Becoming, Part 3a
In which there is another confrontation (or several). Also split because of length.
Part 3a
“And by the first of the month plans for the new edition will have to be shipped to manufacturers. Can we not wait until the night before to start creating them this time?”
“Yeah, sure. Whatever you say.”
“I think that’s about all then, I’ll push the paperwork through and whatever is left can hold until you fly back out next week.”
Tony picks at the edge of the couch, watching his beautiful and amazing CEO flip through notes on her tablet before putting it back in her bag and standing up. She tucks a few strands of hair behind her ear (he wants to do that), slender fingers hanging by her jaw for a moment before she lets her arm drop.
“Pepper,” he finally asks when she is at the door. “Are we okay?”
She stands there looking at him and he can’t breathe until she answers.
“We will be Tony.”
“I love you Pep.”
It feels a little like guilting her after he says it and, even though it is true, he wishes he could take it back because she is frozen in the doorway like it hurt her. That’s not what he meant to do, but of course he’s messing this up, and he loves her so so much even though she hasn’t said anything in return yet and the pause burns him. Pepper sighs and walks back over, pressing a kiss to his forehead. Her hands are soft and warm against the skin of his cheeks; she runs a thumb gently under his eye.
“I love you too.”
-
Rhodes spends an hour on the phone with Pepper once they find out Tony is gone. Steve’s not sure what she says to him, but when they’re done he goes down to the lab for the rest of the afternoon and three days later leaves the tower, returning to duty.
Before he goes there is an attack in Seattle; War Machine joins them. There is a learning curve for everyone involved in terms of teamwork, but they make it through. It is a battle that leaves them all aching and tired, nursing bruises, though not bad enough that Iron Man’s absence hurt them.
They get a break after that.
Life begins to return to an almost normal pace, minus Tony. Despite the relative peace of the tower Steve still worries, because he always worries, about his missing teammate. He peppers JARVIS with questions frequently, somehow expecting new information even though all of the A.I.’s answers have boiled down to, “Sir is away on business and will return when matters have been concluded,” and, “Both Sir and his guest are well and acting within reasonable parameters. There is no cause for worry.” Which doesn’t stop him from doing so, at all, but Steve does feel a bit better because JARVIS’s definition of being “well” when discussing Tony Stark is very comprehensive. Even if the A.I. is not entirely truthful about Loki, should anything happen to the man he serves Steve has no doubts at all that SOME ONE would be informed.
Loki’s absence calms Clint down some. He spends more time out of the vents and talks to them, beginning to branch out. What he does not do is respond well to being told Loki had disappeared. Though he clearly does not want to be in the same vicinity as the man who invaded his mind, not knowing where he went is worse. The first 48 hours had been a battle in making sure he didn’t take off in pursuit, a battle they only won (if it could be called winning) because Natasha and JARVIS were involved. When Clint attempted to make a break for it, doors, windows, and vents would automatically lock or close off, essentially herding him around in circles through the tower until he relented, which in any other situation might have been funny. Clint stops after two days because Natasha promised to ‘take care of things,’ whatever that meant. The sole reason Steve doesn’t press too heavily for answers is because after informing Steve “that Sir and his guest are still well” JARVIS agrees to make sure he knows if anything notable should occur.
Which apparently does not include Tony Stark’s return to New York.
They are back for two days before anyone notices. Any other time JARVIS would have announced an arrival to the tower, or Tony would inadvertently announce himself by being… well, himself, but for whatever reason Steve wakes up one morning to boxes stacked in the middle of the common room that weren’t there the evening before.
“JARVIS?” He turns around, alert in an instant and scanning his surroundings.
“All is well, Captain Rogers. Sir is merely accumulating possessions he does not believe he can leave behind.”
“Behi- wait, Tony’s back? When did that happen? Is he downstairs?” Immediately Steve begins to weave around the packed items in the direction of the half stair leading down to the lab. “Why didn’t you tell-”
“Oh.” The voice from behind freezes him in his tracks, Steve whirls around; Tony stands in the doorway by the kitchen, he tips slightly into the frame like he had stopped mid-step. “Hi Steve.”
“Is that all?” This is unbelievable. “You disappear on us for three weeks and that’s all. ‘Hi Steve.’”
Momentarily lost, Tony looks down at the bowl in his hands. “I was taking a break to eat breakfast?”
Behind Tony are glimpses of another form that moves around what Steve knows by the angle is the refrigerator. There is too much in the way for Steve to see who it is, but the voice that comes next is easily recognizable.
“Ice cream is hardly breakfast, Stark.”
“If I am eating it at breakfast time then it’s breakfast.”
“Loki?” Steve pushes past Tony, forcing himself into the kitchen. Loki glances over at him, closing the bottle of lemon juice and placing back in the fridge. He picks up the spoon and glass sitting close by on the counter and begins to stir, turning the clear water inside slightly cloudy.
“We’ve expanded to flavored water.” Tony grins up at Steve. He shovels a large spoonful of ice-cream into his mouth, still leaning back against the frame of the door. “I don’t have any idea why we didn’t think of this before, regular water is so boring, but whatever. No adverse effects so far. We also may have bonded.” Loki lifts his glass in salute. “With no bloodshed even. Well, minimal bloodshed. But it was a workshop thing. And an accident. I ran into a wall, long story-”
“It’s not really. He was being childish and JARVIS shut the door on him. I don’t even think that’s the first time it’s happened.”
Tony’s shoulders sag in an exaggerated fashion, giving Loki a look clearly meant to be a scowl but is also clearly not serious. Loki almost smiles back at him.
“Thanks for that.”
“No problem.”
Steve looks back and forth between the two, words lost.
After a moment Tony turns back to him, stilling at his expression. He lets out a deep breath and then, without looking away from Steve’s face, addresses Loki once more. “Will you do me a favor and head to the lab? The sooner we have everything together the sooner we can ship it. JARVIS, do you have the list of what we need out of there?”
“I do, Sir.”
“Good, the two of you can get started then.” Loki hesitates by the door until Tony walks up and gently hip checks him. “Have the bots help. It will distract them from the move, they hate flying.”
Steve waits for the door to shut and the Asgardian is gone before speaking.
“The move?”
“Yeah, I’m going to- sit down first. Hold on.” Tony pulls a chair out and drops down into it, letting out a gust of air and rubbing his shoulder. His mostly forgotten ice cream left on the counter half eaten. Once he’s settled he kicks the chair across from him out, an invitation to sit. Steve paces. “I’m moving back out to Malibu.” As if suddenly realizing he’s still holding the spoon, Tony starts tapping it against the table. A cadence of four. “I thought I’d take Loki with me.”
“Is that a good idea?”
“Maybe,” there is no beating around the bush this time, no jokes about how his ideas are always good. “Maybe not, I don’t know.” The drumming of the spoon stops, he tosses it across the table. Both of them watching quietly as it slides off and clatters to the floor. “I just need- I… space. I need to get out of New York. And I think he does too. Not for good, but… for a while.”
“Tony, if I can do anything-”
“You’ve done enough.” Steve winces, going to stand by the sink with his back to the other man in order to help cover it. “No, Steve- I didn’t mean-”
“Yes you did, and I get it. It’s fine.” The sink is dirty, Steve should polish it. He gets a rag and cleaner out from the cupboard.
“What are you doing?”
“Washing up.” There’s a bit of dried something on the edge that doesn’t want to come off. It chips away under his fingernail and then he looks around for something else. The ice cream in Tony’s bowl is mostly melted now. “Are you done with this?” He gestures, Tony nods so Steve grabs it and cleans that too. “After the invasion… I was worried for those first few months. About you.”
“Really?”
“Well, after I decided you were a good man at least… It took a while.” The attempt at a joke is feeble, but Tony kind of grins at him. “You seemed okay though.” The grin falters. “Were you okay?”
“No.” They exist in companionable silence; Steve finally takes a seat on the chair Tony had pushed out, the table a wall between them. Tony looks up from his hands, clasped loosely in his lap, and raises his eyes to the ceiling. “Do you think it’s good for him here?”
“Loki?… no.” He shakes his head. “No, I really don’t. Maybe before, but not now. And not for Clint either, this is… good. Probably. That he’s going with you. For both of them.” Steve leans forward, elbows resting on the table. Tony mirrors his posture. “Do you have plans for if it goes wrong?”
“Yeah. We’ll talk, later. I’ll tell you.”
“When?”
A glance to the door. “Before we leave. Tomorrow? We won’t be here much longer. The kids are going to fly out in a few days and we’ll be gone shortly after. I don’t want them waiting alone too long, it makes them crabby…” he smiles wryly. “Well, more crabby.”
“Clint will miss them, I think. He went down there sometimes while you were gone. I followed him once; he was teaching Dummy to play catch.”
“He can visit.”
“He won’t.”
“I know,” Tony heaves a sigh. “I’ll make him something; give me some time to work out what. Maybe a bot to clean the vents if he’s still planning on living up there. Or set up him and Dummy up on a Skype date. Dummy would like that; he’s never had a Skype date before.”
Steve stands to get them both something to drink. Tony is resting his chin on his fist when he turns back to hand one of the glasses over. Juice, because half of what Tony eats (despite hard work on both his and Bruce’s parts) seems to be take out. High in nutrients it is not.
“You know I’m coming back eventually, right?”
“Of course.”
“No you don’t.” He takes a drink. “You have an ingrained need to keep everyone within grabbing distance because you think we’re all going to die and leave you alone again.” Steve’s eye twitches, he thinks he mutters ‘goddamnit’ out loud, but he’s not sure. “I’m coming back Steve.”
“Yes, fine.”
“This is what phones are for. My god, it’s like you think you can actually get rid of me.” He continues. “I’m practically your landlord, except I pay for everything.”
“About that-”
“No, be quiet. Just because I need to bail for a while doesn’t mean any of you are allowed to move out. You’re fine here.” He grins again, real and strong this time, a crooked thing, and doesn’t that just spell disaster. “Besides, if you move out then Pepper won’t be able to call you my kept men anymore.” Steve chokes mid-drink. “Not Natasha, but she’s not a man, so that would be illogical. She called by the way, just in case you were curious, a couple days into the Malibu trip. Something about minimizing the carnage at the tower. We talked, Clint’s less paranoid now. Everyone wins.”
“I don’t feel like ‘less paranoid’ should qualify as winning.”
Tony shrugs. “We have problems.”
Steve laughs because he can’t help it and it’s true. Tony taps his glass against Steve’s in a toast and leans back into his seat.
“We do.”
-
No control.
He knows he’s not really losing anyone, not in the way he did before, but knowing doesn’t stop the feeling of the ice creeping up around him.
Steve goes to his room to grab a sketch pad and pencils, setting up in the common room so he can watch the movement. Around lunch Bruce joins him, Natasha comes next followed closely by Clint. Twenty minutes later Tony stumbles up the stairs like he was pushed, but Loki doesn’t follow. They eat together as a team for the first time in four months.
After they have dispersed, while he knows Loki is with Tony in the lab, Steve slips into Loki’s quarters and leaves a drawing of a small bird propped up where he had left the book over a month ago.
It is gone later, after everything, but he doesn’t find it crumpled in the trash.
-
They have all that needs moving packed and are ready to close up the last crate, Butterfingers trying to wedge the lid on without any help when he walks in.
-
The first thing Loki does upon seeing the Aesir is hurl a screwdriver at him, and then hand Dummy the fire extinguisher.
Only when the Midgardian is laughing his ass off and Loki’s surge of rage appropriately subdued is Fandral allowed to sit at one of the tables. Neither one of them hands him a towel.
“What do you want?” Loki stalks past him, not bothering to look in his direction.
Fandral opens his mouth, closes it, and tries again, but nothing comes out. He runs a hand through his hair. “I was- I couldn’t-”
“Have your own thoughts? Stand up to them?”
The hand in his hair tightens and tugs in frustration, then he lets go to shake the flecks of white foam off, looking back at Loki.
“Not couldn’t,” he admits, sick with himself. “I just… didn’t. And I’m sorry, but-” he speaks over Loki’s growl and the look Stark is giving both of them. “In my defense you were acting a little mad.”
“Perhaps I would have been less so if the lot of you weren’t defying the Allfather’s orders, let alone those of your present king. It is not as though there was any movement against you before your betrayal.”
“The coronation-”
“I was acting exactly as I was meant to!”
He has never understood Loki’s relationship with Thor; every time he thinks he does it is shattered with some new twist that does not make sense. Perhaps Loki is telling him the truth. He does not know.
Next to Loki, a metal contraption whirs and the man looks down as if it is speaking.
“Why now?”
Fandral jumps. “What?
“Why. Now.” Loki repeats. “You are here. Why not come earlier, did you not want to celebrate my destruction?”
“No,” he stands in a rush. “No- we didn’t- I… we were never told.” Or at least he wasn’t, it is possible, but he does not believe the others would have been able to keep it a secret from him. If only because they would wish to gloat. “Earlier I had a… feeling that something was not right, except I did not know for sure until the Allfather brought Thor back with him. The first time Thor returned to Asgard he holed himself up in his chambers and only rarely came out to speak to your- his- to speak to his mother.”
“And the second time?”
“I have not seen him since the Allfather returned from,” Fandral cannot help but wince, “…retrieving you.” There is no sound but the shuffling of the Midgardian who has not stopped moving since he arrived, flitting around from place to place followed by other metal beasts that resemble the one beside what is still Fandral’s prince. In the pause Loki’s implications creep up on him.
(celebrate my destruction)
It is appalling.
“You really believe I would…” he cannot finish the thought. Loki looks away from him. The warrior does not know what to say, so he changes his approach. “Are you well?”
“He’s fine,” Stark steps in. “Better than fine. You should go away.”
“I do not need you to speak for me.”
“Funny,” the shorter man sidles closer, flicking the rag he had been wiping his hands with at Loki and leering when it is swatted away in bemused irritation. “That’s not what you said last night.”
Fandral looks back and forth between them, because he had heard stories of Before during the second prince’s imprisonment.
“Did he not throw you out of a window?”
There appears to be some kind of aggravated noise that comes from the walls.
“Yes.” Loki flips through the papers on one of the tables in disinterest.
“It wasn’t very effective,” Tony prods Loki in the shoulder. “Try harder next time.”
“Is that an invitation?”
“I’ll build a fake Thor and you can have at it.”
“Will his head be a watermelon? I would like to see it splatter.”
“That… is a little disturbing.”
Loki shrugs.
They both continue on as if they had not been inadvertently discussing the death of one of his childhood friends. There is nothing Fandral has to say to this, so after a moment of feeling adrift and alone he shifts directions for the second time and asks the Midgardian for permission to speak with Loki in private. It feels… strange, but when he is unsure of his welcome he does try to be courteous. And he is in the man’s tower. Hopefully his prince will not take it too personally.
Stark grumbles, looks pointedly at the ceiling and then to Loki, who nods. They leave the Midgardian’s workshop in silence.
The tower is large; no matter how long they travel the space never appears to end. Their conversation starts awkwardly. They argue and mock, each taking the other’s irritation where it is due and giving back just as viciously; for a time Fandral says nothing at all and just listens. When they have exhausted their options, or rather they are both too tired to continue because they will always be able to find something to speak of, they walk quietly. Loki leads them to a doorway that opens a large metal box. Fandral follows him in, watching him hit one of the buttons.
“You could come back, for a time. There are people you need to see.”
“The people I ‘need to see’ can damn well come here.”
“Saying that is all well and good, but the Allfather cannot just set everything aside whenever he wishes, and Eir has responsibilities in the Healing Rooms.”
Loki looks at him strangely, sharp at the corners. “Is that all?”
“Who else would you want to see?”
The door opens, they step out of the box to the large open room they had started in once out of the lab.
“I am surprised you are not encouraging me to mend things with Thor.”
“Who is this Midardian you spend so much time with?” There is a heavy breath at his obvious change in subject, but Loki must not want to speak of Thor either because for once Fandral is allowed to get away with it. “The inventor, yes? Obviously. He seemed reluctant to let you out of his sight. I must say, I am surprised that he allowed it.”
“He is not my keeper, Fandral. And we are not out of his sight… although like Heimdall this all-seer also dislikes me. I might actually get away with less here.” He trails his fingers over the wall. “Since we’re on the subject, what of their gate keeper?”
“He is being suitably chastised.”
“… what does that mean?”
“I’m not sure; it did not feel prudent to question the Allfather’s announcement at the time. He was…” he stops, makes a face. A sly almost smile crosses Loki’s visage before disappearing.
“Displeased?”
“Terrifying.”
-
After Fandral leaves, Loki finds a carving of ivory and the ancient tome he had been reading before his fall sitting innocuously in the common room. He snaps them up and flees to his quarters.
-
It is a vicious and cruel trick, perhaps not one Fandral is aware of, to suggest he visit Asgard.
Loki is not daft; he knows he is a war criminal here. Stark’s continued hospitality and the lack of a cell do not mean he is not contained. The only times he has left the tower are those when Fury has called him out (never to a base, only warehouses to be discarded after use, it would not do for him to know where they nest after all), always escorted, and Stark’s spontaneous trip which must have broken some part of the agreement. He had reached out with magic once, but he had not stepped outside. There were rules that he does not push. Not until he is certain of his own safety, and a change in environment, to Malibu, doesn’t mean that these rules no longer exist.
It is not as though there is anything else left for him.
Still, it has been some time since he has seen Father. The tie between them is a small thing, stretched thin with distance, not the same as Thor’s tangled ever-present one.
There are some things he misses; his chambers and the library, his horse…
The garden.
No.
It is not as though he has a choice; there is no reason to dwell on what will not happen.
“Do you want to?” Tony had asked him.
And because he did not have an answer Loki stalked out of the kitchen.
Sitting on a barstool, obviously listening in, is the Widow disassembling an apple with the skill of a surgeon. They stay in quiet contemplation of each other until she dismisses him completely and turns her attention back to the fruit in front of her. He is at the doors of the elevator before she speaks.
“You are not locked in the tower.” The skin of the apple the Widow is peeling falls to the surface of the bar, barely any flesh attached. Loki slowly shifts back to face her, unsure if he had heard her correctly. “Keeping you here, only inside, was never part of any agreement. You have the ability to leave if you want.”
She lies.
“Ask Stark if you don’t believe me. He’ll tell you the same.”
Loki stares at her.
-
The last time he saw Eir had been… not good. He misses her, misses the gardens, one of the only safe places he had before the lab and so intrinsically tied to Eir that he cannot separate them in his mind, but worse than missing her are the possibilities of their reunion dreamt up in his mind. Denial, rejection, hate, disgust, fear; even though he deserves nothing else from her, he doesn’t want these things.
It is all he can think of.
-
“You thought you were trapped here?” Tony asks when they are sitting around in Loki’s quarters at the tower. The disbelief on his face is difficult for Loki to accept, not because he thinks it to be false, but because the honest bewilderment and guilt (no matter that Stark tries to hide it) of another for a perceived slight to him is foreign. Others had not cared, it was a fact Loki accepted long ago. “That’s just- no. That’s not true. I mean, it’s probably better that you didn’t go cavorting around New York at will, because S.H.I.E.L.D., but I never meant to lock you in. Hell, your father wouldn’t have let me even if I wanted to… I thought you knew that.”
Loki shrugs.
That is always his problem, isn’t it. Not knowing.
“Sometimes I think…” he begins minutes later, running a fingernail over the weave of threads in the couch fabric. “It would have been so much easier if I was real.”
“What?”
“From the beginning, I mean.”
“Real.” The skeptical tone is not one Loki has heard from Tony in a while.
“Yes. Why is that so difficult to-”
“I’m just trying to wrap my mind around- it all seems real to me. The anger, the shitty family members, feeling… different than everyone around you. That’s all real. You being the one that feels it doesn’t make any of that less than what it is.” Loki doesn’t respond, and he doesn’t look at him. “For a couple hours,” Stark asks him again. “Do you want to go?”
He buries his face in a couch cushion.
The next day Tony stands with him on the roof as he steps out onto a path between worlds, disappearing into airy wisps of light.
Part 3b
Part 3a
“And by the first of the month plans for the new edition will have to be shipped to manufacturers. Can we not wait until the night before to start creating them this time?”
“Yeah, sure. Whatever you say.”
“I think that’s about all then, I’ll push the paperwork through and whatever is left can hold until you fly back out next week.”
Tony picks at the edge of the couch, watching his beautiful and amazing CEO flip through notes on her tablet before putting it back in her bag and standing up. She tucks a few strands of hair behind her ear (he wants to do that), slender fingers hanging by her jaw for a moment before she lets her arm drop.
“Pepper,” he finally asks when she is at the door. “Are we okay?”
She stands there looking at him and he can’t breathe until she answers.
“We will be Tony.”
“I love you Pep.”
It feels a little like guilting her after he says it and, even though it is true, he wishes he could take it back because she is frozen in the doorway like it hurt her. That’s not what he meant to do, but of course he’s messing this up, and he loves her so so much even though she hasn’t said anything in return yet and the pause burns him. Pepper sighs and walks back over, pressing a kiss to his forehead. Her hands are soft and warm against the skin of his cheeks; she runs a thumb gently under his eye.
“I love you too.”
-
Rhodes spends an hour on the phone with Pepper once they find out Tony is gone. Steve’s not sure what she says to him, but when they’re done he goes down to the lab for the rest of the afternoon and three days later leaves the tower, returning to duty.
Before he goes there is an attack in Seattle; War Machine joins them. There is a learning curve for everyone involved in terms of teamwork, but they make it through. It is a battle that leaves them all aching and tired, nursing bruises, though not bad enough that Iron Man’s absence hurt them.
They get a break after that.
Life begins to return to an almost normal pace, minus Tony. Despite the relative peace of the tower Steve still worries, because he always worries, about his missing teammate. He peppers JARVIS with questions frequently, somehow expecting new information even though all of the A.I.’s answers have boiled down to, “Sir is away on business and will return when matters have been concluded,” and, “Both Sir and his guest are well and acting within reasonable parameters. There is no cause for worry.” Which doesn’t stop him from doing so, at all, but Steve does feel a bit better because JARVIS’s definition of being “well” when discussing Tony Stark is very comprehensive. Even if the A.I. is not entirely truthful about Loki, should anything happen to the man he serves Steve has no doubts at all that SOME ONE would be informed.
Loki’s absence calms Clint down some. He spends more time out of the vents and talks to them, beginning to branch out. What he does not do is respond well to being told Loki had disappeared. Though he clearly does not want to be in the same vicinity as the man who invaded his mind, not knowing where he went is worse. The first 48 hours had been a battle in making sure he didn’t take off in pursuit, a battle they only won (if it could be called winning) because Natasha and JARVIS were involved. When Clint attempted to make a break for it, doors, windows, and vents would automatically lock or close off, essentially herding him around in circles through the tower until he relented, which in any other situation might have been funny. Clint stops after two days because Natasha promised to ‘take care of things,’ whatever that meant. The sole reason Steve doesn’t press too heavily for answers is because after informing Steve “that Sir and his guest are still well” JARVIS agrees to make sure he knows if anything notable should occur.
Which apparently does not include Tony Stark’s return to New York.
They are back for two days before anyone notices. Any other time JARVIS would have announced an arrival to the tower, or Tony would inadvertently announce himself by being… well, himself, but for whatever reason Steve wakes up one morning to boxes stacked in the middle of the common room that weren’t there the evening before.
“JARVIS?” He turns around, alert in an instant and scanning his surroundings.
“All is well, Captain Rogers. Sir is merely accumulating possessions he does not believe he can leave behind.”
“Behi- wait, Tony’s back? When did that happen? Is he downstairs?” Immediately Steve begins to weave around the packed items in the direction of the half stair leading down to the lab. “Why didn’t you tell-”
“Oh.” The voice from behind freezes him in his tracks, Steve whirls around; Tony stands in the doorway by the kitchen, he tips slightly into the frame like he had stopped mid-step. “Hi Steve.”
“Is that all?” This is unbelievable. “You disappear on us for three weeks and that’s all. ‘Hi Steve.’”
Momentarily lost, Tony looks down at the bowl in his hands. “I was taking a break to eat breakfast?”
Behind Tony are glimpses of another form that moves around what Steve knows by the angle is the refrigerator. There is too much in the way for Steve to see who it is, but the voice that comes next is easily recognizable.
“Ice cream is hardly breakfast, Stark.”
“If I am eating it at breakfast time then it’s breakfast.”
“Loki?” Steve pushes past Tony, forcing himself into the kitchen. Loki glances over at him, closing the bottle of lemon juice and placing back in the fridge. He picks up the spoon and glass sitting close by on the counter and begins to stir, turning the clear water inside slightly cloudy.
“We’ve expanded to flavored water.” Tony grins up at Steve. He shovels a large spoonful of ice-cream into his mouth, still leaning back against the frame of the door. “I don’t have any idea why we didn’t think of this before, regular water is so boring, but whatever. No adverse effects so far. We also may have bonded.” Loki lifts his glass in salute. “With no bloodshed even. Well, minimal bloodshed. But it was a workshop thing. And an accident. I ran into a wall, long story-”
“It’s not really. He was being childish and JARVIS shut the door on him. I don’t even think that’s the first time it’s happened.”
Tony’s shoulders sag in an exaggerated fashion, giving Loki a look clearly meant to be a scowl but is also clearly not serious. Loki almost smiles back at him.
“Thanks for that.”
“No problem.”
Steve looks back and forth between the two, words lost.
After a moment Tony turns back to him, stilling at his expression. He lets out a deep breath and then, without looking away from Steve’s face, addresses Loki once more. “Will you do me a favor and head to the lab? The sooner we have everything together the sooner we can ship it. JARVIS, do you have the list of what we need out of there?”
“I do, Sir.”
“Good, the two of you can get started then.” Loki hesitates by the door until Tony walks up and gently hip checks him. “Have the bots help. It will distract them from the move, they hate flying.”
Steve waits for the door to shut and the Asgardian is gone before speaking.
“The move?”
“Yeah, I’m going to- sit down first. Hold on.” Tony pulls a chair out and drops down into it, letting out a gust of air and rubbing his shoulder. His mostly forgotten ice cream left on the counter half eaten. Once he’s settled he kicks the chair across from him out, an invitation to sit. Steve paces. “I’m moving back out to Malibu.” As if suddenly realizing he’s still holding the spoon, Tony starts tapping it against the table. A cadence of four. “I thought I’d take Loki with me.”
“Is that a good idea?”
“Maybe,” there is no beating around the bush this time, no jokes about how his ideas are always good. “Maybe not, I don’t know.” The drumming of the spoon stops, he tosses it across the table. Both of them watching quietly as it slides off and clatters to the floor. “I just need- I… space. I need to get out of New York. And I think he does too. Not for good, but… for a while.”
“Tony, if I can do anything-”
“You’ve done enough.” Steve winces, going to stand by the sink with his back to the other man in order to help cover it. “No, Steve- I didn’t mean-”
“Yes you did, and I get it. It’s fine.” The sink is dirty, Steve should polish it. He gets a rag and cleaner out from the cupboard.
“What are you doing?”
“Washing up.” There’s a bit of dried something on the edge that doesn’t want to come off. It chips away under his fingernail and then he looks around for something else. The ice cream in Tony’s bowl is mostly melted now. “Are you done with this?” He gestures, Tony nods so Steve grabs it and cleans that too. “After the invasion… I was worried for those first few months. About you.”
“Really?”
“Well, after I decided you were a good man at least… It took a while.” The attempt at a joke is feeble, but Tony kind of grins at him. “You seemed okay though.” The grin falters. “Were you okay?”
“No.” They exist in companionable silence; Steve finally takes a seat on the chair Tony had pushed out, the table a wall between them. Tony looks up from his hands, clasped loosely in his lap, and raises his eyes to the ceiling. “Do you think it’s good for him here?”
“Loki?… no.” He shakes his head. “No, I really don’t. Maybe before, but not now. And not for Clint either, this is… good. Probably. That he’s going with you. For both of them.” Steve leans forward, elbows resting on the table. Tony mirrors his posture. “Do you have plans for if it goes wrong?”
“Yeah. We’ll talk, later. I’ll tell you.”
“When?”
A glance to the door. “Before we leave. Tomorrow? We won’t be here much longer. The kids are going to fly out in a few days and we’ll be gone shortly after. I don’t want them waiting alone too long, it makes them crabby…” he smiles wryly. “Well, more crabby.”
“Clint will miss them, I think. He went down there sometimes while you were gone. I followed him once; he was teaching Dummy to play catch.”
“He can visit.”
“He won’t.”
“I know,” Tony heaves a sigh. “I’ll make him something; give me some time to work out what. Maybe a bot to clean the vents if he’s still planning on living up there. Or set up him and Dummy up on a Skype date. Dummy would like that; he’s never had a Skype date before.”
Steve stands to get them both something to drink. Tony is resting his chin on his fist when he turns back to hand one of the glasses over. Juice, because half of what Tony eats (despite hard work on both his and Bruce’s parts) seems to be take out. High in nutrients it is not.
“You know I’m coming back eventually, right?”
“Of course.”
“No you don’t.” He takes a drink. “You have an ingrained need to keep everyone within grabbing distance because you think we’re all going to die and leave you alone again.” Steve’s eye twitches, he thinks he mutters ‘goddamnit’ out loud, but he’s not sure. “I’m coming back Steve.”
“Yes, fine.”
“This is what phones are for. My god, it’s like you think you can actually get rid of me.” He continues. “I’m practically your landlord, except I pay for everything.”
“About that-”
“No, be quiet. Just because I need to bail for a while doesn’t mean any of you are allowed to move out. You’re fine here.” He grins again, real and strong this time, a crooked thing, and doesn’t that just spell disaster. “Besides, if you move out then Pepper won’t be able to call you my kept men anymore.” Steve chokes mid-drink. “Not Natasha, but she’s not a man, so that would be illogical. She called by the way, just in case you were curious, a couple days into the Malibu trip. Something about minimizing the carnage at the tower. We talked, Clint’s less paranoid now. Everyone wins.”
“I don’t feel like ‘less paranoid’ should qualify as winning.”
Tony shrugs. “We have problems.”
Steve laughs because he can’t help it and it’s true. Tony taps his glass against Steve’s in a toast and leans back into his seat.
“We do.”
-
No control.
He knows he’s not really losing anyone, not in the way he did before, but knowing doesn’t stop the feeling of the ice creeping up around him.
Steve goes to his room to grab a sketch pad and pencils, setting up in the common room so he can watch the movement. Around lunch Bruce joins him, Natasha comes next followed closely by Clint. Twenty minutes later Tony stumbles up the stairs like he was pushed, but Loki doesn’t follow. They eat together as a team for the first time in four months.
After they have dispersed, while he knows Loki is with Tony in the lab, Steve slips into Loki’s quarters and leaves a drawing of a small bird propped up where he had left the book over a month ago.
It is gone later, after everything, but he doesn’t find it crumpled in the trash.
-
They have all that needs moving packed and are ready to close up the last crate, Butterfingers trying to wedge the lid on without any help when he walks in.
-
The first thing Loki does upon seeing the Aesir is hurl a screwdriver at him, and then hand Dummy the fire extinguisher.
Only when the Midgardian is laughing his ass off and Loki’s surge of rage appropriately subdued is Fandral allowed to sit at one of the tables. Neither one of them hands him a towel.
“What do you want?” Loki stalks past him, not bothering to look in his direction.
Fandral opens his mouth, closes it, and tries again, but nothing comes out. He runs a hand through his hair. “I was- I couldn’t-”
“Have your own thoughts? Stand up to them?”
The hand in his hair tightens and tugs in frustration, then he lets go to shake the flecks of white foam off, looking back at Loki.
“Not couldn’t,” he admits, sick with himself. “I just… didn’t. And I’m sorry, but-” he speaks over Loki’s growl and the look Stark is giving both of them. “In my defense you were acting a little mad.”
“Perhaps I would have been less so if the lot of you weren’t defying the Allfather’s orders, let alone those of your present king. It is not as though there was any movement against you before your betrayal.”
“The coronation-”
“I was acting exactly as I was meant to!”
He has never understood Loki’s relationship with Thor; every time he thinks he does it is shattered with some new twist that does not make sense. Perhaps Loki is telling him the truth. He does not know.
Next to Loki, a metal contraption whirs and the man looks down as if it is speaking.
“Why now?”
Fandral jumps. “What?
“Why. Now.” Loki repeats. “You are here. Why not come earlier, did you not want to celebrate my destruction?”
“No,” he stands in a rush. “No- we didn’t- I… we were never told.” Or at least he wasn’t, it is possible, but he does not believe the others would have been able to keep it a secret from him. If only because they would wish to gloat. “Earlier I had a… feeling that something was not right, except I did not know for sure until the Allfather brought Thor back with him. The first time Thor returned to Asgard he holed himself up in his chambers and only rarely came out to speak to your- his- to speak to his mother.”
“And the second time?”
“I have not seen him since the Allfather returned from,” Fandral cannot help but wince, “…retrieving you.” There is no sound but the shuffling of the Midgardian who has not stopped moving since he arrived, flitting around from place to place followed by other metal beasts that resemble the one beside what is still Fandral’s prince. In the pause Loki’s implications creep up on him.
(celebrate my destruction)
It is appalling.
“You really believe I would…” he cannot finish the thought. Loki looks away from him. The warrior does not know what to say, so he changes his approach. “Are you well?”
“He’s fine,” Stark steps in. “Better than fine. You should go away.”
“I do not need you to speak for me.”
“Funny,” the shorter man sidles closer, flicking the rag he had been wiping his hands with at Loki and leering when it is swatted away in bemused irritation. “That’s not what you said last night.”
Fandral looks back and forth between them, because he had heard stories of Before during the second prince’s imprisonment.
“Did he not throw you out of a window?”
There appears to be some kind of aggravated noise that comes from the walls.
“Yes.” Loki flips through the papers on one of the tables in disinterest.
“It wasn’t very effective,” Tony prods Loki in the shoulder. “Try harder next time.”
“Is that an invitation?”
“I’ll build a fake Thor and you can have at it.”
“Will his head be a watermelon? I would like to see it splatter.”
“That… is a little disturbing.”
Loki shrugs.
They both continue on as if they had not been inadvertently discussing the death of one of his childhood friends. There is nothing Fandral has to say to this, so after a moment of feeling adrift and alone he shifts directions for the second time and asks the Midgardian for permission to speak with Loki in private. It feels… strange, but when he is unsure of his welcome he does try to be courteous. And he is in the man’s tower. Hopefully his prince will not take it too personally.
Stark grumbles, looks pointedly at the ceiling and then to Loki, who nods. They leave the Midgardian’s workshop in silence.
The tower is large; no matter how long they travel the space never appears to end. Their conversation starts awkwardly. They argue and mock, each taking the other’s irritation where it is due and giving back just as viciously; for a time Fandral says nothing at all and just listens. When they have exhausted their options, or rather they are both too tired to continue because they will always be able to find something to speak of, they walk quietly. Loki leads them to a doorway that opens a large metal box. Fandral follows him in, watching him hit one of the buttons.
“You could come back, for a time. There are people you need to see.”
“The people I ‘need to see’ can damn well come here.”
“Saying that is all well and good, but the Allfather cannot just set everything aside whenever he wishes, and Eir has responsibilities in the Healing Rooms.”
Loki looks at him strangely, sharp at the corners. “Is that all?”
“Who else would you want to see?”
The door opens, they step out of the box to the large open room they had started in once out of the lab.
“I am surprised you are not encouraging me to mend things with Thor.”
“Who is this Midardian you spend so much time with?” There is a heavy breath at his obvious change in subject, but Loki must not want to speak of Thor either because for once Fandral is allowed to get away with it. “The inventor, yes? Obviously. He seemed reluctant to let you out of his sight. I must say, I am surprised that he allowed it.”
“He is not my keeper, Fandral. And we are not out of his sight… although like Heimdall this all-seer also dislikes me. I might actually get away with less here.” He trails his fingers over the wall. “Since we’re on the subject, what of their gate keeper?”
“He is being suitably chastised.”
“… what does that mean?”
“I’m not sure; it did not feel prudent to question the Allfather’s announcement at the time. He was…” he stops, makes a face. A sly almost smile crosses Loki’s visage before disappearing.
“Displeased?”
“Terrifying.”
-
After Fandral leaves, Loki finds a carving of ivory and the ancient tome he had been reading before his fall sitting innocuously in the common room. He snaps them up and flees to his quarters.
-
It is a vicious and cruel trick, perhaps not one Fandral is aware of, to suggest he visit Asgard.
Loki is not daft; he knows he is a war criminal here. Stark’s continued hospitality and the lack of a cell do not mean he is not contained. The only times he has left the tower are those when Fury has called him out (never to a base, only warehouses to be discarded after use, it would not do for him to know where they nest after all), always escorted, and Stark’s spontaneous trip which must have broken some part of the agreement. He had reached out with magic once, but he had not stepped outside. There were rules that he does not push. Not until he is certain of his own safety, and a change in environment, to Malibu, doesn’t mean that these rules no longer exist.
It is not as though there is anything else left for him.
Still, it has been some time since he has seen Father. The tie between them is a small thing, stretched thin with distance, not the same as Thor’s tangled ever-present one.
There are some things he misses; his chambers and the library, his horse…
The garden.
No.
It is not as though he has a choice; there is no reason to dwell on what will not happen.
“Do you want to?” Tony had asked him.
And because he did not have an answer Loki stalked out of the kitchen.
Sitting on a barstool, obviously listening in, is the Widow disassembling an apple with the skill of a surgeon. They stay in quiet contemplation of each other until she dismisses him completely and turns her attention back to the fruit in front of her. He is at the doors of the elevator before she speaks.
“You are not locked in the tower.” The skin of the apple the Widow is peeling falls to the surface of the bar, barely any flesh attached. Loki slowly shifts back to face her, unsure if he had heard her correctly. “Keeping you here, only inside, was never part of any agreement. You have the ability to leave if you want.”
She lies.
“Ask Stark if you don’t believe me. He’ll tell you the same.”
Loki stares at her.
-
The last time he saw Eir had been… not good. He misses her, misses the gardens, one of the only safe places he had before the lab and so intrinsically tied to Eir that he cannot separate them in his mind, but worse than missing her are the possibilities of their reunion dreamt up in his mind. Denial, rejection, hate, disgust, fear; even though he deserves nothing else from her, he doesn’t want these things.
It is all he can think of.
-
“You thought you were trapped here?” Tony asks when they are sitting around in Loki’s quarters at the tower. The disbelief on his face is difficult for Loki to accept, not because he thinks it to be false, but because the honest bewilderment and guilt (no matter that Stark tries to hide it) of another for a perceived slight to him is foreign. Others had not cared, it was a fact Loki accepted long ago. “That’s just- no. That’s not true. I mean, it’s probably better that you didn’t go cavorting around New York at will, because S.H.I.E.L.D., but I never meant to lock you in. Hell, your father wouldn’t have let me even if I wanted to… I thought you knew that.”
Loki shrugs.
That is always his problem, isn’t it. Not knowing.
“Sometimes I think…” he begins minutes later, running a fingernail over the weave of threads in the couch fabric. “It would have been so much easier if I was real.”
“What?”
“From the beginning, I mean.”
“Real.” The skeptical tone is not one Loki has heard from Tony in a while.
“Yes. Why is that so difficult to-”
“I’m just trying to wrap my mind around- it all seems real to me. The anger, the shitty family members, feeling… different than everyone around you. That’s all real. You being the one that feels it doesn’t make any of that less than what it is.” Loki doesn’t respond, and he doesn’t look at him. “For a couple hours,” Stark asks him again. “Do you want to go?”
He buries his face in a couch cushion.
The next day Tony stands with him on the roof as he steps out onto a path between worlds, disappearing into airy wisps of light.
Part 3b