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Chapter Text

He's tired, even as he forces his eye-gunk-glued eyes open to face the world. JARVIS has already let the light in, news and weather reports dancing across the glass like they might actually matter. Tony stares at them and for a moment, only a moment, wonders why he hasn't seen them for a while.

It hurts him, when the realization hits.

Loki's supposed to be right there, face half nuzzled into the other pillow, lips already tilting in a smile because the bastard was always awake before him. That's where he was supposed to be, right between Tony and that part of the window that was now showing some blond reporter woman dynamically reporting and Tony hasn't hated seeing someone's face so irrationally since Howard died. Because it means Loki's not there, obviously, and Tony mutters a string of curses at himself to help dull the pain.

It doesn't help, but it does make him sound as crazy as everyone seems to thinks he is. Everyone being the team. The team, in fact, being the crazy ones.

Tony sits up and runs a hand over his face, fingers scratching against unwanted stubble, dried drool, and god-forbid, wrinkles. These register as obnoxiously to Tony as the news woman, because once again, there's a lack of Loki, and age and Loki go hand in hand no matter how much they lie to themselves.

Not that Loki's here, he reminds himself, and throws himself out of the bed.

If he ever was here.

And that's the question, isn't it? Because Tony's been waking up to Loki in his bed for nearly six months now. He's also gone to bed with Loki, eaten fine foods with the god, gone out for walks, drives, swims, flights, even ski trips. To sum it all up nicely, they've been dating. Like, actual exclusive dates and everything.

Now the problem with all that, is that two days ago, he wakes up and Loki's gone. No big deal, Loki wakes up early, makes food, starts trouble, steals stuff from the team and hides it in that spot in Tony's closet that he's pretty sure the god thought was a secret but wasn't.

But Loki's not in the kitchen when he comes out, half dressed, hair a mess, basically ready for that coffee now. The weird thing is, Steve's in his kitchen. Like that's the most normal thing in the world, which, okay, it's not that weird, but if you get down to percentages, it's below average.

But okay, Tony can roll with it, and asks him where Loki is. That's when Captain Fucking America turns around and says, "What do you mean 'where's Loki'? Probably in a cell on Asgard."

And of course Tony freaks out, asking him why and when and what for and get me Thor before I kill everyone with that waffle iron. Now the problem is, Steve's looking at him less like he's confused and more like he's batshit insane.

"Tony... what are you talking about? He's been there since the attack..."

"What are you talking about?!" Tony snaps, waving his arms at the kitchen. "He was just here, for fucks sake. You talked to him yesterday."

That's when Steve's face morphed into that carefully blank expression that means you're either about to get ignored or approached like you're a dangerous animal.

"Tony," he begins in The Voice, "I didn't talk to Loki yesterday. I'm pretty sure no one's seen him since the Chitauri attack, except maybe Thor."

Tony starts really freaking out, shouting at him to cut this shit out, get Thor, 'he was just here!'. It's also when Steve tries to calm him down, and Tony reaches for the waffle iron.

It doesn't end well.
In fact, he ends up strapped to a table in one of the labs, surrounded by friends all studying him with varying shades on concern.

"He's delusional."

"—said Loki was here! I don't even—"

"—did we ever find out if he was effected?"

"He couldn't have been, no blue eyes."

"Where is Thor?"

“Excuse me,” he interjects calmly, “I'm right fucking here, and yeah, where's Thor? He's got some explaining to do.”

Bruce leans in to study the screen next to his new cozy metal-table bed and says, “His levels are erratic, I think—“

“Yours would be too if everyone was saying the guy you've been dating is a god damn ghost!”

The room is so quite suddenly, Tony swears no one is actually breathing.

Shit... maybe this is worst than I thought.

“I'm kidding, guys,” he quickly amends, cracking his trademark grin. “Bondage is fun and all, but I didn't think the joke would go this far. Let me go so I can get my coffee.”

“This is a... joke?” Steve mumbles, eyes narrowing. “Tony, you swung a waffle iron at me!”

“Had to be authentic.”

“Are you kidding me?!”

Clint starts laughing, though, and that breaks the tension in the room at last. He can almost hear the all-encompassing sigh as everyone goes from high-alert to jesus Tony, again?

“I can't believe you!” Steve's shouting from behind a sparkly-eyed Bruce who's releasing Tony's arms now. Tony gives the doctor a wink, earns himself the usual little blush, and a playful mutter of, “You're insane,” that actually hits home a lot harder than usual.

And now it's two days later, Steve's still angry with him for, “wasting time and resources,” Clint's still laughing about Tony's 'boyfriend' comment, and no one's looking at him like he's crazy anymore. Because they're all crazy, they have to be. Loki was right here, and all he needs is Thor, now, to come confirm it. Thor's immune to most magical bullshit, so if there's anyone who will know the truth, it's him.

So, this morning of realization and annoying blond reporters, Tony walks into his kitchen, doesn't jump when he sees Steve there, again, and makes his coffee without a fuss.

“Morning,” Steve offers, still sporting that stick up his ass.

“Is it? I wasn't aware. I suppose next you will tell me it's also daytime, and what year is it? I've forgotten.”

“That's not a surprise.”

“Careful, honey, you'll cut yourself with that sharp wit,” Tony drawls, walking right back out again with his coffee. Behind him, he can almost hear the captain's smile, so it's worth a little self-degradation if he can make the last person who actually remembers his outburst focus on something else.

All the better to eat you with, he thinks grimly, stepping into his workshops and nabbing the rolling chair. “JARVIS, give me most recent files on Loki.”

“The most recent data on Mr. Puddle-Muffins is on screen, sir.”

Tony almost sprays his coffee all over the table, almost. It's a near thing.

“Mr. What?!”

“In a fit of poor humor, sir, you changed his name and activation codes.”

Tony mutters, “I don't remember doing that,” and scratches at the arc reactor as he thinks. “Nope, don't remember, anyway, there he is!”

He grins and leans forward, watching Loki walk through his own living room on the feed, then snorts as he ees himself putter after him like a needy puppy.

“I'm not crazy!” he cheers, watching the two of them crawl into bed together.

“As you are fond of saying,” JARVIS says, “'The jury is out.'”

“Wait, this was three days ago... This is the most current file?” Tony asks, frowning over his coffee cup. “He's not anywhere? No traffic cams? No magic spikes?”

On screen, the VDR—Voo-Doo-Radar—pops up, and it's almost blank.

“The last significant spike was two hours after this recording,” JARVIS provides, somehow managing to actually sound worried. “As you can see, Mr. Puddle-Muffins remains by your side until exactly 4 AM.”

Tony places his cup down and watches the two sleeping bodies on screen. There's not much to see, even with night vision on, but Tony can clearly see Loki's sleeping face and the back of his own head. The seconds tick down, and suddenly, there's no one next to Tony. The blankets flop down the second the body below them disappears, Tony shifts in his sleep, and time keeps on moving.

“What. The. Fuck?”

“After that moment, no other magic activity occurs until noon the next day, but reports confirm that Dr. Do-Diddily was active in the New Hampshire area.”

“Remind me to stop changing everyone's names, as hilarious as it is to hear you say them, it's starting to get confusing.”

“Would you like me to revert back to the original system?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony grumbles, waving him off to spin around in his chair. “How big was that magic spike when Loki poofed?”

On screen, an areal map appears, complete with a large green blob that spreads out from the tower, and suddenly bursts across the city.

“Whoa, wait, wait, back it up. Show me that again.” Tony leans back in and pulls the map out of the screen and into a hologram. “Give me full globe.”

The world surrounds Tony, placing him right in the center of it, and if it were any other time, that would get a laugh out of him. But, instead, he watches grimly as the green blob slowly grows once again, and explodes.

All the way around the planet.

“Please tell me that wasn't Loki exploding and spreading himself across the world like some kind of volcano ash-cloud.”

“That was not Loki exploding and spreading himself across the world like some kind of volcano ash-cloud.”

“Thanks,” Tony grouses, “So much.”

JARVIS falls silent for a moment, which really only gives Tony time to start panicking.

“Sir...”

“What, JARVIS? I'm freaking out, leave me alone.”

“I believe the spread of his magic has something to do with the lack of memory your teammates have exhibited.”

“Oh... right. Okay, so Loki poofs, magic goes all oil-spill, people forget he's even here. Which he's not, so what's the damn point of making them forget?!”

“Perhaps there is a reason, sir?”

“Got any ideas?” Tony asks, leaning his head back over the top of his chair. “I'm all ears.”

“There is an hour and three minutes missing from my records the same day Loki disappeared.”

Tony's head snaps up, because that gets his attention, because that's impossible, unless he... unless...

“When?”

On screen, once again, is Loki. Tony's heart does a little flip-flop of longing for the god, which he quickly stuffs down and hides away with all his other pressing emotions right now. The Loki on screen looks angry, really angry, and Tony's trying to figure out who he's yelling at.

“Do I have a blind spot or is Loki yelling at the Invisible Man?”

“I'm afraid there is an area of wall that blocks the camera from this angle,” JARVIS admits, and on a second screen, a secondary camera blinks on to show just who it is.

“It's Thor...” Tony breaths, not quite sure what he's seeing. “What the fuck, how did I not know about this?”

“I believe what happens directly after this moment may explain it, sir.”

And what happens is they disappear. Only, this time it's not magic, it's a cut in the recording.

“Play it again, ten seconds back.”

Tony watches the time stamp this time. One second it's 1330, the next it's 1433. He lets out a breath he wasn't aware of holding, and scrubs his hands over his face.

“I repeat, once again, What. The. Fuck?”

“Sir, there is one more oddity—“

“Of course there is.”

“Mr. Odinson does not appear again after their argument.”

Tony stops rubbing at his face, eyes slowly growing wide as the implications dawn on him.

“Oh my god, Loki finally killed Thor.”

“That is highly unlikely, sir.”

“This entire thing is highly un-fucking-likely!” Tony snaps, standing up to begin his usual routine of pacing and talking to himself, or, well, JARVIS, really. He's not crazy.

He's not.

Some hours and more than ten cups of coffee later, Tony's wired, exhausted, and starting to wonder if he should try explaining this to the rest of the team. But, after the fun with straps and metal slabs, he's not feeling it.

So, instead, he makes a call to Fury.

“Nicky-Nick-Nack-Paddy—“

“Cut the shit,” Fury snips, “What do you want, Stark?”

“Where's Thor?” he asks as subtly as possible.

“On Asgard,” Fury answers slowly, his single eye narrowing. “Like he has been for the past year... Why?”

“Okay, but, like, specifically, where on Asgard?”

“How the hell should I know that? Probably taking a shit, why the hell do you want to know?”

“Does he shit?” Tony muses, trying to keep it light. “I mean, they're gods, right? Do gods shit? Does it stink or smell like roses?”

“I'm hanging up, Stark, unless you have a real world problem I can not help you with.”

“You're too sweet to me, but really, I need up there.”

“Up... where?”

“Asgard.”

“No.”

Tony blinks innocently at him and makes a show of tapping his chin in thought. “Wasn't there some thing about sending a diplomat—or a spy, actually, let's not kid ourselves, to Asgard? You know, to take a look in their weapons vault.”

Fury doesn't bother looking impressed or angry about the fact that Tony knows all his top-secret plans. He always knows, it's about as surprising and shocking as Marilyn Manson these days.

“And you think that your the man for this job? You?” Fury snorts. “Stark, you're about as subtle and 'diplomatic' as Dick Cheney.”

“Ouch,” Tony winces, touching a hand to his heart. “You strike me deep, but really, come on, who better to assess their weapons than, Oh, I don't know, a weapons expert?”

“Know a lot about swords, Stark?”

Tony scoffs, “See? There's your problem right there, you think they use swords.”

“They do, i've seen them, they're sharp, pointy, and work an awful lot like a sword.”

“Yeah, okay, so like one person does,” Tony admits, having seen the more recent files of Lady Sif kicking ass with a double-bladed something. “My point is, they let anyone carry a sword, so why the fuck would they be in the great and powerful weapons vault? That's my kind of stuff, that's world-ending shit, that's fire power.”

Fury studies him over his folded hands long enough to make Tony start to sweat, just a little. He wasn't being that subtle, which mean he needed to cover his tracks before—

“Why are you suddenly so interested in this project, Stark?”

“Uh, hello, strange new world, strange new weapons? It's kind of my thing.” And it's not a lie, not really. Just not exactly why he decided he wants to go right now.

Fury does the ten-minute-long-feels-like-ten-hours stare again, and then drops his hands. “Alright, fine, i'm sending you.” He leans forward again, his face taking up most of the screen in that threatening technique he so likes to use. “If you fuck this up, which you probably will, next trip you're taking is to an astroid where there's no ride back. Got it?”

“Loud and clear,” Tony quips and cracks a grin he's not feeling at all. Oh yeah, he's going to fuck this up, most definitely.

“Get here tomorrow, 0800, or don't bother coming at all.”

And thus ends the call, leaving Tony shaking and slightly excited. Mostly terrified, though, because the world around him is no longer the world he knows, and Asgard... well, Asgard is a whole new world of unknowns.

Tony decides it's time to pack, maybe let his team know he's heading out of world for a little while. Maybe set up some protocols to keep Natasha out of JARVIS' system, no need for her to know about a certain god who everyone's forgotten about except one AI and Tony.

So, feeling slightly more invigorated than he's managed for the past few days, Tony sets off to get ready for Asgard, humming 'A Whole New World' loud enough to make Clint yell at him to shut up from the living room. 

Chapter Text

It's on a rainy Sunday morning, the kind where the fog rolls in before the storm and moisture lingers in the air for hours, that Tony finds himself more wired and awake than he has been in months. Sleep wasn't allowed anymore, not in that bed, especially not without Loki. But the only away to avoid that is keeping himself awake for hours by sitting in the chair near the window, slowly replacing his blood with black coffee and generally worrying himself half to death. 

Tomorrow was the day—actually, according to his watch, today was the day—the day of answers, and holy shit did he need sleep for this kind of a day. But he couldn't, not now, nope, too late. He was so close to figuring out what the hell was going here and maybe even getting a chance to see Loki again. 

Yeah, that was good. Loki was good. The stress was worth it, totally. So was the impending ulcer, and the possibility of further ‘Asgardian diplomatic relations’. Because if Thor was there, Thor could give him answers, and if Loki was there, well, Tony would be taking him home and Loki was smart, and everything would work out because he would have Lokes on his side. 

"Hah," Tony laughs dryly, unimpressed with his pathetic attempts at optimism. He wasn't an optimist by nature, so why try now? 

Un-Optimistically drinking the last inch of coffee left in his mug, he gets up and heads out to the kitchen where he knows just who he'll meet at six in the morning. 

"Stevey," he calls out, and not bothering to give the man time to voice his surprise at a fully dressed Tony Stark before noon, and continues on, "i'm heading out for a few days—maybe a week, so take care of everyone for me."

"For one thing, you implying that you take care of them is hilarious," Steve points out, leaning against the counter to study him. "For another, where on Earth are you going?" 

"No where on earth."

"You... what?" 

"Heading off world for a while, got some stuff to do for Big Brother." Tony gestures uselessly with his cup, and sets it down before his overtired body decided to drop it. It's his favorite cup. Loki bought it for him. It had 'World's Greatest Fuck' written on it.

Steve's nose wrinkles up, probably due to Tony's phrasing, as usual, and he crosses his arms, also as usual. "SHIELD is sending you into space? Why? And why didn't they contact the rest of us?"

"Uuuh, because they want me, not the team?"

"Tony..."

"Steve." 

"What's going on? First that business with Loki, now this?" He questions, predictably taking this way too seriously, and maybe Tony should have skipped the 'letting the parents know i'm going out' step, and just left.

"What's going on is SHIELD business, so if you have a problem, take it up with them. I'm sure Fury would love a call right now, not like he has anything better to do than listen to you whine about what Tony Stark is doing at six in the morning." 

Steve settles into his glare and jutted out chin routine that Tony can't stand, so he turns on his heel and leaves before someone says something they might actually regret.

"You better be back in a week!" The captain calls out, never willing to let tony have the last word, even if Tony usually gets the last word, anyway.

"I sure as hell hope so," Tony mutters to himself, grabbing the bags he's had packed since his second attempt at going to bed. With one more look around his oddly vacant looking room, he strides back out to the kitchen to grab his favorite mug.

"Something's wrong here," Steve states, watching him carefully as he wraps a t-shirt around the mug and tucked it into his bag.

"For once," Tony replies, "I agree with you."

"You're late," the large black man in the leather snaps, and yep, everything is as it should be in SHIELD, too. Everything's normal except for Loki suddenly not being where he should be. Hooray.

"I arrive precisely when I mean to," Tony shoots back, wondering if Fury has even seen the Lord of the Rings movies, never mind read the books. Not that it matters, they weren't about to bust out their inner nerds and compare notes. Maybe just a game of D&D someday.

"You do know that sometimes there's actually a window of time for some things? Like, for example," Fury points to a circle of black lines that spreads across most of the helipad. "The Bifrost." 

"I'm sure Thor is well aware that I never arrive earlier than late," Tony says cheerfully, heading over to inspect the design. Very Viking, somewhat imprinted into the roof, a tad knotty. "So this is the Bifrost?" 

"No, Stark, that is the Bifrost." 

Tony looks at Fury, and before he can ask what the man is smirking about, his world turns rainbow and duh, rainbow bridge. Aptly named.

He does let out something between a scream and a ‘waaahoooo!' while he gets literally thrown from one planet to another, and then tries to observe as much as he can through squinted eyes. By the time he's back on solid ground, Tony’s arrived at several individual conclusions as to how the Bifrost works, and realized there's no way to test those theories because he doesn’t think the tech even exists yet. He’ll have to get on that, maybe talk to Jane.

"Not particles!" He cheers as he stumbles towards a large man with a stupidly larger sword. Tony pauses to eye the ugly, gold thing, amused by the size and overcompensating much? With a few internal curses, he secretly hopes the treasure vault isn't all swords, after all. 

“FRIEND!" a familiar voice booms, and Tony’s attention is torn away to the vastly approaching blonde.

"Thor! Nice to see you all dressed up for little ol’ me," he yells in return, already dropping his suitcases to ready himself for the—Yep, there it is, the innard-crushing hug. "Your mother's drapes sure are getting extravagant,” he manages to choke out.

Thor laughs heartily at the joke, something that's gone from insulting to hilarious in the span of a month of clothing jokes and a solid night of near-alcohol-poising-inducing drinking. Tony's glad they've finally reached the point where they can joke around with each other without the threat of electroshock therapy or a display of Loki's acupuncture technique.

Don’t think about him, not yet. Hold on a little longer.

"I must admit," Thor says, letting Tony go and looking him up and down. "I did not expect to see you so soon."

"You know how hard it is to get rid of me. Many have tried, none succeed." 

"Indeed, you are a resilient man, Stark." Thor's brows draw together sharply and he adds in a low voice, “But is what they tell me true, that you are here to view our vaults?" 

Tony makes a face, and decides to go the honest route. "Yes and no. I'm actually here to see Loki, since everyone keeps telling me he's here." 

"You wish to see... my brother?" Thor questions, eyes growing dark. "Why? To mock him? Is it not enough for you, his penance here on Asgard?" 

"Whoa, whoa, hold it, big guy," Tony backtracks, putting his hands up in surrender. "That's not it at all, although you just answered a few questions there without even trying, so thanks for that, but no. I'm not here to poke fun at your brother. I just want to... talk."

Thor's expression doesn't brighten like Tony hoped it would. In fact, the suspicion only grows deeper in those blue eyes of his, and Tony realizes that he's going about this all wrong. Thor wasn’t the same overzealous idiot—Darcy’s words—as he used to be, Thor had been betrayed, lost love, lost love again, and apparently, in this universe or whatever, never had that conversation/shouting match with Loki that ended most of the extreme bitterness between them. This was broken Thor—healing Thor—minus the returned brother and brother’s boyfriend.

Shit, okay, excuses, you had a list of them before you left. 

"Look, you've grown up around magic stuff, right? Spells? Curses? Magically disappearing boyfriends?" 

"I do not understand your point, but yes, there is magic abound in this realm." 

Tony glances behind him at the man with the sword and shuffles closer to Thor, whispering, "look, is there somewhere more private that we can talk? That guy hasn't taken his eyes off of me since we arrived and i’m starting to think he either has a thing for me or is going to kill me. Either one is not optimal.” 

Thor chuckles, making Tony feel a little bad for manipulating him so easily. "Ah, a pointless worry, my friend. Heimdall sees all, whether you stand before him or no." 

Tony turns his head slowly, meets golden, emotionless eyes, and blinks. If he saw everything, then...

"Hey, you with the sword!" He calls out, ditching Thor for the Sauron of Asgard. "Can I ask you something?" 

"You may, but you may not find an answer." 

"Fair enough," Tony allows, stepping up into the raised center of the room. "So, Thor says you see everything, which is kind of creepy and makes me want to see what makes you tick, because seriously, what kind of computing power do you have there to register, literally, everything? But, science aside, I need to ask you about—"

"Loki." And it's a statement, not a question, which makes Tony twitch and almost cry out with joy. 

Because he sees everything. 

"Right, about him. Where was he, say, four days ago?"

Heimdall turns his head a fraction of an inch, and Tony just catches his eyes flickering to Thor before he's captured the man's undivided attention once again. There's something about how intensely focused he is that tips Tony off that the next words out of the man's mouth are lies.

"In his cell, here, on Asgard."

Knowing beforehand doesn't really soften the blow, and Tony feels himself deflate anyway. Maybe he was wrong after all, maybe he was the crazy one. The really crazy one.

"Right... okay," Tony mutters, scrubbing a hand over his face and turning to leave. "Thanks anyway."

"In one timeline." 

Tony freezes, not dating to turn around. Instead, his eyes settle on Thor, who's watching them carefully, but giving no sign that he heard Heimdall's last statement, thank someone. 

Tony repeats, "Timeline..." To himself, and glances back at the man at last. "You mean—"

"In this timeline, Loki has been imprisoned for over a year." 

"Oooh-kaaay," Tony replies slowly, not daring to touch on the implications of that just yet. He needed more time to process this, maybe another conversation with this guy sometime later, after he meets with Loki. "Any idea why that is? Because that's not how it was four days ago."

"I cannot say, there are too many converging points during the time of the Event." 

"This 'Event'—" Tony mimes air quotes before remembering they have no idea what those are and he probably looks incredibly stupid. "Did this, uh, happen to be around 4 AM Eastern Standard Time?" 

Heimdall gives him a look, impressive, really, for someone who lacks any emotion on his face, and Tony goes back to shrinking away from him again. It was an automatic response to someone bigger and golden-eyed and caring a stupidly-huge sword. 

"I cannot say anymore, Stark," Heimdall states clearly, loudly, conversation endingly. 

Tony just nods, because at least he was expecting that, and strides back over to Thor with more enthusiasm than he actually felt. Had to keep up appearances, he could freak out later, maybe. Time wasn’t exactly on his side, apparently, and he was woefully mortal and unknowledgeable about much time continuum stuff. Unless, of course, all of this actually did follow the rules of Minkowski Spacetime and Loki had somehow popped off into the Future Light cone or something. But no, that didn’t make sense, because this wasn't the future, or past, it was the same frame of time, different occurrences. Which meant either there’s something beyond the hypothetical fourth dimension, which was heading into the string theory and therefor called for more research, or someone fucked with everyone’s brains. Neither sounded good.

"What did you seek from Heimdall?" Thor asks as soon as Tony's back and picking up his cases again.

 It takes him a minute to call his brain back from spacetime and relativity before he comes up with a less-than-brilliant quip, ”Just wondering if he can give me stock tips. He does see the future, right?"

Thor shakes his head, but he's laughing, so it looks like nothing was overheard after all. "What Heimdall sees is what he is looking at in the moment. The future, the past, one realm or another, one lost soul, one moment. He may see all, but he does not view it all at once. I believe it was a ‘matter of focus’, he once told me.” 

Tony hums thoughtfully and allows Thor to guide him out of the round room, to more sparkly rainbow stuff in the form off a really long— “Wait, this is the Rainbow Bridge?” 

“Ah, it is all connected, Stark.”

“That’s deep, but really, is this its power source? It feels kind of… like it’s vibrating.”

With another weird smile, Thor pauses to look down, fingers curling around the handle of his hammer in a way that puts Tony on edge.  But it’s not him Thor’s thinking about, it’s something older and sadder which means it’s probably Loki related and, shit.

“Sorry, I forgot,” Tony whispers, knowing that he’s apologizing too late.

“Nay… nay, tis nothing to apologize for. I think of it every time I wander here,” he admits with a shake of his head. “To answer your question, this is what I suppose you could call the power source. This is the bridge, bound in physical form, where the room we left would be the keyhole and the sword, the key to unlocking its power.”

"That makes sense, actually. Scientific sense. I'm proud of you. Hell, Jane's going to be proud of you once I tell her.”

Thor's face splits into that smile that could probably power a sun, all for Jane and any mention of Jane, and Jane-related things. It's seriously blinding, and right now, slightly annoying to a man who's kind of, lost his boyfriend to time, recently. But Tony didn’t have the heart to complain or swing the subject back to who he wanted to talk about. Not after that moment, not after Thor’s pained smile.

At least his sour mood doesn't seem to deter Thor one bit from gushing about his lovely Jane. In fact, nothing stops him from the running commentary that lasts their entire journey through the city via a carriage thing pulled by the most gaudy horses Tony's ever seen. In fact, while Thor's talking about Jane's theories about eternal life—something Tony's already heard of from the source, thank you very much—Tony's leaning out the window to snap a picture of the ugly things with his phone. All that gold hanging off of them, and then there's the stones inlaid, the chainmail stuff, and oh god, even their hooves have gaudy shoes. He snickers and snaps more pictures his mood finally lifting.

"—said that it is impossible, but that one could slow their aging, which is what she thinks is happening between I and my family. She also said—"

Tony absentmindedly snaps a picture of some kids in the street, and frowns at the state of their clothes as they pass. How was it that horses were better dressed than the city kids? Better yet, how was it they haven't been horse-mugged at this point? If this was the Bronx—which, in all honestly, was a fair comparison—the horses would be up on cement blocks, gold stripped and stones pried out. 

"—she baked me these small, breaded meats that came in a red box. Darcy was quite amused when I gave thanks to Jane for them. She seems to find humor in many a thing, although I think perhaps that time she was mocking me.” 

"That she does," Tony agrees, only half tuning in. Darcy was like an air-head version of himself equipped with, god forbid, an Ipod. Her only saving grace for her utter betrayal was that she did manage to come some up with some grand ideas for pranks. Back when Loki was... when Loki...

Tony swallows the lump in his throat and slithers back into his seat, opting for silence the rest of the ride to the great halls. He doesn’t think about the Loki, too painful, but for some reason he can’t get the image of those kids out of his head.

Luckily for him, Thor continues to talk the entire time, making Tony wonder if either of them actually know each other as well as he thought. Maybe not in this time line? had they had their night of drinking, or was that only in relation to Loki?

How many events changed due to Loki’s presence in his life, or lack thereof?? 

Tony bites his lip, thinking back to the past few days and the people around him. Had they been different? Not really. Bruce was as sassy as ever, if not maybe a little more touchy-feely than he remembered. Maybe that was because Loki wasn’t there to monopolize his time and body. Had anyone else been different, other than Thor? 

“We have arrived,” Thor says suddenly, giving Tony another strange look. It’s telling, more than anything, the way Thor seems to mistrust him. Like they’d never gotten past some of that that awkwardness from their early days.

Tony decides to test the waters a little, and asks“Hey, Thor? Remember that night of rum?” while clambering out of the carriage after the god. 

That seems to ease the stiffness a little, and Thor laughs, “Aye! T’was a grand night. We spoke of many things.”

“Do you remember…” Tony trails off, not sure if he’s going to break the time continuum or something. “Do you remember who I admitted… to liking?”

Thor pauses a few steps up and furrows his brow as he tries to remember. He doesn’t stop long, but only answers when they reach the main doors. “I’m afraid I don’t, my friend. It was a long night, after all. Why do you ask?”

Tony shrugs it off with a, “Doesn’t matter,” and after a small argument with a young man grabbing at his boxes and suitcase, he grudgingly allows the servants to move his stuff to his room. 

“Not to be rude, but do you mind if I go see Loki before I settle in?”

And there’s that weird look again, like he’s not sure if Tony’s here for real, or maybe that his intentions are real. At least he isn’t reaching for his hammer.

“Just to start a baseline,” Tony assures him, waving his hands at Thor to show he’s got nothing up his sleeve, so chill. He does, however, have his phone in his pocket, complete with certain life changing photos that he needs to work. He really needs those to work.

“I… I suppose, if you must,” Thor concedes, beckoning Tony to follow him. “I shan't stay with you, I hope that is alright.”

Tony smiles ruefully at Thor’s back and agrees,” That’s fine, he’ll be volatile—or, you know, more volatile if you’re there.”

Thor’s, “Indeed,” comes out so cold and bitter that Tony shuts the hell up for the journey down stairs and through some ugly hallways, past some ugly statues, and into a wide room filled with yellow tinted cells. At first, Tony’s convinced that it’s yellow glass, which just kind of ticks him off because he’s already sick to death of gold and that’s just cruel and unusual punishment, even for prisoners. But once he gets closer, he can feel the energy pulsing off of them, and there’s even a soft hum that fills the room. It’s not pleasant, especially not the more crowded cells that were stuffed with things Tony’s never seen before and never wanted to see. Everyone’s leering and yelling at Thor, making comments Tony’s thought in his head but never said because they’ll come out too mean even if it’s just a joke, and he’s not that big of an asshole. But they make them sound cruel, and Tony lags behind a little, starting to regret for the first time since his arrival, that he came.

“Here, Just down there,” Thor mutters, gesturing down to a corner cell that looked empty to him. “I will leave you with the guards. Perhaps we can dine together?”

Tony takes the proffered olive-branch and agrees to dinner, 8 o-clock, after he’s ‘dressed appropriately’. Thor leaves him with one more lingering look, his eyes flicking to the cell behind Tony for just a second, and then he’s gone, cape swishing behind him like a big, red target. The leers start up again, and Tony turns away, walking up the cell to peer in. 

“Loki?”

Something shuffles in the corner, and a dark-haired head pops up from the bed and peers over at him.

“Thor, I told you to—“

“Not even close, sweet-cheeks,” Tony interrupts, fingers curling around the phone in his pocket. Maybe he didn’t need to use it, maybe Loki would just know.

Maybe he’ll remember, like I do.

Loki stands up in one fluid movement, and approaches the yellow shield thing with a furrowed brow. There’s no flicker of recognition, or warm, loving smile that Tony has gotten too attached to. There’s simply a slight curiosity and a lot of hatred. 

“Who are you?” Loki asks.

Tony’s grip almost breaks the phone, but he holds on to that Tony Stark smile.

“You don’t remember me?”

“Should I?”

Okay, so things weren’t going to be as easy as he’d like, when were they ever? Maybe they never met in this timeline—no, that was bullshit, everyone met Loki in this timeline, so why didn’t the god remember him?

“Uh, you don’t happen to remember attacking Earth now, would you?”

Loki’s curious little smirk twists into a bitter scowl. “Oh, you. One of Thor’s shield-mates, here to mock me, I suppose?”

“Nope, actually, i’m here to talk about where you’re supposed to be.”

Loki simply rolls his eyes and turns away, stalking a few steps into the cell and pausing, as if remembering he only has a few steps to walk before he hit another wall.

“Your SHIELD made it clear they wanted nothing to do with my… incarceration.” 

“Yeah, no, see… the thing is,” Tony began quickly, moving closer to the humming yellow stuff between them. “You don’t belong in here, or there, or locked up at all.”

Loki peered over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow. “Oh? Where do I belong?”

Tony falters a little at this question, because there’s only one answer for it and he might fuck everything up before he’s even began fixing this shit. But, there really is only one answer.

So, he pulls out his phone, opens photos, and finds the first one saved in his locked folder. He can’t help the smile that sneaks onto his face, even as he turns the phone around and holds it up for Loki to see. 

“Here,” he says, “You belong here.”

Loki frowns and turns his way at last, taking those too-few steps closer to look at the picture. Tony knows that one by heart, because it’s the first one he’s ever taken and saved and mooned over for hours. Because it’s a picture of Loki in his arms, smiling the widest, brightest, maybe even goofiest smile Tony had ever seen on the god’s face. Because, in the picture, Tony’s kissing Loki’s cheek, and there’s love in his eyes. Fucking love.

Loki sputters something in another language, and slowly rises his eyes to meet Tony’s own. 

“What is this?” he whispers, having lost all pretense of snobby-know-it-all.

“It’s where you belong,” Tony repeats. “With me.”