUM-E.

Bruce’s expression is caught somewhere between bemused, concerned and resigned when Tony offers Loki his guest room.

They receive word from Thor that the Æsir have engaged in battle, allied together with the Elves and, surprisingly enough to Tony, forces from Jotunheim.

Loki looks understandably stricken when Tony tells him.

Tony stands on tiptoes and brushes their lips together, one hand rubbing along Loki’s spine and the other tangled in his hair when Loki buries his face in Tony’s neck and cries.

Their second kiss is wet and salty and Tony finds that he doesn’t mind one bit.

Tony arches his back lazily, mouthing along Loki’s jaw and shuddering when Loki angles his hips and moves just so, hitting his prostate with every other delightfully slow thrust.

He traces the slightly raised ridges down over Loki’s shoulders, splays his hands across the small of his back as he lifts his chin in demand, making Loki smile but dutifully lean down for a filthy kiss that makes Tony’s toes curl.

“Wait,” Tony moans when he can feel himself getting close, using Loki’s momentary confusion to tip Loki over onto his back before straddling him and groaning when he sinks back down on him. “Here, gimme,” he pants, artlessly pawing at Loki’s wrist until the bracelet releases, carelessly tossing it over the edge of the bed before repeating the process on Loki’s other hand. He’s aware of how fond he must look as he smiles down at the man but can’t bring himself to care, declares instead, “Better. Beautiful.”

Loki swallows hard, his eyes shining as he reaches up to cup Tony’s face, guiding it closer to press his forehead against Tony’s. “Mine,” he states simply and brings their mouths back together.

The Mad Titan is defeated.

“You wished to speak to me, Man of Iron?” Thor asks as he steps out of the elevator, freezing the instant he turns into the sitting area. “Loki.”

“Now, buddy, I need you to listen before you do anything rash, okay?” Tony speaks up, holding one hand up in a placating gesture and taking one of Loki’s blue ones with the other.

So Loki explains about his fall, about the void, about being found and moulded and used, Tony’s arm around him for support and as a promise.

And Thor listens.