Chapter Text
Loki sat on the throne of Asgard and tried his kingly best to feign interest in the goings-on through the meeting with his advisors. While he greatly enjoyed the power he wielded, he had not quite expected the utter boredom associated with things not of great import to the Nine Realms. Honestly, as soon as he had a chance, he would begin a system of delegation. There were some small details that honestly didn’t need the King’s attention; it was that simple. Of course, any reformations he enacted would need to be slow and carefully planned. As he was wearing the form of Odin the idiot, there was only so much he could do at a time without raising suspicion. Fortunately, he did have Frigga’s death to excuse any changes in overall policy.
The thought of his mother’s untimely demise brought a pang to Loki’s heart. He had loved her. He had loved Frigga, the only mother he could ever imagine, and though vengeance had been wrought upon the dark elves for their miscalculated attack, he was still uneasy with his grief. Additionally, the second skin that was his royal disguise was itchy and confining. Loki needed a break, and he needed one soon.
“I will consider everything brought to my attention this day. For now, I encourage you to rest and find entertainment in the banquet hall. We yet have much to discuss, and I would not have a mistake made from mere weariness.” His vassals obeyed Loki’s clear dismissal and left him alone.
King. Loki was King of Asgard. He had everything he ever desired, but there was still some unrest, some new desire niggling at the back of his mind and driving him near insanity’s edge. There was another, drenched in grief as he was yet still unbroken, one worthy of an Asgardian King, and it was time Loki made his sentiments known on the subject.
***
Ice slid across amber liquid to clink against glass as it swirled in his hand. Tony Stark, bachelor fucking billionaire, had been staring at the hypnotic eddying for longer than he cared to mark the time passing. Around him, the ever infamous Stark Tower had reduced itself to a ghost town shrouded with dust. It had been Pepper’s inherent ability to manage the chaos that was Tony Stark that kept things running smoothly in his empire. Now, the dust was just another reminder he was on his own.
Tony supposed he could have found some maid to be responsible for the cleanliness part of his functionality, but he didn’t want anyone near him, didn’t want anyone seeing how Pepper’s death had truly affected him. He was too arrogant, too proud to display his vulnerability openly. The drinking, the anonymous sex, the recklessness. That was all Tony Stark pre-Pepper. No one would suspect it came from his ever-pressing need to drown away his memories. He’d already been in a bad place after New York, struggling with his demons, but now. Now he didn’t know he’d care if he just ceased to exist.
Completely irritated with his grief and mopey existence, Tony had thrown himself into a new project. Out of loyalty to Pepper, he had destroyed every suit, even went so far as to complete the surgery that would remove his dependence on the arc reactor. What that meant for Iron Man, however, was he needed a new set of armor, just one, with its own arc reactor.
Looking up from his glass of thick, syrupy whiskey, Tony eyed the finished product in its pretty glass case. He hadn’t put it on yet, had let J.A.R.V.I.S take over all the beta testing and trial runs. He would have to try it himself soon. His engineer mind would not allow him to leave such perfection incomplete or even unused, but it wasn’t time yet. Wasn’t time.
He was thinking too coherently. Throwing back the rest of his drink, Tony pushed himself up from his slumped position on the floor and stumbled his way over to the well-stocked bar. He moved to pour more of the whisker into his glass but realized only as a thin sliver of gold dripped over the ice that the fifth he’d been nursing was empty. Releasing a slurred batch of curse words, Tony slid around the bar and went clumsily clinking through the top shelf choices, trying to decide if he should continue with whiskey or pick another hard liquor to become his friend for the night.
“Since you’re already there, do you mind pouring that drink you owe me? I find myself in need of a pick-me-up.” Tony didn’t quite freeze, but he did slow his movements to a glacier pace. Turning slowly, he was surprised to find the God of Mischief standing cool and collected a mere 20 feet away.
“Huh. That’s new,” was all Tony said before turning back to making his drink. He decided to stick with whiskey and found a good bottle, pouring it into his glass almost immediately.
“New? I believe you’ve seen me before, Anthony. In fact, I was in this room not too long ago, speaking to you…that is, before a green pest came and rudely interrupted us.” Tony waved a hand as she took a long sip from his glass, gulping it down before answering.
“Sure, sure. I’ve seen you before, but you haven’t appeared like this before. I may be piss drunk most of the time, but I’d remember if I’d hallucinated the God of Mischief. You’re pretty hard to forget, Chuckles.” Loki merely smiled his coldly amused smile.
“As are you, Anthony Stark, Man of Iron.”
“Thanks, I guess.” Tony, having finished his drink, poured another one and took the initial sip into his mouth with no small amount of relish. “So why you? Why this time?”
“You honestly believe me to be some sort of hallucination, don’t you…” Tony shrugged.
“You’re dead. Thor reported it to S.H.I.E.L.D, and while I wasn’t actually there for the meeting, words gets around, especially when a mortal enemy dies in a blaze of heroic sacrifice.” Loki chuckled at that. Despite everything he’d done, all the betrayal and deception, it had still been so easy to deceive his golden brother. Easier than it really should have been. Anyone around him should really know not to trust their eyes. For Asgard’s sake, he’d just finished pulling the strings of the dark elves with his illusory talents.
“That may be, but consider for a moment, Anthony, what if I was still alive?” It was Tony’s turn to laugh, though the sound was bitterly ironic.
“My first question would be why would you visit me? I’m not exactly Avenger material anymore. It wouldn’t be a challenge for you to destroy me, but why? Your brother is all happy and goo-goo-eyed with his little piece of tail. Isn’t it your life’s mission to destroy his happiness or something?”
“A fair point. Very astute, although I will tell you I’ve been keeping an eye on them, and there may be a little trouble in paradise. Still, that’s beside the point. I didn’t come here to destroy you, Man of Iron. That’s the farthest thing from my intention.” Tony, who was only half paying attention, raised a lazy eyebrow.
“So what? You really just wanted a drink?” Tony held up his half-empty glass, prepared to drink from the bottle if his hallucination insisted on sharing. Loki took the proffered glass and swirled the liquid.
“No, no, though the offer is appreciated.” Loki drained the cup easily then approached Tony’s side. Assuming the man wanted a refill, Tony moved to pour another for him, but Loki brushed it away, ignoring as the bottle slipped from Tony’s hand and shattered on the floor. Before he could splutter with righteous indignation, Loki placed his empty glass on the counter behind Tony, cupped his rough, unshaven face, and leaned in close, pressing their lips together.
The kiss began softly, at first. It wasn’t tender, but it was slow and measuring as Loki took his time tasting. Tony didn’t react at first, not able to absorb what was happening, but when his alcohol muddled brain caught up to reality, he began to struggle. Fruitlessly. Instead of breaking the kiss, Tony’s struggling marked a change in its nature. Loki released Tony’s face, caught his wildly thrashing arms, and moved forward until Tony was thoroughly trapped between Loki’s body and the counter, his wrists consequently pinned to his sides by the steel grip of the God’s embrace.
When Tony could move no more than the smallest wriggle, Loki concentrated on deepening his kiss, slipping his tongue into his partner’s mouth with relish and using it to explore until the taste of alcohol faded and left Tony experiencing only the taste of Loki. Finally, when the God of Mischief had taken his fill, he pulled back, kiss-reddened lips turned up in a dark and gratified smile.
“I came here, Anthony Stark, Man of Iron, to possess you.” For several long moments, the two men just stared at each other, one smugly satisfied and the other shocked into frozen stillness. Then, Tony’s eyes rolled back, and he collapsed with all the grace of a fainting elephant. Smile widening, Loki caught Tony’s limp form in his arms, cradling the unconscious man’s head against his chest. All things considered, his coming to claim Tony had gone a lot better than he’d expected it would, and with the man unconscious, it would be easy to slip back into Asgard, stow his prize in his royal chambers, and make a quick public appearance before anyone had noticed their illustrious leader had gone. It was turning out to be a very good day.
***
“I’ve had enough, Thor,” Jane said, arms folded across her chest as she used her body to block the golden-haired God from gaining entrance to her apartment.
“Jane, please. Let me-”
“No!” The interruption was short and sparking with fury. “I can’t do this. In some strange way, I think it was easier when you were away. I could idealize any relationship we might have that way, but you are insanely jealous. You’re never around when I need you because you’re off fighting some distant battle, and when all this is over, I’ll just be a blip on the long expanse of your lifetime.”
“But it’s the blip I’ll value more than all else. Please, Jane. I cannot be without you.”
“I said no, Thor. I can’t live like this, an addict waiting days, weeks, months or even years before my next fix. It’s not a normal life, and that’s what I want.”
“Jane-”
“Goodbye, Thor.” The door closed, and Thor was cut off from the one thing he wanted most. He could easily break it down, demand that she accept the terms of their relationship, but he’d grown enough to know that wouldn’t be right and wouldn’t lead to the happiness he yearned for. He couldn’t resist, however, slamming one enraged fist into the drywall across the hall from her door.
Once the burst of anger was over with, Thor dislodged his hand from the wall, brushed the white dust from his knuckled, and trudged outside. Looking at the sky, he found his destination, summoned the energy of the Bifröst, and let loose, the only memory of his presence an intricate circular burn into the concrete.
Thor nodded Heimdall in passing, too preoccupied with his own morose thoughts to grant anything more formal than faint awareness. The guardian, having seen everything as he always did, left the God to his own musings and continued to watch the heavens. Thor wandered aimlessly through Asgard, his shuffling feet and distant eyes a clear sign to any who considered approaching him that it was not the time.
After a time, Thor became more aware of himself and realized he was heading towards his mother’s bedchambers. He knew she would not be there to grant him the peace and comfort he truly needed, but he could not bring himself to turn away. The well-familiar route passed by quickly, and he soon found entrance to the room.
Though he was still a bit absentminded, Thor noticed something was off right away. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but his gait turned into one of determination as he approached the alcove that held his mother’s bed. All at once, he realized there was a figure upon it. Drawing closer, he inhaled a surprised breath to find the figure to be Anthony Stark of Earth, one of the last people he’d ever expect to stumble upon in Asgard, especially in the privacy of his recently deceased mother’s bedchambers. He reached forward, intent on shaking the mortal awake, but a hand clamped over his mouth, startling him.
“As always, brother. You have the most terrible timing.” Then a sharp pain sliced inward from the back of his head, and Thor descended into blackness just as he recognized the voice that had hissed at him as Loki’s.