Chapter Text
Thor had left him.
Not forever.
He had also promised it wasn’t even for very long.
Just for “a brief SHIELD matter,” which Loki suspected meant “Thor was going to politely tell them whatever they wanted to hear about Loki.”
Loki was not invited.
Instead, he was left with Tony and Bruce.
They insisted it was not babysitting.
Loki insisted he did not require babysitting.
No one believed anyone.
Tony clapped his hands. “Alright, Little Lord Fauntleroy, what did you want to do?”
“I am not little,” Loki defended automatically.
They stared at each other as the blatant lie hung in the air.
“Riiight,” Tony said.
Loki lifted his chin. “I am not.”
Tony snorted. “Sure. And I’m not a genius billionaire philanthropist. We all tell lies to feel better.”
Loki narrowed his eyes. “You are insufferable.”
Tony grinned. “Coming from you — a true compliment. Thank you.”
Loki crossed his arms. “Thor said you would entertain me.”
Tony blinked. “Entertain you? What am I, a children’s birthday clown?”
“You behave like one,” Loki said.
Tony gasped dramatically. “Wow. Okay. Rude.”
Loki huffed. “I simply wish to do something that is not… dull.”
Tony threw his hands up. “Great! Fantastic! Name literally anything that won’t get me sued, arrested, or yelled at by your brother.”
Loki opened his mouth.
Tony cut him off. “No stabbing. No setting things on fire. No summoning anything. No teleporting. No—”
“I was going to say reading,” Loki snapped.
Tony blinked. “Oh. Well. That’s… boring.”
Loki glared. “You asked.”
Tony pointed at him. “I did. And I regret it.”
Bruce tried to help. “Why don’t we do something quiet. Calming”
Tony made a face. “Calming? What, like yoga?”
Bruce shrugged. “Yoga actually has measurable effects on blood pressure.”
Tony snorted. “You know what would lower my blood pressure? If the stabilizer array would stop—”
He froze.
Bruce blinked. “Tony?”
Tony turned slowly, eyes narrowing. “Say that again.”
Bruce frowned. “Yoga lowers blood pressure?”
“No,” Tony said, waving that away. “The stabilizer array.”
Bruce hesitated. “I didn’t say anything about—”
“You said blood pressure,” Tony said, pointing at him like he’d just solved a murder. “Pressure. Pressure gradients. Bruce. BRUCE. That’s the same issue we saw in the array last week.”
Bruce’s eyes widened. “Wait. The pressure differential across the housing—”
“—is exactly what’s causing the drift,” Tony finished, already pacing. “Oh my god. Oh my GOD. How did we not see that?”
Bruce’s voice warmed with excitement. “If that’s true, then the whole system needs recalibration.”
Tony snapped his fingers. “Workshop. Now.”
Bruce took two steps after him, then paused. “Tony. Loki.”
Tony snapped his fingers. “We’ll bring him. He can… sit. On something. A stool. A box. I don’t know. Kids love boxes.”
“I do not love boxes,” Loki said feeling like he had very quickly lost control of the situation.
Tony pointed at him without looking. “See? He’s fine.”
Bruce looked between Tony and Loki, resigned. “We should at least tell Thor.”
Tony waved him off. “Thor will be gone for hours. We’ll be done and back before he even knows we started.”
Bruce hesitated.
Tony did not.
He marched back toward Loki, scooped him up under the arms like a cat, and held him at arm’s length.
Loki’s eyes widened in outrage. “Put me down!”
Tony set him on his feet in front of him and gently ushered him towards the elevator.
“Right. Walking. You can walk. Good. Great. Let’s go.”
Bruce sighed deeply. “Tony…”
Tony clapped his hands. “Science waits for no god! Workshop time!”
Loki glanced between them both, deeply unimpressed.
But they were already moving — swept up in their own brilliance — and Loki found himself being herded toward the elevator like an afterthought.
Bruce muttered, “We’re going to get yelled at.
Tony grinned. “We'll be fine.”
The workshop doors slid open and Loki was immediately hit with a wave of loud Midgardian music.
Loki stopped short as he took it in.
The room was enormous — metal, glass, humming machines, glowing screens, wires like vines climbing the walls, tools he did not recognize, and the faint smell of ozone and burnt coffee.
It was… overwhelming.
And fascinating.
Midgardian technology was a bare shadow compared to Asgard but even Loki could admit that what Tony had managed to build from a diminished foundation was impressive.
Tony strode in like a king returning to his throne. “Welcome to the magic kingdom, kid.”
“I am not a—”
“Yeah, yeah,” Tony said, waving him off. “Don’t touch anything that looks expensive.”
“Everything looks expensive,” Loki muttered.
“Exactly.”
He approached a low bench covered in tools. “What is this?”
Tony glanced over for half a second. “A torque driver.”
“And this?”
“Laser cutter.”
“And this?”
“Don’t touch that!”
The alarm in Tony’s voice was honest enough that Loki withdrew his hand immediately.
He wandered toward a tall machine with a glass chamber. “What does this do?”
Bruce answered patiently. “It’s a resonance scanner.”
Tony added, “Don’t climb inside it.”
“I was not going to,” Loki said stiffly.
“Good,” Tony said, already typing again.
Loki moved on.
A shelf of small metal objects caught his eye. “These are—”
“Sharp,” Tony said absently.
Loki eyed them curiously.
“And they’re staying up here,” Tony added.
Disappointed, he wandered closer to Tony and Bruce.
They were fully absorbed in their science. Their voices overlapped in quick bursts of excitement, hands gesturing at diagrams Loki couldn’t see, their attention narrowing to a single point like a lens focusing sunlight.
Loki hovered beside them for a moment.
Neither looked up.
He cleared his throat.
Bruce hummed absently, still typing.
Tony muttered something about “gradient thresholds” and “Bruce, look at this—no, look at this.”
Loki’s shoulders slumped.
He drifted away.
A soft whirr caught his attention.
In the corner, a squat mechanical arm perked up as he approached, its single lens swiveling toward him with almost canine enthusiasm.
Loki blinked. “What are you?”
The robot chirped and nudged a small metal bolt toward him.
Loki accepted it cautiously. “You… fetch things?”
The robot bobbed its arm.
Loki felt a reluctant smile tug at his mouth.
He glanced back over his shoulder, checking whether Tony or Bruce were watching.
They were not.
Tony was pacing in tight, excited circles, muttering numbers under his breath. Bruce was typing furiously, eyes glued to a screen. They were deep in the kind of scientific trance where Loki could have sprouted wings and flown laps around the ceiling and they might only have asked him to “keep it down.”
Good.
He turned back to the little robot.
“Very well,” he said softly, lowering his voice as though the arm on wheels might betray him.
“Fetch this.”
He tossed the bolt a short distance.
The machine whirred, rolled forward, scooped it up, and returned with a proud little whir of it’s wheels.
Loki’s smile widened.
He checked behind him again.
Still ignored.
Good.
He tossed the bolt again — a little farther this time.
It zipped after it with surprising speed.
Loki blinked. “You are fast.”
It was ridiculous to attribute emotion to a mechanical creation but Loki was certain that the tone of it’s whirring was smug.
Loki narrowed his eyes in challenge. “Faster than me?”
It bobbed its arm.
Loki glanced over his shoulder one more time.
Tony and Bruce were now arguing.
Perfect.
Loki crouched slightly, fingers twitching. “Very well. Let us see.”
He tossed the bolt.
The robot shot forward.
Loki darted after it.
They reached the bolt at the same time — Loki’s fingers brushing it just as the claw closed around it.
Loki gasped. “You cheated!”
It chirped indignantly.
“You did!” Loki insisted, whisper‑shouting so no one would hear. “Your arm is longer”
It spun its wheels in what Loki suspected was mocking laughter.
Loki’s eyes narrowed. “Again.”
He tossed the bolt in a different direction.
They both lunged.
Loki ran faster this time, feet skidding slightly on the smooth floor — and he snatched the bolt a heartbeat before the arm reached it.
He straightened triumphantly. “Ha!”
The wheels whirred in clear outrage.
Loki smirked. “Do not challenge a prince.”
The arm bumped his chest in protest.
Loki bumped it back before he tossed the bolt again.
And again.
And again.
The robot whirred after it each time, wheels squeaking faintly on the polished floor. Loki darted after it too, sometimes winning, sometimes losing, always checking over his shoulder to make sure Tony and Bruce were still deep in their work.
They were.
Utterly.
Completely.
Tony was now gesturing wildly at a hologram, Bruce nodding along, his excitement clear.
Loki tossed the bolt one more time — a little too hard.
It bounced.
Skittered.
And rolled directly under a low metal shelf.
Loki froze.
The robot chirped in distress and bumped against the shelf, unable to reach.
Loki sighed. “Very well. I shall retrieve it.”
He knelt.
Then lay flat on his stomach, stretching an arm under the shelf. The floor was cold against his cheek. Dust tickled his nose. His fingers brushed the bolt once, twice—
He stretched farther.
He grunted, annoyed.
Finally, he caught the bolt between two fingers and dragged it out.
He sat up, brushing dust from his shirt.
The robot chirped triumphantly.
But Loki didn’t feel triumphant.
The game felt less fun now. The bolt was dusty. His knees hurt. His stomach felt tight and uncomfortable.
He frowned down at the bolt.
Something was wrong.
Not wrong wrong — just… off. Like a thread pulled loose in a tapestry.
He looked over at Tony and Bruce.
Still absorbed.
Still arguing.
Loki’s chest tightened.
He wasn’t sure why.
He stood slowly, the bolt clutched in his hand, and wandered back toward the centre of the workshop. The robot followed, bumping gently at his heel.
He scowled at it. “What time is it?”
It chirped unhelpfully.
Loki wandered toward Tony and Bruce, tugging lightly at Bruce’s shirt to get his attention. “What time is it?”
Bruce blinked down at him, startled. “Uh… Tony?”
Tony didn’t look up. “Time is a construct”
Loki glared. “Tell me”
Bruce glanced at his wrist. “Oh. It’s… one seventeen.”
Loki blinked.
That couldn’t be right.
They had only just arrived.
Hadn’t they?
He frowned harder. He had become accustomed to a strict routine that Thor had inflicted on them both. The man had become obsessed about meals. Annoyingly so. Breakfast at a certain hour. A snack at another. Lunch precisely on time. Going as far as interrupting Loki in the middle of whatever he was doing so they could eat.
He had gotten used to the food being there before he realised he needed it.
The robot chirped, concerned.
Thor would have fed him by now.
He swallowed hard.
The workshop suddenly felt too big.
Too loud.
Too bright.
Too empty of anyone paying attention to him.
He took a slow breath.
Then another.
Then he mustered his courage, pulled again on Bruce’s shirt, and said — with all the dignity he could maintain:
“I require sustenance.”
Bruce blinked at him. “Hm? Oh. Uh—Tony, did you bring snacks?”
Tony glanced over at him. “Snacks are in the top drawer. Dummy can show you”
Loki froze.
“Dummy?” he repeated, scandalised.
The robot chirped proudly.
Loki stared at it. “That is your name?”
Dummy bobbed its arm as if this were a badge of honour.
Loki looked between the robot and Tony, horrified. “You named him Dummy?”
Tony shrugged. “He earned it.”
Dummy whirred indignantly.
Bruce added, “It’s affectionate. Mostly.”
Dummy spun its wheels in what Loki suspected was a protest.
Loki pressed a hand to his chest. “That is an appalling name.”
Tony waved a hand. “He likes it.”
Dummy chirped enthusiastically.
Loki blinked. “…Do you?”
Dummy bobbed its arm again.
Loki frowned. “You should have more self‑respect.”
Dummy bumped his shin in what was unmistakably a playful shove.
Loki huffed. “Very well. Show me the snacks, then.”
Dummy whirred happily and rolled toward the workbench.
Loki followed, still muttering under his breath. “Dummy. Honestly. Midgardians have no sense of dignity.”
Dummy chirped back at him, unbothered.
Loki reached the drawer and pulled it open.
Screws.
Washers.
A spring.
And a single granola bar.
He stared at it.
Then at Dummy.
Then back at the bar.
“This,” Loki said called out to Tony and Bruce flatly, “is not food.”
Dummy chirped sympathetically.
“It’s legally food,” Tony rebutted.
Loki glared. “I am not eating this.”
“Then don’t,” Tony said cheerfully.
He sat back on the his heels, clutching his bolt, feeling small and very forgotten.
He hated it.
He hated the workshop.
He hated the stool.
He hated the granola bar.
He hated—
A loud pop echoed from the far table.
Bruce yelped.
Tony swore.
Smoke curled upward.
Loki perked up.
Finally, something interesting.
He sidled back towards the men, padding toward the table where Tony was waving smoke away with an oily rag.
Dummy trailed behind him, chirping anxiously, its arm bobbing as if trying to warn him away from the chaos.
“What happened?” Loki asked, pushing aside the unhelpful arm.
Tony didn’t look up. “Nothing. Everything’s fine. Totally fine. Bruce, is everything fine?”
Bruce coughed. “Sure.”
Loki frowned. “It doesn’t look fine.”
Tony pointed at him with the clipboard. “See, Bruce? This is why we don’t let children in the lab.”
Loki bristled and denied. “I am not a child.” At the same time Bruce protested, “It was your idea”.
Dummy bumped Loki’s back in sympathy.
Loki clenched his fists. It’s not like he was here voluntarily—
Thor had left him. With them. In this place where no one seemed to remember he existed unless he was in the way.
He swallowed the tight feeling in his throat and tried again.
“I could assist,” he said, lifting his chin.
Tony blinked at him. “Assist? With what?”
Loki gestured vaguely at the smoking device. “With… whatever you are doing.”
Bruce gave him a soft, apologetic smile. “That’s kind of you, Loki. We’re just—uh—right in the middle of something delicate.”
Tony nodded, already half‑turned back to the table. “We’re on the cusp of a breakthrough here, why don’t you keep playing with Dummy.”
Dummy twisted his mechanical arm in a caricature of excitement.
Loki’s stomach twisted. Dummy was by far the most preferably company in the workshop but the thought of being relegated over to the robot like a child sat poorly.
He stepped closer, voice firmer. “I wish to help.”
Tony and Bruce exchanged a look.
Bruce crouched a little. “Okay. We can find something for you to do.”
Tony snapped his fingers. “Yes. Perfect. I already have something in mind.”
He scanned the room, then grabbed a small tray of coils embedded in metal casings — neat little spirals of polished steel, each no bigger than a coin.
He held the tray out to Loki with great ceremony.
“These,” Tony declared, “are quantum coils. We need to pre‑check them for rotational freedom.”
Loki blinked. “Rotational… freedom?”
“Yep,” Tony said. “You spin them. If they spin freely, good. If they don’t, tell us.”
Bruce cautioned, “Tony.”
Tony leaned in conspiratorially. “You’re really the best one for the job — your teeny tiny hands are perfect for this.”
Loki bristled. “My hands are not tiny.”
Tony patted his shoulder. “Sure they’re not, buddy.”
Bruce’s tone was dry. “Tony.”
“What? They are tiny. Look at them. Adorable. The coils I mean.”
Loki’s jaw tightened. “Give me the coils.”
Tony handed over the tray with exaggerated reverence. “Handle with care. These are very advanced and delicate components.”
Loki straightened. “I shall perform the checks.”
He carried the tray to a clear patch of workshop floor and sat down, placing it carefully in front of him.
Dummy rolled over and parked beside him like a loyal guard dog.
He leaned against the machine as he picked up the first coil.
Spun it.
It spun.
He set it aside.
Dummy chirped approvingly.
He picked up the second coil.
Spun it.
It spun.
He set it aside.
He picked up the third coil.
Spun it.
It spun.
He set it aside.
He picked up the fourth coil.
Spun it.
It spun.
He set it aside.
By the time he reached the eighth coil, each performing exactly the same as the first, the novelty had well and truly worn off.
Dummy moved his arm closer, chirping curiously, as Loki spun yet another identical coil.
Loki sighed. “Do not touch them.”
Dummy chirped again, edging closer.
“I said do not,” Loki repeated, sharper this time.
He picked up the ninth coil.
Dummy whirred, and reached out with its claw.
Loki jerked the coil away. “No—Dummy, stop—”
Dummy lunged after it with all the enthusiasm of a puppy chasing a toy.
Its claw closed around the coil.
And squeezed.
There was a tiny metallic screech as the metal protested the force.
Loki’s eyes widened in horror. “NO—!”
Dummy froze, claw still clamped around the now‑warped coil.
Loki snatched it back, heart pounding. The coil was visibly bent, twisted enough that it no longer spun freely.
His stomach dropped.
His breath caught.
His hands shook.
He had tried to stop Dummy.
He had told Dummy not to touch it.
But the coil was still ruined.
And the stupid cheerful robot just happily nudged his shoulder as though they were still playing a game.
He stood quickly, clutching the damaged coil to his chest, uncertain how best to protect Dummy from the wrath of destroying one of Tony’s delicate components.
“Loki?”
Bruce enquired gently. Of course, now was the time they payed enough attention to his movements — when he wanted it the least.
“Are you alright?”
He shuffled on the spot, uncertain. And when he looked over he saw that he now had the attention of both Bruce and Tony. Dummy nudged him gently and Loki’s resolve hardened.
“Tony,” Loki said, voice tight, “I believe … one of your components is compromised.”
Tony frowned, “What? Oh—did you drop one?”
Loki swallowed. “No —”
He stopped.
His throat closed.
Not quite knowing why he couldn’t finish the sentence. Instead he found himself agreeing with Tony.
“…Yes,” he finished quietly. “I dropped it.”
Dummy beeped miserably behind him.
Bruce offered a gentle smile. “That’s okay, Loki. Really.”
Tony nodded. “Yeah, kid. Totally fine. Bruce drops stuff all the time.”
Bruce gave him a look.
Tony amended, “Okay fine I drop stuff all the time.”
Loki stared at them.
They weren’t upset.
They weren’t worried.
They were still barely even paying attention.
Tony reached out and plucked the coil from Loki’s hand, already straightening it with a pair of pliers. “See? Good as new.”
Loki blinked. “But you said they were delicate.”
Tony shrugged. “Eh. Delicate‑ish.”
Loki’s stomach dropped.
He looked back at the tray of coils
He whispered, “You did not need me to do this.”
Bruce winced. “Loki—”
Tony waved a hand, still focused on the hologram. “Kid, it helped. Really. You kept us from getting distracted.”
Loki stilled.
Kept them from getting distracted.
Not helped.
Just… kept out of the way.
He had been given a task that did not matter.
His throat tightened.
His hands curled into fists.
Fury and embarrassment swept through him. He’d show them how hard it would be to ignore him.
He turned back to the tray with glorious purpose.
His hand moved before he fully realised his plan.
He grabbed the tray of coils.
Lifted it.
And tipped it wildly.
Metal spirals cascaded across the floor in a clattering, ringing avalanche — bouncing, rolling, scattering in every direction.
Dummy shrieked in alarm, wheels spinning in frantic circles.
Tony jerked upright. “Whoa—!”
Bruce protested. “Loki—!”
Loki stood in the middle of the chaos, chest heaving, eyes bright with furious tears he refused to let fall.
“This is not real work!” he shouted, voice cracking. “You gave me nothing! You gave me a task that does not matter! You— you— you only wished me to be quiet! And out of the way!”
The last words broke on a sob he tried to swallow.
The coils kept rolling.
The room went still.
Tony and Bruce finally, fully looked at him.
Loki’s voice came out too loud, too sharp. “I am DONE.”
Bruce straightened, alarmed. “Loki—”
“No!” Loki yelled. “You forgot me!”
Tony held up his hands and approached him. “Whoa, hey, hey, hey—”
“I HATE IT HERE!” Loki shouted, voice cracking. “I HATE THIS ROOM! I HATE THOSE COILS! I HATE—”
Dummy nudged him gently and Loki’s breath hitched as the furious tears threatened to steal his voice.
Oh no.
Not in front of them.
“Leave me ALONE” he pushed the arm away gasping.
“Hey! Be nice to the bot” Tony warned.
Bruce was irritating in his benign suggestion. “Loki, breathe—”
“I am breathing!” Loki snapped, except he wasn’t, not really, because his chest was tight and his face was hot and his eyes were burning and everything felt too big and too loud and too much.
Dummy beeped frantically.
Tony panicked. “Bruce —”
Bruce crouched down. “Loki. Look at me.”
Loki refused.
Bruce tried again, gentler. “It’s okay.”
“It is NOT okay!” Loki shouted, tears spilling now, furious at them, furious at himself, furious at the world for being too much. “I want to go home!”
Tony flailed. “Okay! Okay! We can do that! Field trip over! Workshop bad! Very bad! Terrible idea! My fault! Bruce’s fault! Mostly Bruce’s fault!”
Bruce glared at him. “Tony—”
Loki hiccupped again, louder, angrier.
Dummy beeped sympathetically.
Tony grabbed a water bottle. “Here! Hydration! Hydrate the tiny god!”
Bruce gently took it from him. “Tony, stop talking.”
He knelt in front of Loki, offering the bottle. “Here. Small sips.”
Loki snatched it, took a sip but choked as his chest heaved with suppressed emotions.
Dummy patted his back with its claw.
Bruce joined Dummy, gently rubbed his back until the coughing subsided.
“You needed a break. We should have noticed.”
Tony nodded vigorously. “Yes. Absolutely. We are terrible. Please don’t tell Thor.”
Loki sniffed. “I am telling him EVERYTHING.”
Tony paled. “No. Please. Anything but that.”
Bruce sighed. “Tony.”
Loki hiccupped again, smaller this time.
Dummy chirped softly, leaning against him.
Bruce offered his hand. “Come on. Let’s get you out of here.”
Loki took it.
But his other hand reached back, brushing Dummy’s arm in a small, reluctant farewell
Dummy chirped, low and mournful, and rolled after them when they started to move.
When Loki and Bruce reached the doorway, Dummy slowed, then stopped just short of the workshop threshold.
He stretched his arm out as far as it could go, claw opening and closing in a little wave.
Loki paused.
His shoulders hunched, breath catching in his throat. He turned back, and lifted his hand in a small wave back — hoping the robot would forgive the small shove.
Dummy beeped, a warm, hopeful sound.
Loki swallowed hard, blinking fast.
Tony watched, suddenly quiet.
Loki turned away at last, following Bruce out from the disastrous workshop with only one redeeming feature.
Bruce had taken him back to Thor’s quarters, where they had settled in the lounge.
He had asked Jarvis to dim the windows and it plunged the room into a cool soft lighting.
The man had somehow found a beanbag chair where Loki sat curled, wrapped in his blanket like a very angry caterpillar. Tony and Bruce lingered, occasionally suggesting ideas for further entertainment which he ignored furiously. See how they liked it.
His face was still hot.
His eyes still prickled.
His throat still felt tight.
He hated the workshop.
He hated Tony.
He hated Bruce.
He hated—
The door opened.
Loki’s head snapped up.
Thor filled the doorway, broad and golden and warm, smelling faintly of outside air and leather and safety.
“Brother,” Thor said with obvious concern, “What’s wrong?”
Loki’s lip wobbled.
He hated the lack of control most of all.
Thor entered the room and knelt beside him. “Bruce sent me a message. He said you were distressed.”
Loki inhaled sharply. “I am NOT distressed.”
Thor raised an eyebrow.
Loki sniffed.
Thor’s mouth twitched. “I see.”
Tony appeared behind him, hands up defensively. “Okay, before he says anything—”
Loki sat bolt upright. “THEY LEFT ME.”
Tony groaned. “Here we go.”
Loki pointed at him accusingly. “They took me to the workshop and then they FORGOT I EXISTED.”
Bruce winced. “We didn’t forget—”
“You DID,” Loki insisted, voice rising.
Tony protested, “You were playing with Dummy just fine—”
“And THEN,” Loki continued, louder, “they gave me a BAR.”
Thor blinked. “A… bar?”
“A granola bar,” Loki spat, as though describing a war crime.
Tony threw his hands up. “It’s food!”
“It is NOT food,” Loki snapped. “It is punishment.”
Bruce rubbed his forehead. “Loki, we’re sorry. We should have—”
“And THEN,” Loki said, voice climbing into a dramatic crescendo, “they tried to get me OUT OF THE WAY.”
Thor frowned. “What?”
“COILS!” Loki shouted desperately as though that explained everything before breaking out into frustrated sobs.
“Oh we’re fucked” Tony muttered as Thor’s face sharpened into furious concern.
He gathered Loki into his arms without hesitation, lifting him from the beanbag and holding him close. Loki clung to him, face buried in Thor’s shoulder, small fists gripping the back of his shirt.
Thor rubbed slow circles on his back as he spoke voice low, “What happened?”
Tony opened his mouth, closed it, then tried again. “Okay, so—look—we were working on something big. And Loki wanted to help, which is great, love the enthusiasm, but the thing we were doing was… uh… not safe for a child.”
“I AM NOT A CHILD,” Loki wailed into Thor’s shoulder.
Bruce winced. “Right. Sorry. Not… physically safe for someone his size.”
Tony nodded vigorously. “Exactly. So we gave him a task. A safe task. A very safe task.”
Thor’s voice was flat. “Coils?”
Tony winced. “Yes. That.”
Bruce added, “We should have checked on him sooner. We just… got distracted.”
Tony nodded. “Yeah, science happened.”
Thor inhaled slowly.
Deeply.
“Anthony. Bruce.” His voice was calm. Too calm. “Did you bring my little brother into your workshop… and then fail to attend to him?”
Tony opened his mouth.
Bruce opened his mouth.
Loki beat them both.
“Yes,” he said, with the righteous fury of a wronged toddler‑god. “They did.”
Thor nodded once. “Very well.”
Tony paled. “Wait—wait—hang on—”
Bruce held up his hands. “Thor, it wasn’t—”
Thor raised a hand. “I am not angry.”
Tony sagged in relief.
Thor continued, “I am… disappointed.”
Tony immediately looked like he’d been stabbed.
Bruce looked worse.
Thor placed a gentle hand on Loki’s head. “Loki is not to return to the workshop.”
Tony nodded, “Yeah that’s — you know what that’s fair”
Loki’s head shot up, “But what about Dummy?”
“Dummy?” Thor echoed.
“Oh, er—my robot imprinted on Loki,” Tony said, sounding despondent. “I think it was mutual.”
Thor nodded once, as though this were perfectly reasonable. “Very well.”
He stood, turning to Tony and Bruce. “In future, Loki is not to return to the workshop without me.”
Tony sputtered. “But—”
Thor ignored him completely, turning instead to Loki with a soft smile. “I look forward to meeting your friend, Loki.”
Despite himself Loki felt a small smile tug at his lips.
Thor murmured, “Come, let us find you something proper to eat. It is far past lunch.”
He shifted Loki higher on his hip and turned toward the kitchen.
Loki curled into him instinctively.
As they passed the threshold, Loki glanced back over Thor’s shoulder.
Tony stood frozen, pale and horrified.
Bruce looked like he wanted to sink into the floor.
Loki’s eyes narrowed.
His chin lifted.
And a tiny, smug smile curled at the corner of his mouth.
He didn’t need to say it out loud.
He knew.
He had won.
Thor carried him away, warm and steady and safe, and Loki rested his head against his brother’s shoulder with a satisfied little sigh.