FIC: Bigmouth Strikes Again (Loki/Tony, The Avengers, R)

[femme]

Title: Bigmouth Strikes Again
Fandom: The Avengers/Marvel Cinematic Universe
Rating: Hard R
Pairings: Tony Stark/Loki Laufeyson
Word Count: ~16,500
Warnings/Content Information: Established relationship, infidelity, definite crackiness
Summary: Tony doesn't think he and Loki actually have a thing going. Well. Not until Tony fucks it up, at least.
Notes: Much love to bethbethbeth and noeon for their awesome betas and encouragement, goseaward for the science advice, and to my flist for egging me on. Title also lovingly nicked from The Smiths. This story came out of a conversation in which Noe and I discussed what would happen if Tony ever cheated on Loki—our immediate response was “well, blow up Hoboken, obviously.” So. Yes. Apologies to the residents of New Jersey...it appears you've been Loki'd. :)

Also, yeah, there's a reason there's a series tag on AO3 for this fic. I may have started writing the next installment already. Dammit.

You see, the thing is, Tony doesn't really do relationships.

All right, sure, there was Pepper for almost three years, but she'd been all he had left after Obie...passed away, he thinks that's how the last Fortune profile gently worded it. And if there's one thing Tony's learned, it's that relationships forged in shared guilt over killing a motherfucking crazy megalomaniac--much less keeping each other from being killed by Vanko and that stupid fuck Hammer three months later--don't particularly get on that spectacularly once the nightmares start to fade, and one of them--okay, Tony--starts to show his ass in public again. Tony's well aware his self-destructive streak is a mile wide, and he doesn't seem to be so great at not throwing himself into it headfirst, as Pepper pointed out the night she left.

And, yeah, even after everything he's done, Pep and Rhodey are still his best friends, whether or not he deserves them, and now there's Steve and Bruce and Thor and Clint and Natasha too. So, fine, that sort of relationship Tony does do, maybe, at least for a handful of people out of the almost seven billion on this damn planet—and then there's JARVIS, who's not really a person, but fuck that because AI or not he's Tony's and he always will be. At least JARVIS doesn't let him down.

Usually.

So okay. Maybe it's not that Tony doesn't do relationships at all, and more that Tony doesn't do certain types of relationships. Or at least he doesn't do them well.

Pepper's with Coulson now--Phil, she reminds Tony with a patient sigh each time he asks her how Agent's doing--and she's happy. Which makes Tony happy. Really. It surprises him, he supposes. He'd thrown Dummy halfway across his lab after she'd packed her bags, and even now it flinches--really, who would have thought a robotic arm could flinch, but by God it does--every time Tony raises his voice. But Pep's good with Coulson, and after everything Coulson's been through, Tony thinks he deserves someone as brilliant as his ex. He's got to give the man props; after all, he's seen the now faded six-inch long scar Loki left just under Coulson's shoulder blade back when it was still puckered and shiny-pink.

Loki.

Tony takes another sip of his whisky--a double, neat--and scowls down at the glass in his hand. The bastard's why he's here tonight, at this crowded bar in the West Village, trying to drink away the thoughts swirling thickly in his head. Tony doesn't like feeling. He never has.

Besides, this thing with him and Loki. It's just sex. Fucking amazing sex, sure. But that's all it is, that's all he's meant for it to be. It's not like he's having a sexuality crisis, whatever Natasha might imply. Fuck, no. He'd fooled around with Rhodey when they were younger and stupider, even if Rhodey refuses to admit it--and what's with that, really, now that Don't Ask Don't Tell's been repealed? Fuck that shit. Anyway, Rhodey's protests to the contrary, there'd been a few brilliant hand jobs exchanged between the two of them. Some desperate, booze-fueled rutting every now and then. And sure, Tony's had a few things up his ass in the past. Fingers. A plug once. Those beads Pepper'd like to pull out of him while he thrust into her, making him shudder deliciously.

But never a god.

Not until six months ago, at least. Or rather, six months, two weeks and four days. Not that Tony's counting or anything. He just can't help it.

Another swallow of whisky. It burns the back of his throat, and he grimaces, then drinks again.

Back to the point: Tony doesn't like feeling things. It'd been uncomfortable enough with Pepper, but he'd managed to explain that away by reminding himself he'd known her for years. They were friends, and then they were more than friends. But in the end she'd walked away in exasperation, just like everyone else before her had done. So it doesn't do to have feelings, Tony tells himself moodily. You just get screwed anyway--and not in the pleasant way.

Tony leans against the bar, looking out over the crush of humanity. He's already let six people buy him a drink tonight; he wonders idly exactly how wasted he can get and still function in the morning. Cap'll be pissed when Tony staggers in for the daily briefing tomorrow morning, but Tony's turned off his cell for the night. He needs this time away from the mansion. From his friends' sideways glances and Thor's disappointed frown.

Whisky splashes on his thumb and he licks it off. They'd argued, of course, he and Loki. In front of everyone. It was his fault, he's fully aware; he'd deliberately picked the fight over supper that had sent his--boyfriend? partner? Christ--that had sent Loki disappearing from the dining room in a blurred swirl of green sweater and black jeans, mouth tight. Tony'd pay for it tomorrow, he was sure, but fuck it. Tonight he can't take those piercing green eyes that see straight through him, that sharp tongue that calls him on his bullshit like no one else--not even Pepper.

Tony finishes his drink and sets the glass on the bar next to his elbow. A long-legged redhead in a short black skirt catches his eye. He can see her full breasts move under her tiny scrap of a lavender silk top. He quirks his eyebrow at her. She smiles and moves closer.

"Buy you a drink?" she shouts over the throb of the music.

What the hell. One more won't kill him. A crook of his finger and the bartender reaches for the Glenfiddich thirty-year.

Tony just doesn't want to think.

So he doesn't.

***

"Sir."

Tony groans and rolls over onto his back, pressing the heels of his palms against his aching eyes. His throat is thick and tight, and his mouth tastes like the leftover takeout Clint leaves in the fridge until mold cultures start to grow on it. He runs his hands over his face, through his hair, and blinks at the bright light streaming through his windows. Outside Manhattan's spread out beneath them, a blocky gray sprawl from one shining river to the other.

"Sir," JARVIS says again, calmly. "I believe you should be aware that Mr. Laufeyson is in the lift."

"Oh, great," Tony mumbles. "It's too fucking early--" He turns his head. Rumpled red hair is spread across his other pillow, and there's a pale, bare shoulder peeking out from under the twisted slate blue sheet. His stomach lurches. "Oh, fuck."

"An appropriate sentiment, sir."

There are moments Tony regrets flicking the switch on JARVIS's Keep Calm and Brew a Cuppa settings. "Stall him," he croaks out, even though he knows that's damn well impossible with Loki, and somehow he manages to roll out of bed, only getting tangled in the sheets once. He pokes at Melanie, Marcy, whoever the fuck she is. "Get up." She just murmurs something into her pillow and pulls the comforter above her head. Tony swears.

He grabs Mary--Molly--fuck, Tony can't remember her name--Margo's ankle and pulls. He gets a pillow to the side of his head in return, and a pair of bright blue eyes glaring at him from behind a tumble of red curls.

"You crazy bastard--" She kicks out, and suddenly Tony remembers why he has a policy against dating the daughters of New York Irish cops. You'd think he would have learned from the last time one of them tried to take off his dick in a fit of annoyance. Rockaway Park girls learn to fight dirty at an early age.

"Look, sweetheart," Tony says, through clenched teeth, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in his hip where her bony heel caught him--and thank God her aim was off by three inches. "In approximately two-point-four minutes an Asgardian god is going to walk in here, get extremely pissed off, and very likely send us both off to the darkest pit of Hel in a burst of green sparkly light just because he can where his daughter will make us miserable for eternity--and trust me, I've met her, she's capable of it. Really, last night was great and all, but neither one of us want to be stuck with each other for that long."

Margaret--Maggie--Maggie, yes!--Maggie freezes. "Right," she says, and Tony suspects he must have said something about him and Loki last night because her eyes widen, and she wraps the sheet around her as she stands up. "Closet?"

Tony snaps his fingers at her. "Excellent idea."

He's just closing the closet on Maggie when the door to his room flies open. He winces as it bangs against the wall, nearly knocking off Tony's prized framed photo of Spiderman and himself in a Mark VI suit crouched beside Stephen Hawking in his wheelchair. That Parker kid's not half bad, all things considered. The closet door clicks shut; the end of a lock of red hair is caught in the hinge. Shit. Well. Distraction it is then. Tony leans against the door and tries to look as sanguine as he can without a stitch of clothing on. He's had rather a lot of practice with Pepper.

"You're a complete bastard, Tony Stark, but I have graciously decided to--" Loki breaks off, his eyes narrowing. "You're naked."

"I am." Tony trails a finger across his flat stomach, knowing full well it'll fluster Loki. "JARVIS mentioned you were on your way up."

Loki smiles, a genuine flash of amusement that's almost never turned on anybody now except Tony. "And you thought you'd be properly apologetic?" His eyes drop down to Tony's cock. The tip of his tongue slides over his bottom lip, and Tony tries not to shiver too obviously. Because, really, the sex honestly is amazing.

"Something like that." Tony eyes the rumpled bed, his heart thudding against the reactor's pull. "Maybe after coffee. Or brunch." He smiles at Loki. "Want to hand me some boxers? Top drawer."

"I rather think I know where you keep your undergarments by now, Tony." Loki reaches into the dresser and pulls out the pair of heathered gray cotton briefs he particularly likes. He tosses them to Tony. "If you're very good, perhaps I'll even suck you off through these."

There's a slight noise from the closet. Tony thinks it might have been a muffled laugh. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Loki stills. He looks Tony up and down, and Tony knows the exact moment Loki sees the tuft of red hair.

It feels like all the air's gone out of the room. Tony restrains himself from asking JARVIS to check the oxygen levels. "Loki," he says instead, twisting his briefs between his hands, but Loki just walks to the closet, pushing Tony aside silently.

When he opens the closet door, Maggie's there between Tony's pale-rainbow stash of Lanvin shirts, one hand clutching the blue sheet to her breasts, the other wrapped with hair, obviously trying to disentangle it from the hinge. She looks up at him, her mouth a small o, then she blinks and holds out her hand. It only trembles slightly, but she keeps her chin up. "Hi?" Her hair slides out of the hinge and falls against her bare shoulder.

There's a sharp hiss of breath between Loki's teeth. His shoulders are tense; Tony can see the sharp jut of his shoulder blades beneath the thin black cashmere of his sweater. Loki's fingers curl and flex at his sides; small green sparks drift down to the gleaming oak floor, leaving behind faint scorch marks.

"Loki," Tony says again, knowing he's fucked up this time, badly, and he doesn't like the clench in his chest around the arc reactor. It reminds him of the night Pepper walked out on him. He reaches out to touch Loki's arm, but Loki moves just as he does, and his fingers close on empty air.

When Loki looks at Tony, his green eyes are bright and icy. He's silent, just studying Tony, and then that thin mouth of his quirks ever so slightly on one side into a small, tight smile that chills Tony to the bone.

"Don't do anything you'll regret," Tony says, his voice low. He doesn't look away from Loki. His breath is shallow; he can hear the soft thump of his blood rushing through his veins. It's almost like being in battle again.

Loki's eyes glitter. "Oh," he murmurs, "I rather think we're far past that, Mr. Stark." The glance he throws over his shoulder at Maggie is scathing. He turns back to Tony and gives him a sharp, curt nod before turning on his heel.

He doesn't even make it to the door before he's gone in a whisper of green light.

Tony sits on the bed, shoulders slumped, the blue glow of his arc reactor shimmering across his forearms as he runs his hands over his face.

Maggie slips out of the closet and reaches for the skirt crumpled half under the bed. "I'll just show myself out then?"

All Tony can do is nod.

***

Tony's head aches. He's vicious during training that afternoon, nearly taking off Steve's head--literally--when they spar. Steve raises his shield just in time; the new exoskeleton arm Tony's testing out just glances off the metal with a ringing clang. Steve pushes back, using the force of Tony's blow to leverage himself into a roundkick into Tony's chest that shoves Tony halfway across the thick red mat and lands him on his back. Tony blinks up at the smooth white ceiling and high-set windows. The sky outside is a brilliant fall blue.

Steve's face hovers over his, blond hair plastered to his damp forehead. "Everything all right?"

"Will be once I can breathe again," Tony chokes out, his hand on his arc reactor. The gleaming exoskeleton disassembles in a whir of gears, the titanium scales sliding back into their framework which then drops to the mat and folds into itself. "Jesus fucking Christ." He pushes himself up slowly, ignoring Steve's frown. Captain America's not fond of him taking his Lord's name in vain. Tony winces and rubs his shoulder. He sighs. "JARVIS, Paypal a dollar to the swear jar--"

"Already done, sir."

"Good man." Tony limps over to the side of the mat, reaching for one of the hand towels folded on the padded bench next to the wall. "Or AI. Whatever." He dries off his face, breathing out into the warm, soft cotton.

Steve's next to him, unwrapping the boxing tape from his hands. "Still fighting with Loki?"

Tony drops his towel, then grabs one of the bottles of water sitting on the bench and uncaps it. "Something like that." Out of all the Avengers--well, except for Thor, Tony supposes--Steve's been the most supportive of his...whatever this is with Loki. Or whatever this was. Tony's pretty sure he's fucked everything up, which was the whole point of his being an asshole, Tony knows that, but this time... He takes a gulp of tepid water. This time he thinks he might actually regret it.

He hands another bottle to Steve, who takes it, eyeing him. "You're upset," Steve says.

"Nope, Cap. Just annoyed," Tony lies. He starts towards the hall and the hope of a long, hot shower in his suite upstairs. A drop of sweat slides down over the ridge of his brow. He blinks it back. His throat's tight.

Steve's behind him. "He'll get over it. He always does."

Yeah. Tony's sure Loki will. Once he literally flays Tony alive--which Tony has to admit, he thinks he'll deserve. He stops at the door, and Steve nearly bumps into him. Tony turns, glances back at him. "Why do you care?" At Steve's bemused look, something breaks loose in Tony. "I mean, seriously. What the fuck is wrong with you that you actually think Loki and I are a good idea? You're nearly a hundred years old. Shouldn't you be appalled at the idea of two guys banging each other's brains out?"

Steve just stills, his fingers clenching around the top of the water bottle. The thin plastic crumples slightly and water splashes over his hand and onto the floor. "Every generation thinks it invented sex," Steve says finally, and he gives Tony a faint smile. "Just because mine had to hide, doesn't mean some of us didn't..." He trails off, then sighs.

Tony raises an eyebrow. "Since when did you..." He frowns, because if there's one thing Steve has never done, it's ping his gaydar. Then again, neither had Loki until he'd had his tongue down Tony's throat. "You're not into guys."

"No." Steve meets his gaze. "But I had a friend. Bucky. And he looked at me the way Loki looks at you." Steve swallows, and Tony can see the tightness in his jaw. "All I ever did was look away, until I watched him fall down the side of a mountain."

Tony wipes his temple with the neck of his t-shirt, mainly so he doesn't have to see the flash of pain that crosses Steve's face. "I didn't know," he says finally.

"I don't talk about it." Steve takes a drink of water, not meeting Tony's eyes. "As for you and Loki, I don't trust him, but he's been working with us for eight months without incident and frankly, I suspect that's due to whatever this is with you two." He looks at Tony then, his hair dark with sweat. "So yeah, I think whatever this is you two are doing is probably a good idea." He grins, and his eyes crinkle in that way that makes Tony sometimes wish he wasn't one of his best friends. Steve would be a hell of a lot less complicated than Loki, after all. Then again, Tony tends to like complicated. Maybe a little too much. "Besides it irritates Fury, and that's always fun to watch."

"You're one fucked-up man, Rogers," Tony says, and at Steve's disapproving look, he laughs.

***

When Pepper arrives, Bruce and Clint are in the middle of a raging argument about whether to watch a Friends rerun on WNYW or ESPN's coverage of the Ohio State-Penn State game. Tony's only slightly surprised that Bruce is the diehard college football fan. He gives Thor a guarded look, both of them waiting for the first tinge of green on Bruce's pale cheeks.

It's almost a relief when Pepper strides in, mouth tight and cell phone clenched in her hand, Natasha and Steve on her heels.

"Tasha," Clint whines when he sees his partner. "Tell Bruce to stop being such a fucker and watch his stupid game upstairs--"

Pepper cuts him off. "What the honest-to-God fuck, Tony."

All eyes turn to her. She stops in front of the leather sofa Tony's sprawled across, and he looks up at her, innocently. "What?"

"JARVIS emailed me." Pepper thrusts the phone at him, and Tony takes it warily. He touches the transparent screen, and a video plays, the sound muted. He watches his naked self shove a redheaded woman in the closet just before Loki walks into frame.

Tony sits up, scowling at the phone. "JARVIS? I'm going to neuter your source code--"

"Apologies, sir," JARVIS says smoothly. "But under the circumstances I thought Ms. Potts should be aware--"

"Aware of what?" Bruce asks, his football game forgotten. He resettles his glasses on his nose, looking between Tony and Pepper as he slouches in one of the wide armchairs. His bare feet are on the coffee table again, and when Tony glares at him because Jesus fucking Christ he's told them all loads of times not to smudge the glass top--it makes it harder to read the computer screen embedded into it, for fuck's sake, and let's not even go into how Clint refuses to use a coaster under his beer which is enough to send Tony into an hour-long sulk--Bruce just ignores him and wiggles his bare toes.

Pepper's mouth thins. She doesn't look away from Tony as she crosses her arms, wrinkling her Chanel suit. "Want to tell them, Tony?"

"Come on, Pep." Tony gives her his most charming smile, which he then turns on the rest of the room. "It's nothing. Really."

Natasha raises an eyebrow.

"Really." Pepper doesn't sound convinced. She glances back over her shoulder at Bruce and Clint. "Tony cheated on Loki last night."

The room's utterly silent for a moment, broken only by the cheerful jingle of a Carmel Limo ad on the enormous HDTV that covers almost half of one wall. Tony flinches as the entire team swivels to look at him.

"Are you crazy?" Natasha asks. For once she actually looks unsettled. Tony doesn't bother to answer. It seems pretty obvious to him that, yes, of course he is, and anyone who doesn't know that by now is crazy themselves.

"Tony" is all Steve says, but the disappointment in his voice is enough. Tony hates the way Steve can make him feel like he's twelve again, once more letting down his father on some intrinsic level. He looks away, only to find Bruce and Clint staring at him in what Tony realizes in surprise is dismay. Clint opens his mouth to say something, then closes it again; Bruce just takes his glasses off and pinches the bridge of his nose with a sigh.

Thor pushes himself out of his armchair, his brows drawing together in a scowl. Tony swears he can hear the crack of thunder in the distance as Thor clenches his fists. "You cheated on my brother?"

Pepper turns sharply, her perfectly manicured finger stabbing into the middle of the Norwegian flag silkscreened onto Thor's gray t-shirt. "Sit down, Thunder Boy. I've got this one."

Thor sits, but he glares furiously at Tony. It takes all Tony has not to shrink back into the corner of the couch. This was exactly why getting involved with a god was a Bad Idea, he reminds himself. There are always more than one of them. And no matter how phenomenal Loki's blow jobs are, his brother is fucking terrifying. And overprotective in a way Tony doesn't want to analyze too much. Instead Tony steels himself and stands, straightening his shoulders as he deliberately steps into Pepper's personal space. He ignores the soft inhale of surprise from Natasha's general direction. Yeah. He has a deathwish. So what?

"Look, Pep," Tony says, and he lets just the right amount of condescension seep into his voice. "Loki's not my boyfriend. Just because we haven't all drunk the domestic Kool-Aid--"

Pepper snatches her phone from his hand, pressing one corner against his arc reactor with the soft clank of metal on metal. "He's your boyfriend, Tony, no matter how emotionally stunted you are not to realize that," she says softly, tightly. "And you cheated on him."

Tony frowns at her. "I don't see why this is any of your business--"

"Oh, man," Clint murmurs from behind him, and there's an answering mmhmm from Bruce's general direction. Traitorous bastards.

"Because I'm sick and tired of you screwing up your life," Pepper says, and there's a touch of exasperation behind her anger. "I don't know why you and Loki work, but you do, and I've seen the way he looks at you when he thinks no one notices--"

"The lady speaks truth," Thor says from his chair, and Tony throws him a dirty look because he really doesn't want to think right now about how Loki watches him when they're alone, about how soft and warm and amused his eyes are when he and Tony wake up wrapped around each other. Tony doesn't like the way it makes his chest ache. "My brother cares--"

Tony grits his teeth. "Shut up, Thor."

Pepper brushes a lock of red-gold hair out of her eyes. "Besides we've all seen how you look at him, Tony. Every last one of us. You're awful at hiding how you feel--"

"I don't feel anything!" Tony snaps, and his throat constricts around the words, almost choking them off. He walks away as Pepper's eyes soften.

"Tony."

He stares out the window, looking across a stretch of Central Park. The trees below are still an explosion of gold, red and orange, their leaves only just starting to loosen and drift down to pile on the sidewalks. He knows his so-called friends are all watching him again. He tenses, crossing his arms over his chest tightly. Loki's out there, somewhere, probably off sulking in that two-bedroom, fourth-floor walk-up he still rents in Nolita because he hates the idea of officially living with the rest of the Avengers. Christ, Loki still refuses to consider himself one; he's only a consultant, he says. Tony knows he's the only one who's been there, the only one who knows what street it's on, the only one who's curled in Loki's bed with him, watching the sun rise over the fire escape, the only one who's sat in that tiny kitchen on a Sunday morning, eating bagels and drinking coffee over the Times while Loki thumbs through a well-worn copy of Snorri Sturluson's collected works.

Fuck, Tony thinks, his stomach lurching. This really isn't just amazing sex, is it? Not with bagels involved.

Pepper's hand is soft on his shoulder. He half-turns, looking at her. "I don't want to feel anything," he says quietly, just for her.

She nods. "But you do."

Tony looks back out the window. There's a hawk circling in the sky. He watches as it dives between two trees, sending a few leaves flying through the air. "But I don't want to."

"I know." She lets him pull her to his side. Tony can hear a soft rumble behind them. Thor, he supposes, and he doesn't know what lack of self-preservation makes him lean in and kiss Pepper's cheek. She bats him away. "Save it for your boyfriend."

Tony glares at her, but it's all just an act. He knows that now. "How many times do I have to point out that I don't have a boyfriend?"

Pepper pulls away and taps her phone on his arc reactor again. "You're an asshole."

"Uh, Tony?" Bruce reaches for the television remote as Tony and Pepper turn around. The volume goes up as a reporter appears onscreen, smoke billowing from a building behind her. There's a flash of light over her left shoulder that sends a spray of dust and crushed brick into the camera's lens. A bright red breaking news banner scrolls across the bottom of the screen with damage reports. No casualty count. So far. "I'm pretty sure your not-boyfriend is blowing up Hoboken."

Tony winces.

"Shit," Clint says, staring at the screen. "Maxwell's. Is nothing sacred?" Natasha quirks an eyebrow at him and Clint frowns. "What? I saw the Old 97's play there, like, five times."

"You are so warped," Tony says, his attention on the screen. He sees a swirl of green cloak in the upper left. "Well, fuck. He's in his god suit." That doesn't bode well for Hoboken's future. Or his own, for that matter. Tony curses the fact that his whatever-Loki-is looks so damn good in leather and metal.

"Maxwell's, man," Clint says mournfully as another burst of green light takes out a window behind the reporter. "I had an incredible blow job in that bathroom once. Girl had legs that did not end and a mouth that would--"

Natasha punches him in the arm.

"Ow." Clint frowns at her. "What was that for?"

Natasha just shrugs. "General principle."

When the dust onscreen settles, the camera focuses on a sweet graffiti painting of Tony in full battle gear on the wall behind the reporter that would put Banksy to shame, over which someone--and by someone Tony means a fucking asshole Asgardian god whose handwriting he recognizes, God fucking damn it--has scrawled in sparkling green letters the word douchebag.

"Son of a bitch," Tony snaps, more irritated that the ouche is covering his nose than anything--Christ, does no one teach graphic arts and composition on Asgard--and then he glares back at the rest of the team. "Which one of you bastards taught him that word?"

Steve and Thor just look at him blankly; Natasha rolls her eyes. Bruce tries to smother a laugh by turning it into a cough, but when Tony's eyes narrow at him he shakes his head and holds up a hand. "Not me, man."

Clint rubs the back of his neck. "I may have called him that once or twice," he admits.

Pepper sighs.

"We're discussing this later, asshole," Tony snaps, and Clint just snorts at him.

"Yeah, whatever," he says. "I'm not the douchebag who cheated on him."

A door slams down the hall, and then Fury's striding into the shared living room in an annoyed stomp of rustling leather and thudding boots.

Shit, Tony thinks. This seriously is not going to go well.

"What the motherfucking hell is going on, Stark?" Fury snaps, his one eye taking them all in with a full sweep before it settles coldly on Tony. "Your boyfriend's in goddamn Hoboken--"

"He's not my boyfriend," Tony protests, but he's drowned out by the rest of the team.

"Tony cheated on him."

Wow. In unison even. Tony'd be impressed by their sudden, unexpected teamwork if he didn't have the batshit crazy director of SHIELD looming over him now.

"Thanks, guys," Tony says grimly. "Way to throw me under the bus."

Thor frowns and rubs the back of his neck, glancing around the room. Pepper pats his arm. "There's not really a bus," she murmurs, and he nods. "It's just a figure of speech."

"Midgardian." Thor sighs. "Such odd idioms." No one's quite explained to him that English isn't actually the universal language of the earth.

Fury eyes Tony for a long moment. Tony starts to wonder how discreetly JARVIS could send up his suit. "Have you lost your damn mind?" he asks finally. "The whole goddamn point of my ignoring this motherfucking crazy relationship of yours--"

"It's not a relationship!" Even Tony doesn't believe himself anymore. God.

Fury's mouth drags down at the corners. He points a finger at Tony. "Shut the fuck up." He wheels towards Pepper. "And you. You assured me you'd keep an eye on him--"

"As soon as I knew," Pepper starts to say, but Tony cuts her off.

"You're not working for him," he says flatly. It's not a question. Pepper looks away, and Tony stares at her in horror. "Pepper."

She tucks a stray lock of hair behind one ear, still not looking at him. "Someone had to try to keep something like this from happening."

"Which you fucking failed to do, may I add." Fury scowls at her, then turns his irritation Tony's direction. "As for you, Stark, care to explain why you decided it was perfectly appropriate to risk the entire free world for a fuck last night?"

"Two fucks, really," Clint pipes up. "If you count sleeping with Loki in the first place."

"Fuck you," Tony says, and he's backed up by a growl from Thor, who crosses his arms over his chest and stares balefully at Clint which cheers Tony immensely. Way to go, big guy. Maybe having a god for a brother-in-law isn't such a bad idea--and Tony stops himself right there because, seriously, what the fuck is he even thinking? In-laws. Another item in his Tony does not do column. He hadn't managed more than one dinner with Pepper's parents when they were dating, and he doesn't even want to consider how awkward dinner with Odin and Frigga would be. Holy mother of godlessness. He wonders what the protocol would be for an atheist with daddy issues breaking bread with the All-Father. Particularly given his not-boyfriend's father's spectacularly shitty parenting skills.

Clint points at the television. "Just saying. Your boy doesn't really share so well, which is probably something you should have kept in mind, if you know what I mean."

"Tony's way of distancing himself from intimacy is to sleep with someone else," Pepper says, frowning down at her phone. She swipes her thumb across the screen, sending a line of text rolling across it.

Bruce snorts. "And Loki's way of distancing himself from intimacy is to blow up Hoboken." He shares a pointed look with Pepper which they both then turn on Tony.

Tony runs his hands over his face. "It's fucking Jersey. Since when did we start caring about anything across the river? I mean, for Christ's sake, we let Snooki and the Situation go wild there for years."

Steve and Thor look at each other. Snooki? Steve mouths. Thor just shrugs.

Pepper sighs and frowns down at her phone again. "Since Fox News texted me for a comment on your behalf?"

Tony groans. Fucking O'Reilly. That asshole bastard can not leave well enough alone.

"And since I'm fucking tired of paying for you bastards' property damage bills." Fury claps his hands. The slap of skin against skin echoes in the living room. "So suit up, motherfuckers, because the U.S. government will only fund so much of that civic remodeling project Loki's hellbent on starting, which means the next time I need you shit-for-brains to show up to schmooze with some senators, you're motherfucking going to be there, Stark, do I make myself clear--and what the fuck are you all still standing here for, looking at me like you need some fucking orders or something? Goddamn it, get the fuck out there and stop that bastard." He grabs Tony's arm as the others scatter. "Stark."

Tony just looks at him.

"Fix this," Fury says quietly. "Or I'm kicking his scrawny Asgardian ass to Jötunheim."

Tony jerks away, a cold rage washing through him. He sees Steve pause by the door, looking back. "Over my dead body, Nick."

"I'm not opposed to that," Fury calls after him.

Fucking bastard. Tony slams the door to the common suite behind him. Steve falls into step with him.

"Tony," he says, and Tony shakes his head.

"Not Jötunheim, Steve." Tony's throat tightens. He knows what that would do to Loki. Knows how much it would hurt him. "We wouldn't get him back from that one." He looks at Steve then, and he knows Steve will understand how much his next few words will cost him. "I wouldn't get him back."

"I know," Steve says simply. "So we won't let it happen." His hand settles on Tony's shoulder, stopping him. His eyes are steady. "Whatever it takes. Can you do that?"

Tony nods slowly.

Whatever it takes.

Yeah. He can do that.

He hopes.

***

Tony's waiting next to the Hoboken Terminal. There's just enough room on Hudson Place for the Quinjet to settle beside him, although its nose hits a taxi, crumpling the hood, which sends the cabbie scrambling out of his car, cursing rather graphically and creatively.

"JARVIS, make a transcript of that, and while you're at it, drop another twenty into the swear jar for me," Tony says, and if JARVIS could sigh, Tony's fairly certain he would. Still, there is no way he's not trying some of those out on Steve. The blushing alone is going to be awesome, and besides, Tony's nowhere near the top of the swear jar list. Clint's at least a hundred bucks over him, thanks to his fights with the coffeemaker every morning--it's not like it's that difficult to program, but Clint's useless pre-caffeination--and, really, the way this year's going, they'll fund the entire SHIELD Christmas party off Fury's "team motivation" rants alone. Tony's pretty sure they'll even be able to get the Rockettes for a night.

Natasha hops out of the Quinjet, her red hair gleaming in the sunlight. She cocks her gun. "He's been here," she says, and Tony rolls his eyes.

"You think?" One of the two-story-tall windows above the clock has been smashed through. They watch as a lingering pane trembles, then falls, shattering against the brown metal awning. The copper lettering above the windows once said LACKAWANNA R. R. The only thing left is the LAC. Someone on some historical society's going to be seriously pissed about that.

Steve, Thor, and Clint are next to them, Steve's shield raised, an arrow ready in Clint's bow. Mjölnir is clenched in Thor's fist, but he doesn't look happy about using it--not the way he usually does. They turn as a group, looking up at the top of the terminal building.

"Where's Bruce?" Tony asks Steve.

"Still in the jet." Steve eyes a twist of smoke rising above the corner of the roof.

Tony does some quick calculations on where the smoke's coming from. "Factory chimneystack," he says in relief and Steve nods. "JARVIS, run a signature trace for Loki's magic. Send it to the suit and the jet."

"In progress, sir."

Bruce's voice crackles across the comm. "Decided it might be better to keep the big guy confined unless he's needed." He sounds rueful. "Given the smackdown your not-boyfriend's given Hoboken already. More smashing seems a bit..."

"Excessive?" Tony grins. He watches as text scrolls through his line of vision.

"Something like that, yeah." There's a soft tap of fingers against keyboard before Bruce continues. "Are you seeing this, Tony?"

The text shifts into a Google map. "Yeah. Two streets over. Ninety-five Washington, but it looks fairly quiet. For now."

"Fucking hell," Clint says, and they all look at him. "Carlo's Bakery," he adds as if that's supposed to enlighten them all. Instead, there's only blank looks all around. Clint sighs. "Cake Boss? Buddy Valastro? Possibly the most awesome reality show on TLC?"

The comm crackles. "Man, we really need to improve your TV habits," Bruce says.

"Good luck with that." Natasha lowers her gun. "How do we want to handle this?"

Thor looks grim. "I'll go speak with my brother," he starts, but Tony puts a hand on his arm and Thor glances back in surprise.

"No." Tony takes a deep breath, steeling himself. "I will. I fucked up--"

"Did you ever," Clint mumbles.

Tony glares at him, which is completely not effective at all with his visor down. "Anyway. Let me talk to him first. Bruce, JARVIS will keep sending you a feed in case..." He trails off. In case Loki won't listen. In case Loki's out of control. In case Loki is...well, Loki.

"Got it," Bruce says, and then he pauses. "Good luck, Stark."

"Yeah. Thanks." Tony positions his hands for a takeoff. "You guys see what you can do on the ground."

With a roar of thrusters, he zooms into the bright blue sky.

***

Loki's sitting on the edge of the roof, kicking his booted heels against the red plaster molding as he half-heartedly zaps at the empty street below. A slight breeze ruffles his dark hair. The lemon yellow building's a half-story taller than the ones on either side of it, which makes it easier for Tony to land, albeit not inconspicuously. Loki doesn't even look around. Instead he just sends a burst of light into Hoboken City Hall across the street, taking out another set of windows in a shattering waterfall of glass.

"Oh, come on," Tony says, walking over. "You're not even trying."

Loki's mouth tightens. His next ball of light takes out an illegally parked car. It upends itself, landing as a flaming heap on the city hall steps, between the two giant brown pillars. "Better?"

"Somewhat." Tony crouches next to him slowly and lifts up his visor. "We probably need to talk."

A look crosses Loki's face that Tony can't quite identify, and he's pretty certain asking JARVIS to run a microexpression scan at the moment will not go over well, so he just waits, his heart rate shifting up exponentially.

"I have nothing to say to you," Loki says finally. He sounds like a petulant child.

"That's a first."

Sometimes Tony wishes he'd think before he opens his mouth, but really, let's face it, once he hit forty the chances of that happening were slim-to-fucking-none. Still, he winces when Loki turns a glittering gaze on him, and when Loki pushes himself off the building, in a flutter of green wool and black leather, Tony swears.

Of course he follows him.

Tony lands with a thud that cracks the asphalt beneath him, sending fissures spreading across the street. There are faces pressed up against the shop windows, and Tony nearly groans. This is not a discussion he wants an audience for.

"Cap," he says over the comm, and there's a pause, then Steve's voice comes over.

"Yeah?"

Tony watches Loki stalk down the street, blasting another car out of his way. "We've got people in the storefronts still."

"On it," Steve says, and Tony sees him and Natasha slip around the corner. He assumes Clint's up on one of the roofs, just waiting. Tony sincerely hopes Thor's with him. He does not want a throwdown between two pissy brothers at the moment.

"Loki," he says, and Loki stills, his back to Tony. "Come on. Don't do this."

There's a long pause. Tony can see Loki's shoulders shifting beneath his embossed leather epaulets.

"Hey," Tony says, and the clank of his footsteps echoes along the empty street. He can still see the faces peering out at them. He clears his throat. "Babe."

Loki's robe swirls as he turns, dust flying up around him. A burst of green light hits Tony smack in the chest, and he staggers backwards, nearly losing his balance.

"Don't," Loki says tightly, "call me that."

Tony glances down at the arc reactor. Still glowing. He relaxes slightly and gives Loki a small smile. "That's all you've got?" He pauses, then says, deliberately, "babe."

Loki's next strike sends Tony flying through the air. He lands with a grunt and a clatter of titanium on asphalt. That's going to hurt later. He pushes himself up slowly.

"I am not your babe." Loki steps in front of him. His mouth is a tight line, and his eyes are cold. "Do I make myself clear, Mr. Stark?" He flexes his fingers, and Tony ducks just before a streak of light flies past his head. It hits a tree behind him, sending a branch falling to the ground in a rustle of drying leaves.

"Come on," Tony shouts, his irritation growing. He strides towards Loki. "Don't fucking Mr. Stark me, you bastard. That's not what you call me when you're balls deep in me."

Loki slams another burst of light against Tony's shoulder. "Perhaps you might have thought of that last night--"

"The whole goddamn point of last night," Tony snarls, almost on Loki, "was not to think--"

"Well, you certainly succeeded admirably in that!" Loki pushes both palms forward and a pulse of magic sends Tony staggering backwards against a parked car. An alarm goes off, echoing loudly in the silent street. As Tony rights himself, he sees an Iron Man assprint in the passenger's door. Great. Fury'll blame him for that, Tony's certain.

There's a whirr of helicopter blades in the air above them, and Tony looks up to see the WNYW and the WABC choppers hovering over the street. Jesus fuck. Tony flips a shining red finger their way, sincerely hoping they're on a live feed. When he looks back at Loki, he's gone.

"Shit," Tony says. "Bruce, give me a reading--"

"Behind you," Bruces says over the comm, and Tony whirls around only to find two Lokis in front of him--no, three--four--five.

Tony sighs. "Fucking Christ, Loki." The five Lokis walk towards him, their robes fluttering in the breeze. "Stop it."

"Stop what?" one Loki says. His mouth twists to one side. "Us?"

The Loki to his right laughs bitterly. "I have every intention of stopping everything with you, Tony." And then four of the Lokis disappear, leaving behind one miserably angry Asgardian god.

"It was just a fuck," Tony says, even though his brain tells him that was incredibly stupid, and the back of Loki's hand against his jaw brings tears to his eyes. Still, he deserves it, he supposes. "Although I'll admit it wasn't my finest hour."

"Loki!" Thor's voice thunders across the street. They both look up; Thor's standing on the roof of one of the buildings, Mjölnir in his hand. He points at his brother. "Enough."

A muscle in Loki's jaw twitches. "Don't tell me what to do, Thor," he says quietly.

"This is not the way to handle this, brother." Thor's voice is gentle. "You know that."

Loki tenses. "He fucked that woman!" He takes a step forward, away from Tony. "In our bed!" His voice catches, and Tony looks at him, eyes wide.

"Our bed?" he repeats dumbly. The last time he'd checked it was just his. Loki'd never given him any reason to think otherwise. His apartment in Nolita, Tony's tower...they'd kept things separate. Always.

Loki won't look at him. "Were I at home, Stark, you'd be chained to the walls of Naastrand, your blood sucked dry by Nidhögg."

Tony isn't sure what Naastrand is--other than a French black metal band and he sincerely doubts that's what Loki's referring to--but he's pretty damn certain it's not pleasant. "Fun times," he says finally.

"Brother," Thor says, and there's something in his voice that gives Tony pause. Thor leaps down from the building, landing with a soft thud on the balls of his feet. He strides towards them, Mjölnir swinging at his side. Loki doesn't move. He doesn't even flinch when Thor places his hand on his shoulder. "I didn't realize that was how you felt."

Loki doesn't answer; he just looks away, and his jaw tightens. "Six months," he says after a long moment. "Six months, two weeks and--

"Five days." Tony finds his voice. He takes off his helmet, ignoring Natasha's furious squawks over the comm system. "Loki."

His not-boyfriend flicks his eyes his way but stays silent.

Tony looks at Thor. "What's Naastrand?"

Thor shifts from one foot to another uncomfortably. He coughs, then rubs the back of his neck, a questioning glance thrown towards his brother. Loki just shrugs one shoulder. "A place in Hel," Thor says finally. "The nasty part. Walls of serpents--"

"A punishment for murderers and adulterers," Loki says stiffly.

"Oh." Tony's helmet clatters against the ground. "So basically it's like spending Friday night avoiding the hipsters in a Williamsburg club."

Loki's eyes flash. "I wouldn't make light of--"

Tony shuts him up with a kiss. It's rough and angry to begin with, the way their first kiss had been, but Tony's hands settle on Loki's hips, and he tugs him closer until Loki's body is flush against Tony's suit.

"You're a bastard," Loki says against Tony's mouth, but he doesn't pull away.

"Yeah," Tony agrees. He lets his lips brush over Loki's again. He doesn't give a fuck if the whole goddamn country's watching on a breaking news feed. "You're the one who blew up Hoboken."

Loki's still tense. "No one was hurt--"

"I noticed." Tony's gloved palm presses into the small of Loki's back, holding him still. "So, if I'm an adulterer, does that mean that you and I..." He trails off, eyebrow raised.

A flush pinkens Loki's cheeks. "Shut up, Tony."

Tony grins. "Right." Something deep inside him shifts at the sight of Loki Laufeyson highly uncomfortable and unsettled, and a warmth spreads through his chest. "So this is...something."

Loki scowls at him. "I do believe I said to shut up?"

"Just checking." Tony makes a split-second decision, and while Pepper usually chides him for those, he thinks she'll be okay with this one. He glances over at Thor. "Can you guys take care of all this?" He gestures towards the chaos around them.

Thor nods, a smile playing across his face. He eyes his brother who refuses to look at him. "I think that is possible, yes." He bends down and picks up Tony's helmet. "You'll need this, I believe."

Somehow Tony manages to get it back on with one hand. He doesn't dare take the other off Loki's back. His not-boyfriend is mercurial to say the least. "Don't disturb us when you get back," he says to Thor, and Loki huffs.

"Don't I get a say in this?"

Tony grins at him. "You, babe, get to tie me up and have your wicked way with me."

"Don't call me that." Loki doesn't look as pleased as Tony'd hoped. Thor, on the other hand, looks decidedly queasy. "And I'm not your sexual prize," he snaps.

"I sincerely hope I'm yours." Tony flips down his visor. "JARVIS, auto settings for Stark Tower, please."

"Locking in immediately, sir."

Loki's hands clench Tony's shoulder as they rise into the air. "You had damned well better have changed your sheets," he murmurs against Tony's armored throat.

"JARVIS," Tony says.

That. That was a sigh. Tony is almost positive of it.

"Will do, sir."

The Hudson River glistens below them, late afternoon sunlight dancing on its waves.

***

They don't come out of Tony's suite for three days.

Steve knocks on the door once, the first day, and calls Tony's name, but Loki's cock is inside Tony, and his legs are wrapped around Loki's waist, and their mouths are pressed against hot, sweaty skin, so Tony doesn't answer. Eventually Steve gives up and goes away. Loki just rolls over onto his back, and Tony rears up, taking him deeper into his ass, his knees spread wide on either side of Loki's hips, and all Tony can think about is the soft keening noise Loki makes with each slow roll of Tony's body and how it drives Tony out of his mind with want.

After that, they're left alone. Food comes up from the kitchen when JARVIS sends for it, and Tony has a well-stocked bar as it is. They drink whisky off each other's skin, sucking at it until each one of them has pink marks that begin to purple lightly as time goes.

They talk, a little, but not much. Neither of them has ever been one for revelatory conversation. What needs to be said they say with touches, with kisses, with bites and with rough thrusts that make each of them groan and plead for more. Mine, they write across each other's body with hands and cocks and mouths, and it doesn't need to be said out loud.

When, exhausted and sore, they finally sleep, it's sprawled naked across their bed, limbs tangled, heads together. Tony fits against Loki's body, his head on Loki's chest, and Loki always lays his hand against Tony's arc reactor. Tony can feel the hum of Loki's magic when he does, and it's oddly comforting.

A text from Clint finally pulls them out of their reverie. Tony frowns down at his phone, only slightly distracted by the kisses Loki's trailing down his spine. There's a link to Perez-fucking-Hilton's blog; Tony makes the mistake of clicking it.

"Motherfucker," he says.

Loki's tongue dips into the cleft of Tony's ass. Tony tries not to shiver too much; it never does well to let Loki know exactly how much Tony wants him. "What?" he asks against Tony's skin.

Tony scowls at the post. It's titled "Iron Douche" with a little broken heart drawing over a screencap of him and Loki kissing in Hoboken. There's a WNYW logo in the corner; Tony's all but certain Clint sent it in. "Nothing," he says, but it's too late. Loki's sliding across his back, leaning over his shoulder.

"Oh, how lovely." Loki's breath is hot against Tony's ear. He reaches a long finger out and flicks the page down to the comments. Tony winces at the vitriol poured out at him; Loki merely purrs--no, seriously, purrs--in delight. "They're right, you know. You are an asshole."

"You certainly like mine." Tony tosses the phone aside and twists beneath Loki.

"Don't be vulgar." Loki wrinkles his nose; Tony can't stop himself from kissing it. Loki retaliates by grabbing his wrists and leaning in to catch Tony's mouth with his.

They've just about made it to the breathless point when the bedroom door slides open and the lights flick on.

"All right," Pepper says, and she stops just inside the door, two garment bags draped over one arm and a StarkTablet tucked beneath the other. Her nostrils flare, and she heads for the windows, jerking back the curtains after she drapes the bags over a chair back. The sunlight nearly blinds Tony. "My God, air the room out, will you, Tony? JARVIS, window ventilation, please. This place reeks."

"Certainly, Ms. Potts." There's a soft whirr and then the windows open slightly, just enough to let in some fresh air--or at least what passes for fresh air in New York. It's chilly, and Tony pulls the sheet higher up. Still, the musky smell of sweat and sex starts to fade.

"Pepper," he says, and he's rather pleased with how calm his voice stays, "what the fuck are you doing?"

Loki just looks between them, amused. He rolls back over onto his pillow, taking half the sheet with him. The bastard. At least it's tented around his prick; Tony indulges in a leer that earns him a small smirk and a twist of Loki's hips that sends a frisson of lust shuddering through Tony.

"Three days, Tony." Pepper turns back around, and she doesn't blink at the sight of the two of them and the rumpled, spunk-stained linens. "Honeymoon's over."

"There's no honeymoon," Tony says, even though his cock's barely covered by the sheet.

Pepper just rolls her eyes and opens her tablet case. "You have a company to run and supervillains to fight," She taps the screen. "I've kept Fury off your ass up until now."

"Come on, Pep," Tony whines. "Just one more day." There are still a few more sexual positions he wants to try with Loki.

"No." Pepper looks at Loki. "Make him see reason."

Loki holds up his hands. He looks blissfully fucked out, his long, dark hair a tangled mess and his green eyes sleepy and content. "I'm sure you're as aware as I am that Tony does precisely what he wants." A smile flits across his face.

"Yeah, well, what the both of you want is to shower and get dressed." Pepper points to the garment bags. "Fresh clothes for you, Loki."

"I don't believe I'm required to work." Loki stretches out, and both Tony and Pepper stare as the sheet slides lower on his hips. "Asgardian royalty, after all."

Pepper blinks and looks back down at her tablet. "Well, your Highness, you've got about an hour before your parents arrive for lunch."

Loki sits up. "What?" He looks panicked.

"Oh, yeah," Pepper says innocently. "Didn't I say? Thor took a trip home and told everyone about this change in your relationship, so now Mommy and Daddy want to meet your new boy toy."

"You cannot be serious," Loki hisses, sliding out of the bed. He glares at Pepper, somehow managing to look utterly regal without a stitch of clothing on. "I will have your hide, woman--"

Yeah, Tony'd really like to see that. God or not, he's putting his money on Pepper.

Pepper's eyes narrow. "Thor," she calls out, and the bedroom door swings open again. Tony catches a glimpse of the entire fucking team out in his living room and seriously...

"What the fuck, Pep?" he splutters.

Natasha waves at him before the door closes behind his, God, brother-in-law, he supposes.

"I thought I might need some reinforcements," Pepper says calmly. She looks at Thor. "Tell them about lunch."

Thor's eyes light up. "Brother--" He ignores Loki's grumble. "Our parents have decided it is time to dine with our friend--" At Loki's vicious scowl--and oh hey, Tony did not realize that possessiveness in a partner turned him on until now--Thor quickly amends, "your friend, Tony Stark."

"How dare you? You had no right, Thor." In two strides, Loki's in his brother's face, his own twisted in anger. Small trails of green light circle around his fingertips.

Thor just grins at him. "Mother's thrilled."

For a moment, Tony thinks Thor's a goner, but then Loki's shoulders slump slightly. Not much, but just enough, if you're actually paying attention: the universal Loki symbol for giving in.

"Bastard," Loki mutters.

Loki doesn't seem to give a damn that he's completely naked--and neither does his brother, apparently--but Tony can't take his eyes off his long, lithe body. When he catches Pepper glancing down at Loki's fucking gorgeous cock, Tony discovers he's got a possessive side as well. Huh. That's new. He slips out of bed, sheet wrapped around him, and pulls Loki against him, draping the sheet over both of them.

"Everyone out," Tony says firmly. He eyes Pepper. "That means you too."

"Party pooper," Pepper murmurs as Thor skulks out of the bedroom. She points to the garment bags. "As I said, a suit for you, Loki. Midgardian, or whatever you call us, and don't even think about complaining. I don't want to hear it."

Tony bites back a laugh as Loki's mouth snaps shut. He leans in and kisses the side of his throat. Loki hums softly, the skin beneath Tony's mouth vibrating.

"Oh, no, none of that." Pepper closes her tablet cover with a snap and reaches over to thunk Tony's forehead with her fuschia polished fingernails. "Down, boy. I've made reservations for Jean Georges, and Happy's waiting down in the garage to drive you both over." She looks at her watch. "Which means, given traffic around the Park....you've got about half an hour to get dressed. And shower." Pepper wrinkles her nose. "For the love of all that's holy, please shower."

"Jesus, Pep, fine." Tony sniffs his armpit. All right. He's a little ripe. He'll grant her that.

Pepper gives him a weary look. "Half an hour, Tony, do I make myself clear? Which means no funny business in the shower unless you want to explain to Odin why you're both late?"

Loki's nostrils flare. "We've neither of us sworn fealty to the All-Father. He can wait."

"Oh for--" Pepper pinches the bridge of her nose. "Okay, fine. It's on you. You want to piss off your parents--

"They're not actually my parents," Loki mutters waspishly.

Pepper goes on as if he hasn't interrupted. "--that's none of my concern. But if you think you're just not going to show, you've got another think coming because Fury will come after both of you for starting a diplomatic incident--" She breaks off, her face brightening. "On second thought, do what you want. I would love to see Fury on your asses."

Tony tches at her. "Out."

"I'm going." Pepper looks back at the door. "Twenty-eight minutes."

"Out."

The door slams shut, cutting off the catcalls from the living room. Tony looks at Loki. A grin spreads across his face. He lets the sheet puddle at their feet. "Want me to blow you in the shower?"

Loki's mouth twitches. "I suppose that might make this upcoming farce of a meal somewhat more bearable."

"Damn straight."

They look at each other for a long moment, and then Tony lunges across the bed, Loki at his heels, as they race for the bathroom.

Loki catches Tony at the door, presses him up against cool tiles. "Is this worth it?" he asks, his bright eyes holding Tony's gaze. "Because if I ever find another person in your bed again..."

"Goodbye, Hoboken?" Tony says lightly.

"Something like that." Loki doesn't smile. "I won't tolerate it, Tony. I've never been one for sharing."

"I've heard." Tony's breath catches as Loki's fingers trail down his stomach, brushing up against his short-and-curlies. He turns his head and kisses Loki's jaw. "Just us in our bed. No one else. I promise."

"Or any other bed."

"Right." Tony nods. "How about no one gets me off but you?"

Loki lets his thumb rub small circles against the base of Tony's cock. "Acceptable." A smile quicks his mouth. "Which means I suppose you've earned this."

As Loki sinks to his knees, his lips sliding across Tony's hipbone, Tony groans and loses himself in the warm wetness of Loki's mouth.

***

All things considered, they're only forty minutes late. Not too shabby, Tony thinks, as he opens the door to Jean Georges, ushering Loki into the cool cream and gold quiet of the restaurant. He takes off his sunglasses and gives his not-boyfriend a long glance-over. Pepper did well; Loki looks gorgeous in a charcoal suit and silver-gray tie.

"Eleanor," Tony says to the tall, blonde woman who meets them.

"You're late." She turns on one very high heel and stalks off between the groupings of damask-draped tables.

They follow, and Loki gives Tony a dark look.

"Oh, don't even," Tony murmurs. "She's SHIELD, and I've never touched her."

"And you never will," Loki says, but he doesn't object when Tony reaches back and takes his hand.

The in-laws are tucked away in a corner, and he can feel Loki's fingers tighten around his when he realizes Thor's with them. Still, Loki doesn't say anything, although the look he shoots his brother might have quelled a lesser man. Or god. Whatever.

Thor ignores Loki's ire as he stands up and pulls his brother into a hug. Loki doesn't let go of Tony's hand. When Thor finally disentangles himself from his brother, he beams at Tony. "Mother, Father, this is Anthony, the son of Stark."

"Call me Tony." Tony looks his not-boyfriend's not-parents over. Odin looks weird, frankly, in Midgardian clothes. Tony thinks the gold eyepatch might just put him over the line from potentially eccentric but nouveau riche owner-of-Ikea into utterly terrifying Scandinavian mobster. He's pretty sure they have mobsters there; he's watched the entirety of Wallander.

"Tony," Frigga says, and she smiles up at him, holding out a hand. Tony takes it and kisses her knuckles. From Loki's small smile, he appears to have done the right thing.

Loki leans in and kisses Frigga's cheek. "Mother." The look she turns on him is affectionate and gentle. Tony notices that Loki doesn't even bother to acknowledge Odin. Then again, Odin doesn't bother to greet Loki, either. Way to go, fucked-up family dynamics. This is going to be a great lunch.

"Sit." Frigga gestures to the tufted cream double-seat across from the other three. Her eyes twinkle at Loki's flustered glance back at her. He sits gingerly, sliding over to make room for Tony. "I hope you don't mind, but Thor was famished, so your lovely Eleanor had them bring us some refreshments."

"Yes," Eleanor says, suddenly there and Christ, Tony'd forgotten all about her. She shoves two menus at them. "Because someone was late. Even though Potts specifically said--"

"Thank you, Eleanor," Loki says smoothly. "That will do."

Eleanor just looks at him, then Tony. "Fury really does not pay me enough," she says under her breath, and then she's gone again with the click of Louboutins on polished wood.

There's an awkward silence at the table. Thor's demolished at least two plates of caviar and is working on another one filled with sashimi. Odin's drinking beer and scowling at both his sons--the younger of whom is still very pointedly ignoring him. Tony sighs and sets his menu aside. The waiter's there in an instant, eyebrow raised.

"I'll have the salmon with leek vinaigrette," Tony says, "and my friend will have the veal scallopine."

Loki frowns at him over the edge of his menu. "I was thinking the sea bass."

"You never like the fish." Tony shakes out his napkin and drapes it across his lap. "You know that. You always think you'll like the fish, and then you hate it, and we end up having to order you something else so you don't magic the chef's balls off. And given that the only non-fish choices are chicken or veal..." Tony shrugs. "You're Asgardian. Veal seems more your thing. Do they even have chickens on Asgard, because really, it doesn't seem to be a very Norse thing to eat--"

"We have chicken," Thor says through a mouthful of raw fish. "Bigger than your measley birds, though. More than a morsel."

"Manners, Thor." Loki hands the waiter his menu. "And I suppose Tony has a point. The veal then." At his mother's raised eyebrow, he snaps, "What?"

Frigga just shakes her head, smiling over the rim of her wineglass. "Nothing, dear one." She looks at Tony. "I understand you are a scientist like my son?"

Distracted, Tony orders a bottle of wine, then glances back at her. For a moment he's confused, and then it clicks. "Ah, right. Magic's your science. So, yeah. I suppose I am."

Odin snorts. "Thor says you make toys."

That earns Thor a glare from both Tony and Loki. Thor looks up from his plate. "I didn't quite say it like that." His tone's reproachful, but Odin doesn't seem to care.

"I'm sure," Tony says. He feels Loki's thigh pressed against his, warm and solid. "I suppose some people might consider them high-tech toys. I'm currently looking at the practical application of quantum computing."

Blank looks all around the table, even from Loki, which irrationally disappoints him. Tony sighs. "I really need to get you a subscription to Wired." He takes a roll from the basket in the middle of the table and smears it with butter. "Computers. The technology that runs JARVIS and my suit. Well. Sort of. JARVIS has kind of taken off on his own a bit. Anyway. That'll get too confusing, so let me simplify. We have these machines that do things that we program them to do, right?"

That gets him a couple of nods. Odin just watches him with that one eye of his which Tony finds a little creepy, even though he feels guilty about that because obviously the guy didn't ask to lose his eye or anything, right, because who would do that? And it's not really that it's the one-eye thing that creeps Tony out; it's more the crazy, patriarchal, I'll-smite-you-if-I-feel-like-it-because-I-am-a-god thing that sets his skin crawling. There's a reason he stopped going to Mass with his mother when he was seven, after all. Tony does God about as well as he does relationships, which makes his current situation completely ironic.

He takes a bite of roll and chews it. "So, yeah. I'm looking at ways to make them viable for cryptoanalysis and, really, none of you probably give a damn about qubits and unitary matrices, do you?"

"Qubits?" Loki asks carefully. He takes the other half of the roll Tony offers him.

"I'll explain in the lab," Tony replies. "Your brother's eyes are starting to glaze over."

Loki's mouth twitches, and Odin eyes the two of them suspiciously.

Frigga puts a hand on her husband's arm. "This is a lovely city of yours."

"Well, it's not mine, per se. But, yeah, I'm rather fond of it." Tony leans back as the waiter returns with a bottle of wine. They go through the ridiculous tasting-and-approval ritual before he pours glasses for Tony, Loki and Thor. Frigga and Odin wave him off. Tony lifts his glass. "To New York."

Even Odin reluctantly clinks his glass to the others. "It is interesting, I must say."

"Practically gushing praise," Loki murmurs beside Tony. At his father's sharp look, he just smiles brittlely over the rim of his wineglass.

"When my son's not trying to destroy it," Odin adds, utterly unnecessarily in Tony's opinion, because hey, it was just Hoboken, for Christ's sake, and really, let's be honest, sure, Loki's a few kittens short of a full litter sometimes, but that's usually when he's been provoked and Tony has to admit this time Loki was definitely provoked. Also, no one died, which is a plus in Tony's book.

"Anything across the river's fair game." Tony turns to Frigga. "Are you planning to stay a day or two? Because the Met's doing a fantastic version of the Ring Cycle and I'm pretty sure the Götterdämmerung's tonight." Loki kicks him under the table and Jesus fuck those boots are pointy. "Ow," he says, and he glares at his not-boyfriend.

"I loathe Wagner" is all Loki has to say. "His mythology's completely off the wall."

"You've just never got over the dragon being killed," Thor says with an affectionate grin.

"Utterly unnecessary, in my opinion." Loki sniffs haughtily into his wineglass.

Odin snorts and calls for another beer. "One would think you'd abandoned that sentimental weakness of yours by now, boy."

Loki's grip on his glass tightens, but he doesn't answer.

"Odin," Frigga says softly, and even Tony hears the quiet warning in her tone. Her husband frowns and glances away, his eye falling on Tony. Tony's pretty certain the All-Father's mouth tenses. He doesn't look away. Tony's never been fond of bullies. Loki excepted, at least, and really, there's some rationale behind Loki's assholishness. Loki doesn't bully as much as he's the bullied kid who lashes out and tries to dominate people so they can't hurt him. And yeah, sure, Tony knows that's letting Loki off the hook for a few shitty things--well, okay, a lot of shitty things--but fuck it, because Loki's his now and Tony's always been fiercely, deeply, irrationally protective of anyone who belongs to him.

By the end of the meal, Tony's head aches and he's developing a twitch in one eye. No wonder Loki's entirely fucked up, he thinks. He'd had a bad enough time growing up as Howard Stark's son. He can't imagine what it must have been like to endure Odin's constant scrutiny and criticism, and then discover the bastard's not even your dad. Tony's had some friends over the years who were adopted, and he knows even in the best of family situations it can still be difficult to come to terms with--and none of them were raised thinking that their birth parents were the proverbial monsters under the bed.

And secretly, Tony suspects some form of Asgaridan racism at play there, which really pisses him off if he's bluntly honest, because why the hell else would you turn an entire race with different colored skin into some sort of horrific enemy to be feared? Frankly, he's already seen that kind of demonization happen himself, here in this world. In this country even. He'd done it himself. Before... His hand drifts up to settle on his arc reactor, and then Loki's looking at him, his brow furrowed.

"Are you all right?" Loki asks quietly.

Tony nods. "Yeah. Sorry. Just thinking."

Loki gives him a long look, but he just nods and turns back to his conversation with his mother about a conservation project to restore one of the older towers in the Asgardian palace. Tony watches him with Frigga, and he realizes this is the closest he's been to an unguarded Loki. His mother softens Loki, somehow, causes him to drop some of that ridiculous, arrogant facade that he uses to keep people at bay, and Tony can see in her smile how much she adores her younger son. Loki is clearly the child of her heart, if not her body.

Thor nudges him. "Mother likes you," he says with a smile.

"I'm oddly good with mothers." Tony sets his fork on his dessert plate. He glances towards Odin who's watching his wife lean towards her adopted son. "Fathers, not so much."

"He'll come around." Thor leans his elbows on the table. His suit jacket tightens across his shoulders, and for a moment Tony's afraid the seams are going to give. "Father's never been fond of Loki's..." Thor hesitates. "Proclivities."

Tony reaches for his wine. "Your brother has had a few odd blips in his sexual history. Svaðilfari, for one."

Thor looks past Tony at his brother, then back at Tony. "He's flexible."

"You would not believe how true that is," Tony says under his breath. He takes a sip of wine, then sets his glass down. "So your father hates me because I don't have tits."

"Father doesn't hate you," Thor protests quietly. "He's just never seen anyone defend Loki the way you do." He falls silent for a moment, then sighs. "None of us have."

Tony shakes his head. "Your family's fucked up, man. And that's coming from Howard and Maria Stark's son, so..."

A rueful smile twists Thor's mouth. "I suppose we have our oddities." He clasps Tony's shoulder and squeezes, making Tony wince in the process. "But you're one of us now, brother."

"Do not call me that," Tony says, suddenly getting Loki's annoyance over that particular issue. Thor just beams. "No, no. Thor, do not look at me like that. I am not your brother--"

"Stealing my lines already, are we?" Loki asks, amusement tingeing his voice, and Tony looks over to find Loki and his in-laws (oh, God) watching him and Thor. Frigga tries vainly to hide her smile, and Odin looks slightly thunderous--but only slightly, which Tony thinks might be a good sign.

Tony can't stop himself. He leans in and kisses Loki--nothing wild, no tongue or anything like that, just a quick press of lips to lips--but when he pulls back, Loki looks stunned. "What?" Tony says, but Loki just shakes his head. Tony doesn't think he's done anything wrong, and Loki doesn't seem pissed off, but he's learned that he never can quite tell.

Frigga's fingers brush across her younger son's arm. "I think," she says with a pleased smile, "that your father and I might take a walk through the park before we call for Heimdall. Thor, you'll join us." She stands, and the others follow suit.

"Mother," Loki starts to say, but she cuts him off with a kiss on his cheek.

"I do like this one," she whispers, loud enough for Tony to overhear, and to Tony's surprise, a faint blush rises on Loki's pale cheek. Loki just nods, and Frigga reaches across him to take Tony's hand. Her fingers are soft and warm. She smiles at him, and for a moment, Tony feels a pang of loss for his own mother, even though it's been years since the plane crash. "I hope to see you again soon, Tony Stark. I'm certain my husband will agree that you're welcome in Asgard at any time."

Odin looks like he wants to disagree, but he doesn't dare. Tony, on the other hand, wants to laugh, but he's pretty certain that'll end with him being stomped on like a bug, so for once in his life he manages to stifle himself.

Thor winks at them both, buttoning one button on his jacket as he follows his parents out.

Tony and Loki sit down in a mutual thump of asses against padded leather. They look at each other, and then Loki says, with a touch of wonder, "overall, that went oddly well," and Tony can't keep his laughter in any more.

Loki shuts him up with another kiss.

Tony doesn't really mind.

***

Happy ignores the fact that they spend almost the entire ride back to Stark Tower with Loki straddling Tony's thighs, leaning in to kiss his way down Tony's throat. Tony's incredibly grateful for tinted windows in the car because, holy crap, are they breaking the seatbelt law--not to mention a few morality codes still on the books in some of the more backward states.

When they pull into the garage, Loki's just started to slip his fingers into the gaps between the buttons on Tony's shirt, and Tony does not want him to stop, Jesus Christ, but a discreet cough from the front seat makes him reluctantly pull his mouth away from Loki's.

"Got some company, sir," Happy says, and Tony rolls down the window with a sigh. Natasha's leaning against the side of the car, red lips quirked in a faint smirk.

"Out of the car, lovebirds. Fury wants to see you both."

Tony groans. His erection wilts. "Seriously?"

"Seriously," Natasha says. "Time to pay the piper."

Loki slides off Tony's lap, straightening his loosened tie. "Well, then. Best get it over with." They exchange annoyed looks as they climb out of the car.

Natasha leads them into the tower elevator, punching the code for the SHIELD administrative floor. Tony's starting to regret giving Fury an office in his building. He glances over at Loki. His not-boyfriend is calm and composed, a far cry from what Tony's feeling at the moment, which to be honest is mainly cockblocked.

When the elevator doors slide open again, Natasha holds them open. "Have fun."

"You're leaving us here?" Tony glares at her. "Alone and defenseless?"

Natasha shrugs and moves her hand. "You're the ones who destroyed Hoboken, then disappeared for three days into your room to have wild monkey sex. Not me." The elevator doors close on her.

"Technically he destroyed Hoboken," Tony says to the almost empty hall. A passing SHIELD agent gives him an odd look. "Not me."

Loki rolls his eyes. "The sex however..."

"Was definitely wild and monkey," Tony says. Their footsteps echo in the silence. "You know that thing you did with the magic and the..." Tony twists his hands counterclockwise to each other.

Loki smirks. "Mm."

"We should do that again." Tony pushes open the door to Fury's office. "Repeatedly. And wildly. Monkey-like, even."

"Perhaps," Loki says, and really, sometimes Tony just wants to throttle him except then he'd miss out on seriously fantastic sex--maybe not the best sex of his life, but they've only been dating six months, three weeks and one day and he's an optimistic man. The frequency of it and the imagination Loki puts into sex are both amazing.

Fury's at the window, looking out across the Park, his hands behind his back, and Tony's about ninety percent sure that he scrambled up from his desk, threw on his overcoat and posed himself when he heard them in the hall. Still, the scowl he turns on them is impressive, and Tony can't help but wonder who would win a frown-off, Fury or Odin. He honestly doesn't know who he'd put his money on. Might go either way, depending on the day. Eyepatch versus eyepatch.

"Gentlemen," Fury says, although his tone implies they're anything but. "Sit."

Neither of them argue. You learn to pick your battles with Fury. Fighting over a chair is just stupid.

They sit.

"So." Fury crosses the office to his desk and sits down in a rustle of leather. "Hoboken."

"No one died." Loki examines his fingernails. "I made quite certain of that."

"Which I suppose you expect me to thank your motherfucking ass for?" Fury snorts and gives him an incredulous look. "Stark, you hear this shit?"

Tony winces. "I do." At Loki's glare, he shrugs. What the hell else was he supposed to say?

"He drove me to it," Loki says sulkily, and oh, yeah, Tony's going to pay for that later, he can tell.

"Do I look like I give a fuck about your marital problems?" Fury picks up a remote control. "Shut up, Stark," he says before Tony can open his mouth. "Might as well be fucking married for all the stupid ass shit you two do to each other." He punches a button and a panel slides back on the wall behind him. There's a black screen there that with another punch of the button starts to play news footage of Hoboken that's been cued up on the server. Tony winces as he sees a furious Loki striding down the street, taking a chunk out of an old building as people scream and run into shops.

Loki just looks amused.

"Wipe that smug smile off your fucking face," Fury says to him. "This is the only reason I haven't thrown your ass back into confinement." He punches another button. The footage shifts to an interview with a man in a too-tight black t-shirt with a slogan that's been blurred out. Tony'd lay fifty bucks down that it's got something to do with boobs.

"Enh," the man says, in a thick Jersey accent. "You know, I don't blame the dude for doing some damage, right? I mean, his guy's messed around on him, and something like that happens, you got some anger, yeah? I mean, my girl does something like that, and I'm down at Mulligan's, punching the dude in the face, so, yeah. I get it. You got to work some stuff out sometimes. And it's not like City Hall don't deserve a good pounding every now and then, you know?"

Another button punched. This time a blonde girl's on screen, a microphone in her face. "It's just so heartbreakingly sad," she says. "You know? Who hasn't wanted to do something like that when you get cheated on?" She looks into the camera earnestly. "I feel your pain, Loki. You can get through this--"

Fury clicks the screen off. Loki's sitting forward in his chair, eyebrows raised. "I could go on," Fury says, "but it just starts to fucking annoy me after a while." He looks at Tony. "Your little stunt with that girl--"

"Maggie," Tony says absently, and Loki hisses at his side.

"What the fuck ever," Fury says. "Maggie. Fine. Well, ever since Perez Hilton broke that little detail--and yes, I will be ripping the fuck out of Barton's asshole for that bit of goddamn idiocy--ever since then, the whole fucking country's lost its collective mind and decided that you're an asshole, Stark--which I can't disagree with--and that Loki here is some poor, little misunderstood bastard--and evidently even the President's daughters are spouting this shit now, based on a phone call I had last night."

Tony's mildly impressed. "The President called? About us?"

"That's motherfucking classified, you asshole." Fury reaches into a drawer and pulls out a file, slamming it on his desk. "So I am now authorized--no, I am ordered--to fix this goddamn shit so that one supervillain-turned-consultant is effectively neutralized."

Loki's eyebrow quirks. "That doesn't sound pleasant," he says lightly.

Fury glares at him. "It's not." He licks his fingertip and flips open the file, rifling through the paperwork. "Here." He shoves a form across the desk towards Loki and gestures to a pen. "Sign that."

"And what would I be signing?" Loki picks the paper up, frowning down at it.

There's a long pause, then Fury sighs. "An agreement to come on board as a full member of the Avengers Initiative."

"What?" Tony says at the same moment Loki pushes the paper back across the desk with a forceful no.

"This is not a choice," Fury snaps at Loki. "Either you sign that goddamn paper or I make arrangements with your father to drop you off in a very cold, very distant limb of Yggdrasil that doesn't particularly care much for you since you, oh, I don't know, committed patricide and tried your hand at genocide. Do I make myself clear?"

"Perfectly," Loki says, his voice tight. "But need I remind you, Director Fury, that I am neither your prisoner nor your puppet--"

"Don't make your mother cry, Loki," Fury says quietly. His eye locks on Loki, the scars scoring his dark skin puckering as he scowls. "She's still here in New York. How do you think it'll make her feel when Odin tosses your lying ass into the middle of Jötunheim?"

The room's silent. Tony can feel Loki's magic tense and roil next to him. It stirs a few papers on Fury's desk; Fury doesn't look away.

"You won't hurt him either." Fury nods towards Tony. "So you can stop fantasizing about tearing my damn office up."

Tony leans forward, his temper finally giving way. "Listen, you fucking crazy bastard, Loki can do whatever the fuck he wants." He doesn't look over when Loki's head snaps towards him. "If he comes on board, he comes on board because he wants to, not because you forced his hand like you're his asshole father or something. He is not some kind of fucking pawn for you to use--"

"Stand down, Stark," Fury says. He looks calmly up at Tony.

It's only then Tony realizes he's risen out of his chair and is leaning over Fury's desk, his fists planted firmly on Loki's file.

"Tony." Loki's hand is on his arm, pulling him back into his seat. Tony sits with a soft thud, and his brain starts screaming shit, shit, shit, shit at him because holy Christ on a corndog stick, he's just shouted Fury down which means he's probably going to die now....

Loki reaches for the agreement paper and studies it silently for a moment before picking up the pen from Fury's desk and scrawling an almost unintelligible signature across the bottom. Tony looks at him in shock. Loki meets Fury's gaze. "My name Laufeyson," he says. "Not Odinson. Fix that."

Fury nods. "Done."

"And you should be aware," Loki continues, and there's a dangerous shift in his tone, "that I signed that only because of Tony. If he comes to harm through your idiocy, I will rip every bone from your body and use them to level every single building in this city. Am I understood?"

"Entirely," Fury says. He slides the paper into Loki's file. "Keep Iron Man alive. Got it." Tony has a distinct feeling that's going to be communicated to the rest of the group. Great. More mocking. Just what he needs.

"And I refuse to be your publicity whore." Loki's mouth curls in a sneer. "No appearances." He hesitates, a frown puckering his eyebrows. "Perhaps occasionally with children."

Both Tony and Fury eye him suspiciously. Loki sighs and gives them a perturbed glare. "Is it so mad to consider I might actually enjoy their antics? I am the god of mischief and lies, thank you very much, and if any creature on this planet excels at both, it would be your younger spawn."

"You are incredibly weird sometimes, you know that?" Tony says.

Loki just shrugs. "Pot, kettle?"

"That's it; stop talking to Clint. No more Midgardian language lessons for you."

Loki smirks and pushes himself out of his chair. "If we're done here?"

"Get out." Fury slides Loki's file back into his desk and locks the drawer. "HR'll send up the rest of your paperwork. Benefits, that kind of shit. Fuck if I know what we'll do about your goddamn I-9--"

"We get benefits?" Tony asks as he stands up. This is the first he's heard of it.

Fury gives him That Look. "Do you ever check your SHIELD email? HR sends out quarterly updates on our fucking pension fund, not to mention the HMO--"

"I have a pension?" Tony's voice rises. Loki looks confused.

"You have a fund which pays out for every time you goddamn take a chunk out of a historic building, you asshole, and it's getting pretty fucking low," Fury says. "Which reminds me, Stark. I'm sending your company a bill for the Hoboken damages. Christ knows you can afford to shell out a bit of cash for Pissy Boy's meltdown."

Loki sniffs. "I did no such thing." They both look at him. Loki frowns and points at Tony. "He committed adultery!"

For a moment Tony thinks Fury just might cry. He closes his eye and shakes his head. "Why me? Why?" he mumbles, and then he looks up at both of them. "Do not make me send you fuckers to couples therapy because I will, I swear to God on my Nana's grave."

"You have a Nana?" Tony asks, surprised, and at Fury's disgusted look, he throws up his hands. "Right, okay. Any other issues we have, we'll work out without causing mass destruction and mayhem." He turns to Loki. "Yeah?"

Loki raises one shoulder with a perfectly bored attitude. He crosses his arms across his chest and pointedly stares at the almost bare gray wall behind Tony's head. "Certainly. If you keep your cock appropriately in your trousers."

Tony runs his hands over his face. "I said I would."

"Fine, then." Loki glances at Fury. "Can we leave?"

"Do you see me stopping you?" Fury snaps. "I'll have IT set you up an email account and server access." His eye narrows. "Limited server access."

Loki waves a hand dismissively. "Whatever." He strides towards the door, and wow, his ass looks amazing in that suit, Tony thinks, and he makes a mental note to thank Pepper profusely for that. Flowers, maybe, or a case of that Australian shiraz she loves.

With a half-apologetic glance at Fury--Tony knows which side his bread's buttered on, after all--he follows Loki out into the hallway. They're in the elevator, doors closing behind them, before either of them speak.

"So," Tony says, his hands in his pants pockets. He rocks forward on the balls of his feet as the elevator begins its ascent to his penthouse suite. "You'll have to move into the tower now."

Loki stares straight ahead. His reflection in the elevator doors is grim. "I suppose."

Tony's silent for a moment, then he sighs. "You didn't have to do that, you know."

"I know." Loki's shoulders sag slightly. "You know why I did."

"Yeah." Tony turns towards him. "But I wouldn't have let him send you to Jötunheim."

Loki looks at him then, and there's a hint of surprise in his eyes. "I know that, Tony. That's not why I agreed." His fingers brush Tony's jaw; his thumb smooths across Tony's beard. "I agreed because no one, not even Thor, would have said what you did to Fury about me."

"I don't know," Tony says. "Thor says a lot of things you don't want to hear sometimes."

"Perhaps." Loki tilts his head in acquiescence. His eyes are bright and dark. "But you have no..." He pauses, his face grimacing slightly. "Familial ties."

"We really have to work on your adoption issues, babe." Tony presses a kiss against Loki's palm. His hand settles on Loki's hip, beneath his suit jacket, pulling him closer. He thinks he likes the five inches his not-boyfriend has on him. "Because it's obvious your mom fucking adores you, and, really, face it, Thor's never going to stop seeing you as his brother. Give in there, big boy. And sure, your father's a complete jackass, but, hey, it sounds like your birth father was probably even worse, so..."

Loki snorts. "Are you trying to tame me, Tony Stark?"

Tony gives him a long look. "Never." He lets his thumb trail across Loki's belt. The leather's smooth and soft beneath his skin. "So, yeah, about your living here." He studies the folds of Loki's tie. "I mean, all the other floors are taken up now, and there's really no place unless you want to stay in Thor's suite, so maybe you and me--"

Loki's fingers lift his chin up. Tony looks into his face. It's cool, guarded. "You're asking me to..." Loki trails off, suddenly at a loss for words. He clears his throat. "Share your living space."

"Well, yeah." Tony thinks it's pretty obvious. "It's not like you're not around it most of the time anyway. Officially shacking up's the next obvious relationship step." He refuses to think about the fact that he hadn't even done this with Pepper. (Oh God, oh God, oh God. Literally.) Instead he discreetly wipes his sweaty palms against his pants and swallows past the lump in his throat. "Keep your place in Nolita, though." He leers at Loki. "It'll give us a secret lair for some afternoon delight, if you know what I mean."

Loki laughs. "It's a concept that translates cross-culturally, yes." He lets his mouth brush lightly against Tony's. "All right," he murmurs, and the elevator dings, the doors sliding open onto the penthouse living room.

A cheer pulls them apart.

The rest of the team's still there, sprawled across Tony's leather sofas, and Jesus Christ, Bruce's feet are on the coffee table again and Clint is most definitely not using a coaster, goddamn it. Pepper stands up from her perch on Coulson's--Phil's--lap. Her heels are off, and she's got a bottle of champagne in one hand that Tony knows comes from his super-secret stash down in the basement. She pops it as they walk into the room; champagne sprays over Thor's shoulder, soaking his jacket. Clint tries to dry it with the hem of his t-shirt, exposing a wide swath of his flat stomach that Natasha seems to enjoy.

"Congratulations," Pepper says, and Tony and Loki exchange a look.

"Pep," Tony says carefully because he suspects they've all been drinking already, and while he supports drunken antics entirely, it's a bit early in the day for them to have all lost their fucking minds. "What's going on?"

Steve steps out from behind the bar. Tony's relieved to see that he's drinking from a can of Coke Zero. "Fury called up. Said that Loki'd signed on officially."

Thor's already up from his chair. Loki's face as his brother embraces him is priceless. "I'm so pleased, brother," Thor booms. "To fight together again, with you at my side--" Tony's almost certain that's a sob there at the end. A manly one, of course.

Slowly, Loki's arms come up around his brother. "Yes," he says, his voice muffled into Thor's shoulder as Thor pulls him closer. "Of course. Thor, breathing is a tad difficult--" He sucks in a noisy breath as Thor lets him go.

Tony glances at the TV and snorts as the camera focuses on--yeah, that's definitely a Kardashian. "Who let Clint pick?"

Everyone points at Bruce.

He looks up, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "It's actually rather fascinating. In a car-wreck kind of way."

Pepper hands both Tony and Loki a flute of champagne. "To the Avengers," she says, and she takes the flute Phil passes over to her, clinking it against Tony's.

"Hear, hear," he says as the rest of the team each takes a flute, raising it up.

"And to Loki," Thor adds, beaming at his brother. A faint flush stains Loki's cheeks and his mouth tightens just enough for Tony to notice, but he nods stiffly.

"Hear, hear," Tony whispers into Loki's ear, and that brings a small quirk of his lips.

Loki steps away from the others as soon as he can, walking over to the wall of glass that looks out over New York City, his half-drunk champagne still in his hand. Tony hands his flute to Pepper who nods at him and gives him a smile.

"Gorgeous, isn't it?" Tony says, stopping next to Loki. "Hey, remember when you threw me out of this window? Fun times."

Loki's mouth twitches. "As I recall you deserved it."

"And after I hospitably offered you a drink." Tony shakes his head. He lets his palm settle in the small of Loki's back. "You all right?"

They look out over the city. "Mostly," Loki says after a moment. He sighs. "This is not part of my nature, Tony."

"This?"

Loki looks over at him. "Being on the side of the angels," he says with a slight sneer.

"Ah." Tony studies him. He likes the way Loki's skin almost glows in the afternoon sun. "You don't have to be perfect, you know. I mean, the guy who threw me out the window? Kind of hot, right?" He pauses. "I mean, not that I'm advocating for another trip down a hundred stories or anything."

Loki raises an eyebrow. "And yet you're standing here with the god who did that."

"Like I said, kind of hot." Tony steps closer, keeping his eyes on Loki's face. "And he won't do that again. He regrets it, I think." His hand slides over to Loki's hip, turning Loki to face him. "Just like he regrets leaving a scar on Coulson and fucking around with Clint's mind."

"The scar, yes," Loki admits. "The mind-fucking--not entirely."

Tony grins. "Well, it was Clint."

"I heard that, you bastard," Clint shouts from across the room. He sounds more amused than pissed off.

"Private conversation," Tony calls back, not looking over his shoulder. "So, yeah. I trust you."

"A dangerous thing to do." Loki's knuckles graze lightly across Tony's face. "I could fling you into empty air with one flick of my hand."

Tony's heart thuds softly. He doesn't look away. "But you won't."

A moment of tension stretches between them, then Loki sighs. "No. I won't."

Tony kisses him then, rough and hard, pulling Loki against him, his arm wrapped around Loki's shoulders, his fingers tangling in Loki's hair. He loves the way Loki feels, the way Loki tastes, the way Loki kisses him desperately, his grip tight enough on Tony's hips to leave bruises.

He loves everything about Loki, and somewhere, deep down inside his brilliant, amazing-if-he-does-say-so-himself brain, he realizes that means something. He pushes the thought away for later. Much later.

There's a whoop from Pepper behind them as Loki pulls back, breathing hard, and another round of clapping, Jesus Christ. His friends are definitely classy for drunk assholes, Tony thinks as he hears Clint tell them to get a room, which, hello, in his suite, thanks ever so much. Natasha shuts Clint up somehow--there's a yelp involved--and Tony smirks up at Loki.

"Welcome to the Avengers, Loki Laufeyson," he says. "Better buckle up; you're in for the ride of your life."

Loki just sighs. "If you don't mind," he says, "I plan to do my share of the driving."

Surprisingly--or not, he supposes, all things considered--Tony hasn't a single objection. Huh. Tony eyes Loki, tall and dark and lanky and beautiful against the New York skyline, and considers. Maybe he does do relationships after all.

Well.

At least once in an Asgardian lifetime.