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batsutousaiTitle: Like So Much Shattered Glass
Chapter: 5 of 7
Fandom: Marvel (movie 'verse)
Author: Batsutousai
Beta: Shara Lunison
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: Tony Stark/Loki Odinson(Laufeyson), canon
Warnings: Spoilers for The Avengers (2012) and prequel films, angst of the self-hate variety,
Summary: Loki thought to break the Avengers, one man at a time, before killing them. His plans had never involved being broken in return.
-5-
About forty percent of Banner's body had suffered from second degree burns, and another five percent had first degree burns. The Hulk's general invulnerability had protected him from anything worse, but it still looked terrible, and pain flashed in his eyes every time he shifted, pain killers or no.
Loki wanted to help him, wished he knew a spell that healed burns, but he'd only ever learned the barest minimum of healing magic, to be used when their natural healing couldn't manage on its own. And, still, he was torn with this need to help, to soothe the suffering of one of the humans he'd sworn revenge on.
"When can we take him home?" Rogers asked Banner's doctor as the rest of the team was getting patched up, a splash of too-clean white wrapped around the healing burn on his shoulder. Thor remained out with the SHIELD personnel who were cleaning up the dragons, Coulson was off doing something likely involving paperwork, and Loki stood against the wall next to Banner's bed, aiming to be ignored.
"At least one week, probably two," the doctor said. "He needs close attention and care–"
"We can provide that," Rogers insisted.
"No disrespect, Captain, but you're too often in the field to be able to keep a close enough eye on him."
Rogers looked like the doctor had punched him.
"Jane doesn't go out in the field, and neither does Pep, when she's in the city," Stark cut in, shit-eating grin in full force and not flinching while the nurse attending him sewed together a gash in his leg. "And there's always Loki."
"I doubt Banner would count as sufficient guard for anyone," Loki quietly pointed out. "Or have you forgotten, Stark, that I am not to be trusted?"
Stark pointed a finger at him. "I trust you not to kick a man when he's down. Also, just now? Helping us take those fuckers down, saving my life? You're not making a good case for 'don't trust me', Puff."
"That name will shortly become overused," Romanoff warned. Then, to Loki, "And I'm with Stark on this; I don't think you'd hurt Bruce, not like this." Her eyes narrowed, seeing too much of Loki for the god's comfort. "You don't look to me like someone who's enjoying watching him in pain."
Loki bared his teeth in an angry smile. "No?" he murmured, voice pitched deep and threatening. "I am the God of Lies, little spider; you see in me only what I wish you to see."
Romanoff smiled in reply, too knowing, and Loki felt the sudden urge to wring her neck. It was gratifying, proof that he hadn't yet become so enamoured of these mortals that he was unable to kill them, and he held onto that urge as he smiled back. Her eyes narrowed, catching the change, and she backed off, looking to Rogers and the doctor.
Rogers' expression had twisted with hope and distrust, eyes flickering over his team and Loki before turning back to the doctor. "Please."
The doctor shook his head. "I cannot release him to you, Captain Rogers. I'm sorry."
"You want to keep the Hulk in as chaotic a place as the base infirmary?" Barton suddenly commented.
The doctor looked towards Banner, peacefully drugged, and swallowed hard. "As long as he's kept sufficiently sedated–"
"No," Stark interrupted, jumping off the bed and kicking his leg so his trousers would cover the line of stitches. "No, I'm sorry, but you're not treating my best fucking friend like some sort of fucking animal. I will order a fucking all-day nurse if I have to, but he's coming home with us." The doctor opened his mouth to argue and Stark raised his voice to say, "I'll have Loki teleport him out if I have to! Can't stop the insane one!"
The doctor looked to Rogers, as if hoping the leader could talk some sense into his teammate, but there was a hard glint in Rogers' eyes. "We'll take him home," he said, tone final.
"I..." The doctor looked over the group – the hard frown from Rogers, the incensed glare from Stark, the cold stares from the two assassins, the easy smile from Loki – and turned away. "I need to talk to the Director."
"I'll–"
"Tony," Rogers warned and Stark's mouth fell shut.
The call to Fury didn't take long. The doctor spoke through the phone, clearly stressed, for only a brief time before he waved Rogers forward. Rogers was silent for the most of it, expression tight, then his eyes slid to Loki and the god smiled at him, warning and ice, and Rogers said, "I trust him, sir," steady in spite of the flare of distrust remaining in his light eyes.
With Rogers' certainty, Banner was released to return to Avengers Tower. The doctor called ahead to tell Pepper and Jane how to set things in the man's room to ensure his comfort while he healed, then Loki teleported them both back to the tower and settled Banner into his bed while the humans and Thor took the quinjet back.
Once Banner had been seen to and the others had returned to hover over him, Loki retired to his floor, disinclined towards human company. He instead found the paper and writing utensils he'd ordered his first night and worked on tracing the spells Doom had placed in his robot, putting them against the variations Loki, himself, practised. He then set about translating other spells he knew into this magical language, intrigued by the similarities as much by the differences.
He didn't hear JARVIS call his name and so was surprised when Thor's arms came around his middle and pulled him to his feet. He blinked quickly, pulling his thoughts out of the magic he'd immersed himself in, then glanced over his shoulder at Thor's fond smile. "Yes?"
"It is time for dinner," Thor said, letting Loki go and glancing over the mess of papers covered in runes and diagrams. "You're creating spells?"
"Translating spells into the Midgardian language," Loki corrected, leading the way to the lift.
"Midgard has many languages, Brother," Thor pointed out.
"Spoken, yes, but there is only one magical language, no matter the variety of its ancestors. There's Asgardian magic, certainly, but also a wilder taste – like nature and freedom – and it is beautiful." Loki smiled in memory. There had been rolling hills and dark forests, but also open skies and choppy seas. Such a varied magical history, one that Loki had never before encountered, and he cursed himself for not having studied it sooner, certain that any magic the mortals might have would be too far beneath his notice.
"That smile should be illegal," Stark informed them as Loki and Thor entered the dining room. "You cannot smile like that. Nope, not allowed. Frown a bit. Maybe a smirk?"
"Man of Iron, of what are you speaking?" Thor demanded.
Stark pointed at Loki. "He's smiling."
Everyone looked at Loki and there was a shudder of disconcertion around the table as they realised that, yes, Loki was truly smiling. Not one of his 'I have nefarious plans in the works' smiles, or the 'I'm imagining the best way to kill you' smile, or even the 'that prank went off better than I could have hoped' smile, but an honest-to-God happy smile.
"I'm officially creeped out," Barton announced.
Loki laughed, honest and free, before his smile morphed into something a bit more familiar and less disturbing to the humans. "You are strange creatures," he informed them all.
"We get stranger every day," Stark returned, grinning. "You got a look at the bot, right? You know what's making it tick?"
"I do."
Stark's eyes flickered to the disapproval creasing Rogers and Pepper's brows. "Tomorrow. We'll do magical things with robots tomorrow. Also, anti-magic fields. Which– Thor!"
"Tony?"
"I'm borrowing you tonight. Loki's pretty sure the anti-magic field won't affect you negatively – you may not even notice it's there – but I'd like to run a test on you. So you know what it feels like, if nothing else." He pointed at Loki. "Go somewhere else. Not your floor, further down. Go to the gym. Throw Bird Brain against a wall or something."
"Appealing," Loki assured him, smiling at Barton.
"No, not a rag doll," Barton said. "I've got two cracked ribs, beat someone else up. Cap. Cap can take it. You two can totally have it out. Loser buys everyone ice cream."
"Loki has no money, and Steve gives his away to the homeless every time he gets a check," Romanoff pointed out. "If you want ice cream, we can have JARVIS order some."
Barton considered that for a moment, then nodded. "JARVIS, I require rocky road."
"Strawberry!" Thor boomed, eyes lighting up.
Everyone around the table named some flavour or another while Loki blinked in confusion. He was unfamiliar with 'ice cream' – it, like most foods of Midgard, were hardly of concern to him – and so he sat back and listened. Some of them he recognised – Thor had brought him strawberries on Asgard some months ago, and he recognised 'chocolate' from the drink Stark had given him the day before – but others made no sense – rocky road?
"I'll have coffee, of course," Stark said, the last of them to state his order. "And...Loki, you like strawberries?"
"I– what?" Loki shook his head. "I do not share Thor's fondness for them, but I don't dislike them."
"Yeah? Okay. JARVIS, a Neapolitan for Loki."
"Very good, Sir. Your orders should be here by the time your meal is finished," JARVIS announced.
"What is a 'Neapolitan'?" Loki demanded as he prodded the noodle dish Coulson had made.
"It's delicious. Unless you're Pepper," Stark replied, smiling infuriatingly.
Pepper sighed. "It's three different flavours – strawberry, vanilla, and chocolate – that remain separated, so you can pick which flavours you actually want to eat."
Loki nodded his thanks. "Interesting. And ice cream is?" he requested, figuring he might as well ask.
"Delicious," Stark said.
Loki took a moment to fight the urge to vanish Stark's chair, then decided he didn't want to fight it.
"Ow!" Stark shouted as his behind met the floor. Loki smiled pleasantly at him and waved his chair back into existence just above where his head laid on the floor.
"Loki!" Rogers snapped, displeased, while Romanoff and Barton ducked their heads to hide their amusement. Thor just snorted, familiar with Loki's version of punishment and silently relieved that he wasn't being as rough as he had been on the Warriors Three or Thor himself in the past.
"Do we have to make a rule about destabilising or vanishing chairs and stools?" Coulson asked.
"You may," Loki purred as Stark got up and pulled his chair back to the table, "but I won't promise to follow it."
"You know, if you really wanted me on my back that much–"
"Tony!" Rogers complained, turning an embarrassed glare on the other human. Stark shot him a shit-eating grin while the two assassins dropped all pretences and snickered. Coulson, Pepper, and Jane looked amused while Thor was just resigned.
"I would rather you begging for me," Loki informed Stark silkily, and Rogers choked.
"You'll have to try far harder than you have been for that, gorgeous," Stark returned, eyes hooded and lips curled with a taunting smirk.
"Brother," Thor pleaded when Loki went to reply. "Please."
Loki's eyes flickered towards his not-brother's helpless expression, over Rogers' full-face flush and the varied states of amusement from the other humans, then met Stark's dark gaze again and relaxed with a lazy smirk. "Ice cream is?" he requested.
Rogers answered before Stark could, obviously hoping to put an end to the flirting, "It's a sweet, flavoured, frozen dairy product."
Loki blinked. "Frozen?" he asked, looking to Thor.
"You will enjoy it," his not-brother promised, smile fond.
Thor was completely correct, for once. Loki dipped a spoon into his pint cautiously – he went for the strawberry first, since he was most familiar with the flavour – collecting only the slightest bit before dropping it into his mouth. It was, quite possibly, the best thing he'd ever tasted, so cold and smooth–
It was like coming home.
Loki ate his entire pint in the amount of time it took everyone else to eat about half of theirs, then settled in to stare hopefully at Thor until, laughing, the elder god handed over what was left of his pint. "I told you," he said as Loki finished the strawberry.
Loki waved his spoon threateningly at his not-brother. "Silence." He finished Thor's ice cream and pouted for a moment before turning to the humans, ignoring their amusement at his expense.
"This is awesome," Stark decided. "You are an ice cream fiend. I am so excited about this, you don't even know. Thor was not this crazy about ice cream. JARVIS, this is being recorded, rig– Hey!"
Loki flashed the human a smirk before scooping his spoon into the stolen pint of coffee ice cream. He didn't much care for the flavour – he'd partaken of the drink during his failed invasion – but the cold bite made it tolerable.
"Is your weakness ice cream?" Barton wondered. He spat in his pint as soon as Loki's eyes lit on it, then winced when Romanoff stomped on his foot.
"Not as such," Loki informed him, considering other options for ice cream to steal; he wasn't completely against eating Barton's, spit or no, but he also wasn't interested in dodging another exploding arrow.
Jane laughed when Loki's eyes landed on her and she handed over the last couple bites of her butter pecan without complaint. Loki gifted her with a smile for it and she smiled back, saying, "You can stock your freezer with ice cream."
"He might need a bigger freezer," Stark muttered, picking up his empty container of coffee ice cream from the small pile next to Loki. "JARVIS, make a note: Next time we all order ice cream, Loki gets a half-gallon instead of a pint."
"Noted, Sir."
Stark sighed and tossed the container towards the bin, a smile touching his lips when it went in smoothly. "Right. Loki, stay below... oh, I dunno, Steve's floor should be okay, I guess, but let's say Phil and Clint's, to be safe. JARVIS will let you know when I'm done." Loki inclined his head, waving for the empty ice cream containers to hop into the bin on their own. "...okay," Stark muttered, watching the procession for a moment before shaking his head and looking at the blond god. "Thor, you're with me; maybe see about getting the hammer?"
"I will do so," Thor agreed, turning towards the lift.
Loki fell in at Thor's side, leaving the humans behind to decide what they would do for the rest of the evening. "I would remind you, Brother, that you still retain my clothing," he commented easily, not feeling nearly as angry as he perhaps should have; if ice cream was at all a weakness, it was only because it made him more pleasant.
"Ah. Yes."
Loki followed Thor to his floor and waited in the main area as Thor went to his room for Mjölnir and Loki's things, eyeing the comfortable lay of plush couches spread out in front of another large television. Tasteful pictures of Midgard's night sky interrupted the otherwise bland cream colour of the walls – Loki suspected Jane's touch – and, near the hallway to the bedrooms and bathroom hung a calendar. Loki stepped closer to look at it, intrigued by the microscopic organism shown in the picture above the dates. By chance, Loki looked over the line of dates and noticed his name. Actually, his name was on it multiple times, including tomorrow, which said, 'Six-Day -- Loki returns to Asgard'.
Loki fell still, mind racing. It was truly six days tomorrow, wasn't it? He had forgotten, and for all that he'd spent so much time wishing to leave the humans so he could remember, again, why he would see them dead, he wasn't pleased at the thought that he would be leaving them for at least a day. He did not relish returning to Asgard, where he was the monster not-child of the Allfather and Lady Frigga, long scorned for his preference of mind over muscle.
Loki didn't want to go home.
"Brother?" Thor interrupted, concern heavy in his voice. When Loki look up at him, the concern doubled and he stepped forward, dropping Mjölnir so he could pull Loki into an embrace. "What troubles you?"
Loki remained stiff for a beat before melting against Thor, the warmth of his hold as soothing as it had always been. He didn't speak – this was a weakness he could not allow, not when leaving this rock should please him so – but he didn't have to.
"You return home tomorrow," Thor realised.
"Your home," Loki snarled, combating his own sick fear with fury. "Not mi–"
"It is home to us both, unless you should prefer to lay claim to Jötunheim?" Thor replied, unyielding, and Loki's anger drained from him. "It is but one day, Brother, and I see your itch for your magic books and papers, the better to study this new magic you have spent the day entrenched in. Perhaps..." he fell silent, uncertain.
Loki pulled away, drained from the constant up and down his emotions had been indulging in this past week. "Perhaps?" he pressed as he waved his hand at the clothing Thor held in one hand, sending it to the magical storage space he kept his over-armour in. Others held some of his favoured weapons, including a couple magical staffs and lines of daggers, as well as the Casket of Ancient Winters, which Odin had not bothered to ask for the return of, perhaps believing Loki didn't have it.
"Perhaps you might find a way to speed Bruce Banner's healing," Thor suggested, uncertainty in his voice.
"Perhaps," Loki replied without inflection.
The lift doors fell open and Barton stepped out. He paused on seeing the two gods, uncertain, then said, "I was hoping to use your TV, Thor. If it's not a problem? The ladies are watching a fashion show." He wrinkled his nose in distaste.
"It is, as always, free for the use of all," Thor replied, grinning and reaching down for Mjölnir. "I must report to the Man of Iron. All-Knowing JARVIS, where does he await me?"
"Sir is waiting for you in the main lab," JARVIS replied. When Loki went to join Thor in taking the lift, intending to follow it up, then down to the gym, JARVIS informed him, "I am to disallow you access to the upper floors until Sir says otherwise. I apologise."
"We may travel down, first," Thor offered.
Loki went to accept when Barton called, "Actually, Loki, I'd like a word."
Thor's eyes sharpened with concern. "I am not certain that would be wise..."
Loki glanced over his shoulder at the human; Barton had perched on the couch as he always did – it looked uncomfortable, but the man was well used to crouching in uncomfortable positions to shoot – appearing almost comfortable, but there was a set to his shoulders, a spark in his eyes, that hinted at how stressed this was making him. It was almost certain that Romanoff or Coulson had ordered him to settle things with Loki, and being handed the chance, had decided to take it. "We will speak, then," Loki decided with an easy shrug.
"Brother," Thor said, warning in his voice.
Loki flashed a smile at his not-brother. "I promise to return him in one piece, Brother," he said sweetly.
Thor frowned at him, distrustful, then shook his head. "I may regret this," he muttered before stepping onto the lift.
As soon as the doors had closed, Loki asked, "Romanoff or Coulson?" without turning around.
Barton snorted. "Cap, actually, but Phil was right behind him. Tasha offered to play mediator; I turned her down."
"Yes. I don't foresee us doing much peace-making were the Widow here to glare threateningly my way."
"Tasha actually doesn't hate you so much," Barton commented, and Loki finally turned to look at him, expression politely disbelieving. "Yeah, I don't get it either. She decided you weren't all bad somewhere between not poisoning us and saving Stark's life."
"I have noticed that you humans seem to pay an inordinate amount of care to the quality of your food, for all that much of it seems aimed to destroy your bodies faster."
"Yeah, well, we need to eat it. Keeps us alive." Barton shot him an odd look. "Thor's the same way, isn't he?"
"Thor enjoys many things he could otherwise do without." Loki sneered. "Such as those Pop-Tarts."
Barton snorted, a brief smile touching his lips, though his eyes remained tense and watchful as Loki leaned back against the wall next to the lift. "Okay, I'll give you that. Also, totally Jane's friend's fault. Something about him eating an entire box of the things the first time they met and Darcy's enthrallment of the idea. Cap and Phil tried to ban them from the house, but Stark kept slipping him cash and he'd go out and buy them in bulk to eat in the park, so now they're allowed in the tower so they can make sure he doesn't overindulge."
"A reasonable concern," Loki assured him. "But we're not stopped to speak of Thor's bad habits."
"True." Barton shifted slightly on the couch, turning to he could more comfortably watch Loki. "Look, you fucked with my head and I'm never going to forgive you for that, and I'm never going to trust you, either."
"A wise choice, I assure you."
"You keep saying that," Barton countered, "but the most violence you've unleashed on any of us has been knocking Stark and Thor out of chairs. Fuck, you even saved Stark's ass this morning, and here, in our culture, we believe that actions speak more than words. Because it's really fucking easy to watch your words, but it's not so easy to keep from following your principles, from doing something that seems the only thing to do in whatever circumstances.
"And, really, I don't give a damn whether you saved his genius ass to protect Thor from the shame of having killed a teammate, or because you've decided his brand of insanity is to your liking, you still fucking saved him. And, yeah, you put SHIELD into a panic, which is completely up your alley, but I don't think that was the point. Phil doesn't think that was the point, and he was standing next to you when you vanished, when you heard how bad off we were. You were actually bothered to hear Bruce was in the infirmary– Don't fucking lie to me," he snapped as Loki opened his mouth to refute that, "I've seen the video feed from command. You were worried. You asked specifically after Bruce."
Loki had stiffened; he hated being cornered. "What is your point, Agent?" he hissed.
Barton pointed at Loki, eyes sharp and knowing. "I don't like you, and if you bring one of your fucking magic sticks within three feet of me, I will put an arrow through your eye. But I will trust you in the field. I will trust you to keep Bruce, Stark, and Thor, at least, alive. Just so we're clear."
Loki's immediate reaction – and almost certainly the reason Thor hadn't wanted to leave him and Barton alone – was to send his ex-servant out the window or smashed against the nearest hard surface, preferably with sharp edges for his skull to be ground against. Luckily for Barton – and Loki himself, considering how many people were waiting for him to kill someone so they could make his immortal life hell – Loki had enough control to not act on the impulse, instead teleporting down to the gym to take his anger out on something less organic.
Loki had blown up three punching bags before he realised that he wasn't alone: Rogers was leaning against the wall next to a line of punching bags, watching him with a mildly perturbed expression and a glint of humour in blue eyes. When Loki focussed on him, Rogers pushed away from the wall and asked, "Do I need to go rescue Clint from a certain death?"
"If your archer were near death, JARVIS would have informed you," Loki snarled. "And I would be there, enjoying myself, rather than here."
Rogers inclined his head. "Good point. I remember a suggestion about you and me having a fight?"
"Unlike most of you, I do not enjoy physical exertion as a pastime," Loki returned, even as he forced himself to calm down; he wasn't doing anyone any favours with the urge to destroy everything in sight.
"It's a trait you and Tony share," Rogers informed him. "He makes things or, when he's been kicked out of his lab, talks about technology to calm down."
Loki thought about the magic he'd spent the day working with and how it had calmed him. "You would not follow any conversation of magic," he commented, acknowledging the parallels between himself and Stark.
"I don't usually follow Tony, either," Rogers said, a self-deprecating smile twisting his mouth. He grabbed a chair from where a couple stood against a wall and dropped into it. "Talk anyway."
Loki blinked, unused to the idea that someone would sit and listen to him speak of magic when they didn't understand it. And, again, he was struck with how different these mortals were from the Æsir, accepting monsters into their homes and willing to learn about magic, though it was not something they truly believed in. Warriors who listen, Loki considered and, before he knew it, he was talking about everything he'd learned of Midgardian magic that day.
Rogers didn't once make a noise of boredom. He didn't fiddle with his hands or start looking around for something else, as Thor or the Warriors Three would do. He didn't start a debate or question Loki's findings, either, as the few sorceresses Loki had spoken to of magic would do. He simply sat there and listened to Loki talk of languages and runic configurations as if it was the most important thing in the Nine Realms.
JARVIS eventually interrupted them, announcing, "Sir has completed all his tests and says you may return to the upper floors, Loki."
Loki glanced up towards the ceiling. "My thanks."
"Feel better?" Rogers asked.
Loki considered the human, his easy smile and relaxed posture, prepared to remain and listen to Loki speak on. "You are a thoroughly impossible race," he said.
Rogers let out a surprised laugh. "Thanks. I think?"
"Hm," was Loki's only response before teleporting up to his floor. He considered his papers for a moment before reminding himself that he was to return to Asgard tomorrow and making for his bed.
-0-
Stark was already awake and sitting at the breakfast bar when Loki teleported in the next morning, dressed in his Asgardian clothing. The human blinked for a moment before groaning. "Shit. You've got to travel the Gay Bridge today, don't you?"
"The– Clarify."
Stark snorted. "Rainbows usually designate homosexuality. So, Rainbow Bridge equals Gay Bridge."
"What does homosexuality have to do with being happy?" Loki asked, setting about making himself breakfast
"Modern slang. It's a euphemism. Sorry. We'll have to wait until tomorrow to talk Doombots, then."
Loki shrugged. "Surveillance magic," he offered. At Stark's blank look, he clarified, "The difference between your box and the Doombot: there was active surveillance magic. There are some dissimilarities in the weave of the spells, as well, but the aberration you noted was the surveillance magic."
"Surveillance magic?" Stark repeated, straightening from his slouch. "Active surveillance magic?"
"Not any more," Loki assured him smugly.
"Yeah, okay." Stark slumped back against the breakfast bar, curling over his coffee slightly. He let out a snort. "Hah. SHIELD is full of idiots. So, surveillance how? Video and audio? Hacking into the computer systems?"
"Only video and audio, from my observations. The audio became two-way when I prodded it."
"Ooh. Did you have a pleasant chat with the queen bee? Doom," he clarified when Loki just stared at him.
"As pleasant a chat as I ever indulge in," Loki replied, taking the stool next to Stark.
"Promising. Who threatened to kill who first?"
"Less kill and more destroy," Loki corrected. "And he did."
"I'd be impressed by your lack of threatening him, but I know you," Stark decided and Loki laughed. "Dissimilarities in the weave of magic. Does that have anything to do with the languages of magic you were talking to Steve about last night?"
Loki raised an eyebrow. "It is that exactly."
"Right. So, put this in novice terms for me, because I actually want to understand this, unlike Steve. Who is, by the way, a phenomenal listener, even though he fails at understanding. I have talked him through how to use a Stark Phone a dozen times now and he just can't. It's embarrassing. I even gave him to Bruce and Pepper, because they can use small words, but he still–"
"Stark," Loki interrupted and the human's mouth snapped shut. "Thank you. Midgard has many different languages spoken, does it not?"
"Sixty-five hundred, give or take," Stark agreed.
Loki blinked in surprise, then shook his head. "Magic, too, has a language, one formed around a singular alphabet, or runic scheme, which often differs between realms. Some magical languages – those of the Æsir and Vanir, for example – are similar, sharing much of the same runes for similar spells."
"Like Spanish and Italian, then?" Stark asked, eyes flickering with knowledge. "They have the same root language – Latin – so they share a lot of the same words, but sometimes the spelling is a bit off, or they're pronounced differently."
"Very much like that," Loki agreed. "Other magical languages – such as those of the Æsir and Jötun – have few or no similarities. Æsir magic is very strict, very settled in its ways, whereas Jötun magic tends towards a sharper edge, very easy to both put together and break apart."
"Like ice," Stark suggested.
Loki's eyes narrowed. "Yes."
Stark shrugged and sipped at his coffee. "And human magic? You told Steve that it's free, like the wind or the ocean."
"It is a looser weave, more prone to skipping runes that would tighten the spell. I would expect the spells to be easier to destroy, like Jötun spells, but they are surprisingly resilient."
"We're like that," Stark informed him. "But you still managed to destroy Doom's surveillance spells?"
"I said resilient, not impossible to destroy, given sufficient force or a particularly able mind," Loki returned drily. "There was more of a fight than I expected, but it was of little concern."
"Okay, ego check."
"I am a god," Loki reminded him.
"You got smashed by a Hulk," Stark replied and Loki grimaced in distaste. "Yeah. That. I have video footage. I will play – for the entertainment of all – you being smashed by the Other Guy. So, ego check." Stark flashed him a bright smile, then shook his head. "Okay, whatever. So, different magic languages. I can flow with that. It makes the energy of the spells read different, you think?"
"I cannot make any assumptions about the abilities of your machines."
"Because they're mine," Stark agreed. Then, before Loki could get any ideas, "Ego check, yeah, that was me. So, I've still got readings of the bot stored on my server, could you shoot up my Box of Awesome – shut up, I was exhausted and I can't unname it, so, Box of Awesome – with that surveillance spell and the floating magic so I can run it against the data I have and see if I can read a difference in the magic? Because then maybe I can tweak the Anti-Magic Field and it won't affect you."
Loki snorted. "It will still affect me, though I appreciate the sentiment."
Stark stared at him for a long moment, until Loki narrowed his eyes in warning, before he said, "I will find a way to negate my own creations, because that's something I have to do. So, yeah, I'm going to find a way to make this thing work, and then I'm going to find a way to make it not work. And you, I might remind you, are my lab god, so. Not working on you, that's my plan. Also, not testing this on you until I've tested it to hell and back."
"Are you afraid of some punishment?" Loki mocked.
"Actually, no. No, I'm afraid of not-angry-but-super-disappointed Bruce. Because Bruce does this absolutely terrifying 'I'm not angry, but I'm very disappointed in you' schtick. Which, no. Also, because next time I do that, he'll bring in Steve and Pepper. And maybe Phil. And that? That is more terrifying than I can face on a good day. So! No god experimentation. Unless it's on Thor, who seems to think it tickles slightly less than anything else I hit him with. Also, he says his Bob the Builder prop feels lighter. I told him just to not hit anything with it, in case it breaks."
"It shouldn't," Loki replied, ignoring the human's oddities. "It is not magic that makes Mjölnir so formidable a weapon – that is of its own creation – and, like Captain Rogers' shield, there is nothing in the Nine Realms that can dent it. The magic is simply to designate its wielder, enable the wielder to call storms or fly, and return to the hand of its wielder when called."
"Really? Okay, cool. I can work with that." Stark sipped at his drink for a moment before asking, "Do you think it would disable your healing abilities?"
"I am uncertain," Loki admitted.
"What's this? Loki's uncertain about something?" Barton snarked as he stepped into the kitchen. "Isn't there a rule in the God Handbook – assuming there is one – about you people always knowing everything?"
"I am neither the Allfather, nor Heimdall and am, therefore, capable of claiming a lack of knowledge," Loki replied coolly. "My skills have always lain in clouding truths and causing chaos, not in seeking truths." He smiled then, sharp and filled with violent promise. "I understand how a spy such as yourself might get truth and lies confused."
"Oh, Jesus. The testosterone. Do we have to do the pissing match first thing in the morning? Really?" Stark complained.
"Says the man who spends most of his free time making up new insults–"
"They're terms of endearment!" Stark insisted.
"You called me Cupid. That is not a term of– Holy fuck!" Barton jumped away from the cereal box he'd opened as he poured out an army of beetles into his bowl. "Loki! I swear to God I'm going to put your fucking eye out!"
Loki just cackled and waved his hand to turn the cereal back to its proper form. Next to him, Stark was grinning a bit manically.
"Why is there cereal all over the floor?" Coulson asked as he paused in the kitchen doorway.
Barton pointed wordlessly at the amused Loki, violence flashing in his eyes. He looked like it was taking everything he had to keep from jumping on Loki and attempting to strangle him.
"Loki, please clean this up," Coulson requested, a hint of steel in his voice.
Loki motioned at the cereal and it all returned to the box, which then floated up to Barton helpfully. Barton grabbed it and shoved it back in the line of boxes, then pulled out one of Thor's packages of Pop-Tarts before stalking past Coulson and out of the room.
Coulson let out a heavy sigh and walked over to the abandoned bowl to serve himself some cereal. "I was under the impression that you and Agent Barton made peace last night," he commented.
"Only for use in the battlefield," Loki replied easily as he waved his dishes to the sink and stood. "I need to depart soon."
"Oh, shit, right." Stark jumped off his stool and hurried over to the coffee machine with his mug. "Wait, I need you to light up the Box of Awesome. Also, if you're good with it, I made a sort of recording thing which should, according to my calculations of Jane's calculations of the Gay Bridge, give us some slightly more awesome statistics on the thing than she's been picking up from SHIELD's equipment at the landing site."
"That's acceptable," Loki agreed.
Stark grinned and led the way from the kitchen. "Great. Awesome. Good. Because, you know, it's like a Christmas present to her, this stuff. Very early Christmas present. Or maybe for her birthday? When's her birthday? I don't know. Pepper would know. I'll ask Pepper. Anyway, right, gift. I mean, she knows I made it, so it's not a surprise or anything, but–"
"Stark," Loki interrupted, torn between amusement and irritation, "shut up."
Stark's lips pressed together and he remained quiet for the ride in the lift and up until he had finished typing in the passcode on the door for the lab. As if the door was the block, as soon as he pulled it open, he was off again: "So, was it just the floating and surveillance magic, or was there something else? Because you said the two-way audio activated when you prodded it with your magic, and I've heard the things speak with his voice before. Also, SHIELD couldn't find the power source for their weapons systems, and, given, it was SHIELD techs that were playing with it, not me, but still. It can't be that hard to find a power source." He tapped his chest, which made a sound vaguely reminiscent of Loki's failed possession attempt on the man. "They tend to be obvious."
"Inactive spells to power weapons, some minor self-repair spells, a spell to make them resilient to electricity–"
"That one can't be working," Stark insisted. "Thor blows those things up for shits and giggles."
"It works against minor electrical currents, but Thor does not wield minor electricity, he wields the full might of an Asgardian storm. There also seemed to be some sort of self-destruct spell, but I cannot guess at the specifics until I test it out myself."
"I've still got some empty land out in Nevada for testing bombs; maybe we can go out there in a couple days and try it out," Stark offered, holding out his 'Box of Awesome'. "Okay, Genie, light 'er up."
"Genie?" Loki repeated as he worked his magic into the box.
"We'll watch Aladdin when you get back," Stark decided. "JARVIS, make a note: Aladdin tonight. Or tomorrow, if shit happens."
"Noted, Sir."
Loki pushed the active box over to Stark and he stopped it with his wooden stick, then said, "JARVIS, run the scans and see if you can't connect to the audio and visual without any help from Loki. If we can find a way to tap into the Box of Awesome, we might be able to tap into the Doombots, for which Fury will be forever in my debt."
Loki snorted. "I very much doubt that Fury believes in holding to debts."
"Or that he'd be stupid enough to allow me to hold one over him? Yeah, I know. My hopes remain lowered. Still, impressing him is always good; I love the way his mouth goes down at one side and he has to struggle to tell me I did a good job." Stark grinned madly while Loki laughed, imagining the pleasure one might derive from such a reaction. "Oh, right, Gay Bridge analyser!" Stark ducked under the Box of Awesome and hurried over to another crowded table. He came back with a silver bauble on a chain, which he held out to Loki. "Figured you could hide it under your shirt or whatever. It should record most occasions of the energy you call magic, so it'll track you, but I can blur you out of the readings later."
"That is well, as I will likely be performing much magic during my stay," Loki allowed, slipping the chain around his neck and the bauble under the front of his tunic. There was the slightest hint of its existence pressing against the fabric covering it, but Loki twitched his jacket to loosen the tightness of the fabric and the shape vanished.
"Okay, cool. Good. Uhm, hey, JARVIS? Is Jane up?"
JARVIS was silent for a moment, then said, "Yes. She requests that Loki come down to her and Thor's floor so she might return with him to New Mexico."
"Okay, wait, seriously?" Stark complained. "She does know she's not going to get anything else out of the shit SHIELD's got, right? And most of her tech is here, in the lab – has been for, like, three months – and SHIELD can totally send the rest of it themselves. They have things for that. Like, truck things. And plane things. Also, Bruce is unwell and we need her here if we have to assemble. Because, you know what? One team member down, everyone else but Cap and Thor wounded in some way, and it's a Monday; attacks are a certain." He turned to Loki. "Talk to her. Make her see sense. If she really needs to go back to the base, she can go next time you go home. Today? Bad day. No."
"I will inform her of your thoughts on the matter," Loki replied drily, then teleported downstairs.
Thor was leaning against the doorway to the back hallway when Loki appeared, looking tired. He smiled upon seeing Loki, though. "Good morning, Brother."
"Brother," Loki replied and Thor's eyes lit up. "Stark requests that I give a list of reasons to Lady Jane as to why she must remain here."
"If he's going on about how I can't possibly learn anything new on site, he can shove it up his sarcastic ass," Jane snapped from the small kitchen behind Loki. "Just because he thinks–"
"I will remind you that Dr Banner is incapacitated and will require someone to remain in the tower," Loki smoothly interrupted.
"And it is a Monday," Thor added with a sort of certainty that Loki didn't understand; what did the day of the week matter?
"Oh," Jane said, slumping. "I forgot about Bruce. Okay, I guess I'm staying here." She shook her head. "Damn."
Loki shrugged and looked back at Thor. "I shall leave, then. Unless there was something you wish me to return with?"
"I–" Thor frowned, then shook his head. "No. Though, if you have interest in travelling the markets, I should wish for some pictures of our sky." He motioned to one of the pictures that were on the walls.
"Perhaps," Loki replied before closing his eyes and focussing on his ability to change his shape; it would be an easier falsity for all to believe if he was seen to be Thor when he returned to the city, in case his presence was required. His clothing, imbued with his magic and practised at reforming around him and taking Thor's colours instead of his own, eased into the change without pausing.
"Oh my God, that's creepy," Jane announced.
Thor grinned at his twin. "That never ceases to entertain, Brother."
"Avoid getting killed while I am in Asgard," Loki ordered in Thor's voice, and Jane let out a squeak behind him. "If you must travel to Valhalla, I should like to be there to see you off." And he smiled a cold smile, one that had no place turning Thor's mouth.
Thor laughed. "I shall keep that in mind," he promised. "Have you a Mjölnir to wield?"
Loki frowned, then held out his hand and willed one of his less ostentatious staffs into existence from his magic space. A flicker of magic, assisted by the magic of the staff itself, was all it took for the weapon to shift into a replica of the fabled hammer.
Thor considered it with the eyes of one well-familiar with his weapon, then stepped forward and touched a finger to one of the longer sides. "Father placed a geas upon it," he said.
The symbol for an Asgardian-placed geas bloomed under Thor's finger until the elder god nodded his approval and stepped back. "A most perfect rendition, Brother."
"They are my specialty," Loki reminded him. "Brother, Lady Jane."
"Go, then, and be well," Thor said.
Loki inclined his head, then teleported himself to the site of the Bifröst. "Heimdall!" he called.
There was a moment's pause, then the storm preceding the formation of the bridge started in the clouds above him. Loki touched the bauble against his chest, just to remind himself it was there, and then the storm was upon him, carrying him up and through space.
He landed in the chamber, Heimdall staring at him with all-seeing eyes. "Loki," he said. "You wear another's skin."
"If you know me as I am, you know also that Thor was there when I took it and takes no offense," Loki replied.
Heimdall inclined his head. "It is not my place."
"You're correct, it's not," Loki snarled, and the words sounded wrong in Thor's booming voice. He moderated his tone with some slight difficulty, then asked, "Is there a horse for me, or am I to walk the bridge to the palace?"
"The Allfather sent a horse," Heimdall replied.
"Good." Loki stalked past the gatekeeper and collected his horse, then started off along the bridge, the false Mjölnir thumping against his side.
Odin met Loki by the stables, single eyes sharp. "Son, we are glad to have you home," he said, clapping Loki on the shoulder as he would have Thor, though with slightly less force than he used with his sturdier son.
"As glad as I am to have returned, I am certain," Loki replied insincerely, wearing one of Thor's stupid grins. He knew he should say something about how he was glad to see his not-father, as Thor would have done, but that was too bitter a lie for even Loki's silver tongue, and so it remained unspoken, heavy between them.
Odin led the way into the palace, speaking of Thor's friends, who were out on quest in Svartálfaheim for some trinket or another, and a recent contest between some young warriors. Loki made interested noises in the places he thought were appropriate, smiling broadly at the people they passed in the halls and offering greetings to those he knew Thor would have spoken to.
As soon as they were behind the closed doors of Odin's office, Loki let his false form melt away, keeping his not-brother's colours on his clothing only for ease of retaking the disguise. "Have we true business to discuss, or will this be a social visit?" he asked with distain as he dropped the false Mjölnir next to the chair he folded himself into.
"Some little business, then you may continue as you see fit until the afternoon feast, where you will put in an appearance as Thor," Odin replied, tone firm.
"How tiring." Loki tugged at the edges of his jacket, frowning at the lines of red where there was usually green. "Will you demand I stay for supper, or may I be off to Midgard before dark?"
Odin sighed. "Your mother would like your attendance, but it is your choice."
"Mine, or Thor's?" Loki snarled.
"Must you turn everything into a competition?" Odin asked tiredly and Loki bared his teeth in a parody of a smile. "Frigga loves you both equally, as she always has. If you won't stay for supper, at least visit with her for a time before you leave; she misses you."
Loki looked away at that, stomach churning. "Perhaps," he returned. "Now, to this business?"
-0-
The business with Odin took much of the morning, and Loki spent the rest of his time until the midday feast going through his magic books and scrolls, deciding which ones he would take back with him, and which were best left to collect dust.
Hunting for a specific book, Loki came across the picture of himself and Thor that he had mentioned to Stark during their day out. He sat back with it, staring at the children within the frame, laughing at one of Loki's bad jokes and arms around one another's shoulders. Loki had hidden it – and other pictures including Thor – away shortly after learning of his heritage. As hurt and full of hate as he'd been, he'd been unable to destroy the pictures of his not-brother, unlike those that had included Odin. Because Thor hadn't known and, after everything, Thor was still his brother.
Anger surged through Loki and he raised his arm to throw the picture, but his fingers wouldn't uncurl from around it and so he brought it back down and held it to his chest, curling around it protectively.
Frigga found him like that, some twenty minutes before the feast, crying silent tears into his knees for lost childhood and broken trust. She silently knelt beside him and drew him into her arms, letting him cry into her breast, and he did so, taking comfort from her presence, as he had since he was a boy.
When Loki's tears ceased, Frigga brushed her fingers under his eyes, collecting the liquid. "My sweet child, what troubles you so?" she whispered.
Loki's fingers flexed around the picture he still held against his chest. "Memories," he murmured, "of days long out of reach." He slipped out of her grasp and rose, uncertain what to do with his picture. "Mother, it is good to see you well."
"I wish I could say the same," Frigga replied, rising and reaching forward to tuck a lock of hair back behind Loki's ear, which he allowed with the patience of a son well-used to the action. "Thor's companions are not giving you trouble?"
Loki shook his head, smiling faintly. "No more than they should, considering what I did to them." At Frigga's deepened frown, he laughed and moved to reassure her, "There is one, Stark–"
"The Man of Iron," Frigga noted, still frowning.
"Him," Loki agreed. "He has a quick mind and an interest in magic; I have spent much time with him, rediscovering magic through his technology."
Frigga's expression lightened at the fondness in Loki's voice and the warmth in his eyes. "That is well," she decided before glancing around at the mess Loki had made. "This mortal is why you have pulled out all your books?"
"He is a part of it," Loki hedged, unwilling to tell his mother – never his not-mother, he was too fond of Frigga, loved her too much to disclaim her as he did Thor and Odin – of the magic-wielding enemy he'd made, and certain she would find no interest in his discoveries of Midgardian magic, though she might pretend it for his sake.
Frigga sighed. "Let us clean this mess up, then, lest we miss the feast."
"What a shame that would be," Loki muttered as he moved to collect the books he intended to take with him in a bag he could carry – magic books were notoriously difficult about being placed in magic spaces.
It didn't take long to clean up and, when he asked, Frigga admitted that she'd borrowed the healing book Loki had been looking for. At her questions, he admitted that one of the humans had been wounded in battle and Loki wished to help his natural healing, an admittance which made her smile proudly.
After the feast, he spent time with Frigga, catching up and laughing as they hadn't since before Loki learned of his heritage. When he made mention of Thor's wish for pictures of Asgard's sky, she insisted they go out together to the markets and pick some out. She also got him to pick pictures and trinkets for his own rooms, pieces of home he would otherwise never have bothered to collect.
He did remain for supper, and while it was stilted, with Odin there, he did continue smiling with Frigga, and she walked him to the stables to wish him well. "Give your brother my best," she added as she kissed his cheek, scratchy with Thor's beard.
"I will," Loki promised in his not-brother's voice. "Be well, Mother."
"And you, my son," Frigga returned, then stepped back to let Loki mount his horse, waving as he thundered out of the palace grounds and down the bridge.
Heimdall awaited him, stern and unyielding. "Until six days hence, Loki," he said as Loki brushed past him to his position, form melting back into his own as he moved.
"With luck," Loki replied drily, "it will not be sooner."
"With luck," Heimdall agreed before pushing his sword home.
The Bifröst lit up around Loki and he was again sailing through space, his bag clutched tight against his side so he didn't chance losing any of his books.
It was later than he'd expected on Midgard, but he'd spent longer at the table with Frigga and Odin than he'd meant to. When he arrived on the balcony of Avengers Tower, the main floor was dark and empty, though the lights turned on as he stepped inside. "Is Thor awake, JARVIS?" he asked, guessing who had brought up the lights for him.
"He is not," JARVIS replied. "I can awaken him, if you require him."
"No, I only had some things for him; it can wait until the morrow." He teleported down to his room and set his bag next to his bed before undressing, his Asgardian clothing again being sent to his magical space. "Did they have to do battle?" he wondered.
"A small one near the city limits," JARVIS reported. "No further injuries were sustained, and it only took ten minutes; Agent Coulson's ride to the SHIELD helicarrier turned around before it touched down."
Loki laughed. "At least I ensure he arrives in good time to assist from their base," he commented, slipping into bed. "Good night, JARVIS," he said as the lights dimmed, and it didn't seem nearly as odd as it perhaps should have to be wishing an artificial intelligence good night.
"Good night, Loki," JARVIS replied. "Pleasant dreams."
No, not odd at all.
-0-
-0-
The Shattered Glass Series:
Whatever Lies Beyond This Morning
Like So Much Shattered Glass Chapters:
One | Two | Three | Four |Five | Six | Seven
Rough Edges Chapters:
One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven
Christmas Tunes
..
Chapter: 5 of 7
Fandom: Marvel (movie 'verse)
Author: Batsutousai
Beta: Shara Lunison
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: Tony Stark/Loki Odinson(Laufeyson), canon
Warnings: Spoilers for The Avengers (2012) and prequel films, angst of the self-hate variety,
Summary: Loki thought to break the Avengers, one man at a time, before killing them. His plans had never involved being broken in return.
About forty percent of Banner's body had suffered from second degree burns, and another five percent had first degree burns. The Hulk's general invulnerability had protected him from anything worse, but it still looked terrible, and pain flashed in his eyes every time he shifted, pain killers or no.
Loki wanted to help him, wished he knew a spell that healed burns, but he'd only ever learned the barest minimum of healing magic, to be used when their natural healing couldn't manage on its own. And, still, he was torn with this need to help, to soothe the suffering of one of the humans he'd sworn revenge on.
"When can we take him home?" Rogers asked Banner's doctor as the rest of the team was getting patched up, a splash of too-clean white wrapped around the healing burn on his shoulder. Thor remained out with the SHIELD personnel who were cleaning up the dragons, Coulson was off doing something likely involving paperwork, and Loki stood against the wall next to Banner's bed, aiming to be ignored.
"At least one week, probably two," the doctor said. "He needs close attention and care–"
"We can provide that," Rogers insisted.
"No disrespect, Captain, but you're too often in the field to be able to keep a close enough eye on him."
Rogers looked like the doctor had punched him.
"Jane doesn't go out in the field, and neither does Pep, when she's in the city," Stark cut in, shit-eating grin in full force and not flinching while the nurse attending him sewed together a gash in his leg. "And there's always Loki."
"I doubt Banner would count as sufficient guard for anyone," Loki quietly pointed out. "Or have you forgotten, Stark, that I am not to be trusted?"
Stark pointed a finger at him. "I trust you not to kick a man when he's down. Also, just now? Helping us take those fuckers down, saving my life? You're not making a good case for 'don't trust me', Puff."
"That name will shortly become overused," Romanoff warned. Then, to Loki, "And I'm with Stark on this; I don't think you'd hurt Bruce, not like this." Her eyes narrowed, seeing too much of Loki for the god's comfort. "You don't look to me like someone who's enjoying watching him in pain."
Loki bared his teeth in an angry smile. "No?" he murmured, voice pitched deep and threatening. "I am the God of Lies, little spider; you see in me only what I wish you to see."
Romanoff smiled in reply, too knowing, and Loki felt the sudden urge to wring her neck. It was gratifying, proof that he hadn't yet become so enamoured of these mortals that he was unable to kill them, and he held onto that urge as he smiled back. Her eyes narrowed, catching the change, and she backed off, looking to Rogers and the doctor.
Rogers' expression had twisted with hope and distrust, eyes flickering over his team and Loki before turning back to the doctor. "Please."
The doctor shook his head. "I cannot release him to you, Captain Rogers. I'm sorry."
"You want to keep the Hulk in as chaotic a place as the base infirmary?" Barton suddenly commented.
The doctor looked towards Banner, peacefully drugged, and swallowed hard. "As long as he's kept sufficiently sedated–"
"No," Stark interrupted, jumping off the bed and kicking his leg so his trousers would cover the line of stitches. "No, I'm sorry, but you're not treating my best fucking friend like some sort of fucking animal. I will order a fucking all-day nurse if I have to, but he's coming home with us." The doctor opened his mouth to argue and Stark raised his voice to say, "I'll have Loki teleport him out if I have to! Can't stop the insane one!"
The doctor looked to Rogers, as if hoping the leader could talk some sense into his teammate, but there was a hard glint in Rogers' eyes. "We'll take him home," he said, tone final.
"I..." The doctor looked over the group – the hard frown from Rogers, the incensed glare from Stark, the cold stares from the two assassins, the easy smile from Loki – and turned away. "I need to talk to the Director."
"I'll–"
"Tony," Rogers warned and Stark's mouth fell shut.
The call to Fury didn't take long. The doctor spoke through the phone, clearly stressed, for only a brief time before he waved Rogers forward. Rogers was silent for the most of it, expression tight, then his eyes slid to Loki and the god smiled at him, warning and ice, and Rogers said, "I trust him, sir," steady in spite of the flare of distrust remaining in his light eyes.
With Rogers' certainty, Banner was released to return to Avengers Tower. The doctor called ahead to tell Pepper and Jane how to set things in the man's room to ensure his comfort while he healed, then Loki teleported them both back to the tower and settled Banner into his bed while the humans and Thor took the quinjet back.
Once Banner had been seen to and the others had returned to hover over him, Loki retired to his floor, disinclined towards human company. He instead found the paper and writing utensils he'd ordered his first night and worked on tracing the spells Doom had placed in his robot, putting them against the variations Loki, himself, practised. He then set about translating other spells he knew into this magical language, intrigued by the similarities as much by the differences.
He didn't hear JARVIS call his name and so was surprised when Thor's arms came around his middle and pulled him to his feet. He blinked quickly, pulling his thoughts out of the magic he'd immersed himself in, then glanced over his shoulder at Thor's fond smile. "Yes?"
"It is time for dinner," Thor said, letting Loki go and glancing over the mess of papers covered in runes and diagrams. "You're creating spells?"
"Translating spells into the Midgardian language," Loki corrected, leading the way to the lift.
"Midgard has many languages, Brother," Thor pointed out.
"Spoken, yes, but there is only one magical language, no matter the variety of its ancestors. There's Asgardian magic, certainly, but also a wilder taste – like nature and freedom – and it is beautiful." Loki smiled in memory. There had been rolling hills and dark forests, but also open skies and choppy seas. Such a varied magical history, one that Loki had never before encountered, and he cursed himself for not having studied it sooner, certain that any magic the mortals might have would be too far beneath his notice.
"That smile should be illegal," Stark informed them as Loki and Thor entered the dining room. "You cannot smile like that. Nope, not allowed. Frown a bit. Maybe a smirk?"
"Man of Iron, of what are you speaking?" Thor demanded.
Stark pointed at Loki. "He's smiling."
Everyone looked at Loki and there was a shudder of disconcertion around the table as they realised that, yes, Loki was truly smiling. Not one of his 'I have nefarious plans in the works' smiles, or the 'I'm imagining the best way to kill you' smile, or even the 'that prank went off better than I could have hoped' smile, but an honest-to-God happy smile.
"I'm officially creeped out," Barton announced.
Loki laughed, honest and free, before his smile morphed into something a bit more familiar and less disturbing to the humans. "You are strange creatures," he informed them all.
"We get stranger every day," Stark returned, grinning. "You got a look at the bot, right? You know what's making it tick?"
"I do."
Stark's eyes flickered to the disapproval creasing Rogers and Pepper's brows. "Tomorrow. We'll do magical things with robots tomorrow. Also, anti-magic fields. Which– Thor!"
"Tony?"
"I'm borrowing you tonight. Loki's pretty sure the anti-magic field won't affect you negatively – you may not even notice it's there – but I'd like to run a test on you. So you know what it feels like, if nothing else." He pointed at Loki. "Go somewhere else. Not your floor, further down. Go to the gym. Throw Bird Brain against a wall or something."
"Appealing," Loki assured him, smiling at Barton.
"No, not a rag doll," Barton said. "I've got two cracked ribs, beat someone else up. Cap. Cap can take it. You two can totally have it out. Loser buys everyone ice cream."
"Loki has no money, and Steve gives his away to the homeless every time he gets a check," Romanoff pointed out. "If you want ice cream, we can have JARVIS order some."
Barton considered that for a moment, then nodded. "JARVIS, I require rocky road."
"Strawberry!" Thor boomed, eyes lighting up.
Everyone around the table named some flavour or another while Loki blinked in confusion. He was unfamiliar with 'ice cream' – it, like most foods of Midgard, were hardly of concern to him – and so he sat back and listened. Some of them he recognised – Thor had brought him strawberries on Asgard some months ago, and he recognised 'chocolate' from the drink Stark had given him the day before – but others made no sense – rocky road?
"I'll have coffee, of course," Stark said, the last of them to state his order. "And...Loki, you like strawberries?"
"I– what?" Loki shook his head. "I do not share Thor's fondness for them, but I don't dislike them."
"Yeah? Okay. JARVIS, a Neapolitan for Loki."
"Very good, Sir. Your orders should be here by the time your meal is finished," JARVIS announced.
"What is a 'Neapolitan'?" Loki demanded as he prodded the noodle dish Coulson had made.
"It's delicious. Unless you're Pepper," Stark replied, smiling infuriatingly.
Pepper sighed. "It's three different flavours – strawberry, vanilla, and chocolate – that remain separated, so you can pick which flavours you actually want to eat."
Loki nodded his thanks. "Interesting. And ice cream is?" he requested, figuring he might as well ask.
"Delicious," Stark said.
Loki took a moment to fight the urge to vanish Stark's chair, then decided he didn't want to fight it.
"Ow!" Stark shouted as his behind met the floor. Loki smiled pleasantly at him and waved his chair back into existence just above where his head laid on the floor.
"Loki!" Rogers snapped, displeased, while Romanoff and Barton ducked their heads to hide their amusement. Thor just snorted, familiar with Loki's version of punishment and silently relieved that he wasn't being as rough as he had been on the Warriors Three or Thor himself in the past.
"Do we have to make a rule about destabilising or vanishing chairs and stools?" Coulson asked.
"You may," Loki purred as Stark got up and pulled his chair back to the table, "but I won't promise to follow it."
"You know, if you really wanted me on my back that much–"
"Tony!" Rogers complained, turning an embarrassed glare on the other human. Stark shot him a shit-eating grin while the two assassins dropped all pretences and snickered. Coulson, Pepper, and Jane looked amused while Thor was just resigned.
"I would rather you begging for me," Loki informed Stark silkily, and Rogers choked.
"You'll have to try far harder than you have been for that, gorgeous," Stark returned, eyes hooded and lips curled with a taunting smirk.
"Brother," Thor pleaded when Loki went to reply. "Please."
Loki's eyes flickered towards his not-brother's helpless expression, over Rogers' full-face flush and the varied states of amusement from the other humans, then met Stark's dark gaze again and relaxed with a lazy smirk. "Ice cream is?" he requested.
Rogers answered before Stark could, obviously hoping to put an end to the flirting, "It's a sweet, flavoured, frozen dairy product."
Loki blinked. "Frozen?" he asked, looking to Thor.
"You will enjoy it," his not-brother promised, smile fond.
Thor was completely correct, for once. Loki dipped a spoon into his pint cautiously – he went for the strawberry first, since he was most familiar with the flavour – collecting only the slightest bit before dropping it into his mouth. It was, quite possibly, the best thing he'd ever tasted, so cold and smooth–
It was like coming home.
Loki ate his entire pint in the amount of time it took everyone else to eat about half of theirs, then settled in to stare hopefully at Thor until, laughing, the elder god handed over what was left of his pint. "I told you," he said as Loki finished the strawberry.
Loki waved his spoon threateningly at his not-brother. "Silence." He finished Thor's ice cream and pouted for a moment before turning to the humans, ignoring their amusement at his expense.
"This is awesome," Stark decided. "You are an ice cream fiend. I am so excited about this, you don't even know. Thor was not this crazy about ice cream. JARVIS, this is being recorded, rig– Hey!"
Loki flashed the human a smirk before scooping his spoon into the stolen pint of coffee ice cream. He didn't much care for the flavour – he'd partaken of the drink during his failed invasion – but the cold bite made it tolerable.
"Is your weakness ice cream?" Barton wondered. He spat in his pint as soon as Loki's eyes lit on it, then winced when Romanoff stomped on his foot.
"Not as such," Loki informed him, considering other options for ice cream to steal; he wasn't completely against eating Barton's, spit or no, but he also wasn't interested in dodging another exploding arrow.
Jane laughed when Loki's eyes landed on her and she handed over the last couple bites of her butter pecan without complaint. Loki gifted her with a smile for it and she smiled back, saying, "You can stock your freezer with ice cream."
"He might need a bigger freezer," Stark muttered, picking up his empty container of coffee ice cream from the small pile next to Loki. "JARVIS, make a note: Next time we all order ice cream, Loki gets a half-gallon instead of a pint."
"Noted, Sir."
Stark sighed and tossed the container towards the bin, a smile touching his lips when it went in smoothly. "Right. Loki, stay below... oh, I dunno, Steve's floor should be okay, I guess, but let's say Phil and Clint's, to be safe. JARVIS will let you know when I'm done." Loki inclined his head, waving for the empty ice cream containers to hop into the bin on their own. "...okay," Stark muttered, watching the procession for a moment before shaking his head and looking at the blond god. "Thor, you're with me; maybe see about getting the hammer?"
"I will do so," Thor agreed, turning towards the lift.
Loki fell in at Thor's side, leaving the humans behind to decide what they would do for the rest of the evening. "I would remind you, Brother, that you still retain my clothing," he commented easily, not feeling nearly as angry as he perhaps should have; if ice cream was at all a weakness, it was only because it made him more pleasant.
"Ah. Yes."
Loki followed Thor to his floor and waited in the main area as Thor went to his room for Mjölnir and Loki's things, eyeing the comfortable lay of plush couches spread out in front of another large television. Tasteful pictures of Midgard's night sky interrupted the otherwise bland cream colour of the walls – Loki suspected Jane's touch – and, near the hallway to the bedrooms and bathroom hung a calendar. Loki stepped closer to look at it, intrigued by the microscopic organism shown in the picture above the dates. By chance, Loki looked over the line of dates and noticed his name. Actually, his name was on it multiple times, including tomorrow, which said, 'Six-Day -- Loki returns to Asgard'.
Loki fell still, mind racing. It was truly six days tomorrow, wasn't it? He had forgotten, and for all that he'd spent so much time wishing to leave the humans so he could remember, again, why he would see them dead, he wasn't pleased at the thought that he would be leaving them for at least a day. He did not relish returning to Asgard, where he was the monster not-child of the Allfather and Lady Frigga, long scorned for his preference of mind over muscle.
Loki didn't want to go home.
"Brother?" Thor interrupted, concern heavy in his voice. When Loki look up at him, the concern doubled and he stepped forward, dropping Mjölnir so he could pull Loki into an embrace. "What troubles you?"
Loki remained stiff for a beat before melting against Thor, the warmth of his hold as soothing as it had always been. He didn't speak – this was a weakness he could not allow, not when leaving this rock should please him so – but he didn't have to.
"You return home tomorrow," Thor realised.
"Your home," Loki snarled, combating his own sick fear with fury. "Not mi–"
"It is home to us both, unless you should prefer to lay claim to Jötunheim?" Thor replied, unyielding, and Loki's anger drained from him. "It is but one day, Brother, and I see your itch for your magic books and papers, the better to study this new magic you have spent the day entrenched in. Perhaps..." he fell silent, uncertain.
Loki pulled away, drained from the constant up and down his emotions had been indulging in this past week. "Perhaps?" he pressed as he waved his hand at the clothing Thor held in one hand, sending it to the magical storage space he kept his over-armour in. Others held some of his favoured weapons, including a couple magical staffs and lines of daggers, as well as the Casket of Ancient Winters, which Odin had not bothered to ask for the return of, perhaps believing Loki didn't have it.
"Perhaps you might find a way to speed Bruce Banner's healing," Thor suggested, uncertainty in his voice.
"Perhaps," Loki replied without inflection.
The lift doors fell open and Barton stepped out. He paused on seeing the two gods, uncertain, then said, "I was hoping to use your TV, Thor. If it's not a problem? The ladies are watching a fashion show." He wrinkled his nose in distaste.
"It is, as always, free for the use of all," Thor replied, grinning and reaching down for Mjölnir. "I must report to the Man of Iron. All-Knowing JARVIS, where does he await me?"
"Sir is waiting for you in the main lab," JARVIS replied. When Loki went to join Thor in taking the lift, intending to follow it up, then down to the gym, JARVIS informed him, "I am to disallow you access to the upper floors until Sir says otherwise. I apologise."
"We may travel down, first," Thor offered.
Loki went to accept when Barton called, "Actually, Loki, I'd like a word."
Thor's eyes sharpened with concern. "I am not certain that would be wise..."
Loki glanced over his shoulder at the human; Barton had perched on the couch as he always did – it looked uncomfortable, but the man was well used to crouching in uncomfortable positions to shoot – appearing almost comfortable, but there was a set to his shoulders, a spark in his eyes, that hinted at how stressed this was making him. It was almost certain that Romanoff or Coulson had ordered him to settle things with Loki, and being handed the chance, had decided to take it. "We will speak, then," Loki decided with an easy shrug.
"Brother," Thor said, warning in his voice.
Loki flashed a smile at his not-brother. "I promise to return him in one piece, Brother," he said sweetly.
Thor frowned at him, distrustful, then shook his head. "I may regret this," he muttered before stepping onto the lift.
As soon as the doors had closed, Loki asked, "Romanoff or Coulson?" without turning around.
Barton snorted. "Cap, actually, but Phil was right behind him. Tasha offered to play mediator; I turned her down."
"Yes. I don't foresee us doing much peace-making were the Widow here to glare threateningly my way."
"Tasha actually doesn't hate you so much," Barton commented, and Loki finally turned to look at him, expression politely disbelieving. "Yeah, I don't get it either. She decided you weren't all bad somewhere between not poisoning us and saving Stark's life."
"I have noticed that you humans seem to pay an inordinate amount of care to the quality of your food, for all that much of it seems aimed to destroy your bodies faster."
"Yeah, well, we need to eat it. Keeps us alive." Barton shot him an odd look. "Thor's the same way, isn't he?"
"Thor enjoys many things he could otherwise do without." Loki sneered. "Such as those Pop-Tarts."
Barton snorted, a brief smile touching his lips, though his eyes remained tense and watchful as Loki leaned back against the wall next to the lift. "Okay, I'll give you that. Also, totally Jane's friend's fault. Something about him eating an entire box of the things the first time they met and Darcy's enthrallment of the idea. Cap and Phil tried to ban them from the house, but Stark kept slipping him cash and he'd go out and buy them in bulk to eat in the park, so now they're allowed in the tower so they can make sure he doesn't overindulge."
"A reasonable concern," Loki assured him. "But we're not stopped to speak of Thor's bad habits."
"True." Barton shifted slightly on the couch, turning to he could more comfortably watch Loki. "Look, you fucked with my head and I'm never going to forgive you for that, and I'm never going to trust you, either."
"A wise choice, I assure you."
"You keep saying that," Barton countered, "but the most violence you've unleashed on any of us has been knocking Stark and Thor out of chairs. Fuck, you even saved Stark's ass this morning, and here, in our culture, we believe that actions speak more than words. Because it's really fucking easy to watch your words, but it's not so easy to keep from following your principles, from doing something that seems the only thing to do in whatever circumstances.
"And, really, I don't give a damn whether you saved his genius ass to protect Thor from the shame of having killed a teammate, or because you've decided his brand of insanity is to your liking, you still fucking saved him. And, yeah, you put SHIELD into a panic, which is completely up your alley, but I don't think that was the point. Phil doesn't think that was the point, and he was standing next to you when you vanished, when you heard how bad off we were. You were actually bothered to hear Bruce was in the infirmary– Don't fucking lie to me," he snapped as Loki opened his mouth to refute that, "I've seen the video feed from command. You were worried. You asked specifically after Bruce."
Loki had stiffened; he hated being cornered. "What is your point, Agent?" he hissed.
Barton pointed at Loki, eyes sharp and knowing. "I don't like you, and if you bring one of your fucking magic sticks within three feet of me, I will put an arrow through your eye. But I will trust you in the field. I will trust you to keep Bruce, Stark, and Thor, at least, alive. Just so we're clear."
Loki's immediate reaction – and almost certainly the reason Thor hadn't wanted to leave him and Barton alone – was to send his ex-servant out the window or smashed against the nearest hard surface, preferably with sharp edges for his skull to be ground against. Luckily for Barton – and Loki himself, considering how many people were waiting for him to kill someone so they could make his immortal life hell – Loki had enough control to not act on the impulse, instead teleporting down to the gym to take his anger out on something less organic.
Loki had blown up three punching bags before he realised that he wasn't alone: Rogers was leaning against the wall next to a line of punching bags, watching him with a mildly perturbed expression and a glint of humour in blue eyes. When Loki focussed on him, Rogers pushed away from the wall and asked, "Do I need to go rescue Clint from a certain death?"
"If your archer were near death, JARVIS would have informed you," Loki snarled. "And I would be there, enjoying myself, rather than here."
Rogers inclined his head. "Good point. I remember a suggestion about you and me having a fight?"
"Unlike most of you, I do not enjoy physical exertion as a pastime," Loki returned, even as he forced himself to calm down; he wasn't doing anyone any favours with the urge to destroy everything in sight.
"It's a trait you and Tony share," Rogers informed him. "He makes things or, when he's been kicked out of his lab, talks about technology to calm down."
Loki thought about the magic he'd spent the day working with and how it had calmed him. "You would not follow any conversation of magic," he commented, acknowledging the parallels between himself and Stark.
"I don't usually follow Tony, either," Rogers said, a self-deprecating smile twisting his mouth. He grabbed a chair from where a couple stood against a wall and dropped into it. "Talk anyway."
Loki blinked, unused to the idea that someone would sit and listen to him speak of magic when they didn't understand it. And, again, he was struck with how different these mortals were from the Æsir, accepting monsters into their homes and willing to learn about magic, though it was not something they truly believed in. Warriors who listen, Loki considered and, before he knew it, he was talking about everything he'd learned of Midgardian magic that day.
Rogers didn't once make a noise of boredom. He didn't fiddle with his hands or start looking around for something else, as Thor or the Warriors Three would do. He didn't start a debate or question Loki's findings, either, as the few sorceresses Loki had spoken to of magic would do. He simply sat there and listened to Loki talk of languages and runic configurations as if it was the most important thing in the Nine Realms.
JARVIS eventually interrupted them, announcing, "Sir has completed all his tests and says you may return to the upper floors, Loki."
Loki glanced up towards the ceiling. "My thanks."
"Feel better?" Rogers asked.
Loki considered the human, his easy smile and relaxed posture, prepared to remain and listen to Loki speak on. "You are a thoroughly impossible race," he said.
Rogers let out a surprised laugh. "Thanks. I think?"
"Hm," was Loki's only response before teleporting up to his floor. He considered his papers for a moment before reminding himself that he was to return to Asgard tomorrow and making for his bed.
Stark was already awake and sitting at the breakfast bar when Loki teleported in the next morning, dressed in his Asgardian clothing. The human blinked for a moment before groaning. "Shit. You've got to travel the Gay Bridge today, don't you?"
"The– Clarify."
Stark snorted. "Rainbows usually designate homosexuality. So, Rainbow Bridge equals Gay Bridge."
"What does homosexuality have to do with being happy?" Loki asked, setting about making himself breakfast
"Modern slang. It's a euphemism. Sorry. We'll have to wait until tomorrow to talk Doombots, then."
Loki shrugged. "Surveillance magic," he offered. At Stark's blank look, he clarified, "The difference between your box and the Doombot: there was active surveillance magic. There are some dissimilarities in the weave of the spells, as well, but the aberration you noted was the surveillance magic."
"Surveillance magic?" Stark repeated, straightening from his slouch. "Active surveillance magic?"
"Not any more," Loki assured him smugly.
"Yeah, okay." Stark slumped back against the breakfast bar, curling over his coffee slightly. He let out a snort. "Hah. SHIELD is full of idiots. So, surveillance how? Video and audio? Hacking into the computer systems?"
"Only video and audio, from my observations. The audio became two-way when I prodded it."
"Ooh. Did you have a pleasant chat with the queen bee? Doom," he clarified when Loki just stared at him.
"As pleasant a chat as I ever indulge in," Loki replied, taking the stool next to Stark.
"Promising. Who threatened to kill who first?"
"Less kill and more destroy," Loki corrected. "And he did."
"I'd be impressed by your lack of threatening him, but I know you," Stark decided and Loki laughed. "Dissimilarities in the weave of magic. Does that have anything to do with the languages of magic you were talking to Steve about last night?"
Loki raised an eyebrow. "It is that exactly."
"Right. So, put this in novice terms for me, because I actually want to understand this, unlike Steve. Who is, by the way, a phenomenal listener, even though he fails at understanding. I have talked him through how to use a Stark Phone a dozen times now and he just can't. It's embarrassing. I even gave him to Bruce and Pepper, because they can use small words, but he still–"
"Stark," Loki interrupted and the human's mouth snapped shut. "Thank you. Midgard has many different languages spoken, does it not?"
"Sixty-five hundred, give or take," Stark agreed.
Loki blinked in surprise, then shook his head. "Magic, too, has a language, one formed around a singular alphabet, or runic scheme, which often differs between realms. Some magical languages – those of the Æsir and Vanir, for example – are similar, sharing much of the same runes for similar spells."
"Like Spanish and Italian, then?" Stark asked, eyes flickering with knowledge. "They have the same root language – Latin – so they share a lot of the same words, but sometimes the spelling is a bit off, or they're pronounced differently."
"Very much like that," Loki agreed. "Other magical languages – such as those of the Æsir and Jötun – have few or no similarities. Æsir magic is very strict, very settled in its ways, whereas Jötun magic tends towards a sharper edge, very easy to both put together and break apart."
"Like ice," Stark suggested.
Loki's eyes narrowed. "Yes."
Stark shrugged and sipped at his coffee. "And human magic? You told Steve that it's free, like the wind or the ocean."
"It is a looser weave, more prone to skipping runes that would tighten the spell. I would expect the spells to be easier to destroy, like Jötun spells, but they are surprisingly resilient."
"We're like that," Stark informed him. "But you still managed to destroy Doom's surveillance spells?"
"I said resilient, not impossible to destroy, given sufficient force or a particularly able mind," Loki returned drily. "There was more of a fight than I expected, but it was of little concern."
"Okay, ego check."
"I am a god," Loki reminded him.
"You got smashed by a Hulk," Stark replied and Loki grimaced in distaste. "Yeah. That. I have video footage. I will play – for the entertainment of all – you being smashed by the Other Guy. So, ego check." Stark flashed him a bright smile, then shook his head. "Okay, whatever. So, different magic languages. I can flow with that. It makes the energy of the spells read different, you think?"
"I cannot make any assumptions about the abilities of your machines."
"Because they're mine," Stark agreed. Then, before Loki could get any ideas, "Ego check, yeah, that was me. So, I've still got readings of the bot stored on my server, could you shoot up my Box of Awesome – shut up, I was exhausted and I can't unname it, so, Box of Awesome – with that surveillance spell and the floating magic so I can run it against the data I have and see if I can read a difference in the magic? Because then maybe I can tweak the Anti-Magic Field and it won't affect you."
Loki snorted. "It will still affect me, though I appreciate the sentiment."
Stark stared at him for a long moment, until Loki narrowed his eyes in warning, before he said, "I will find a way to negate my own creations, because that's something I have to do. So, yeah, I'm going to find a way to make this thing work, and then I'm going to find a way to make it not work. And you, I might remind you, are my lab god, so. Not working on you, that's my plan. Also, not testing this on you until I've tested it to hell and back."
"Are you afraid of some punishment?" Loki mocked.
"Actually, no. No, I'm afraid of not-angry-but-super-disappointed Bruce. Because Bruce does this absolutely terrifying 'I'm not angry, but I'm very disappointed in you' schtick. Which, no. Also, because next time I do that, he'll bring in Steve and Pepper. And maybe Phil. And that? That is more terrifying than I can face on a good day. So! No god experimentation. Unless it's on Thor, who seems to think it tickles slightly less than anything else I hit him with. Also, he says his Bob the Builder prop feels lighter. I told him just to not hit anything with it, in case it breaks."
"It shouldn't," Loki replied, ignoring the human's oddities. "It is not magic that makes Mjölnir so formidable a weapon – that is of its own creation – and, like Captain Rogers' shield, there is nothing in the Nine Realms that can dent it. The magic is simply to designate its wielder, enable the wielder to call storms or fly, and return to the hand of its wielder when called."
"Really? Okay, cool. I can work with that." Stark sipped at his drink for a moment before asking, "Do you think it would disable your healing abilities?"
"I am uncertain," Loki admitted.
"What's this? Loki's uncertain about something?" Barton snarked as he stepped into the kitchen. "Isn't there a rule in the God Handbook – assuming there is one – about you people always knowing everything?"
"I am neither the Allfather, nor Heimdall and am, therefore, capable of claiming a lack of knowledge," Loki replied coolly. "My skills have always lain in clouding truths and causing chaos, not in seeking truths." He smiled then, sharp and filled with violent promise. "I understand how a spy such as yourself might get truth and lies confused."
"Oh, Jesus. The testosterone. Do we have to do the pissing match first thing in the morning? Really?" Stark complained.
"Says the man who spends most of his free time making up new insults–"
"They're terms of endearment!" Stark insisted.
"You called me Cupid. That is not a term of– Holy fuck!" Barton jumped away from the cereal box he'd opened as he poured out an army of beetles into his bowl. "Loki! I swear to God I'm going to put your fucking eye out!"
Loki just cackled and waved his hand to turn the cereal back to its proper form. Next to him, Stark was grinning a bit manically.
"Why is there cereal all over the floor?" Coulson asked as he paused in the kitchen doorway.
Barton pointed wordlessly at the amused Loki, violence flashing in his eyes. He looked like it was taking everything he had to keep from jumping on Loki and attempting to strangle him.
"Loki, please clean this up," Coulson requested, a hint of steel in his voice.
Loki motioned at the cereal and it all returned to the box, which then floated up to Barton helpfully. Barton grabbed it and shoved it back in the line of boxes, then pulled out one of Thor's packages of Pop-Tarts before stalking past Coulson and out of the room.
Coulson let out a heavy sigh and walked over to the abandoned bowl to serve himself some cereal. "I was under the impression that you and Agent Barton made peace last night," he commented.
"Only for use in the battlefield," Loki replied easily as he waved his dishes to the sink and stood. "I need to depart soon."
"Oh, shit, right." Stark jumped off his stool and hurried over to the coffee machine with his mug. "Wait, I need you to light up the Box of Awesome. Also, if you're good with it, I made a sort of recording thing which should, according to my calculations of Jane's calculations of the Gay Bridge, give us some slightly more awesome statistics on the thing than she's been picking up from SHIELD's equipment at the landing site."
"That's acceptable," Loki agreed.
Stark grinned and led the way from the kitchen. "Great. Awesome. Good. Because, you know, it's like a Christmas present to her, this stuff. Very early Christmas present. Or maybe for her birthday? When's her birthday? I don't know. Pepper would know. I'll ask Pepper. Anyway, right, gift. I mean, she knows I made it, so it's not a surprise or anything, but–"
"Stark," Loki interrupted, torn between amusement and irritation, "shut up."
Stark's lips pressed together and he remained quiet for the ride in the lift and up until he had finished typing in the passcode on the door for the lab. As if the door was the block, as soon as he pulled it open, he was off again: "So, was it just the floating and surveillance magic, or was there something else? Because you said the two-way audio activated when you prodded it with your magic, and I've heard the things speak with his voice before. Also, SHIELD couldn't find the power source for their weapons systems, and, given, it was SHIELD techs that were playing with it, not me, but still. It can't be that hard to find a power source." He tapped his chest, which made a sound vaguely reminiscent of Loki's failed possession attempt on the man. "They tend to be obvious."
"Inactive spells to power weapons, some minor self-repair spells, a spell to make them resilient to electricity–"
"That one can't be working," Stark insisted. "Thor blows those things up for shits and giggles."
"It works against minor electrical currents, but Thor does not wield minor electricity, he wields the full might of an Asgardian storm. There also seemed to be some sort of self-destruct spell, but I cannot guess at the specifics until I test it out myself."
"I've still got some empty land out in Nevada for testing bombs; maybe we can go out there in a couple days and try it out," Stark offered, holding out his 'Box of Awesome'. "Okay, Genie, light 'er up."
"Genie?" Loki repeated as he worked his magic into the box.
"We'll watch Aladdin when you get back," Stark decided. "JARVIS, make a note: Aladdin tonight. Or tomorrow, if shit happens."
"Noted, Sir."
Loki pushed the active box over to Stark and he stopped it with his wooden stick, then said, "JARVIS, run the scans and see if you can't connect to the audio and visual without any help from Loki. If we can find a way to tap into the Box of Awesome, we might be able to tap into the Doombots, for which Fury will be forever in my debt."
Loki snorted. "I very much doubt that Fury believes in holding to debts."
"Or that he'd be stupid enough to allow me to hold one over him? Yeah, I know. My hopes remain lowered. Still, impressing him is always good; I love the way his mouth goes down at one side and he has to struggle to tell me I did a good job." Stark grinned madly while Loki laughed, imagining the pleasure one might derive from such a reaction. "Oh, right, Gay Bridge analyser!" Stark ducked under the Box of Awesome and hurried over to another crowded table. He came back with a silver bauble on a chain, which he held out to Loki. "Figured you could hide it under your shirt or whatever. It should record most occasions of the energy you call magic, so it'll track you, but I can blur you out of the readings later."
"That is well, as I will likely be performing much magic during my stay," Loki allowed, slipping the chain around his neck and the bauble under the front of his tunic. There was the slightest hint of its existence pressing against the fabric covering it, but Loki twitched his jacket to loosen the tightness of the fabric and the shape vanished.
"Okay, cool. Good. Uhm, hey, JARVIS? Is Jane up?"
JARVIS was silent for a moment, then said, "Yes. She requests that Loki come down to her and Thor's floor so she might return with him to New Mexico."
"Okay, wait, seriously?" Stark complained. "She does know she's not going to get anything else out of the shit SHIELD's got, right? And most of her tech is here, in the lab – has been for, like, three months – and SHIELD can totally send the rest of it themselves. They have things for that. Like, truck things. And plane things. Also, Bruce is unwell and we need her here if we have to assemble. Because, you know what? One team member down, everyone else but Cap and Thor wounded in some way, and it's a Monday; attacks are a certain." He turned to Loki. "Talk to her. Make her see sense. If she really needs to go back to the base, she can go next time you go home. Today? Bad day. No."
"I will inform her of your thoughts on the matter," Loki replied drily, then teleported downstairs.
Thor was leaning against the doorway to the back hallway when Loki appeared, looking tired. He smiled upon seeing Loki, though. "Good morning, Brother."
"Brother," Loki replied and Thor's eyes lit up. "Stark requests that I give a list of reasons to Lady Jane as to why she must remain here."
"If he's going on about how I can't possibly learn anything new on site, he can shove it up his sarcastic ass," Jane snapped from the small kitchen behind Loki. "Just because he thinks–"
"I will remind you that Dr Banner is incapacitated and will require someone to remain in the tower," Loki smoothly interrupted.
"And it is a Monday," Thor added with a sort of certainty that Loki didn't understand; what did the day of the week matter?
"Oh," Jane said, slumping. "I forgot about Bruce. Okay, I guess I'm staying here." She shook her head. "Damn."
Loki shrugged and looked back at Thor. "I shall leave, then. Unless there was something you wish me to return with?"
"I–" Thor frowned, then shook his head. "No. Though, if you have interest in travelling the markets, I should wish for some pictures of our sky." He motioned to one of the pictures that were on the walls.
"Perhaps," Loki replied before closing his eyes and focussing on his ability to change his shape; it would be an easier falsity for all to believe if he was seen to be Thor when he returned to the city, in case his presence was required. His clothing, imbued with his magic and practised at reforming around him and taking Thor's colours instead of his own, eased into the change without pausing.
"Oh my God, that's creepy," Jane announced.
Thor grinned at his twin. "That never ceases to entertain, Brother."
"Avoid getting killed while I am in Asgard," Loki ordered in Thor's voice, and Jane let out a squeak behind him. "If you must travel to Valhalla, I should like to be there to see you off." And he smiled a cold smile, one that had no place turning Thor's mouth.
Thor laughed. "I shall keep that in mind," he promised. "Have you a Mjölnir to wield?"
Loki frowned, then held out his hand and willed one of his less ostentatious staffs into existence from his magic space. A flicker of magic, assisted by the magic of the staff itself, was all it took for the weapon to shift into a replica of the fabled hammer.
Thor considered it with the eyes of one well-familiar with his weapon, then stepped forward and touched a finger to one of the longer sides. "Father placed a geas upon it," he said.
The symbol for an Asgardian-placed geas bloomed under Thor's finger until the elder god nodded his approval and stepped back. "A most perfect rendition, Brother."
"They are my specialty," Loki reminded him. "Brother, Lady Jane."
"Go, then, and be well," Thor said.
Loki inclined his head, then teleported himself to the site of the Bifröst. "Heimdall!" he called.
There was a moment's pause, then the storm preceding the formation of the bridge started in the clouds above him. Loki touched the bauble against his chest, just to remind himself it was there, and then the storm was upon him, carrying him up and through space.
He landed in the chamber, Heimdall staring at him with all-seeing eyes. "Loki," he said. "You wear another's skin."
"If you know me as I am, you know also that Thor was there when I took it and takes no offense," Loki replied.
Heimdall inclined his head. "It is not my place."
"You're correct, it's not," Loki snarled, and the words sounded wrong in Thor's booming voice. He moderated his tone with some slight difficulty, then asked, "Is there a horse for me, or am I to walk the bridge to the palace?"
"The Allfather sent a horse," Heimdall replied.
"Good." Loki stalked past the gatekeeper and collected his horse, then started off along the bridge, the false Mjölnir thumping against his side.
Odin met Loki by the stables, single eyes sharp. "Son, we are glad to have you home," he said, clapping Loki on the shoulder as he would have Thor, though with slightly less force than he used with his sturdier son.
"As glad as I am to have returned, I am certain," Loki replied insincerely, wearing one of Thor's stupid grins. He knew he should say something about how he was glad to see his not-father, as Thor would have done, but that was too bitter a lie for even Loki's silver tongue, and so it remained unspoken, heavy between them.
Odin led the way into the palace, speaking of Thor's friends, who were out on quest in Svartálfaheim for some trinket or another, and a recent contest between some young warriors. Loki made interested noises in the places he thought were appropriate, smiling broadly at the people they passed in the halls and offering greetings to those he knew Thor would have spoken to.
As soon as they were behind the closed doors of Odin's office, Loki let his false form melt away, keeping his not-brother's colours on his clothing only for ease of retaking the disguise. "Have we true business to discuss, or will this be a social visit?" he asked with distain as he dropped the false Mjölnir next to the chair he folded himself into.
"Some little business, then you may continue as you see fit until the afternoon feast, where you will put in an appearance as Thor," Odin replied, tone firm.
"How tiring." Loki tugged at the edges of his jacket, frowning at the lines of red where there was usually green. "Will you demand I stay for supper, or may I be off to Midgard before dark?"
Odin sighed. "Your mother would like your attendance, but it is your choice."
"Mine, or Thor's?" Loki snarled.
"Must you turn everything into a competition?" Odin asked tiredly and Loki bared his teeth in a parody of a smile. "Frigga loves you both equally, as she always has. If you won't stay for supper, at least visit with her for a time before you leave; she misses you."
Loki looked away at that, stomach churning. "Perhaps," he returned. "Now, to this business?"
The business with Odin took much of the morning, and Loki spent the rest of his time until the midday feast going through his magic books and scrolls, deciding which ones he would take back with him, and which were best left to collect dust.
Hunting for a specific book, Loki came across the picture of himself and Thor that he had mentioned to Stark during their day out. He sat back with it, staring at the children within the frame, laughing at one of Loki's bad jokes and arms around one another's shoulders. Loki had hidden it – and other pictures including Thor – away shortly after learning of his heritage. As hurt and full of hate as he'd been, he'd been unable to destroy the pictures of his not-brother, unlike those that had included Odin. Because Thor hadn't known and, after everything, Thor was still his brother.
Anger surged through Loki and he raised his arm to throw the picture, but his fingers wouldn't uncurl from around it and so he brought it back down and held it to his chest, curling around it protectively.
Frigga found him like that, some twenty minutes before the feast, crying silent tears into his knees for lost childhood and broken trust. She silently knelt beside him and drew him into her arms, letting him cry into her breast, and he did so, taking comfort from her presence, as he had since he was a boy.
When Loki's tears ceased, Frigga brushed her fingers under his eyes, collecting the liquid. "My sweet child, what troubles you so?" she whispered.
Loki's fingers flexed around the picture he still held against his chest. "Memories," he murmured, "of days long out of reach." He slipped out of her grasp and rose, uncertain what to do with his picture. "Mother, it is good to see you well."
"I wish I could say the same," Frigga replied, rising and reaching forward to tuck a lock of hair back behind Loki's ear, which he allowed with the patience of a son well-used to the action. "Thor's companions are not giving you trouble?"
Loki shook his head, smiling faintly. "No more than they should, considering what I did to them." At Frigga's deepened frown, he laughed and moved to reassure her, "There is one, Stark–"
"The Man of Iron," Frigga noted, still frowning.
"Him," Loki agreed. "He has a quick mind and an interest in magic; I have spent much time with him, rediscovering magic through his technology."
Frigga's expression lightened at the fondness in Loki's voice and the warmth in his eyes. "That is well," she decided before glancing around at the mess Loki had made. "This mortal is why you have pulled out all your books?"
"He is a part of it," Loki hedged, unwilling to tell his mother – never his not-mother, he was too fond of Frigga, loved her too much to disclaim her as he did Thor and Odin – of the magic-wielding enemy he'd made, and certain she would find no interest in his discoveries of Midgardian magic, though she might pretend it for his sake.
Frigga sighed. "Let us clean this mess up, then, lest we miss the feast."
"What a shame that would be," Loki muttered as he moved to collect the books he intended to take with him in a bag he could carry – magic books were notoriously difficult about being placed in magic spaces.
It didn't take long to clean up and, when he asked, Frigga admitted that she'd borrowed the healing book Loki had been looking for. At her questions, he admitted that one of the humans had been wounded in battle and Loki wished to help his natural healing, an admittance which made her smile proudly.
After the feast, he spent time with Frigga, catching up and laughing as they hadn't since before Loki learned of his heritage. When he made mention of Thor's wish for pictures of Asgard's sky, she insisted they go out together to the markets and pick some out. She also got him to pick pictures and trinkets for his own rooms, pieces of home he would otherwise never have bothered to collect.
He did remain for supper, and while it was stilted, with Odin there, he did continue smiling with Frigga, and she walked him to the stables to wish him well. "Give your brother my best," she added as she kissed his cheek, scratchy with Thor's beard.
"I will," Loki promised in his not-brother's voice. "Be well, Mother."
"And you, my son," Frigga returned, then stepped back to let Loki mount his horse, waving as he thundered out of the palace grounds and down the bridge.
Heimdall awaited him, stern and unyielding. "Until six days hence, Loki," he said as Loki brushed past him to his position, form melting back into his own as he moved.
"With luck," Loki replied drily, "it will not be sooner."
"With luck," Heimdall agreed before pushing his sword home.
The Bifröst lit up around Loki and he was again sailing through space, his bag clutched tight against his side so he didn't chance losing any of his books.
It was later than he'd expected on Midgard, but he'd spent longer at the table with Frigga and Odin than he'd meant to. When he arrived on the balcony of Avengers Tower, the main floor was dark and empty, though the lights turned on as he stepped inside. "Is Thor awake, JARVIS?" he asked, guessing who had brought up the lights for him.
"He is not," JARVIS replied. "I can awaken him, if you require him."
"No, I only had some things for him; it can wait until the morrow." He teleported down to his room and set his bag next to his bed before undressing, his Asgardian clothing again being sent to his magical space. "Did they have to do battle?" he wondered.
"A small one near the city limits," JARVIS reported. "No further injuries were sustained, and it only took ten minutes; Agent Coulson's ride to the SHIELD helicarrier turned around before it touched down."
Loki laughed. "At least I ensure he arrives in good time to assist from their base," he commented, slipping into bed. "Good night, JARVIS," he said as the lights dimmed, and it didn't seem nearly as odd as it perhaps should have to be wishing an artificial intelligence good night.
"Good night, Loki," JARVIS replied. "Pleasant dreams."
No, not odd at all.
-0-
Whatever Lies Beyond This Morning
Like So Much Shattered Glass Chapters:
One | Two | Three | Four |
Rough Edges Chapters:
One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven
Christmas Tunes
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Date: 20/8/12 06:24 (UTC)I put off going to bed to read this chapter >.>
Loki...you are awesome! Very interesting fellow but amazing. Bob the Builder made me laugh :P
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Date: 20/8/12 06:33 (UTC)Oops. Well, go get some sleep now, then. ♥
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Date: 20/8/12 15:33 (UTC)And I got sleep!!
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Date: 20/8/12 16:10 (UTC)Well, my official update day is Monday, but I keep having to post it on Sunday because of travelling things. :/ But those are done. For the moment. So it should be Monday this next chapter. ^.^"