Chapter Text
Any day that Tony Stark could spend working in his personal R&D lab was by default a good day.
Except when it wasn’t. Like today.
There was a God in his lab, and neither of them liked it one bit.
Ninety-nine percent of the time, he didn’t need Loki down in his lab. They were accustomed to working remotely, with Loki in his Authorized Project Room that JARVIS thoroughly monitored 24/7/365 and could lock anything suspicious down in an instant. And Tony, who relished fucking with Loki anyway—from a safe distance, always—would sometimes ask JARVIS to put a minor-but-annoying delay on his network connection so it seemed as if every keystroke was being monitored, “just in case.” This could go on until Loki gave up in disgust, or Tony got tired of the game, or he actually had some critical, time-sensitive work for both of them to get done now.
But sometimes the scope of what they were working on was too large for their webcam set-up to cut it, and they had to be in the same space in order to make anything remotely feasible happen.
Which was why Loki was sitting beside him, with that palmful-of-magical-eggs from the other morning still cradled in his hand which was still tucked inside his goddamn shirt. Before them hovered a life-size holographic simulation for the latest redesign of the Iron Man armor, as they both—plus JARVIS--tried to analyze just why the micro-circuitry Loki had completed three days before wasn’t working the way Tony had been positive it would.
What a shitty time, Tony thought again, for Bruce Banner to be out of town and unavailable as a lab partner. Though all things being equal, he had to admit, sometimes he wasn’t quite sure that Bruce was the better option between the two.
“You must have fucked up on the specs somewhere,” Tony muttered to the air, as he pulled up a separate holographic display and rotated it through all dimensions, frowning and flicking at the simulation until he was at last satisfied with a minute rerouting of power flow through the suit’s sub-structure. “JARVIS says—“
“—There is no discernible improvement in response time of deployment of the suit’s hydraulic systems despite the upgrade to the circuitry, sir.”
After a long pause came Loki’s calm response. “Weren’t they your specs, Stark? And I wasn’t even responsible for secondary review--I believe that was Banner’s task, wasn’t it?” He tipped his head the slightest and crooned something incomprehensible to the bundle inside his shirt, smiling in a way that on another face would have been tender but which Tony found extra-creepy on Loki’s.
“Leave those things in an incubator the next time you’re down here. No free daycare on the job.” Tony inhaled, trying to focus, then blew out a slow breath. “You must have fucked up somewhere in the assembly. Go over it with me, step by step.”
Loki’s eyes flickered ceilingward, just momentarily. “Do you hear that, JARVIS? You confirmed my actions, performed the quality check, yet your creator is impugning the accuracy of your analytical and diagnostic skills. It should be sufficient to show him your visualizations of my work session to answer any questions he may have, before he impugns himself further.” Then, one-handed, he called Tony’s display over to himself, and began to showily spin it. “Is there something wrong with wanting my children to know their mama?”
“Da-da,” Tony answered, because why not.
“Mama, because it is my body that carries them. And why should I entrust this last stage of growth to an uncaring, sterile environment filled with the clicks and whirrs of mechanisms turning and heating them, when I can nurture them with my own warmth, and where they can hear my voice?” He quirked his free hand to send fog to fill the simulation, the contrast between the opaque gray and the glowing lines both sharpening and isolating the design. Brow furrowed, Loki thoughtfully reviewed it, then deftly pressed Tony’s modification back into its previous shape before he flicked it dismissively back to him. “Not quite on the right path yet, Stark.”
And fuck it all, but Loki was right. “Enjoy expressing your Napoleon Complex on the company dime, man,” he muttered as he stared hard at the hologram.
Under his breath, Loki responded, “I’m sorry, isn’t that the name of your next real estate development?”
Tony bit back a retort that would probably make his current working environment even less pleasant, then closed his eyes and willed himself to see the problem. Loki might have genuine magic to work with, but after all these years, Tony was no slouch when it came to self-imposed head tricks to figure out exactly where a project had gone wrong.
And then, boom, just like that, he had it. “JARVIS,” he commanded, digital keyboard now under his fingers, “give us some Cheap Trick.” Life was just better with a soundtrack sometimes.
“‘Live at Budokan,’ sir?”
“Yeah. Random play.”
Loki flinched theatrically as the music blasted through the lab. “Volume, please,” he sing-songed a protest. “My ears—my children’s ears...”
And Tony could feel some sort of aural dampening effect in Loki’s vicinity, and motherfuck, it unsettled him no end when Loki used magic for personal means in the lab (as if using it in R&D wasn’t bad enough), but he was really too into the groove to care, his fingers flying over the keyboard. God, even after all these decades, writing code was fun, especially when he could literally watch the lines come to life in real time in the 3-D display before him. He caught the next song that came up on the playlist and rode it like a wave. “’I want you to want me, I neeeed you to need me….’”
He half-saw how Loki side-eyed him, obviously disapproving of classic rock, and a few seconds later there was another voice in the room, weaving through Tony’s to set up an impossible counterpoint. It was melodious—albeit not quite in tune, and to say that Tony loved that Loki didn’t automatically have perfect pitch was an understatement—and obviously some sort of Asgardian lullaby from the liquid softness of the syllables. And maybe he should have said something pointed to shut Loki up, but hey, all the sound wasn’t bothering him at all, so he kept on singing and working, and Loki kept on too, and yeah, it was just another workday in the lab.
He surfaced after a while, suddenly annoyed that he wasn’t getting anything from Loki in terms of practical assistance. “Hey, Mother Goose, I’m enjoying our little duet here, but the work? –you can jump in any time.”
“I did.” Tony took his eyes away from the simulation to spare a full glance, and Loki was monitoring the holographic display as well, leaning forward with sharpened eye and keen regard as the changes snapped into place. And his free hand was dancing with unnatural speed over his own keyboard, making changes and corrections to Tony’s code so quickly, and integrating it so completely and instantaneously, that Tony hadn’t even been aware that they actually were collaborating on it.
GodDAMNit, he didn’t even work this seamlessly with Bruce.
“I think—” Loki started—
--And Tony finished, “We got it. JARVIS, do a 180 on the armor and open panel R-17.”
“No,” Loki broke in, “let’s try placement along the grid behind R-18—it’s closer to the reactor nodes.”
“Yeah.” Tony nodded. “That makes sense.”
Loki reached out to miniaturize their holographic construct. At least he followed protocol and didn’t shrink it entirely through magic, just used it for the last assist to take it to slightly-bigger-than-a-dust-mote size. Then just when Tony had started to feel pretty smug about their collaboration, the damn Ass-God had to go and breathe it into position, and announce like he had been running the show, “JARVIS, run the simulation please.”
Little fucker.
“That will take me some minutes, gentlemen,” JARVIS responded politely, which could mean anything from five minutes to two or three hours.
“Knock yourself out and take your time. I’m officially on a break.” Tony rose, stretching to crack his back—he’d been hunched over his work table now for, give or take a few minutes and a couple bathroom breaks here and there, about fourteen hours. He should probably go make a sandwich, or call for some takeout, depending on what time of day it was, and which side of two o’clock was he on right now anyway?
He stepped a few feet over to look over Loki’s shoulder to spy on his display; in response, Loki simply passed his hand before his screen and the image blurred to where Tony could no longer read it.
He thought what a shame it was that whatever Loki did probably wasn’t patentable technology. He wasn’t sure whether Stark Industries or SHIELD would own it, per Loki’s contract, but he was sure that his lawyers could make sure he would get the lion’s share of any profits from it. Maybe he could do more frequency work with biofeedback and somehow…
“What are you doing with my coffee?” Loki was looking up at him, smirking at catching him out. “I wasn’t done with it.”
He realized he had started playing with the Starbucks cup at Loki’s elbow; he must have picked it up while he was in invention-trance. The quarter-cup of beverage left in the bottom began heating up so quickly he had to fumble his grip upwards to keep from being burned by it. “Why’s your cup say ‘Steve’ on it?”
Loki took his coffee back and drew a genteel sip. “Captain Rogers picked up my order while he was out. I am unwilling to expose my children to the outside. Not with the way I am often still… disrespected by the populace when I appear in public.”
No shit on that. He wondered if Loki was still pulling on that bulletproof vest before he stepped outside the confines of StarkTower. “Why do you even have a cup? Are you drinking coffee again? I thought…”
“It is safe for me to indulge now that my children are free of the confines of my body. I need merely protect them from any toxins in the environment. Ms. Potts recommended an all-natural, anti-bacterial body wash with tea-tree oil that I find quite pleasant—”
“So what are you having?” Tony blurted out, surprising himself at his sudden curiosity.
“I don’t know.” One corner of Loki’s mouth lifted, almost playfully.
"And what exactly do you mean by that?” His blood sugar must be totally fucked up to even think about pursuing this line of conversation.
“I say exactly what I mean,” came the arch response.
“Oh, since when?” he mocked. “Cut the bullshit, Loki. God of Lies and all that, remember? We’ve seen your resume.”
Loki paused and nodded, arching one brow. “Point.” He drew in a deep breath, totally not designed to make Tony believe that Loki was actually revealing the God’s Truth to him. “At this point, beyond having a sense of the gender of my children, divining their actual form is beyond my skills.”
“Really. Still not believing it.”
“Believe what you will. It matters not to me.”
“So,” and Tony could feel how his voice automatically went all “j’accuse!” like he was in court or answering an allegation at a press conference, “you might be hatching some miniature little sparkle-fairy that dances around the forest and speaks to all the baby animals, huh? Or maybe Tinker Bell or Thumbelina, or….” Dammit, why couldn’t he remember more Disney movies and Brothers Grimm right now?
“If even that.” Dammit, Loki seemed to be enjoying this absurdist interplay, instead of becoming pissed off enough to get off his butt and leave the lab, please. “Not all offspring of Asgard resemble their parents.” Tony thought he saw just a little something… off, cross the edge of Loki’s expression, but it was gone too fast for him to be sure.
“So that means you could hatch out anything, huh?”
“In theory, yes. In practice, I think there are… reasonable limits.”
“Know what I think?” Tony pressed on, and even though he knew that letting his mouth run was a bad idea, he was beyond stopping himself. “I think you owe it to me—to us—to tell us what’s really going on with those eggs. I mean, what if you end up hatching the next Rodan or Godzilla or an army of… oh, I don’t know,” and he gestured wide to make the thoughts come, “five-hundred foot tall chickens that can stomp Midtown to dust while you’re crowing commands to them from the roof?”
“’Crowing commands’?” Loki’s expression shifted darkly for an instant, but then the smirk came back. “I assure you, the next army I may bring will not be comprised of poultry.” Ooh, he was careful with that “may”, so JARVIS wouldn’t send a security report to SHIELD or anything like that.
Poke, poke, and what, was he twelve again or something? “I just might call a Team Meeting of my own and make you tell us.”
“You think that I would tell you more under duress?”
“We can probably get you to do a lot of things under duress, you know. Oh, wait, we already do.” Loki’s eyes widened in a warning—dangerous territory ahead, Stark, as clear as if it had been spoken—but still, he went there. “You know, maybe Clint is right, and that really was just a magic trick, and now you’re playing us—”
“Silence, Stark.” Loki suddenly rose from his chair and pointed right at the center of Tony’s chest, and somehow it was intimidating even if Loki was still holding his Starbucks cup and, you know, pointing around it.
And Tony skittered back because, wow, did he have issues first with anyone coming at him, second with anyone acknowledging that he even had a center to his chest and third, this was the God of Making People Kneel When They Didn’t Want To and he’d be damned if he was going to be forced down in his own R&D lab… Plus why wasn’t JARVIS pulling Loki’s plug? But if the AI wasn’t feeding Loki a nice jolt of electroshock right about now that would take him down better than a battalion of riot cops with Tasers, then wait, that meant Loki was no threat despite how he might look right now…
“And sit back down.” Loki’s calm voice again, coupled with the knowing smirk, and what the hell was happening anyway, because yeah, Tony did sit back down. “I simply wish to show you something.”
“What?” He squirmed uncomfortably at Loki’s deliberately non-threatening approach.
“Do you know what ‘candling’ is?”
“Well,” he shrugged as his heartbeat slowed to its normal, measured rate, “Pepper and I tried the hot wax thing one time, but then she got a little too frisky and almost burned off my nu—” He stopped himself, and coughed. “No. Not really.”
“I give you a great gift, Stark, that you should know what I know. And at the same time, you may also do me a kindness, if you might be so generous.” Loki’s arm snaked out from inside his shirt, and with a graceful turn of his wrist, he held his palm upright and extended the eggs out to him. And for a moment Tony could feel whatever glamour Loki had wrapped around his offspring—
unconditional love sense of self sense of strength
--before it dissipated as though it had never been there. Still, for that moment, to Tony it had felt… way too good, and he couldn’t help replaying it in his head.
“Please take off your shirt.” And Loki actually slid the bent pinky finger of his free hand under the hem of Tony’s tank top and eased it upwards.
“Hey!” Tony startled back to himself to bat Loki’s hand away with both of his. “I don’t care what the other girls say, but I’m not that kind of boy—”
“Stark. All I ask is… a favor.” A head tilt, a raised brow, an unnatural coaxing smile….
“Shit.” Was he ever skating on the edge here, but… “Fine.” He coughed. “Fine.” He pulled it off over his head, and found that he was panting just a little at the turn of events.
Loki made not only a face, but a sound of disgust as the shirt hit the floor. “Oh, Stark, shower, please.”
“Maybe if I can borrow some of that body wash Pepper turned you on to…”
Shit, bare-chested in front of Loki felt bad, real bad, a whole other level of wrongness and vulnerability, and he didn’t even know why he had done it, and Loki wasn’t supposed to be able to access any curses or… mind manipulation that would make someone behave out of character. But he breathed, in and out, and reminded himself of automatic electroshock if things got too weird….
And Loki’s face was impossibly soft, as with the thumb and forefinger of his right hand he carefully plucked one egg free from its bindings, and held it out to the clear blue light of the arc reactor. His voice went hushed, almost worshipful. “What irony that this happens to be the perfect lighting for my purposes. Do you see, Stark? This is one of my children.”
Tony dropped his chin to take a look, and, damn, the eggshell was nearly transparent when viewed through the light of the arc reactor. There was something amorphous suspended within the shell along the vertical plane, moving slowly as a bent reed in sluggish water, with a rhythmic flutter at its center.
“See how strongly its heart beats, how much life it contains.” Loki stared for a long moment before slowly withdrawing the egg to nestle it safe again. “And now my other—my livelier--child.” His eyes danced as this shape seemed to wriggle playfully in the spill of the light of the reactor. Both he and Loki watched this one for a long, long time, before Loki at last tucked it away too and slid his hand back within his shirt.
And then Loki was handing Tony’s discarded tank top back to him, nose wrinkling against the unlaundered stink of it, and Tony was pulling it on and hiding the reactor’s light just as if the last five minutes had never happened. Loki finally broke their silence. “What say you, Stark?”
And Tony said the only thing he could. “Cool.”
“Excuse me, gentlemen.” JARVIS, thankfully, interrupted before it could get any stranger. “I have finished running the simulation.”
“Results?” They spoke up simultaneously.
“I am pleased to tell you that the circuitry upgrade was successful within the set parameters of the simulation.”
And, yes!—Tony fist-pumped success, then moved to high-five Loki; but Loki had already turned an unblinking stare at him, all traces of that supernal softness that had limned his face now gone, baby, gone. And he was back to being one snotty God-in-bondage with a handful of eggs tucked inside his shirt, which, by the way, wasn’t exactly spring-fresh either since Tony was sure it was the same one Loki had been wearing at breakfast a couple days before when he had hiccupped his progeny into the world.
Still, Loki straightened himself with the same kind of dignity he would assume whether he wore armor or a suit or that maternity t-shirt, and announced, “I shall go back to my Project Room now and rework the circuitry, as that can be—thankfully—a solo project. I shall try to have everything ready for you by this time tomorrow.”
“Works for me,” Tony muttered. He was already back at the worktable and coaxing up another display, because it wasn’t like today’s successful sub-sub-sub-project was anywhere near the end of the redesign process. Hopefully, Bruce would be back tomorrow too and he and Loki wouldn’t have to get into awkward-collaboration mode again.
Loki was almost fully out the door before Tony remembered one last thing he’d meant to ask while caught in the glow of the arc reactor. “Hey. You said you knew their genders. Boy or girl?”
He doubted he would get an answer—hell, Tony didn’t really know why he’d bothered to ask, really--but Loki spared Tony the barest glance, and that creepy-yet-tender smile was on his face again as he replied, “And.”
* * *
“You’re the leader of the team. It’s your responsibility to stop him when he does… stuff.”
Steve sighed. And here he had had thought Tony’s offer to hang out and watch a baseball game together on the big screen television was a genuine gesture of camaraderie, not a devious method to get him to lend a captive ear. “Stop him from what, Tony? From smiling even if it bothers you? From enjoying the sunshine instead of hiding in his room? From being happy?”
“He’s Loki.” Tony finished peeling the label off a second bottle of beer, then popped it open with one of three convenient church keys sitting handy on the counter of the bar. “Unless he’s planning something—and I wouldn’t put it past him, we’ve seen him do it and you’ve let him get away with it--he can’t be happy.”
“Well, call him ‘content’ then,” Steve conceded.
Tony just snorted, and took a generous swig of his beer before continuing. “It’ll be a cold day in… in… Jotunheim before I let him in my lab again.”
“According to Thor, all the days in Jotunheim are cold,” Steve answered mildly. “Except when they’re extra cold.” Tony shook his head, complaining under his breath over the “Play ball!” announcement and the subsequent crowd roar, about how he wasn’t going to put up with any more “unusual behavior” while Loki was working with him. Based on what he’d alluded to earlier, Steve had the distinct impression that the “unusual behavior” was on Tony’s side, not necessarily Loki’s; but unless Tony was willing to tell him, he’d never really know.
Instead, Steve went on, “I really don’t think you have anything to worry about—in fact, none of us do.” He waved a manila folder at Tony, who was pretending deep interest in the first at-bat of the game. “I asked JARVIS to run a report this morning—Loki’s biorhythm analysis for the past sixty days. Want to take a look at it? It’s pretty interesting.”
Tony wordlessly took the sheaf of papers out of the folder and began leafing through them as he made his way to the oversize leather sofa in front of the big screen and flopped down on it. Steve joined him.
“Huh,” Tony finally said noncommittally. “Right. Interesting.” His tone was an exact parroting of Steve’s as he dropped the papers on the coffee table, swapping them for a handful of cashews.
Steve pushed the graphs back in Tony’s field of vision, tracing his finger across the data lines. “I can follow the trend without knowing a thing about data analysis. All his metrics are high—almost off the charts—at the beginning of the time period we’re measuring.”
“I see this all the time. That red zone, believe it or not, is Loki’s baseline. His amygdala is always lit up like a broken traffic signal. The only one who’s consistently worse on the ‘anger’ measure is Bruce.” Tony fidgeted on the couch before making a game of tossing back the cashews, one by one, into his mouth. But Steve could tell he was peeking at the analysis between successful catches.
Steve continued to trace out the various lines. “But check out just about four weeks back. That’s around the time he announced to us that he was ‘with child.’ There’s a steady downward trend on all measurements since then, into the yellow zone and even a few dipping down into the green. See what I mean? He doesn’t stay there all the time—his patterns are still erratic—but the only other time he’s ever read that consistently calm, he was comatose. So there’s something positive going on in his head through all this.” Steve couldn’t hold back a grin. “Proof that impending motherhood becomes him, maybe?”
“Fatherhood,” Tony put in contrarily, probably just because he could. “I don’t get this ‘mama’ thing he has going on. He’s got the parts—I’ve seen ‘em—so he should claim the babydaddy name, man.”
Steve laughed and took another sip of his iced tea. “And I thought I was supposed to be the one who would have problems with today’s changing gender roles.”
“So let’s see,” Tony mused sarcastically, “he’ll have a couple kids, settle down in the suburbs, do the soccer and PTA mom thing… Somehow I don’t think stay-at-home mom is his career path, unless he plans to home-school the kids in World Domination 101.”
Steve spared a glance at Loki, still standing out on the sundeck where he had been for at least the past hour. His face was turned to the sky now, the expression on it as if he was regarding Heaven—or Home—somewhere far away in today’s clear bright sky. The beatific effect was ruined a bit by how much he was squinting in the glare of the afternoon sun, plus by the hot pink barrette holding back some of his longish hair to keep it from blowing in his face.
Steve really needed to invite Loki to participate the next time he dove into studying pop cultural references, or at least find somewhere to buy him a leather or metal hair clasp and insist that he use those alone for hair care, no matter what else anybody tried to hand him, or simply leave where he would find it. But at least it wasn’t a Hello Kitty hairband this time. No one had ever dared to cop to that prank, no doubt quite wisely.
Today, the twin eggs were out on display, two chalk-pale ovoids against Loki’s equally pale palm. With his right hand cupped under his left to add additional support, it looked as if he were making an offering, especially when his lips began to move. Over the sound of the ball game (and Steve’s team, the formerly-the-Brooklyn Dodgers, were behind, and now he would have to watch the replay on the sports channel tonight), Steve could catch some sort of flowing recitation or perhaps even a song coming from Loki.
Tony rolled his eyes, grabbed the remote, and cranked the Bose speakers up until the couch they both sprawled on was vibrating a little from the bass. “There he goes again. I don’t even know what that means but from yesterday I’d say he’s up to something—”
“He is asking for the blessing of the mighty sun upon his unborn children, that they may always have light to guide them on their path.” Thor was suddenly in the room, and Steve—Tony too—shifted a little uncomfortably, wondering if the God of Thunder had heard any of the bad-mouthing going on. Apparently not, for Thor went on somberly, “It is a common ritual on Asgard, especially for those who find themselves in the position of being--I believe the Midgardian term is—a ‘single parent.’ I have stood beside the widow of many a fallen brother and pledged myself to aid their children should troubled times befall them. I shall attend Loki in this ritual today.”
“Um, Thor,” Steve hedged, “did he actually ask you?” Yes, it was very obvious that Loki and Thor were getting along fairly well for a change, but from what Steve could tell, any bending of their tacit rules on fraternal behavior was coming from Loki, rather than Loki allowing himself to be bent by his older brother.
Thor obviously thought upon it, then cleared his throat. “I shall offer to attend him.”
Tony nodded his approval. “More like it, buddy. Don’t push too hard or you’ll be pulling another knife out of your ribs.”
“At least it will be no worse than a kitchen knife this time!” Thor commented brightly, then headed through the double-glass doors leading outside to the sun deck.
Of course Steve and Tony both watched them, even their feigned interest in the ball game forgotten. From the change of expression on Loki’s face—from distant and entranced to sour and resentful—it was obvious that Loki did not appreciate Thor’s interruption of the ritual. Words were exchanged. Fingers were stabbed accusingly in Thor’s direction, followed by mollifying, pat-the-air gestures in Loki’s. But finally, Loki’s expression lightened, the corners of his thin mouth turning up, and he nodded. Even from inside and with the speakers set so high, they could hear Thor’s booming “Thank you, brother!”
Steve laughed as Tony muttered, “Yeah, just like Thor to thank Loki for being allowed to do little brother a favor.”
“Loki’s not the only one smiling now too,” Steve pointed out.
“Yeah, but it looks a lot better on Goldilocks.” Tony turned back to the big screen and, using the remote, began flipping through the hundreds of available channels. “You don’t need any biorhythms to tell how Uncle Thor is feeling these days.”
Steve kept his eyes on the activity on the sun deck. Thor stood close behind Loki, broad hands splayed on his brother’s shoulders, tendering rarely-accepted tactile support while Loki continued with his petition to the golden sun. Steve knew from too many heartfelt conversations with Thor that the two Gods were not brothers in blood by even the most tenuous connection; and that the enmity had run so deep for so long, for reasons completely beyond Thor’s comprehension other than how much it hurt. But now, as the two spared the occasional glance, or exchanged infrequent words, Steve was struck by how much, with Loki’s lighter expression—squint and windblown black hair aside—they actually bore some sort of family resemblance beyond that solely begat by common blood.
Steve couldn’t disagree that it was an unusual experience to see Loki wearing an expression other than disdainful or contemptuous, his usual mask; softer emotions simply did not sit right on that narrow, angular face. He was pretty sure, though, that everyone would be able to get used to it.
* * *
But it turned out there was nothing to get used to, for on the eighth day, Loki suddenly stopped smiling.
* * *