Hapless Queer Avengers and the Blue-Eyed Monster

by bluestalking, feverbeats

Summary:

"Oh my god," Jan says. "You want us to take care of a suicidal mutant baby."

"You make it sound much cuter than it is, I promise," Tony says wearily.

 

In which Pietro Maximoff joins the Avengers and Victor von Doom learns about parenting.

Notes:

STORY WARNINGS (PLEASE READ): consensual explicit sex between people of various genders, violence, discussion of past rape/incest/sexual abuse/alcohol abuse, mental health issues (depression, PTSD, suicidal ideation, self-destructive behaviors, body dysphoria), cissexism/transphobia, complex gender identities, seduction/dubcon/exploitation, racism/white privilege, families are complicated, mutants are a social metaphor

Specific warnings will be posted with every chapter.

Chapter Warnings: body dysphoria, maybe some vague cissexism

Chapter 1: steve rogers wakes up in asgard

Steve wakes up and he remembers he was in Asgard. He must still be in Asgard, because everything around him, including the bed he's in, looks too--golden for Earth.

"Okay, Rogers," he says to himself. "How did you end up exactly here?"

"Shit!" Bucky says, from beside Steve's bed. "Took me by surprise, partner." He leans forward to inspect Steve. "How're you feeling?"

"Tired," Steve says. "Hi, Bucky. Comfortable. Weak, sort of. I jumped on Odin, didn't I?"

Bucky laughs weakly. "Uh, yeah, you did. Probably saved Loki's life, too." He shakes his head and wonders how to explain to Steve what probably happened.

"I remember that," Steve says. "I can't blame him for freezing up. It all went all right, though? The queen's in charge?"

Bucky nods. "Everything's okay. It was a good plan. No one even got hurt." No one but you, he doesn't say. "Uh, you sure you feel okay?"

"I feel weak," Steve says again. "Probably just the stress of--Bucky, you are giving me the worst damn look. I had my face mashed up against a god-killer of a weapon. I'm aware of that. What did it do to me?"

"It's tough to say," Bucky hedges. "You know, since it's meant for gods. But our best guess--Tony's best guess--is that it started undoing whatever the serum did."

"What?" Steve says. He sits up in his blankets, with some effort, and looks at his arms. They’re thinner than before. "What?" he repeats. He means no, but saying that would be nearly like accepting it.

"Don't worry, we're working on a fix," Bucky says. "Tony's beating himself up about it. I told him to go get some rest. But we'll make this right." He really hopes that's true. He can't imagine Steve without what the serum gave him. He never knew him like that, and he doesn't know if Steve can be okay without it anymore.

Steve puts his hands on his chest and feels how he's shaped. It's not the same. He's smaller and softer than before. Not as small or as soft as he was before the serum, maybe, but--smaller. Softer.

"I hope Loki is grateful," he says, which is unfair and also not the point.

"I'll bet he is, but he disappeared," Bucky says. "I would, too, after all this. You've been out for a while."

For a second Steve has the lurching, terrible realization that he and Bucky have been here for years. Decades. That he’s aged, now, as well as old, and everything on Earth has passed him by again.

But of course it hasn’t. Bucky said Tony is still here.

"Easy," Bucky says, seeing Steve's expression. "Easy. Two days, just about, if you were wondering." He puts his hand on Steve's arm. "Everyone's been checking in. Especially Tony. You're okay."

"Then what've they been checking on?" Steve asks distractedly. He shoves at his covers and starts wriggling towards the edge of the bed.

"Whoa," Bucky says, "hold it. We should probably get a doctor in here. Or whatever Asgard calls 'em. We don't know how weak you are yet."

"Not making me want to sit quiet, Buck," Steve says tensely.

Bucky can't let himself forget who Steve is. "Yeah, I know, idiot," he says. "But I'm telling you to take it easy, okay? Let Tony look at you, anyway. He should be sleeping, but I can get him. Or I can get Tyr. He's standing guard. He'll find one of the doctors."

"I want to know," Steve says. He stops trying to get out of bed, but he doesn't lie down. "You can't tell me that and then not let me know."

"Okay," Bucky says slowly. "Okay. So, we think it weakened you, and if you'd touched it for any longer, you might have gone back to the way you were before the serum. You look...Well, you look normal."

"You mean I'm just Steve Rogers," Steve says. His voice isn't even.

"It's not the serum that made you Captain America," Bucky says quietly, even though that's not exactly true.

Steve laughs in an awful, jarring way, sitting all the way upright. "How would you know, Buck?" he says. "You never met Steve Rogers without the super soldier."

Bucky wants to say he's damn sure he'd have followed Steve Rogers to the ends of the Earth, but he doesn't have any proof. Instead, he says, "I didn't fall for you because of your muscles, Cap."

"Maybe not," Steve says, looking away, "but I wasn't ever any use before the serum. I was just a scrawny, idealistic kid who could barely lift a gun."

"You won't go back to that," Bucky argues. "Look at you. I wouldn't exactly call you scrawny." In fact, Steve looks completely unremarkable. Average build, average frame.

"Well, that's dandy," Steve says. "That’s all right. I bet you didn't mind at all when you lost an arm."

Bucky wants to say it's not the same, but he doesn't want to argue when Steve's clearly so miserable. "We can make this right," he says.

"Tell that to Bruce Banner," Steve mutters.

"Okay, listen," Bucky says, standing up. "I should get Tony. He wanted me to get him when you woke up."

Steve says, "Oh. Yes. I'd like that."

Bucky nods. "Back in a flash." He figures he'll walk slowly, though. Steve could use a minute.

~

Steve doesn't know how long he's got, but he waits until the door is shut and surreptitiously peeks at himself under the covers. He's thinner and narrower and his muscles are less well-defined. It's like he's woken up in someone else's body; he's never had one that looks like this. He feels like he should be able to claw his way out of it.

It's not long--maybe ten minutes--before Tony bursts into the room, looking exhausted and harried.

"Steve!" he says. "Hey, you look--good. Better than when you were asleep. How do you feel?" He drops into Bucky's vacated seat at Steve's bedside.

"Don't know yet," Steve says. "I haven't stood up, or looked in a mirror. Hey, you."

"Hey," Tony says. He gives Steve a brave smile that falls flat. "Everybody got through it alive. Well, everybody who was supposed to."

"I really do look awful, don't I?" Steve says. "Sorry."

"You don't," Tony says truthfully. "You look like a guy, Steve. A normal guy. That's it. But don't worry, we'll get you back to abnormal in no time."

"Normal," Steve says with a stilted laugh. Why didn't he think of this in the first few seconds? It’s as true to say Tony fell for him because was normal as it is to say Bucky didn't fall for his muscles. "That bad!" is all he says.

Tony frowns. "You could have died. If you'd held on, you might have. I don't know what that thing does to mortals. I only made half of it. And don't think I don't feel awful about that."

"Hey," Steve says. "You didn't design it so I could go flinging myself on top of it. It's not your fault."

"I'll believe you, but only because Bucky just spent the better part of a day telling me the same thing," Tony says. "Look, I'm going to find a way to get your powers back. Loki could probably tell us more about the magic part of the net, but..."

Steve raises an eyebrow. “He’s gone?”

"He's gone," Tony says, trying not to feel miserable about it. "Nobody knows where. He just took off. His mom says he's fine, though. But, uh. Not here."

He doesn't succeed in not feeling miserable.

"Took Doom with him I assume?" Steve asks.

"Bingo,” Tony says. "Probably cheering each other up in the frozen wastes of the embassy or something." He smiles weakly. "While we enjoy Asgard."

"Some irony I see you're using there," Steve observes. He shrugs his shoulders, which feel too light, and sore. "I'm not surprised they ran off. I don't know why he'd know how to fix this, though. He was building it for gods, remember?"

"We could work through it together," Tony says. He stops. "Or, never mind. I'll fix it. I'll figure it out. I can do that. Just give me a little time." He's already thinking about it, working through solutions to try, mostly to avoid thinking about everything else.

"Tony, can you just maybe put a hold on talking about this magical solution you're gonna come up with?" Steve says, more snappishly than he intends. "I can practically see you planning at me. I'm just--let me get a grip on the problem, okay? I’m just a little fresh."

"Right, sure, of course," Tony says quickly, dragging himself back to the present. Ugh. The present is terrible. "Do you need anything? Time? Food? A hug?" Yeah, like that hug he never got to give Loki. He figures if your dad tries to kill you, you deserve a hug.

"I could go for some food," Steve allows. He thinks being hugged would be such obvious proof of how he's shrunk down and changed that he'd be sick. "And maybe your hand?" He holds his out.

"Yeah," Tony says, grabbing Steve's hand. It doesn't feel that different. Just a little smaller. "I'll have Tyr grab you something to eat. He's been hanging around the door a lot. Trying to catch Bucky coming in and out, I think."

"What?" Steve says blankly. "Oh. Of course. I didn’t know they...Oh, didn't fall for my muscles, like hell!"

Tony raises his eyebrows. "Did he say--? Look, you're still pretty macho. I think you could take me, for what it's worth." It's okay, he tells himself. Steve is just...adjusting.

Steve laughs--well, not laughs, but a puff of air flings itself out of his lungs and it makes a noise and that's the least upsetting way of phrasing it. "Assuming you still want me to," he says.

"Hey," Tony says, suddenly serious. "What are you--? Steve, listen. Half this team is trapped in bodies they hate, or bodies that hate them. You're a normal, extremely attractive, pretty muscular guy. Who the hell wouldn't want you? Most of us would kill for your body."

"I'm kind of at a disadvantage in this argument, because I don't even know what that is yet," Steve says shortly.

"Well," Tony says a little jerkily, "I can go get you something to eat and give you time to find out."

"I think I could use a good meal," Steve says, still short, looking at the blankets.

"Then I'll just--" Tony doesn't know why he's still talking. He stops. Then he turns and leaves.

Steve's heart is pounding in his chest as the door shuts behind Tony. "Well, you asked for it," he finally says to himself, and slowly pushes back the covers and gets to his feet.

He wonders, after a few steps, how much of it is that he's still recovering, and how much of it is that he's just plain weak.

Chapter 2: bruce and hulk meet thor's best friends ever

Summary:

"There is every chance we'll find them here," he says, pushing open the doors.

Notes:

Chapter Warnings: none

Bruce has been bracing himself against a barrage of familial introductions since the coup. Loki was good luck for him, while he was here, because Loki is usually more conspicuous than Bruce, and he conveniently brought his boyfriend to the revolution. Frigga has been busy putting the government under her order, and Tyr has been stamping out fires. Thor's friends, including Sif, have been distracted (by what, Bruce hasn’t bothered to find out). But Loki is gone, things are stable, and Thor has reached the point where Bruce can't put the idea out of his head.

It doesn’ help that Thor has been increasingly at loose ends in Asgard. He wishes Loki had stayed, and it troubles him that he can't personally check to see that his little sibling is all right. He supposes that's not strictly his job anymore; still, it would be nice to know. Since he can’t, Thor is putting his energy into showing off Bruce. He never thought he'd get his chance this soon. He is only restraining himself at all because he can tell how anxious Bruce is about it.

When they've been there a few days, Thor leans close to Bruce in the dining hall of the palace after lunch.

"My mother, my brother, and my companions all seem to have their business well in hand," he begins meaningfully.

Bruce knows what's coming and he wants to protest, but mostly because it feels like he should. He is slightly annoyed, both at not really minding and by his own pretending to mind. He glowers at Thor a little.

Thor crosses his arms and smiles. "They'd like to meet you," he says. He thinks this is true of at least some of them.

Bruce says, "Your mother is a little intimidating, but I would love to meet her. Tyr is the god of war, but he seems nice enough. Sif is delightful--really I think it's just Fandral and Volstagg I object to, and the likelihood that I'm going to have to talk to everyone at once. Or have a very terrifying personal interview with your mother."

Thor can't imagine finding Fandral or Volstagg difficult, but they do seem to be the two most people have trouble with. "I could make sure they don't all descend at once," he says doubtfully. "Although the Warriors Three do stick together."

"And Sif," Bruce says drily. "No. Do it. Bring them all on. I am going to have a terrifying interview with your mother, aren’t I? I think that's what she did to Doom. Should I be offended on your behalf if I don’t qualify for the same treatment?”

Thor laughs, although it's still odd thinking of Doom as the same as Bruce in any capacity. "I think you will. She likes to make sure we're not being fools," he says.

"Probably because you are, half the time," Bruce says gruffly, which Thor can take as fondly.

Thor puts his hand on Bruce's shoulder. "Indeed. But not with you. Anyway, there’s no need to worry. I’ll accompany you so you don't have to face them alone."

"Oh, god," says Bruce, startled. He stands up. "Was there a chance you were thinking of just leaving me in a room with them? I hope there’s tea."

"We usually drink mead," Thor says, still cheerful. "Don't worry, I wouldn't leave you alone." He gives Bruce's shoulder a squeeze. "I'm sure my friends have already been drinking today."

"You have no idea what kind of encouragement that is," Bruce says, but he follows Thor.

Thor leads Bruce out of the palace and into the city, where the most popular of Asgard's taverns is. Thor has frequented it many times.

"There is every chance we'll find them here," he says, pushing open the doors.

"Hmm," Bruce says. It's loud inside. Asgardians are all large, and they're all larger than their bodies. Well--that is all right. Bruce can relate.

Thor does spot his friends after all, and he waves enthusiastically. He pushes his way through the crowd--most of them move away from him on their own--and half-shoves Bruce into a seat near the others.

"Bruce!" Sif says. "You have been very clever about hiding from us since you've been here. I assume it's not me you're hiding from?"

"Hardly," Bruce says. "Except you're always surrounded by an adoring mob."

Fandral looks affronted.

"Where?" Volstagg says loudly. "No adoring mobs here. Hello, little Bruce." He pats Bruce on the head cheerfully. "We hear you're Thor's lover! Some of us don't believe it."

Hogun puts his head on the table.

Bruce removes himself from Volstagg's reach and says, "Which ones?"

"Volstagg," Hogun mutters.

"Me," Volstagg agrees.

"Okay," Bruce says. "One in denial. How has everyone else voted?"

Hogun lifts his head to smile, almost imperceptibly.

"Oh, he thinks it's true," Volstagg says dismissively.

"I know it's true," Sif says, annoyed in the way somebody is when they've had an argument too many times to put much energy into it.

"I'm just annoyed he pretended to be such a ladies' man up until now," Fandral says, which makes everyone stare at him.

"Fandral," Sif says. "Hypocrisy isn't charming."

Volstagg chuckles. "Well, Thor didn't fool me. I don't believe he's had any lovers at all."

"That's nonsense," Thor says sullenly.

Fandral says, "Well, he doesn't have to have had any other lovers to like this one, right? I mean if he was going to take so long he would pick something surprising, wouldn't he?"

Bruce isn't sure he likes being categorized this way.

"Yes, and a mortal, besides!" Volstagg agrees. "Well, Thor?"

"Of course he's my--" Thor stops. "My boyfriend," he says more quietly.

"As I have told you a hundred times," Sif says impatiently. "Now before you chase them both off, show a few manners."

"I didn't say I didn't believe it!" Fandral says. "I said--"

"I heard what you said," Sif interrupts.

Bruce waits for Thor's friends to either change tactics or get bored so he and Thor can leave. He reaches out and pat's Thor's arm without looking.

"Nice to really meet," Hogun says, looking Bruce in the eye and smiling again.

"He smiled!" Volstagg observes. "That is to say--Greetings, small and useful mortal! I suppose you may be Thor's lover."

Bruce frowns. "I suppose I may," he says.

"Look what you've done," Sif says comfortably. "You've put him in a mood of not pleasing anyone. Soon he'll start insulting you, Volstagg, and you won't even know it."

"Worse, he will," says Bruce.

"Oh, don't worry," Volstagg says companionably, "we like everyone. Well, Fandral doesn't, but don't mind him. Really, if you make Thor happy, that's good enough for me. And he's rarely looked so pleased about someone."

Thor blushes, annoyed. "I am pleased, but only if you stop badgering him. He likes quiet. As do I, on occasion."

"Hardly the place," Fandral says, waving a hand.

"I don't mind loud," Bruce says. He has been to a bar before, thanks. "I only mind threatening."

"Not a very useful attitude in a warrior, surely?" Fandral says. Apparently he has not taken to heart Thor's command to stop badgering.

"I told you," Sif begins.

"He isn't a warrior," Thor says forcefully. "Neither am I, now, except when called upon to be. We're not an army. We're a team."

There's a pause, and Bruce fills it in by saying, "Well, this is comfortable. Do you think it'll go better with Tyr?"

"No," Volstagg says cheerfully.

"Yes," Thor says. "My brother can be surprisingly friendly when he wishes it." Friendly is actually the problem with the Warriors Three, of course.

"And he can't judge, can he?" Fandral adds cheerfully. “Taste like his.”

"Nor can you," Volstagg points out. "Least of all, I should think."

"Stop," Hogun mutters.

"Yes, please do," Thor says, annoyed. It's like being around Clint.

"I don't have any mortals," Fandral points out piously.

"Yet," Volstagg says. "Just you wait. We've got enough staying here for everyone." He pushes his drink toward Bruce. "Do you have a nice dwelling? Any children?" he asks, switching topics.

"I have a dwelling," Bruce allows. "For now. Where would I get children from? Where would I put them?"

"You could stack them," Volstagg says thoughtfully. "On shelves. What in the world do you see in Thor, anyway?"

Thor makes a hurt sound and glares at Volstagg.

Bruce says, in a calm and sort of steely way, "A great deal."

Volstagg stops his cheerful assault. "Aye," he says slowly, "I think he chose well."

"He certainly has more sense than you," Sif says, exasperated.

"Which?" asks Fandral, tilting his head to consider.

"Bruce in general, and Thor for choosing Bruce," Sif says.

Thor laughs, pleased. "Your blessing tells me what I already know, friends." He puts his arm gently around the back of Bruce's chair, not boxing him in, just being there.

"Bruce!" says Fandral. "Would you care for a drink?"

"I don't really drink," Bruce says. Fandral stares at Thor in amazement.

"Fandral," Sif says warningly.

"It doesn't work out to be as enjoyable as you'd think," Bruce adds. Although Hulk might disagree. Bruce wonders, suddenly, if maybe alcohol is not the worst way to keep his end of the bargain, in letting Hulk out more often. Might be nice to alternate with getting periodically smacked in the face.

"Who wouldn't enjoy a good drink?" Volstagg asks, clearly baffled. "Well, people wind up with the oddest companions, if you ask me. It's just life."

"Very wise," Hogun mutters.

It's difficult for Bruce to explain that being odd is exactly why it's not generally a good idea for him to have a drink. He thinks, Hulk would like all of this better than I do. He raises his eyebrows at Thor.

Thor inclines his head toward Bruce and says, at a chance, "Whatever will make this easier."

Bruce shrugs. "All right," he says. "Mead. I used to drink mead. When I was about twenty-four and I hung out with Medieval Studies. Show me the real stuff."

"Oh, good!" says Fandral.

"Oh, I see," says Sif.

"A tankard for our friend!" Volstagg calls, and a large, foaming mug is set down in front of Bruce almost immediately.

Thor squeezes Bruce's shoulder, pleased. "I'll refrain for now," he says. One of them should probably keep a clear head, just in case.

"Hmm," Bruce says, and takes a sip. He likes mead, even though it's too sweet, and this is clearer and sharper and less sticky on his tongue than any mead in Midgard. It's been ages since he drank anything, but this is not the worst place to pick up form.

It doesn't take that many sips before his head starts to swim--only a little from the alcohol. He says sadly, "You know, I actually like this shirt." But then he takes another swig, and Hulk pushes into the foreground.

It's too bad, Bruce thinks, that he can't see anyone's reactions--if they have any at all. It’s really too bad about the shirt.

Volstagg gives a startled yelp--not very dignified, and says, "A monster!"

"Don't," Hogun says wearily.

"This," Thor says, as Bruce changes, "is Hulk."

Hulk glowers at Volstagg. "Hulk not a monster, fatty."

"WHAAT?" Volstagg roars.

"You deserved it," Thor points out, reaching across Hulk to pat Volstagg's arm.

Hulk glowers at Thor as well. "Agreeing with Bruce. Hulk would rather meet Tyr than stupid loud friends." He looks back over Sif and the Warriors Three. "Mostly all right," he allows. "Mostly that one’s the problem." He points at Volstagg.

"I wish everyone would believe me when I speak to them," Sif mutters.

"I believed you," Fandral says smoothly. "Pleasure to meet you, Hulk."

Hulk’s expression is surprise, but he expresses this by frowning, so it's not easy to tell from the outside.
"At last," Hogun agrees. He gives Thor a look that Thor interprets as You should have brought your boyfriends here sooner.

"I'm just--stunned," Volstagg says.

"Well, gather your wits," Fandral retorts. "This one will actually drink with you, I'll wager, if you just stop offending--them." Hogun grips Fandral's hand and gives him a little smile.

"Oh, very well," Volstagg says. "What manner of magic do you have, my friend?" He slaps Hulk's shoulder. "And more importantly, what manner of feast do you prefer?"

"No magic," Hulk corrects. "Just smash. Every feast."

"Oh, my sort of fellow!" Volstagg says, pleased.

Thor rolls his eyes. "Perhaps eventually all of you will learn to love all their sides."

"Never mind that," Fandral says. "There’s been enough of this abstinence. Drink!"

Volstagg agrees by downing two tankards in quick succession. Hogun sips his and eyes the Hulk. Even Thor takes a drink. He really needn't have worried.

Hulk empties his tankard, ruffles Thor's hair, and laughs. "Puny Bruce wastes Asgard. Hulk understands fighting, and drinking."

“Here, here!” Fandral waves his tankard.

Thor leans into Hulks fingers, letting them tangle in his hair. "Just as the laboratory is wasted on you," he suggests. But he knows that Bruce appreciates Asgard, at least in the way that Jane did when she watched it from Midgard. It must be fascinating to a scientist.

Hulk thumps down his tankard, pats Thor's head, and says, "MORE."

"Oh, this is better," Fandral grins.

Chapter 3: bruce banner acquires a family

Summary:

He had been afraid to even talk to Bruce about his home, in case it was nothing but dangerous and disappointing and out of reach.

Notes:

Chapter Warnings: lots of talk of killing your family

Bruce isn't entirely grateful to Hulk the next day, when he remembers what it's like to have a hangover. He is even less grateful when Frigga invites Bruce and Thor to take lunch with her.

"Your mother is not going to be impressed," Bruce tells Thor. He can feel the bags under his eyes without touching them.

"She does not impress easily," Thor concedes. "However, she loves most creatures anyhow. I worry more about my brother." If Tyr says anything rude about Bruce, Thor will throw his weapons on a bonfire.

"Your brother," Bruce says hawkishly. "Is he going to be there? She didn't say he was going to be there."

Thor shrugs sheepishly. "He often eats with her. Not his choice, really. Just a warning." When Tyr is not on the battlefield or in another realm, he tends to do what he feels is his duty by finding things in common with their mother. There are few.

"I hope he's feeling charming," Bruce says. "Because I'm not."

Thor pats Bruce's shoulder. "Worry not. My brother may be violent, but he's not as...expressive as my friends."

"I'm not that worried," Bruce says sadly. "I'm just hungover."

"I can't imagine," Thor says without thinking.

"Neither can I, usually," Bruce says grimly. "I changed my mind about letting Hulk drink. Maybe I'll look less haggard by lunch time?"

"I hear one should drink water and eat...eggs," Thor says helpfully. That’s what Tony says, anyway. He pats Bruce's head gingerly. "My friends adore you, though."

"They adore one of us," Bruce agrees. "Hope your family likes the other one. Does Loki like me? I don't think Loki likes me."

"I don't think he dislikes you," Thor says carefully. It's always so hard to tell, with Loki. But he hasn't tried to kill Bruce again, which, while not a guarantee, is a good sign.

"He was polite enough when he was asking for help. On the other hand, he didn't apologize for that thing with the library," Bruce says.

Thor grimaces. Loki is very good at failing to apologize. It would be too much to ask for (not that it stopped Thor from asking).

"I'm sorry," he says. "I think he was afraid of being too kind." It might be true.

"I don't actually hold it against him," Bruce points out. "He had a busy week. I think I need to sleep for at least another hour if you're going to show me to your mother."

"You're welcome to," Thor says. "I can busy myself in other ways." He's been mostly staying out of the way of his people--his former people?--but he could always check on Steve or Tony.

"Good," says Bruce. He starts to nod, and then stops. "Good." He wanders off, before Thor can think of anything else to say to him.

He is really not happy with Hulk.

~

Frigga takes lunch in a small dining room with only a few attendants and Tyr to clutter it up. She stands when Thor and Bruce enter the room, to hug Thor and clasp hands with Bruce. Bruce smiles back at her.

He's a little shabby, she thinks, especially around the eyes, but her impressions of him (and Sif's) have been sweet.

Tyr scowls at Thor and Bruce, but only because he's usually scowling. "You're so small," he remarks. "I hope you've been resting well? The rest of your companions haven't."

Bruce says, "I don't find being small nearly as much of a problem as being large, but I suspect that's just me." He arches an eyebrow. “I’ve been resting fine, thanks.”

Frigga says, "I suggest a seat," and takes one.

Tyr huffs out a surprised breath. Bruce is unexpectedly sharp-edged. Tyr didn't expect that in someone of Thor's choosing.

Thor sits next to Bruce, trying to refrain from summoning lightning to destroy Tyr. It would upset their mother. "How goes the work of ruling?" he asks her.

She does something a little more delicate than grinning. "Oh, what you might expect. Weeding out the bad bits of government and letting in new bits on trial; calming the people who aren't calm and choosing which of their demands to ignore, subvert, or meet. Keeping dissidents...unproblematic. It's never very pretty work, but it is being done, and I will do my best to see it done well."

"I'm surprised at your people's transfer of loyalty," Bruce says. "It seems as though it could have gone this way, or it could have been an entire realm of citizens enraged that a woman would overthrow her husband. It would certainly be a risk in Midgard."

"It was a risk here," Tyr says. "But our people trust power even more than they trust the show of it, and our father proved himself weak."

"Has anyone asked what happened to Balder?" Bruce asks, but then lunch arrives and the conversation pauses. He winces when the servers leave, and says, "I'm asking everything I shouldn't ask when I'm properly meeting my partner's family. I apologize."

"No need," says Frigga, spearing a bit of squash on her fork. "You of course have a stake in it, as you have a stake in Thor. Balder..." Her voice turns chilly. "...Balder has been denounced for improprieties in Nornheim, which his father bore and which Karnilla, in my rule, no longer wished to. Under the circumstances, his former reputation is not less easily tarnished than his father's; he has not been seen in Asgard for many years, and everyone knows he left poorly.” She takes a bite, and then adds, “If you are wondering, none of my other children's names have been connected with his failure."

Thor smiles warmly, despite feeling ill about Balder and everything to do with him. "You should have ruled all along, Mother, if it does not go without saying."

"I would have liked to ride to Nornheim myself and strike Balder dead," Tyr mutters into his lunch.

"Better you than Loki?" Bruce asks. "I think maybe he wanted to do that himself. And, um, maybe with some finesse, if possible." He looks at Frigga quickly to see if this talk of her former golden child upsets her in any way they shouldn't. Not visibly--and he supposes he shouldn’t take too much away from that, because he looks the same way when anyone mentions his father.

"No, I know that," Tyr answers gruffly. He extricates a turkey leg from the pile of food on his plate. "The way it happened was right. Possibly the only right thing for Loki himself in this entire coup. But I would still have liked to."

Bruce glances at Thor this time, because really, the coup was Thor's decision even if all the details were Loki's plan. In fact, Bruce is fairly certain that Odin's attempt to kill him wasn't the nearest Loki came to dying in executing those plans.

Thor shifts uncomfortably. "I didn't know what else to do," he says after a moment, a little plaintive.

"Neither did he," Bruce points out kindly. He waves his fork. “If he'd been able to think of a better solution, I think he would have made it known."

"Leaving well enough alone might not have gone amiss," Tyr says. Then, seeing Thor's face, he relents. "But now Asgard is under better rule, and Loki is safe, brother."

Thor makes a tiny noise of distress and looks to Frigga.

"Well, my dear one, he is," she agrees. "I know you don't care for Victor, but he is devoted. And proud, of course--but I think his pride will make him protective rather than violent." She softens. "As for the rest--Loki needed something to do, Thor. He cannot stand to be without use or purpose, you ought to know that. I don't doubt this hurt him also, but preparing gave him a cause, and he is no longer alone with secrets he never should have had."

Thor feels weak with relief. This is the first time he's allowed himself to dwell on the nagging concern that he was doing something wrong for Loki. If Frigga believes Loki is no worse for it, Thor can believe it, too.

Bruce says, "I think he liked building the net with Tony."

"Tony misses him," Tyr says unexpectedly. He shrugs at Thor. "He haunts around Captain America's bedside and complains about it."

"While I cannot imagine what you were doing at Steve's bedside," Thor tells his brother, "you are most likely correct. I hope Tony is well."

"Me too," Bruce mutters. Tony is someone else to worry about. Maybe more than Steve. Steve has been in a bad temper ever since he woke up, but Bruce does not, it turns out, have a lot of patience for that. (It may be hypocritical, but it's true.) Tony, on the other hand, keeps driving himself harder, and Bruce is not as pleased with that. He hasn't forgotten Tony's drunken visit to Hank's lab, even if Tony hasn’t apologized, or mentioned it at all.

"Tyr has been standing guard some shifts," Frigga says, surprised that Thor doesn't know. "When he has not been putting out fires. Your Captain Rogers did salvage a maneuver that would likely have been our deaths, had he not intervened. We owe it to him."

Bruce is fairly certain this is not the only reason Tyr has been there, but he's too busy being impressed by Frigga's rather unforgiving analysis to ponder over embarrassing the god of war.

"Indeed," Tyr agrees. "I misjudged you Midgardians." He looks Bruce up and down. "And from what Thor's gossiping little companions have to say, I misjudged you, as well."

"Hulk isn't me," Bruce says. "You might like me more if he were, but he's not. We just share space." He shrugs. "Better to dash your rising estimations now, I guess?"

"Hm," Tyr says thoughtfully. "I suppose I respect you more as a warrior, then. You have none of his physical strength, yet you still stand beside gods and men with greater power."

Bruce considers. "I guess I'm worried less about what they could do to me than what Hulk might do, full stop. Not as much now. But for a long time."

"At least one of you has the wisdom of a warrior," Tyr says. "Well, besides James. Of course he does."

"Who?" Thor asks.

Tyr sighs in exasperation and takes a bite of his food.

"Bucky, Thor," Bruce says. "Bucky."

"Ah!" Thor says. "Yes, of course you get along with him."

"Of course," Tyr agrees grumpily, chewing. "Well, Bruce, do you intend to wed my idiot brother?"

"I didn't know I could," Bruce says, in a flat, loud voice that he doesn't entirely expect.

"It is not usual," Frigga says. "But it could be done here, if not in Midgard."

Thor looks slightly panicked. "I--We haven't discussed this. Do you mind?"

"Not much," Tyr says. Then he relents. "I apologize for bringing up what is clearly a sensitive topic. I suppose none of your useful children shall ever wed, mother."

"And which of my children do you consider useful?" Frigga asks, eyebrow raised. Bruce laughs.

Tyr smiles at both of them. "All that remain to you, perhaps."

"I find it unlikely that you or Loki would ever marry," Thor says, his heart still racing.

Frigga thinks useful is the only good thing that can still be said of Balder, but she abstains from saying so. Instead, she smiles. "Loki? Perhaps not marry, but as good. As for you, dearest Tyr, I won't call it remarkable to think of now, and I won't remark on it in any case later. Unless, of course, you choose to marry and you choose terribly."

"I only choose the best of partners," Tyr says, coloring. He returns to his food without further comment.

Bruce is sure Tyr has made Bucky aware of his high esteem, but he wonders if Bucky realizes yet that Tyr is less impressed and more infatuated.

"I'll be more impressed when you find someone you can bring home to mother," Thor tells Tyr. He pats Bruce's arm as if to say, Like I did.

Bruce bites his lip very hard. Frigga says, "My children are excellent at baiting one another, but I wonder if they will forget their vanity long enough to eat."

Tyr laughs, Thor flushes, and both of them do as she says.

Bruce and Frigga exchange a look, which turns into a smile, mutually surprised. Then they turn to their food themselves.

~When they've finished eating and Frigga's guests have risen to leave, she says, "Thor. Stay with me a moment?" She smiles at Bruce and adds, "I'm sorry to steal him from you."

Thor laughs and kisses the side of Bruce's head quickly. "I'll catch up to you soon. You should see the palace gardens." He tries to ignore the concern that his mother will have something unpleasant to say.

Bruce raises an eyebrow at Tyr, to say, Can you be tricked into showing me?

"I never spend time in the gardens if I can help it," Tyr says, but he smiles and gestures for Bruce to follow him.

Thor relaxes, and, when Bruce is gone, he turns to his mother. "Are you well?" he asks her. "Truly?"

"Oh, Thor," Frigga says, and smiles. "You are sweet. I am tired, but I am well. I feel almost equal to being queen. As I should, I suppose; I've been one long enough."

Thor beams and squeezes her arm. "I never doubted it, mother, even when I forgot it." He pauses. "And Loki? Do you think he is well? I wish he had stayed."

Frigga sighs, and clasps Thor's arm in return. "I think he will be better farther from here," she says. "Victor is good for him, and nothing about this place is. Let him be quiet for a while, could you please? Not for too long, or he'll think there's no reason to ever come out of hiding again. But--you know, Sif told me that she thought becoming whole might kill Loki, as falling could have done. And she was right."

Thor flinches. "But it didn't. He's--" Not whole. Maybe never again. "He's safe."

"Yes, but my darling," Frigga says, "his father almost killed him, and he has killed his brother, and there have been so many of us dragging the truth out of him. We stretched him thin, Thor, trying to save him, and he let us because as much as he snarls, he loves us. Let him rest a little."

Thor's heart aches, but he also feels fully soothed for the first time since he began to realize what had happened to Loki. He trusts his mother, and he hadn't realized how necessary the assurance of Loki's love was.

"I will do so gladly," he says. "Even if it must be with Doom. And what of my taste in men?"

Frigga gives him a small, pert look.

"Your Bruce," she says, "has wit dry enough to choke on. I suspect it's not always well-received. But he is observant, and he is kind." She tilts her head. "The other half, I have not met."

Thor winces internally. "Ah. Yes. I was hoping you would not need to." He realizes as soon as he says it that he's being foolish. Hulk is his, just as much as Bruce is. They've established this.

"I don't need to," says Frigga. "Is there a reason I shouldn't?"

Several dozen answers leap to mind, but Thor knows better than to give most of them. "He can be...loud," he manages weakly. He wishes his mother didn't know.

Frigga frowns. "Your lover has told me what his counterpart is. He did not seem to think you would find him shameful."

Thor frowns, annoyed with himself. "Not shameful," he says. "Never. Hulk is a noble ally and a valiant boyfriend indeed. But I would never want you to think ill of him. If you did, I would have to be angry with you." Thor should know by now that his mother would never call Hulk a monster.

Frigga's expression clears. "Good," she says. "For a moment, you worried me. But you cannot think I'd really doubt your judgment! You've rarely chosen anyone, so what you have found must be truly worth having. What you do together is none of my business, regardless of how small or large or green he happens to be."

Thor is touched, briefly, before being horrified. "Mother!" he says, flushing. He says no more, though, because the fact that she trusts him in this matters more.

"My child," she says fondly, and then sets her hand on his arm. "Speaking of my children, have I noticed that Tyr is keeping closer to the Midgardians than perhaps he needs to?"

"Ugh," Thor says, by way of agreement. "Yes, I believe he's been talking war and strategy with with Bucky."

That seems like as answer appropriate for their mother.

"All late-bloomers," Frigga says, eyebrows raised. "Yet the three of you came out so nicely just the same. Well, good. I am glad he is happy."

Odd, Thor thinks, that the three of them are being made happy by mortals.

"Perhaps I should have thanked father for exiling me to Midgard," he offers.

"Perhaps so," Frigga says. "You know how I feel about some of what he has done, but not everything he ever did was foolish or evil. You are a better man than you were before. I was proud, but I am prouder."

Thor has no words. Although Frigga has always been a loving mother, she does not give idle or easy praise. He bows low to her for a long moment before he can say, "Your Asgard is an Asgard I would willingly return to if the need arose, my queen."

She reaches out to touch his face with a hand, and leans up to kiss his forehead. "I am always glad when my children come home to me," she says. "Even if not for long. I would be happy if you were here, Thor. And I will build an Asgard that welcomes the mortals who give my children peace."

This was more than Thor hoped for when he first took Bruce out on a date. He had been afraid to even talk to Bruce about his home, in case it was nothing but dangerous and disappointing and out of reach.

"Thank you," he whispers.

"Asgard has too long put its pride and glitter above everything else," Frigga says. "I am a mother; this proud world has crushed my children under its heel. I will do better. It will be changed."

"It will," Thor echoes. "You will see to that. If I am needed, call upon me, but otherwise I must return to Midgard with my companions. They do need me."

Bruce needs him, but so do the Avengers. Especially now, he thinks, with Steve injured and Tony acting wrong.

"It hurts the heart to hear a child refer to somewhere else as home," Frigga says ruefully. "Your poor mother will have to hope Tyr, at least, can lure his mortal here instead of being lured away."

"You don't think that will last?" Thor asks dubiously. "You know his ways. I wish I did not."

Frigga says, "I was being facetious, my dear--on the other hand, I wouldn't have expected such devotion from you or Loki either. And yet you're both smitten." She smiles. "It is very good to see you happy."

Thor laughs and hugs her quickly. "Thank you," he says. "Your blessing means a great deal. I should see that Bruce isn't losing himself in the gardens."

"Do so," Frigga says. "Oh--and if this is to be my last goodbye in private..." She leans up and kisses his cheek. "Be well, Thor."

Thor hugs her again, more tightly, and leaves her with a much lighter heart than when he came.

Chapter 4: tyr and bucky fuck

Summary:

"Nothing's m-managed to stop me yet," Bucky stutters, breathless.

Notes:

Chapter Warnings: explicit consensual sweaty cis man sex, body dysphoria

Bucky has been at loose ends for days. There's only so much he can do to fit himself into the mix with Tony and Steve, and he's not that good at counseling people, which is what both of them seem to need. Every day ends with him feeling more useless and pissed off and worried. This whole morning has been Bucky walking into Steve's room and out of it again, feeling some different kind of gross every time.

He needs to catch a break.

Steve says something surly and Tony yells at Bucky for being impatient about it, and Bucky goes straight for the hot, sweet sunlight of the palace gardens. He drops onto a bench, and sticks his face up towards the light like a plant, with his eyes shut.

Tyr has escorted small, oddly likable Bruce to the gardens and left him to mutter at the plants alone. Tyr considers returning to his men, but the day is too hot for any heavy training. Besides, they've done well enough directing themselves in calming any minor disturbances, and he feels no need to smother then. His generals are well-trained.

He hasn't gone far before he's compelled to stop.

"James," he says in surprise.

Bucky opens his eyes and gets to his feet before he's had time to decide whether he recognizes the voice. When he sees that it's Tyr, he relaxes, but he doesn't sit again.

"Tyr," he says, and flushes. Every conversation between them since the coup has been brief, and all of Bucky's conversation has been heavy with what has happened to Steve. Tyr has not yet addressed the way Bucky abandoned his post on the parade ground, and Bucky has been too distracted to wonder if the chemistry he thought they had in Hank Pym's lab could ever lead to anything.

Tyr tries not to allow his gaze to roam over Bucky's body. Bucky has clearly had other matters on his mind since Odin fell, and Tyr has no desire to push unwanted attention. Regardless, their conversations have all been pleasant enough.

"You've finally left your friend's side," Tyr notes.

"It was feeling a little crowded," Bucky answers.

Tyr makes a noncommittal noise. Stark is enough to make any room crowded, small though he is. He reminds Tyr of Thor in that way.

"Yes," he says, "I just escaped lunch with my mother and brother, myself."

"Family," Bucky agrees. "Not always evil, never easy."

Tyr nods agreement. "But one has a duty to them. I think my mother wonders why all her children would rather talk to mortals than to her."

Bucky squints. "I kinda wonder that myself." Not really. But he wonders why Tyr wants to talk to him.

"Well," Tyr says slowly, "I, for one, certainly never expected to find a mortal with the same drive and skill as any of my generals."

Bucky makes a startled noise and shifts his weight. "You don't think I do. Do you? I'm not a general."

"You should be," Tyr says. He forces himself to be careful. He doesn't want to embarrass himself. "I am god of war, James, and you have lived and breathed it. Trust me."

Bucky chews on this for a minute. "Yeah, well," he says. "I won't ever be one. Where I come from, ex-assassins and dead men don't make good leaders."

Tyr is actually surprised at this. "No wonder mortal armies are weak, then. Well, if they won't have you..."

"Wait," says Bucky, holding up his human hand. "Are you offering? I'm not sure--Steve's hurt, y'know? And Steve's team is pretty all right. I was thinking I would just stick with them."

"If they have a place for you, certainly," Tyr says. That's unfair, and a little unkind, but he's never been one to let that stop him. "I just wanted you to know you've impressed me. And I always need good men."

"In what sense?" Bucky mumbles. He doesn't like the implication that maybe Steve and his friends might not want Bucky now that he's out of his cage--mostly because he's already thought so himself.

Tyr is many things, but subtle is not one of them. He gives up. "On the battlefield, but also--I find you appealing. For a dead man, you have a great deal more life than many in Asgard."

He crosses his arms and waits.

Bucky looks at Tyr properly for the first time in the conversation. "I'm surprised you're still interested," he says. "I thought you were, in New York. I hadn't broken ranks or been totally preoccupied with my wounded ex-boyfriend then, though."

Tyr waves his hand, the false one. "The Captain is no threat to me. The fact that you care for him when he's injured is hardly going to dissuade me. As for the other...a man who breaks rank when a comrade falls is of little use as a foot-soldier. As a general, however..."

"I'm not a general," Bucky says again. "I'm just a sidekick."

"I've never had one of those," Tyr says automatically.

Bucky pauses again. "How do you know if you'd like it if you had it?" he asks. "Actually, more to the point, how much would it suck for me with all your troops if you made a scrawny little mortal your new pet?"

"A fair point," Tyr concedes. "Well, then. I suppose I can only ask you if you'd like to go to bed with me."

"Yes," Bucky says promptly. "I mean, I'm pretty sure I'd like all of it, but--this is the first time in a while I've been even a little in charge of my life. I don't want to jump in." The words sound ridiculous coming from his mouth. All Bucky has ever done is jump in.

"In that case," Tyr says, "perhaps we should wait. The last thing I want is to force you into something you'd rather avoid."

Not his usual method, but Bucky isn't his usual sort of lover.

"I didn't mean the sex!" Bucky says hurriedly. "Er. I meant about the other stuff. You can fuck me right now."

Tyr laughs, a huge, booming sound. "In that case, my scrawny little mortal, perhaps we should retire." He'd be content to throw Bucky down right here, but someone might come by.

"Sure," says Bucky, getting to his feet a little too fast for it to be dignified.

Body humming with tension, Tyr leads Bucky through the garden and into the palace.

"These are my chambers," he says when they arrive. He can count the number of times he's fucked someone in here on one hand (ha).

Bucky looks around. The apartment (for some crazy Asgardian value of the word) is fancier and...more prim than Bucky would have expected, but it smells like Tyr, which is a hot, dry dirt smell that makes Bucky weak in the knees.

"Doesn't look anything like you," he remarks. He swivels his head around to catch Tyr's eye. "Think it'd resemble you better if you get those blankets off the bed and fuck me?"

Tyr takes a sharp breath. "Yes, actually." He's always hated his chambers and done his best to avoid them. He's never felt like a prince.

This part is always awkward. Tyr is going to have to do things with one hand that really require two. He rips the blankets off the bed and tosses them to the floor, then grabs Bucky's arm at the shoulder and gives him a little shove.

Bucky lets himself be pushed down, sitting hard against the mattress and leaning back on his elbows.

"You can boss me around a little," he offers, "I mean, if you need two hands for anything, you can--use one of mine."

Tyr clears this throat to cover how attractive he finds that prospect.

"Helpful," he mutters. "I think I can rip your clothes off one-handed, though."

He grabs the front of Bucky's shirt.

Bucky draws a sharp breath, and decides not to bother telling Tyr he doesn't have enough clothes that he can afford losing them to violent sex.

"Bet you can," he says breathlessly.

Tyr tears off Bucky's shirt and leans over him, looming a little. "Get your hand in your hair," he says gruffly.

Bucky's eyes widen, but he does as he's told, twining his (human) fingers in his hair, shifting his weight onto his metal arm.

Tyr shoves Bucky down on the bed and straddles him, watching how hard Bucky tugs on his own hair. He rolls his hips, pinning Bucky down.

Bucky writhes and groans underneath him. "Oh, yes," he mutters. "Oh, fuck, yes." He yanks on his own hair and hisses.

Tyr has never been talkative in bed, but he loves people who are. He drags his nails across Bucky's chest and uses his bad hand to slap Bucky's hip. Bucky yelps and arches fractionally; Tyr is heavy, and Bucky can't actually lift his hips more than an inch. He can feel himself get harder against Tyr's ass.

Tyr growls and leans down to bite Bucky's ear. "Do you want to take it inside you?" he whispers. He's not trying to talk dirty; it's just polite to check. He shifts and rubs against Bucky through their clothing.

Bucky keens, stretching his arms above his head and digging his fingers into the mattress. "Oh, fuck, yes, of course, are you fucking joking?" he yammers. "God, I don't even know the last time I, fucking get in me, please and thank you."

Possibly Bucky's brand of obedience isn't one hundred percent submissive and respectful.

Tyr laughs, but he wants Bucky too badly to be amused for long. He rolls off and takes his own shirt and trousers off before going for Bucky's.

He stops, frustrated. "I'm not sure tearing them is going to work," he says roughly. "The buttons--I can't. You do it."

"Yes sir," says Bucky. He gets out of his boots and pants as fast as humanly possible. There's a bad moment when he's standing in front of Tyr tiny and turned-on and with one of his arms really wrong, but he just says, "Whatcha want to do to me?" and feels better almost instantly because he knows Tyr wants him despite...things.

Tyr smiles and looks Bucky up and down as blatantly as possible. "Everything," he says. "For now, I want you face-down on the bed so I can get my fingers inside you."

Bucky catches himself before he whimpers. "Ass up?" he asks, almost casual, feeling grateful.

"Nnyes," Tyr says, half animal sound, half word.

"All right," Bucky says, which sounds ridiculous, so he hides his face a little by getting down on the bed with his elbows on the mattress and his ass in the air. His elbows don't match, which is fucking weird. It doesn't make him any less turned on from baring himself with his knees apart.

Tyr groans and bends over Bucky, running his hand down his back. Bucky is so obedient, while at the same time being nothing of the kind. Every taut inch of him feels like battle.

Tyr half-kisses and half-bites the back of Bucky's neck and reaches around to push a finger into Bucky's mouth.

"Get them wet," he orders.

Bucky makes a little choking sound and rams his mouth down over Tyr's fingers. He's sloppy with his tongue in a not-so-sloppy way, and he moans over it half because he's so damn turned on and half because it will drive Tyr crazy.

Tyr hisses through his teeth and presses against Bucky so Bucky can feel how hard he is. He wants to just fuck him, but rough as he wants to be, Tyr doesn't want to hurt him.

He draws his spit-slick fingers from Bucky's mouth and shoves his hand between their bodies to let his finger push against Bucky's hole.

"Hnnngh," Bucky says. "God, yes, hah! You are a god, Jesus fuck, god, put your fingers in me!"

Tyr slides a finger in, slow and steady, just a little rough. His only free hand is useless, but he presses it against Bucky's hip anyway. He works his finger in and out with an uneven rhythm, stretching Bucky open. All he wants is to pound in with his cock until Bucky screams, but not yet.

Bucky moans and shifts his legs further apart, aiming himself back against Tyr's fingers and fucking himself. "More," he gasps. "'M not breaking this easy."

Tyr moans and pushes a second finger in, rougher this time, and faster. "Open for me," he mutters. "You could take anything I gave you, couldn't you?" It's not really a question.

"Nothing's m-managed to stop me yet," Bucky stutters, breathless. "Anyway, not--gonna be happy...'til it's your cock."

"Then take my cock," Tyr says. He draws his fingers out and pushes the head of his cock inside. He curses under his breath and grabs Bucky's hip. Bucky shouts and then bites it back into a growl. He digs his fingers (all of them) into the sheets, forcing himself to breathe evenly.

Tyr would be willing to swear right now that Bucky is the best thing he's ever had under him. It takes everything he has not to fuck Bucky as hard and fast as he wants. He pulls out again, spits on his palm, and slicks his cock with it. Then he pushes in again, a little farther. Bucky is so tight.

"Shit, a guy who actually fucks you when you say fuck me," Bucky gasps. "Not even...stopping to...make sure I mean it three times. Ahh!"

Tyr laughs and pushes in deeper, reaching forward to yank Bucky's head back. He rocks his hips a little, opening Bucky up to take more of him.

Bucky curses. His metal hand gropes blindly for something; Tyr only realizes what when Bucky finds the cuff at the end of Tyr's arm and latches on to it. "I can feel the battle in you," Bucky says wonderingly. "You're so fucking hot. I can feel--"

"Mine," Tyr snarls, pumping his hips against Bucky's ass, shoving all the way in. "One of mine, your entire life, and now I can give you a reward for loyalty."

Bucky is so startled that his knees shake and he sobs against the mattress. "I'd fucking worship you anyway," he shoots back painfully. "I'd give you fucking everything if you never gave me--a s-second glance."

"I know," Tyr says. "And that's why I did." He grunts and grabs Bucky's hip again, fucking Bucky harder. Everything is too hot and fast; he isn't going to be able to last very long.

Bucky yowls, and throws himself back against Tyr's cock. "God, oh god, oh god," he babbles. "Can't, fucking touch me, please don't make me come without touching me, shit."

Tyr lets go of Bucky's hip and reaches around to palm Bucky's cock.

"So hard," he mutters, jerking Bucky as he pounds into him. "All for me." This is the first time he's gotten anything like worship in years.

Bucky shouts, and then presses his face hard against the mattress, biting the sheet, red-faced and sweating and rigid. After the first stroke he starts to whimper; after a few he starts screaming into Tyr's bed, scrabbling with his fingers and barely catching his breath.

Tyr cries out and slams his cock in over and over, giving Bucky every ounce of violence and battle-lust he has. He gives Bucky the smell of the battlefield, the sounds of it, the rush of adrenaline. He gives him the great, swooping rush of a battle subsiding.

Bucky keeps his knees apart, forces himself open and offers himself up, and screams with every thrust even after his voice feels raw. He comes before Tyr but it doesn't matter; once he spends himself on Tyr's bed, back colliding with Tyr's chest as he bucks and comes, he spreads his legs wider so Tyr can take everything he wants.

Tyr drives in, feeling Bucky giving everything up. He trusts in and out a few more times, his shoulders slick with sweat. Then he can feel himself just on the edge of spending himself in Bucky, and he forces himself to say, ragged and fast, "Inside?"

"Yes," Bucky says, although it barely gets past his tongue. He feels like nothing except the thing Tyr is fucking. It's plenty. It's enough.

Tyr roars when he comes, his whole body arching over Bucky's. He comes inside him, hips pumping as he holds Bucky still. When he's finished, he pulls out and rolls to the side, panting.

Bucky drops to the mattress like a stone. He wonders somewhere under his pulse if he could die from being fucked like that. He tries to say a word, any word, really, but all he can do is murmur incoherently. He can feel Tyr's cum inside him.

Tyr pulls Bucky against him. He doesn't cuddle after sex, but he likes closeness. He likes to feel what he's done, and what they've done together. But Bucky isn't one of Tyr's generals, and he's not all that obedient, and he is only human. He half-consciously grabs Tyr's arm, and uses it to turn himself over. When they're face to face, he leans against Tyr and clings. His eyes are barely open. Tyr puts his arms around Bucky and holds him. He doesn't seem to have broken the man, which is good.

"Rest," he murmurs. "There'll be time enough for anything else later."

"I am," Bucky says, or he thinks he does, but it comes out a low mumble. It takes less than a minute for him to go heavy with sleep, warm in Tyr's arms.

Chapter 5: steve rogers needs to get out

Summary:

Everything sounds so quiet outside his head. Inside he feels like tearing down the walls.

Notes:

Chapter Warnings: depression

Steve is finding it hard to keep track of how long they've all been in Asgard. It feels like forever--or, maybe not forever. It’s more like a moment they're stuck in. The war felt like that sometimes, even when they were moving, but they're not moving now. Everyone keeps telling him (Tony keeps telling him) that he's all right and he looks good and he should come out and see the gardens and the sky and the golden spires of Asgard. The few times Steve has ventured out, though, he's just felt uncomfortable. He's too small, it's too big, and something in the colors makes him feel like Asgard is always on the edge of collapsing. So he mostly stays in his room and waits for someone to tell him they're leaving.

Bucky, meanwhile, is getting jumpy again. He’s been in a good mood since his encounter with Tyr, but he doesn't like staying in one place long without seeing any kind of action, and Tyr's been busy making sure that Asgard stays in order. And Tony's starting to talk about going back home. Bucky doesn't really know what that means for him.

In the name of trying to figure that out, he goes to see Steve. He's been avoiding him a little, to be honest, but he can’t make up his mind if he doesn’t know how the land lies.

He still hesitates before pushing open the door to Steve's room.

Steve is sitting on the edge of his bed, one ankle propped on his knee, looks up.

"Hey, Buck," he says. He smiles, but it's cursory--not much in the eyes. He looks tired, despite the fact that he's been in or near his bed for days. "What's up?"

Bucky frowns. "Not much," he says. "You look like hell, though. You sure you're up for a trip back?"

Steve says, "Oh! Are we going back? No one's been telling me much of anything."

Bucky's frown deepens. "Yeah? Sorry. I guess everyone's too busy checking out the city and all that." He realizes pretty fast that he'd rather avoid telling Steve what he's been up to. "Anyway, Tony says he wants to go back soon. Y'know, before Fury kills everyone."

"Probably too late for that," Steve says.

"Yeah, well," Bucky says. "We'll deal with that when we deal with that. Listen, what do you--the Avengers, I mean--what do you plan to do with me if--once I get back?"

"Do with you?" Steve frowns. "Well, you're going to join the team, aren't you?"

"I," Bucky says, startled. "I am? Well, news to me, partner." He wants to sit down, but he's too antsy. He doesn't know if he can be part of this team ever, let alone with this Tyr thing going on. Whatever it is.

Steve shrugs restlessly. "What else were you planning to do?" he asks, and there are a lot of follow-up questions in his head, but none of them are the kind of thing he should really be saying out loud.

"Dunno," Bucky says carefully. "I wouldn't say for sure I've had better offers, but I might've had other ones."

"Huh," Steve says, actually a little bit shocked. Not that somebody else would want Bucky, but that Bucky might be somewhere else. That he might want to leave? "Doing what?"

Bucky tries not to blush, but hey, too fucking late. And it's not like he's ashamed. "Tyr wants me in his army," he says. "I'm not saying I'll do it. I'm just saying it sounds a lot more like me than being an Avenger does."

Of course, if Steve wants him (and he thinks Steve does), he'll come home. Of course.

"In Asgard?" Steve says. "But you're only human. I mean, you could die, and you're about half his size. What kind of monsters would he put you up against? Bucky, he'd get you killed."

Bucky smiles, his expression a little feral. "Huh. Doesn't sound like anywhere I ain't been."

"You don't have to be somebody else's to jerk around anymore," Steve says, heart thudding uncomfortably. He's got the awful feeling that something else he depended on is slipping sideways out of touch. "What, you finally get your life back and you want to be someone's--what does he even want you for?"

Bucky balks. "I--just watch it, huh?" he snaps. Heard that one before. Heard it a lot of times.

"I mean it!" Steve says loudly. "The guy has all of the warriors in Asgard to put on his front lines, so why does he need to take someone half their size and half as strong as any of them and throw him under the bus?"

"He's not throwing me under the bus," Bucky snaps, but he then he realizes he's fighting to lose. He's not dealing with this like someone who knows how. He should know better. "Look," he says, "I know what I'm doing. It's not your business who I--follow. Not anymore. Okay?"

Steve is silent for a second. "Right," he says finally. "None of my business. Well, I thought it was five minutes ago because I thought you were on my team, but I guess you're right. It's not like we'll ever be partners again." No one is going to be Steve's partner again.

"Sorry," Bucky says numbly. That stings like it would have if Steve had said it back in the war. "I'm--Steve, I want to come with you. I just need to think about the team, okay? I'm not ever gonna quit being your friend. You need to get your head right about this thing that happened."

"There's nothing to get right," Steve snaps. "Anyway, if you want to stay here with Tyr, you might as well."

"Maybe I will!" Bucky says. "Why would I want to go join a team you're not on, anyway? Because that's what's gonna happen. You're not staying with the Avengers like this, are you? You can't even get out of bed."

That's more or less what Steve has been thinking, too, that he can't be an Avenger anymore. Except no one else has said that out loud. No one has said it's because he's screwed up, rather than just not useful anymore. Tony's anxious chatter about the team and how Steve will be on it might be wrong, but suddenly it seems worlds better than hearing this.

"Great!" Steve says. All his thoughts are moving through a cloud. He feels panicky, but he can't stop talking. "Good. You're right, Buck. I'll go home and do nothing, since I'm so great for that now, and you can stay here and let Tyr turn you into a killer for the third lifetime in a row. Two wars really wasn't enough, was it?"

"What the hell?" Bucky is half shouting now. "Just because you suddenly think you're useless you have to get nasty? You're only useless if you let yourself be, asshole. Come on, Steve, you're better than this."

"I was better than this," Steve says, choking on uncertainty and guilt and anger. "But you're right anyway. If I'm the only reason you would stick around the Avengers, you should just stay here, because I quit."

Bucky is silent for a moment. Then he says, "Tony is going to kill you."

"I don't care," says Steve. He does care. He cares about everything, too much, and it hurts so badly that just the idea of sticking around, not getting things right, Tony worrying, press chasing him down, Steve putting everyone at risk every moment that he could forget he doesn't have his old strength--he just wants to throw himself down and scream. He doesn't--he just says, "I don't care. I'm not changing my mind."

Bucky's seen Steve stubborn before, and he's not about to waste time trying to change his mind. He shrugs. "Guess you'll figure things out, then, one way or another. But I don't think I can come with you."

If Steve didn't have Tony, Bucky would come in a heartbeat. But Steve does. And Bucky, for once, is looking out for himself. He doesn't want to put himself through whatever Steve is going to do for the next however long until he's all better.

"Fine," Steve says. "Say goodbye before we leave."

"I will," Bucky says. "And if you need me, I'll come back." He shouldn't say it, but he has to. He's still loyal to the core, no matter how ticked off he is.

Steve ducks his head. "Yeah," he says. He means to say more but it doesn't quite come out.

"I came back from the dead for you," Bucky says quietly. "So I'm not gonna quit because you're being a dick. Okay? I'll see you soon."

"Yeah," says Steve. "See you soon, Buck." Everything sounds so quiet outside his head. Inside he feels like tearing down the walls.

A small, sick part of him says, If they know you're like this they'll put you in an asylum, and he has to remember that it's not like that anymore. Right? He doesn’t think it’s like that.

It doesn't make him feel less tangled into knots, though. It doesn't make him stop stumbling over the fear that he's not only useless, but going crazy.

Bucky nods and lets himself out. He knows Steve isn't okay (Bucky's not stupid), but he also knows that nothing he can say will make a difference. As for doing anything about it, he doesn't know where to start.

He's going to wait and hope Steve has good people who won't let him down. If they do, Bucky will be ready to come fix it.

~As well as Natasha can figure it, the Avengers are in Asgard for very close to two weeks when they finally leave. Natasha hasn't minded, particularly; she has business to deal with on Earth, of course, and is not very interested in sticking around Asgard indefinitely, but people here know how to fight and drink. And there has been time for Jan, which is very pleasing. An excellent vacation at the end of a successful coup--if you like vacations.

Natasha notices, however, that the Avengers have, typically, taken this perfect opportunity for R&R and run over it with a large vehicle. Most of them are all right, but Steve has been wallowing in a blinding depression since he was injured, and Tony is tying himself in knots trying to make it okay. Bucky isn't coming home at all--although in truth, Natasha thinks that's a wise course of action. And he looks fiercely happy, standing next to Tyr on the Bifrost while the rest of them say their goodbyes. Fiercely happy and startled by his own luck. Natasha imagines he must have been the same way when they told him he was going to be Steve's partner.

Tony is trying to decide if he's relieved or terrified that they're going home. He wants to get out of this slightly surreal place, back to his lab and his tools, but then he'll be expected to know what he's doing. Truth be told, he doesn't even know where to start with the Steve situation, and of course Nick's going to be insane.

"We ready?" he asks everyone in general, looking around.

"Think so," says Bruce, but he looks at Thor.

Thor smiles. "Yes," he says. "Our time here was well-spent indeed, and I will happily return soon to visit, but Midgard needs us."

Frigga leans over to touch Clint's arm. "Don't think I've forgotten what you've done," she says, and there's a really horrifying moment when Clint thinks she's going to throw him off this creepy bridge because he murdered her baby. But she doesn't. She says, "I know what part of this mattered most, and you made it so." She squeezes his arm, and turns to Tony.

She says to him, "Asgard won't forget what any of you have done. If we can do good for you in turn, send Thor to us and we will do our best." She frowns. "Perhaps send Thor to us sooner than that, if you can."

"If he resists," Fandral starts cheerfully.

"We'll come and fetch him," Sif finishes. She is a little more threatening.

Thor laughs. "Next time, I will not resist. Farewell, my friends."

"Yeah, and good luck, Bucky," Tony adds. He isn't sure what to make of Bucky's choice, but the kid looks happy, so that's good enough for him. Even if it means dealing with Steve alone.

Steve, still unexpectedly middling and miserable on top of it, does break from the group to grab Bucky in a hug. "Take care of yourself," he says. He wants to say more, but it's not entirely within his grasp. He just hugs harder.

Bucky buries his face in the crook of Steve's neck for a second before releasing him. "Back atcha," he says. "I'll know if you don't, and I'll come down there and kick your ass."

"Yeah," says Steve. "I know." He's weirdly relieved--he feels the anxiety ease up on his stomach, because not too deep down he expects to need the ass-kicking, and now he knows he'll get it.

Bucky tosses off a little salute and a smile. "See ya, partner."

Tony takes a deep breath. "Okay," he says. "Let's do this." He thinks about Nick Fury and squeezes his eyes shut preemptively.

"Don't fear, Tony Stark," Heimdall says. "I have killed no one on their journey down the Bifrost on my watch. Would you like a better place to land?" Then, however, they are out of Asgard and roaring to Earth, and it doesn't matter what they want, or whether Heimdall has killed anyone or not.

Chapter 6: laufey and frigga can relate

Summary:

This queen of Asgard has understood all that Laufey has tried to tell Odin in anger for countless years.

Notes:

Chapter Warnings: past rape/abuse/dubcon, gross Asgardian imperialism, references to death

When Frigga's children have left Asgard (two of them to Midgard, and one to the field), she calls her guard to her, and they take Balder's frozen body from where Loki and Hogun have left it, and they go to the Bifrost where Heimdall waits.

Heimdall smiles very faintly when his queen approaches. He knows where she intends to go, but he still asks, "Do you wish me to open the Bifrost, your majesty?"

"Yes, Heimdall," Frigga says. "We go to Jotunheim."

Heimdall bows and goes to open the Bifrost. He never smiled on Odin's journeys to the land of the Frost Giants, but this is different.

Frigga beckons to her guard, and they place Balder’s body at the edge of the electric white of the opening Bifrost. "Keep guard on us if it will bring you peace of mind," Frigga says to Heimdall, and then she and Balder are gone in a rush of air and light.

Laufey has not, in past years, paid much mind to the Bifrost entrance to their kingdom. No one ever comes from Asgard. However, since Thor and Loki's recent intrusions, Laufey has been more careful, and this time, the opening of the Bifrost does not go unnoticed.

Frigga arrives with Balder's corpse in tow, but she does not move from the spot where she arrives. She is not Odin, nor Thor, nor Loki. She is a queen; she will have respect, and she will give it, unless need arises to do otherwise.

Laufey comes without entourage to the place where Asgard's queen has paused. Seeing her, Laufey bows low. Laufey has not seen her since they stood over Odin in his chamber, all caught in Loki’s schemes.

"Now nearly all of your family has set foot here."

Frigga glances back at Balder's corpse. "No one expects Tyr to be circumspect," she remarks. "Curious, as he'd be no general without sense." She inclines her head. "Laufey. Have these last few weeks brought you news from Asgard?"

"Only rumor." Laufey's voice is deep, rumbling with distrust. "But the body you bear with you confirms much of what I've heard. As does your presence instead of Odin's."

"Odin," Frigga says, "will not set foot on your ground nor any other, so long as I may prevent him. You speak to Asgard's queen and sovereign."

Laufey smiles, but the expression has sharp edges. "This is fair news indeed. And what will Asgard's queen do with her subjugated realm?"

"Perhaps better than her husband," she answers, voice steely. "Laufey, you know as well as I that we cannot meet merely as the rulers of two peoples at odds. Our blood has mingled, and our families have torn themselves upon each other. I know well what went between Odin and you; I raised your child, did I not? And loved him, too."

"Did you?" Laufey says coldly. There are others ways to say it, but a ruler cannot break, especially in front of a potential enemy. "Well, perhaps we have both been wronged by the same man. So where is my child now?"

"Midgard," Frigga says. "With his lover. He is grown since last you saw him. I say 'he' only because it's the form he takes most. I think he was accustomed to it, growing up." She breathes deeply. "I would like to know, Laufey, what that child is worth to you. I know he has injured you--but even so, if it were my child, taken from me by a father like Odin, my rage and my sorrow would never cease."

Laufey tries to take a breath and finds it impossible. This queen of Asgard has understood all that Laufey has tried to tell Odin in anger for countless years. It is a moment before Laufey can say anything at all.

"They have never ceased.”

Frigga nods. “So I thought, though it’s taken me age to see it.”

Laufey tilts their head. “Ask, Queen Frigga, and I will give you whatever you want. But we have very little left to give." Their eyes glitter, half shrewd and half hopeful.

"I wish you to take the truth," Frigga says. It's a cruel price to pay, but it may serve to keep their bargain better. "And in return I wish to share peace."

Laufey smiles. "Harsh, but fair. A ruler after my own heart. Speak, then."

Frigga does not smile. She tells Laufey what Odin has done to their child--what Balder has done also. She feels her youngest son's cold dead presence at her back. "There is no reason but what Odin made of him for Loki to be mad," she says quietly. "These all are the hurts it required before I would unmake him--but it's all this that it required, to gain the aid of my other children. A woman, even a queen, cannot fight a king on her own, no matter the cause."

"And is Loki well now?" Laufey says stiffly. They have been too angry at Odin for too long to cry out at the list of grievances, but it's difficult. "Is there anything at all salvageable in them--in him?"

Frigga feels a moment of dreadful, piercing pity--the craggy expression on Laufey's face, burning in Laufey’s red eyes, is full of grief and despair. If Frigga has not felt exactly that, it is because she has never lost so much as Laufey. She has not protected her children, but at least she has held them and loved them and they have known her face as something other than a monster's. As something other than a target.

"Loki is healing," she says. "I do not know what he will come to, in the end. But he is sane. He is loved by a mortal, of all things, whom he loves, I think, in more than equal measure. He trusts in the brothers he can trust again. And he is clever, Laufey, your child is clever and ambitious and vicious and full of passions. He is the most serious little creature, except when he is playing a joke. All of his forms are beautiful, every one of them. He is more than salvageable, Laufey. He is brave and strong and sweet, and despite all I've allowed to happen, he will be well."

Laufey makes a sound like a sob without tears. "And now you are truly cruel. I can have peace now, knowing that my child has somehow come through everything Asgard has done to him and is still so good. But it will be a peace without ever being allowed to know him."

Loki has only come here to make wars. Laufey doubts that he will come again.

Frigga holds up her hand. "There is a last cruelty," she says. "I am sorry it must be so many. But Asgard is not the only realm that has dealt Loki unfairly. Yours has, too."

"What?" Laufey says, startled. "No. No, I would have--but tell me."

"The second of your children once caught a trespasser in your palace," Frigga says. "Perhaps you were never told."

Laufey's eyes narrow. "No. No, never. Perhaps for good reason."

Frigga is bone-weary. She loathes everything that's been done to her child, and every recounting of the wrongs. She says, "Only the fate of the gods could dwell as much in irony and sickness. My youngest son and your second child are guilty of the same crime, Laufey, with the child we share as the victim."

Laufey looks at Balder for a long moment. "Ice will not hold my child, but they will suffer a similar fate."

"You have raised and loved your other children?" Frigga asks hesitantly. "Loki is practically a stranger. He has been your enemy. You would--in punishment, for him?"

"My two other children are brutes," Laufey snaps. "I love them, yes, but I do not trust them. They only want my death so they can rule my shattered realm poorly." Laufey pauses. "And those children I only fathered. Loki was special to me." Revealing these things will not look like weakness to Frigga.

Frigga nods briefly. "As for the rest," she says, "I believe Loki would see you. You could ask him here, or you could--go to him. I would provide you the means, if you wished to go. It may take some work; I am old as a queen, but fresh as a sovereign. My realm will require convincing. But I would, and where Loki lives is safe to you; he likes the heat little more than you do."

Laufey shudders, unable to quell a pang at the reminder that Loki is one of them. "I would go," Laufey says. "But only if Loki first agrees to have me."

Even if Loki says no, Laufey will have asked.

"Do you trust me to ask for you?" Frigga says, genuinely surprised.

"Do you think I hate and fear all Asgardians?" Laufey asks. "I am bitter and I am cruel, but I am not so stupid as that. All the good that has been done for my child has been done by you and your children. Yes, I trust you."

Frigga says, "I do not think I have earned it--I hope, though, that I will." She frowns. "I cannot give your people their power back if I have any belief that you will use it again to invade the other realms. I cannot give you that now even if I trust you; my position is still tenuous, and both our countries would be tipped into chaos if I gave Jotunheim its former glory as one of my first acts."

Laufey nods, unsurprised. "I know. And I think you're wise to bear all this in mind. But do not think I or my people will forget the power you now hold, and the ruin three of your house have wreaked on my land."

"I do not enjoy holding that power," Frigga says. "If I can, someday, I will return it. For now, I propose a smaller bargain."

"Tell me."

"I will help you regain your child," Frigga says. "I will give him all the reason I can to come to you without malice. In return, you will keep Balder's body preserved in the ice of your realm, where it is safe. If the ice melts or cracks, the holly arrow will poison him and he will die. Keep that as a promise that I would pay back what you are owed when I can see the path to do so."

Laufey frowns. Frigga is willing to leave the body her youngest, no matter how tarnished he has become, in Jotunheim. This is a massive show of trust after all.

"This I will gladly do," Laufey says. "I can make sure his body is neither disturbed nor destroyed. A small task in exchange for a great boon."

"Some say there is a price, if he dies," Frigga says. "Asgard will not suffer alone."

"I don't want that any more than you do," Laufey says. "I'll keep your bargain."

"I will speak to Loki," Frigga returns. There's a pause between them. She aches for herself and for Odin's enemy. It is an odd and uncomfortable sensation. There is nothing but this that she can do to comfort either of them. She says at last, "He was a cruel man. He has been a good king, but he was not kind."

Laufey wants to say, I am also unkind, but I am a better ruler than Odin. But no. There is no use in saying that now.

"Perhaps we can both breathe more freely," Laufey suggests. "I wish you well, Queen of Asgard."

She bows, and then she goes.

Chapter 7: everyone has a bumpy landing

Summary:

That won't get better, and it might get worse.

Notes:

Chapter Warnings: depression, body dysphoria

When they arrive, it's outside the tower. It's a little bit uncomfortable. It's awfully public. Also, everyone quickly realizes, there's a SHIELD agent outside the door.

Tony frowns, more annoyed than anything else. It's that Hill woman, the one who's always hanging around and snapping at everyone whenever Tony interacts with SHIELD.

"Can I help you?" he asks, because it's better than trying to explain why they just fell from the sky.

"Mr. Stark," Maria says sharply. She does not shout. She was instructed to start with calm, reasoned speech. "Director Fury has been looking for you for two weeks."

"Obviously not very well," Bruce says, before Tony can try to answer.

"Where have you been?" Maria snaps past him.

"My home!" Thor answers cheerfully. He knows not this woman, but he dislikes anyone in SHIELD automatically. "Asgard!" he clarifies.

"Right, what Thor said," Tony starts, looking tired and defensive already, "but I can discuss that with--"

"Why discuss it?" Thor crosses his arms. "We were carrying out our duties, were we not?"

"I carried out mine!" Clint says, looking a lot more scowly than his voice suggests. Maria is almost certain there’s a threat in it, but she doesn’t know what.

"If Fury needs any details--and I do not see why he should? --he may speak to us himself, now that we have returned. We will be happy to convey any necessary information." Natasha sends a burning expression around at Bruce and Thor and Clint, all of whom, she thinks, would make a better choice than Tony right now. She's pleased to see that Thor and Jan and (surprisingly) Hank have all put themselves between Maria Hill and Steve. Steve isn't speaking, which is typical lately, but in this one case Natasha thinks that is for the best.

"Someone has to!" Maria says, flustered. "You can't just disappear like that and expect a no-questions-asked welcome home!"

"We can expect," Bruce says, grimacing.

"Besides," Jan says chirpily (god, she hates Maria Hill), "this time Fury can't even get on our case about crossing international lines or anything. Asgard isn't on Earth."

"And its government has deemed our actions there satisfactory," Thor agrees.

Tony is tensed up and silent, like he can't decide whether to be grateful or angry.

"We liaised, we plotted, we built some cool shit and got the job done, we drank some god-mead, and now the queen of another world really, really likes us," Clint says, still sounding a lot breezier than he looks. "Can't say I know how she feels about you, of course." Clint does not miss his time with SHIELD.

"We should go inside," Natasha says swiftly, while Maria gropes for a response. "We had a long journey. Everyone is tired. Maria, you can tell Fury no more watchdog is needed, he may call us. Yes, Tony?" she says, checking in with him.

Tony shakes the tension out of his shoulders so gracefully it's almost imperceptible. "Sounds like a plan to me. Say hi for us, Maria. Tell him not to look for a report on his desk."

He grins and pushes open the door to the tower. Steve gets somehow circulated to the center of the group, and they all shuffle inside before Maria can stop them. She says another word. She says, "Hey. HEY!" And then they lock the doors behind them, those sons of bitches, and she's left banging on the glass while they pay as much attention as though it might be brick.

"Oh," she mutters furiously to herself as the elevators pick them up and take them away, "they are definitely hiding something." At least she has something to report to Nick.

Once the doors are shut and locked, Tony deflates a little. "What the hell was that, anyway?" he asks. He's mostly directing the question at Natasha, but it applies to everyone.

"You're competent," Natasha says. "That woman is a fiend. Everyone here but you two," she gestures to Tony and Steve, "have just had the equivalent of a very good vacation. You have plenty to worry about without that sanctimonious cat of a woman."

"And did you want her to know Steve's doing this depressed deflatable doll thing?" Clint asks. Steve glares, and Clint shrugs unapologetically.

Tony's mouth goes sideways. "That's not very helpful," he says, but only halfheartedly. His team, he reminds himself, is amazing. "Never mind, at least she's out of the way."

"What next, then?" Thor asks. He turns to Steve. "What of you, friend?"

"I don't really want to talk about this on an elevator," Steve says uncomfortably.

"Talk about what?" Jan asks.

"Is there something to talk about?" Tony asks. "We're going to make a plan. Thor and I can work on it." Ideally, Loki could help. But apparently that's not happening.

"I'm not talking about this in an elevator," Steve says more loudly, and everyone goes quiet.

"Sorry," Jan says awkwardly, after a few seconds. "I'm sorry, Steve."

"As am I," Thor says, frowning and clapping a hand on Steve's shoulder. "We should all take time to settle in again, yes?"

"Tact from Thor," Tony says. "That's--worrying. Take a day, everyone. Get some training in. Readjust."

The elevator doors open on Steve's floor and he steps out.

"Can I...?" Tony starts. He doesn't want to have a moment with the team holding the elevator open. Really doesn't want to. But he needs to talk to Steve.

Steve nods. "See you later," he says to the rest of the team. He ignores their worried looks. That won't get better, and it might get worse.

Tony waits until they're in Steve's apartment to say anything. Then he just says, "How're you doing?"

"Not so good," Steve says. He skirts Tony to sit down on his comfortable couch, and then sort of jolts and ends up with his head in his hands. "In case you hadn't noticed, I'm kind of a mess."

"I know," Tony says quickly, sitting down next to Steve. "Of course you are. You just lost something pretty huge. What I want to know is what you need from me."

Steve feels the start of panic gripping him just at that request. "I don't know," he says. "What can you do? And who do you mean? I mean, are you asking what you can do for me or to keep Captain America from biting the dust?"

"Whoa," Tony says, holding up his hands, "Captain America can wait. We might be able to cure you. Right now I want to know if my boyfriend needs anything."

"I don't know," Steve says. "I don't know, Tony, what am I allowed to ask for, here? Are you going to tell me to cheer up because it's not that bad and at least I still have my arms and my heart and everything? Or tell me it's okay to feel crummy, so I can just feel like a stupid kid who needs to be coddled? I regret it, okay? I regret what I did. Loki probably would have been fine and I don't even like him and I wish I'd never gone for it."

Tony gets up, fast. "Listen," he says, his voice low and angry, "I know you're messed up right now, but you need to stop talking like it's the end of the world. You want to give up? Fine! But none of us did."

"Need?" Steve shoots back, suddenly angry as well. "You just asked what I needed, Tony, but I think what you're talking about is what you need. You, Tony Stark, and Iron Man too. You want me to pick up where I left off and work hard and keep right on being the hero on your arm. You want another shining example of bravery and goodness. A role model. Well, I don't want that, and I only need to be as good as you if I am one of you."

Tony stops dead, derailed. Shouting felt good after weeks of silent worry, but--

"Are you quitting?" he demands.

"I'm no good to you like this," Steve says.

"You're always good to me," Tony says fiercely. "But if you're just going to work yourself into thinking there's no hope, I don't know what to tell you."

"I'm not working myself into anything!" Steve shouts, and it's so loud it seems to make the air shake. More quietly, he says, "Can you honestly tell me you'd trust me as backup for anybody on your team?"

"I trust Clint," Tony says icily.

"I'm not talking about my goddamned muscles!" Steve roars, surging to his feet. He kicks out at the coffee table with the heel of his foot, and even now, it flips over and lands clattering two or three feet from where it starts.

"Okay!" Tony shouts back, already heading for the door. "Okay, Steve, I don't trust you right now. I'd be a bad team leader if I did. I'm going before this gets worse." He's even more alarmed than he's showing Steve, but it's all turning inward instead of outward. Bad sign.

There's no space for Steve to begin to explain, and he's too angry to try. It means that when Tony leaves, Steve doesn't stop him, he just stands there, and his eyes burn and burn and he doesn't know what words he would use even if someone asked the right question.

Chapter 8: wolverine suggests a change in personnel

Summary:

Tony thinks, hang up, hang up, hang up and says, "Um. Is this Pietro?"

Notes:

Chapter Warnings: suicidal ideation, references to kink, gendered/homophobic insults, racial privilege, references to alcohol abuse, incest, depression, and self-destructive behavior/bad sex. Also Logan is never going to stop being WAY OLDER THAN PIETRO.

Tony doesn't take the elevator down. He starts down the stairs two at a time, not even sure where he's going through the buzzing, raging, throat-sick feeling he's caught in. There's nothing to work on in his lab, and he doesn't want to sit alone in his apartment. He's pretty sure there are still one or two liquor bottles stashed between those places, anyway, and if he couldn't find them when he didn't want to, he's pretty sure he could find them now that he does.

On the other hand, why bother? the biggest, most traitorous part of him asks. If Steve is giving up, what the hell is Tony staying sober for?

He's so mad at himself for thinking this that he heads straight for the front door--but that brings him up short. Because someone is waiting for him. Someone short and hairy and scowling.

"Logan," Tony says, the door swinging shut behind him. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Logan smiles, a little less nastily than he usually does when he's confronted with Tony. That's partly because Tony looks like shit, and that's funny. It's partly because Logan wants something.

"Glad you turned up again," he says. "Fury was about to blow a gasket. Got something I want to talk about."

"You and every other person on every damned planet," Tony says. "Everybody's business is so very important. What?"

"Mine is more important," Logan says. His smile gets nastier, and he tries to smooth it out. "I have someone for your team. Someone looking for a job."

Logan is perfectly willing to stretch the truth a little if it'll keep one of his least favorite people in the world listening.

"Wow," says Tony, staring. "That's--convenient timing. That's incredible. Do you actually have your dear friend Professor X, like, implanted into the walls of other people's business? I don't think we need any of your friends on our team. Sorry, Logan."

"He ain't my friend," Logan says, crossing his arms. "But he's good and you could use him. And he could use you. Since your team's basically superhero therapy." Not that it works, he adds privately, looking Tony up and down.

"What?" Tony says. Oh, god, is that seriously their reputation? Oh, god, Tony is the worst leader ever. "You're telling me you want to foist some messed up, nameless person--a mutant, I’m assuming--off on us...and you don't even like them."

"Didn't say that," Logan says. "Said he wasn't my friend. He's my boyfriend, and yeah, he's a mutant. If you don't want to look like a bigot, you could use one on the team. And you could use his power." He waits for Tony to blow up again.

"Sure," Tony says. "Yeah. We're all massive bigots around here." It occurs to him that bigots or not, they're all really white, Asgardian and Russian transplants notwithstanding. This is not a guilt Tony needs at this exact moment. And this lineup was Nick's idea, anyway. "Logan!" he says, way too loudly. "Maybe you could tell me who your fucked-up mutant boyfriend is and I can tell you exactly how much I care about looking like a bigot."

Logan sighs. "Well, okay, it's Quicksilver. But I hear you're palling around with Loki and Doctor Doom now, so who cares?"

Tony actually laughs. "The speedster? The kid who makes so much trouble Magneto doesn't want to be his dad?" His expression changes. "You're dating him?"

"I've got better taste than Captain America," Logan says nastily. He hears everything.

Well, there's something Tony doesn't need to hear. "I'm surprised you could get him to look at you twice," he says loudly. "I mean, you don't look a lot like his sister."

Logan laughs, mostly 'cause it's true. "You're a dick, Stark. But that's okay. So's Pietro. Come on, give him a chance. You could use someone fast."

"What for?" Tony says. "So he can get out of line really efficiently? So he can take the open spot for a green-wearing morally-dubious guy with daddy issues?" Which isn't nice to say about Loki, but Loki left. "You're not selling it, Wolverine."

Logan realizes that Tony is having one of his many bad days and probably isn't receptive to hostility right now. Too bad.

"Look," he says, "I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean to come off...cranky. I think your team's good and Pietro could make it better. And you can't deny that you help people. Isn't that half of what the Avengers is about?"

That brings Tony up short. Not Steve, he thinks, and then he thinks about everyone else. Jan would say yes in a second. Jan makes friends with people who try to kill her. Don't be like Jan.

"I have had," Tony says, "a really long day. I am not really in the mood for this, Logan, and I am not in the kind of mood where you're going to convince me of how great we are with a few grudging compliments."

"Okay," Logan says, "what if I'm honest about him? He's a mess, Stark. He's talking about killing himself every other thing. He's going out and fucking--people no one should ever fuck. His dad's messed him up so bad he thinks he's a monster, and I don't know, maybe he'll end up proving the bastard right. He needs people who get what that's like." He meets Tony's eyes.

"And you think that's us?" Tony answers sharply. It's getting hard to breathe. It doesn't even matter if Logan's right about them. It matters that that's what he thinks of them. And it matters because--

"Last time we took in somebody like that it didn't turn out so well," he says nastily. "Nearly got one of us killed. I don't think we're interested in trying again right now. Look somewhere else."

Logan nods slowly. "Message received," he says. "Well, thanks for listening. Get back to me when you decide to man up."

He leaves before Tony can answer. Tony watches him go, and then tries to remember what he was doing before Logan stopped him.

"Oh yeah," he mutters. "Running away." That doesn't seem to be working out so well, so he goes inside and up to his apartment. He doesn't look for any stashed booze. He sits down on the couch with the living room lights off and feels awful. He feels awful about Steve a lot and awful about Loki a little (is Loki even okay?), and mostly he's just tired.

He thinks of Steve's face when Tony talked about Obie, and Jan being nice to Loki, and Clint shooting Balder without question. He remembers bringing home Bucky when Steve was so terrified. He remembers Bruce being casual about Tony being trans, and Thor protecting Bruce when Tony nearly turned him into Hulk. He remembers Thor being so frightened that Loki was going to fall apart and never be fixed. He remembers watching Steve run towards that fucking net.

"Damn it," he says hoarsely, and picks up the phone. He only has a landline for Logan, that asshole. Who even has a landline?

"Hello?" someone says. "Residence of an aging mutant fag. No call girls or Scott Summers, please. Can I help?"

Tony thinks, hang up, hang up, hang up and says, "Um. Is this Pietro?"

There's a pause.

"Yeah?" says the voice on the other end.

"Pietro," Tony says, trying to sound smooth. "This is Tony Stark. Logan said you were looking for a team."

"Unfortunately the Avengers aren't right for you?" Pietro guesses. "Yeah, I know. I'm surprised you even called back."

"Did Logan talk to you?"

"Not home yet. But who would be stupid enough to say yes? Except the fucking X-Men."

Tony actually feels bad now.

"I was going to offer you a spot," he says. "Still will, if you want it."

Another pause. "Oh," says the voice, smaller. "Yeah. Thanks."

The phone hangs up before Tony can say anything else.

~Logan is pretty annoyed when he leaves Stark Tower (or Avengers Tower, or whatever they're pretending it's called), but by the time he gets back to the place he's currently living, he's flat-out angry. Sure, Pietro doesn't make a very convincing potential member, and sure, Logan isn't the best at presenting things in a flattering light, but the kid needs help. And Tony's willing to let him just crash and burn.

Logan pushes open the door, hoping Pietro is still here and not out getting himself hurt again.

"Hey, old man," Pietro says from the other room, and then appears at the doorway. "Oh. Good. It really is you. Never know if it's gonna be, like, your ex or your other ex or some guys I know and don't want to know. So I guess you talked to Stark."

Logan glowers. "I don't give out my address to my exes." Like it matters. "But yeah, I talked to him. Look, sometimes he just takes some time. I'll get you in. He's such a pussy when he's worked up."

"Says you," Pietro says pointedly. "Anyway, what the hell are you talking about? He called. Offered me a spot. I said yes. Hope you're grateful."

Logan eyebrows go up. "He--huh. Guess he doesn't take that much time. You said yes?" That's the real shocker.

"What, did you not want me to?" Pietro asks. "You gotta stop mixing your signals, old man. It's just not safe."

Logan is getting sick of this old man stuff. "I wanted you to," he says, "I just didn't expect you to. You excited?"

Pietro shrugs and starts pacing, hands shoved in his pockets for the moment, anyway. "Dunno," he says. "Logan, do you really think they'll even keep me? Let's ignore how much torture a bunch of sappy little mama's...etceteras...is going to be for me. You think after a day or two they'll actually want me back? I mean I'm not saying I giveashit, but, I mean, don't be disappointed."

Logan wonders if Pietro realizes how damn obvious he is all the time. Probably.

"I won't be," he says. "I also won't let 'em just give up on you like that. And if they try, they're assholes."

He perches himself on the arm of the couch and watches Pietro.

"Ohmygod!" Pietro says, zipping up to him and giving him kind of a hard pat on the cheek before he zips out of clobbering distance. "Assholes! Well, those don't come along every day, so I guess I'm safe, huh?"

"If they're assholes," Logan continues doggedly, "I'll beat 'em up. Or yell at 'em. Whatever seem appropriate. I'm not about to let some fuck-up like Stark treat you like dirt."

Pietro scowls, out of temper suddenly. "Yeah, because I'm so valuable. Don't worry about it. If they're assholes I'll just quit going." Of course, Logan had only tried to find some team to stick him on because without one he'd probably wind up dead, but that bothers Logan a lot more than it bothers Pietro.

"Then clearly we'll have to have a conversation about what to do next," Logan says. "It might end in you getting sent right back." He's not going to let Pietro just give up and run straight into the jaws of--whatever.

"I am not," Pietro starts, and then changes that to, "Boyfriend is not a synonym for spinster caretaker, Logan. And the whole point of the Avengers is that they aren't the X-Men. You're not sending naughty little Pietro back to the nice man's school until everything goes your way."

"No," Logan says, his voice descending into a snarl, "I'm tossing the wolf into the fucking den of other wolves until they teach it not to bite other people."

That shuts Pietro up for a second. "I guess I promised," he says finally. "I'm not going to try to fuck this up, anyway."

That's actually a pretty huge promise, coming from Pietro. "Good," Logan says. "You better stick to that. And I know they're assholes, or at least some of 'em are, but that might not hurt. Everyone else you know is an asshole, so..."

"Seriously, their manners are not what I'm worried about," Pietro grimaces.

"Then you're in luck," Logan says with distaste. "Being nasty is about the worst thing in their arsenal. And I already said I won't let 'em kick you out."

Pietro is quiet for a few seconds (not still, but that never happens unless Logan forgets he shouldn't ask for it). "I'm doing this because I like you," he says. "I don't think it's gonna help, though. One of these days either everything's gonna sort itself out, or I'll get myself killed. The Avengers won't change that."

"They might help sort it out faster," Logan says, faking confidence to cover the cold feeling that he might end up losing someone he cares about again.

"Or who knows!" Pietro starts, but he cuts off what would have been a fairly unpleasant declaration because he can see Logan's face. "Well, who knows," he finishes sheepishly.

"Yeah," Logan says. "Right. You sure as hell don't. So give it a chance." Then maybe Pietro can stop scaring the hell out of him on a regular basis.

"Sorry," Pietro says. "I'll try."

Logan keeps being a little alarmed by how eager Pietro is to please him. He guesses that means he's not allowed to fuck up, ever. That's okay. He doesn't fuck up. At least not in ways that generally hitch up with Pietro's issues.

"Thanks, kid," he says.

"No problem, old man," Pietro says.

Chapter 9: pietro maximoff joins the avengers

Summary:

Pietro rolls his eyes. "Save the pep talk for when your team actually says yes."

Notes:

Chapter Warnings: racial/ableist/class privilege, references to suicidal tendencies, depression, incest, and alcohol abuse

Tony doesn't sleep much that night, and he gets up early because it's better than lying there and pretending he's getting any rest at all. In the continued story of Tony's towering failure as a team leader, he has no idea what to tell the others about Steve.

He's decided not to tell them anything about Pietro. The chances of the kid even showing up seem incredibly minimal, and maybe that's for the best.

Tony takes himself to the conference room to drink his coffee. There's nothing else to drink there, and he can at least pretend he's making important, useful decisions. No one else is there--of course, because Tony gave them the day off--but it's still only about ten minutes before he gets interrupted.

"Sir," says JARVIS. "There's a person at the door for you."

"A person?" Tony repeats stupidly. "I mean, okay, send them in, I guess." At worst, it'll be a supervillain who wants a fight.

"Sending up," JARVIS says a moment later, and there's a rap on the conference room door.

Tony frowns. "What--oh." Because that was fast. He starts to smile. "Come in!"

The door opens and Pietro sticks his head around it. "Stark. Hi! What were the stakes in that bet you just lost? Doesn't matter, you've got money. Anyway, I showed up." He sits next to Tony half a second later, because he is just now remembering that he promised to show up and behave for today, at least, and half because actually he is kind of nervous.

"Okay," Tony says, "Wolverine had a point. You're fast. Welcome to the Avengers, kid. If you want in, and if my team wants you in." Great, now he's actually going to have to deal with that one.

"That might be kind of a short interview," Pietro says. He's either scowling or sneering, leaning back and jiggling his foot. "Thanks for the offer, anyway."

"It might go better than you think," Tony says. So yes, he's going to have to tell them about Steve. "But why don't you tell me why you want to be part of this team. Logan was...well, Logan about it."

"Threatened you?" Pietro asks. "Listen, I won't lie. I don't give a shit about that much. I don't really give a shit about your team. But I give a shit about Logan, and he doesn't want me dead in an alley somewhere if it's not for some noble cause, so here I am, and I promise not to try to get killed on hero duty."

Tony winces. This kid's going to be a handful. Which he was expecting, from Magneto's son.

"I guess that's fair," he says carefully. "Much as I hate to say it, Logan generally has his head screwed on straight." He frowns. "How the hell did you two end up dating, if that's not an incredibly rude question?"

"Logan likes stray cats," Pietro drawls.

Tony smiles. "I was more wondering what you saw in him. Because let me tell you, it's a mystery to me."

Pietro fidgets. "Yeah, that's kind of personal," he agrees. "I don't think it’ll hurt you to leave it a mystery."

Tony holds up his hands, apologetic. "Sorry. Didn't mean to pry. Listen, if you're willing to do this, I'm willing to give you a chance. But I have to talk to my team."

"Sure," says Pietro. "Hey, I promised I'd show up, and I showed up. If your friends don't want me, don't worry about it. I'm sure there's a ton of other teams Logan can try and threaten me onto."

Tony isn't sure Logan's method is a helpful one. It can't be doing wonders for Pietro's self-esteem, at any rate.

"None that would be such a good fit," Tony says with false confidence. It's true, though, all that bullshit Logan said. Well, some of the bullshit.

Pietro rolls his eyes. "Save the pep talk for when your team actually says yes."

"Agreed." Tony stands up. "I gave them the day off, but I can always call a meeting. I should probably talk to them without you, first."

"Obviously," says Pietro. "When should I come back?"

Tony considers. "Give me an hour."

"Okaycool," Pietro says, and he's out of there like he had somewhere to be yesterday.

Tony hopes he hasn't made a horrible mistake. He takes out his card and calls a meeting.

~Steve isn't there. That is the most obvious thing, when Tony starts the meeting. Steve isn't there, and not everyone is surprised; this does nothing to improve Tony's mood. He doesn't even know where the hell to start, so he takes a sip of coffee, puts on his game face, and smiles. "Okay, I know I said everyone had the day off, but something's come up."

"Not Steve," Clint says, but he isn't smiling.

Tony inclines his head toward Clint a little. "Yeah. Well spotted. Steve's..." He thinks maybe this news is Steve's to tell, but he has to tell them something. "Look, you all saw what happened and you all know how he's been. He's not in any shape to fight crime right now, we know that much. So he's taking a break."

Everyone is so quiet at this that it's painfully obvious no one expected otherwise.

Tony clears his throat. "But you know that! The real reason we're here as that we've--I've found someone to fill his slot."

"Fill his slot?" Jan says incredulously. "Sorry, I didn't know we had a regulated roster. Which archetype am I?"

“Sassy rich girl,” Clint offers.

Jan starts to protest, but then she shrugs. “Okay,” she says. “That’s fair.”

"I suppose Bucky could be Captain America, if you got him back from Asgard," Hank suggests.

"Don't be stupid," Natasha tells him.

"No one could replace Steve," Thor says firmly.

"Well, that's definitely the reaction I wanted," Tony sighs. "Okay, look, the kid needs some help, and Logan thinks the Avengers could be that help."

"Logan?" says Bruce sharply. "Wolverine Logan?"

"That's the one," Tony says unhappily, remembering too late that some of the team has...history with Logan. Of whatever kind.

"He always had the best of taste," Bruce mutters, which maybe he shouldn't in Thor's earshot.

"What kid?" Jan asks.

"What kind of help?" Natasha says, more usefully.

"Pietro Maximoff," Tony says, "is apparently suicidal."

There's a pause.

"Well, that's about the most shocking thing I've heard all day," Clint says.

Thor turns his frown from Bruce to Tony. "What is a Pietro Maximoff?"

Tony pinches the bridge of his nose. "Uh, well..."

"He's one of Magneto's kids," Jan says. "Magneto, the biggest, baddest, most Holocaust-surviving, righteous-vengeance making, human-hating mutant on the planet."

"Pietro, by all accounts, doesn't get along with his father at all, but he has managed to do a good deal of damage while trying." Bruce flattens his expression into an unenthusiastic line.

"And also doesn't he have a thing for his sister?" asks Clint.

Tony almost says, That's what I said. Instead, he says, "None of that is the point, though. The point is, he's having a tough time, but he's still willing to make himself useful. Okay?"

"Hmm," Thor says, in the manner of one who is thinking deep thoughts.

"We should take him," Natasha says unexpectedly. "Under probation." She glances around and gestures. "This is what our operation does, yes? This is who we are?"

"Thank you," Tony says, relieved yet again by Natasha's ability to, essentially, do his job.

"I know not what this Magneto you all fear is, but I will happily take his child," Thor says.

"Did--no one ever tell you about mutants?" Clint says. "Is that, like, a really important massive minority that you just do not know about?"

"I know Logan," Thor says loftily.

"So, not really," Tony guesses.

"Oh my god," Jan says, horrified. "Thor. Thor. We are going to teach you so much, so fast. Bruce, what have you been doing?"

"Helping him kill his dad," Bruce says, annoyed.

"We could all use a crash-course in diversity," Tony says guiltily.

"What, are you all such a bunch of queers that you never noticed we're all white, able-bodied non-mutants?" Clint asks. "Seriously? Most of us are rich, too. God, every time we walk outside I swear anyone watching will be blinded by the reflection of the sun off our surfaces."

Thor opens his mouth, but before he can say anything awful, Tony says quickly, "The point is, it would be great if we could avoid alienating the kid as soon as he gets through the door."

"How 'kid' is 'kid'?" Clint asks. "How old are the Maximoffs, anyway? Are we allowed to put them on the team?"

"Legal," Tony says, by which he means...eighteen at least.

"Legal?" Thor repeats.

"At least eighteen!" Tony says.

"Oh my god," Jan says. "You want us to take care of a suicidal mutant baby."

"You make it sound much cuter than it is, I promise," Tony says wearily. "Are we doing this?"

"I didn't mean it to sound cute," Jan says. "Yeah, I'm in."

"Yes," Natasha says impatiently.

"We did just play nanny to a self-destructive baby god," Clint says. "Why the hell not?" Hank nods.

Tony nods. "Okay. So that's--not everyone. Bruce?"

"Logan's taste is so bad," Bruce says. "But yes. I mean, clearly. Assuming we're keeping an eye on him. You know, in the moments when he's not going too fast for us to see him."

Tony smiles. "Thanks. You know, I have a good feeling about this." What he really means is, I have a horrible feeling about everything, but you're all perfect, we might save a baby mutant, and I haven't had a drink in weeks.

"So when's he coming over?" Hank asks. "Gotta meet the team!"

"Showed up already," says someone at the door. "Sorry. Early. Maybe I overheard a little bit of this conversation. I am definitely over eighteen."

It doesn't look all that definite, Jan thinks. Pietro Maximoff looks like a little baby-faced angel who punched and bit his way to Earth. He looks evil.

"Welcome to the Avengers," Tony says weakly. "This time we mean it."

Chapter 10: logan and pietro have a brief fade-out interlude

Summary:

Helping is a compulsion of his.

Notes:

Chapter Warnings: some consensual sexy stuff, references to suicidal tendencies and violent sex

When Pietro shows up home Logan is actually there, which is surprising and convenient. Pietro keeps his serious face on. He says, "So I talked to the Tony Stark Club. As promised."

"Yeah?" Logan says. "Guess you get a gold star for the day. No kidding, I'm impressed. You wouldn't catch me talking to them if I didn’t have to. How'd it go?"

Pietro sits down with a huff and looks seriously pained. "They let me in," he says. "Not before they talked about how I'm suicidal jailbait. What did you say to Stark?"

Logan frowns. "Well, Jesus Christ, not that. He's such a fucking lunatic. It's none of his business how old you are."

"Nonono," Pietro says. "I don't care about that. Stark doesn't even think I have such a beautiful baby face. I mean, did you tell him I'm suicidal?"

Logan winces. "Yeah, yeah, I know. I'm an asshole. But I wanted him to see how badly you need this. And that you're, you know, their type."

"How I wish you wouldn't help," Pietro says sourly. He's in a worse mood than he meant to be.

Logan knows. Helping is a compulsion of his. "If you want, I can give you dirt on them. More than I already have."

"What for?" Pietro says. "Now I'm supposed to like them. If they're too pathetic I won't even bother trying."

Logan waves his hand. "I'm sure you'll find it all out, anyway." God, he hopes Pietro doesn't find it all out. Some of it involves Logan.

"Lucky me," says Pietro. He sighs. "This is going to be such a shit show."

Logan thinks he's probably right, but he's not about to say so. "Hey, don't go in with that attitude, or it will be. They're okay people, some of 'em. C'mere."

Pietro pouts and scoots his chair over and leans slightly in Logan's direction. "Say it," he says. "Say it's gonna be a shit show. You know it. You are gonna be hating yourself for having this idea by the end of the week."

Logan sighs and grabs Pietro by the chin. "It's gonna be a shit show. But it's gonna work out. You got me?"

Pietro is kind of easy, even in a bad mood, so he ignores the question and just sighs, instead--a little wavery sound that usually gets Logan to stop talking and start touching.

Logan makes a smug little hmmph sound (well, half smug, half annoyed). "Long week," he says. "Definitely for me, probably for you." Most of Logan's weeks that involve the X-Men are long. He slides his hand up and digs his fingernails into Pietro's scalp. Pietro whimpers and grabs Logan's hand, but he doesn't try to move it or pull away. He shuts his eyes, instead, which would be dangerous if either of them was an only slightly different person. Logan leans in and kisses Pietro, biting his lip pretty hard. He won't fuck Pietro up like some people the kid's been messing around with, but he isn't going to hold back, either.

"Good," he mutters into Pietro's mouth. "Good boy."

"No'mnot," Pietro mutters back, and he bites back hard enough to bruise, if Logan weren't Logan.

Logan turns the kiss into a fierce nuzzle, because he can't always help that kind of thing, and besides, he's sick of getting nipped. If he wanted that kind of thing, he'd kiss--other people. He grabs Pietro by the hair and pulls him up against him.

"Hey there," he growls.

Pietro goes quiet, but his breathing gets faster. Logan can feel it against his ear, and he can feel Pietro's heartbeat against his chest.

"Here?" Pietro offers carefully. "Bed?"

"Bed," Logan says steadily. He's doing his best to avoid actively treating Pietro like a fixer-upper, but any time he gets a chance to inject a little normalcy into Pietro's life, he does. He takes Pietro's hand and tugs him toward the bedroom, knowing that no amount of rushing is going to be fast enough.

Pietro doesn't mind being yanked around, but he ends up in bed with his shirt off before Logan has made it much past the threshold.

"Sorry," says Pietro. "So very done with slowing down today."

Not that he's not, still.

"So I'll just fuck you fast," Logan says. "No problem. I've been itching to touch someone all day." He strips off his shirt and flings himself down on the bed next to Pietro.

Pietro, out of his pants and flat on his back, says, " 'Someone'?"

"You, idiot," Logan snarls. "You, my boyfriend." He drags his nails across Pietro's chest.

Pietro's hands are above his head. He grabs his wrist and winces, but he doesn't move to protect himself.

"Coulda-been-Creed," he says. "For all I know."

"Then you don't know much," Logan replies, a little chagrined. It's not his birthday, so the chances of him fucking Creed are slim. He kisses Pietro again, hard, and rolls on top of him.

"Snot-nosed brat," Pietro agrees breathlessly. Pietro is all angles and anger and speed. He might be baby-faced, but he's not exactly pretty. When Logan suggests that he fuck fewer monsters, Pietro suggests that anyone cuter would give him bad self-esteem. Logan doesn't usually like that, maybe on behalf of his own self-esteem.

"Lucky for you, I don't mind," Logan says. He rolls his hips and gets his hand in Pietro's hair again. He kind of likes playing the game of pain without damage. He likes being effective without being bad for someone.

The downside is that Pietro knows Logan is one person he can fight with safely. His hand darts out and he pinches Logan's nipple, hard, just gentle enough that Logan still groans instead of yelling at him.

"Show me how much you don't mind," Pietro says, "and I might even go see the Avengers again tomorrow."

Chapter 11: tony has some problems with human interaction

Summary:

"Are you leaving the team or leaving me?"

Notes:

Chapter Warnings: domestic conflict, depression, reference to alcohol abuse

Tony is having a long day. Pietro is terrifying in a brand new way, and Tony still hasn't thought of a good way to break that development to Steve. He also hasn't thought of what the hell he's going to tell Nick about their little jaunt off-planet. Basically, Tony has no good options right now.

He doesn't drink anything he's not supposed to. Instead, he squares his shoulders and heads for Steve's apartment.

But his bravery is really only sufficient for walking swiftly in a straight line as far as Steve's door. It's not built to cope with the sudden appearance of Nick Fury, leaning up against a wall in a hallway with his furrowed brow hawk face on.

"Tony," Nick barks. "Nice to see you."

Tony says something, probably "BaaaaughNICK," and he decides to cough instead. "Hi, Nick," he manages. He puts on a smile. "Didn't Hill update you on our...stuff? I'm really in a hurry here."

"Maria told me everything you told her, yes," Nick says, not moving or smiling. "That wasn't very much, I'm afraid. You went to Asgard, is that right?"

Tony sighs and crosses his arms. This day is already a disaster, so he might as well put up a fight before being eaten alive.

"That's right," he says. "To help Thor out with some family trouble. Not seeing the problem here."

"I'm not here to be a nag, Stark," Nick says. "I don't like nagging. Maybe you don't know what I do like yet, but that's because you never show me what I do like. I'll tell you one thing, though: I do like when an affiliated team of superheroes that I can maybe depend on in a time of crisis lets me know if they're going on a little crusade on another planet for a few weeks. Oh, we did all right. But it was close, the first time we called and nobody but the electronic butler was here to pick up. Could've lost lives."

"And before you and I put this team together, there were a lot of times we could've lost lives," Tony says sharply. He's not jumping on board with this particular guilt trip. "This wasn't a vacation. But maybe next time we'll remember to mention it."

"Oh, good," Nick says. "Then maybe my people won't be put in the extra danger of assuming their backup will be actually there to back them up." He was nearly prepared to let this one go, but not if Tony doesn't see the problem.

Tony grits his teeth. "Nick," he says, "I get it. I do. But nearly everyone on my team thinks SHIELD is a bunch of torturers and assholes. They didn't trust you enough to let you know what we were doing."

Nick looks more mountainous and craggy than before. "I see," he says. "And now that you've done it, you still won't let me know what you've been doing. All right." He stands up from the wall. "Just keep in mind, Tony--entitled and reckless only look so-so on a genius inventor. They look like shit on a leader." He starts off down the hall and calls back, "Send someone by if you want your Christmas presents."

There's nothing like getting a dressing-down you're not sure whether or not you deserve and then being reminded you've missed Christmas. It's not like this day is going to get worse after that, so Tony keeps walking till he gets to Steve's door. Then he knocks.

Steve does get up and answer the door, after a minute. He's sort of surprised, himself, since he hardly feels like he's made up his mind even as he's turning the handle. He grits his teeth when he sees Tony (although who else would it be?), because at the moment, Tony makes him feel about fifteen different emotions at once, and he's scared of half of them.

"Hi," he says, and in his head it sounds like the most disappointing, useless word in the world.

"Hi," Tony says quickly. "Look, I know--Can we talk? I have some stuff. To talk about."

Well, Steve thinks, that was one of the things Tony could say. His heart sinks, but he nods and lets him in. He should offer tea. He doesn't offer tea. He wants to bury his face in Tony's shoulder. He steps back a pace so Tony won't try to hug him.

Tony sticks his hands in his back pockets awkwardly. God, Steve looks--great, awful, both. Upset. Tony doesn't know where to start.

He starts with, "Wolverine sent us someone who needs a team to be part of."

Steve breathes. "Yeah?" he says. "Gonna put him in?"

"I don't like to think what'll happen to him if we don't," Tony says honestly. "Look, this isn't something I'm doing to replace you. It's just...timing." Good or bad timing, he doesn't clarify.

Steve says, "You should replace me. Did you tell everyone I quit?"

Tony swallows. "Yeah. I told them."

Steve nods, and then sort of shuffles at the floor. I'm sorry, he almost says, except he doesn't know what thing he'd be saying sorry for. He wants Tony to kiss him so badly it hurts, but just the idea of asking is--impossible, actually. It isn't possible.

"I should probably stop living here, huh?" he says. Where did that come from?

Tony's breath catches. "I--whoa, no, I don't think--" Oh, wow, they're breaking up. He was afraid of this, but he thought he could somehow pull everything together and make it come out just fine like he always does. Except it doesn’t work with people.

"It's a big place," he manages. "Just because you can't be on the team right now doesn't mean you have to leave."

"I'll just get in the way," Steve says. "I can just get an apartment somewhere and--" What? Get a job?

"No," Tony says, suddenly desperate with the idea that he might somehow lose track of Steve. "Steve, slow down. Are you--" (Say it, he tells himself, don't be a coward) "Are you leaving the team or leaving me?"

No, Steve wants to say. No, no, no, not you. He says, "I don't know, which do you want?"

"I don't want you to fucking leave anything!" Tony snaps. Desperate, needy, just like he always gets when someone is about to walk out. One of the ways he gets.

"Well I can't do this," Steve shouts back. He feels like crying, but like his face can hardly move. He must look like he doesn't give a damn about the team or Tony. "I can't sit here being useless!"

Tony balls his hands into fists. "Then go," he says tightly. Yup, that's what happens when he stops being desperate. "I'll give you some cash, if you need it."

"I haven't been spending much of my stipend," Steve says automatically, dry-mouthed.

"Then you're fine." Tony's ears are buzzing and he's not really focused on Steve. "You're fine, you've got it all under control."

That hurts, and it's too much Steve's fault for him to say so. "And you've got a new Avenger," he says. "Neat."

"Yeah," Tony says, "I'm sure we'll be a success." But he can't, he can't be this mean, not this time. There has to be a point where he learns not to make the same mistakes. "I don't want you to go," he says.

Steve knows Tony means exactly what he says, but somewhere between Tony's mouth and the important parts of Steve's head, it turns stubborn. It turns into well I guess this is for real and you can't take it back.

"Well, I am," he says.

Tony can't listen to any more, if Steve even has more to say. It wouldn’t do any good to start in with, I thought you were different, because the problem is that Tony isn't different.

"Well!" His voice comes out too high. "Guess that's it, then!" He turns his back on Steve and strides out of the room.

He knows all of the places he can't go without drinking, so instead he just goes to the training room. He might as well get out some of this excess energy or get killed by a giant machine or whatever. He wipes his eyes furiously and thinks of everything but Steve.

Clint is already in the training room. He stops the program when Tony appears in the side room through the window.

"Wanna join in?" Clint calls.

Tony clears his throat. Clint is the last person he wanted to see. "Uh," he says. His voice is a croak. He clears his throat again.

Clint frowns. "Tony?" he says. "Are you okay?"

Tony scrubs a hand across his face. He does not want to be crying in front of Clint. "Yes," he says fiercely.

Clint ambles quickly over to where Tony is standing. "No," he says. "Seriously. Are you okay?"

Tony feels like a stupid little girl. Which isn't about to make him cry less. "Steve's moving out of the tower," he snaps.

"What?" Clint says. "What fucking idiotic thing has he got in his beautiful little messed-up head now?"

Tony smiles. Okay, so no more crying. "I don't know, Clint, I guess he doesn't want anything to do with any of us now that he feels like he can't fight."

Clint looks at him like he just called Steve a kitten-murderer. "Are you telling me he's trying to break up with you?" he demands.

Tony swallows. "I don't think trying is really the word."

Clint bites his lip. "You okay?" he asks. "I mean, no, but--you need anything? Dammit!"

Tony and his perfect team. "I don't know," he says. "I don't--I'm bad at breakups. I thought this was--" This was something he'd never thought he was allowed to have.

Finally, he says, "I don't know what to do."

Clint frowns. He says, "So is Steve really breaking up with you and us and the Tower all because of this slightly-less-muscled-now-that-I-saved-the-worst-life-ever deal?"

"He says he's useless," Tony says bitterly. "He thinks he's pretty much a waste of space now. He's a mess, to be honest."

Clint says, "Hmm. Okay. So, I know what you should do. Go talk to Jan. Don't tell her anything you don't want to, you know, she loves gossip but she likes her friends more. Let her give you a hug. And tea. She has like, fifty teas. Definitely get the hug. I swear, it helps every time."

Tony has a hilarious mental image of Jan and Clint sitting around hugging and drinking tea, and that does help. "Thanks," he says. "Maybe I'll do that."

"Go now," says Clint, patting his shoulder. "Do now. Get out of this room, don't hurt yourself, just go get a fucking hug." He steps past Tony into the prep room and sits down to unstring his bow.

Tony doesn't move for a second. Then he runs his hand through his hair, says, "Okay" to himself, and goes to find Jan.

"Okay," Clint mutters. He gets up, once Tony can't see where he's going, and heads straight to Steve's apartment before Steve can move out of it.

Chapter 12: clint concludes that steve is sad

Summary:

He can't take care of himself this way, let alone someone else.

Notes:

Chapter Warnings: depression, ableism, suicidal ideation

Steve has felt dazed and unreal since Tony walked out the door. He knows he should probably start packing, but he doesn't know where to start. He doesn't know where he'll go. He isn't for anything.

He finally makes some tea, and sits there staring at it.

Clint doesn't ring the bell. He knocks on the door, loudly.

Steve shoots to his feet, heart pounding. He tells himself it's probably Tony again, which does nothing to calm him down. He strides to the door and yanks it open.

"...Clint?" he says.

"Yeah," says Clint. He's only a little shorter than Steve, now, and he's willing to ignore that, because he's pissed. "Remember that time I upset your boyfriend and you threw me against a wall? I am pretty sure I could do that to you now. Maybe I wouldn't get your feet off the ground, but fuck me your teeth would rattle." He pushes his way into the room and slams the door behind him. "So 'time off' means quitting, leaving, and dumping the one actual friend you have on this planet? Do I have that right?"

"Now hold on," Steve says, but the words die before they're out of his mouth. He feels heavy and miserable and lost. He doesn't know how any of this happened. "You can't expect me to stay," he says numbly. "I can't damn well do anything."

Clint glares at him. "Fuck you," he says. "Fuck. You. You know what you are right now? Normal. Average. Slightly above average. There's nothing fucking wrong with your body, although pretty clearly your head is at like, a minimum of ninety degrees not on straight."

Steve bristles, but not very effectively. He just wants to sob, or disappear, or scream at Clint that none of this makes any sense.

"You really think I could hold my own beside Tony right now?" He means in any sense. He didn't intend that.

"At this moment?" Clint snaps. "Hard to fucking say. You may feel like shit, but, you know, I just sent him to get a hug from Jan because you just fucking broke up with him. Guy would do anything for you, you have a bad couple of weeks and you fucking break up with him. But that's not why I'm pissed."

Steve takes a step back. Clint angry is more terrifying than Steve expected.

"Why are you pissed?" he asks mechanically.

"Because you're sitting in here," Clint says, "feeling like the world is ended, because you ended up on the same terms as half your fucking team. You know what normal is? Me. I'm normal. I'm fucking normal. I feel useless half the time here because everyone else has shinier gadgets and super strength and fucking great hair and I just have arrows that explode, but you know what I do? I fucking well practice, and when the job is, shoot a god dead from five hundred yards, I can do that, because I make myself that goddamned good."

Steve's throat feels tight. "Maybe I'm not that good," he says slowly. He's just so tired, and now he's even more guilty on top of it.

"Oh, poor baby," says Clint. "You have such a lot to overcome. You know what your problem is? You expect perfection like you deserve it. You decided you weren't good enough before the serum, that being just some nice kid who really wanted to do good wasn’t any use. And someone handed you this idea of perfection on a platter. And what, now you're not the big guy anymore, you can't be the good one either? That is bullshit. Most people never get to be perfect, jackass, and some of them keep trying anyway. Why don't you ask that kid with one arm or your fucking trans boyfriend?"

Steve feels like he's been punched. Maybe someone should punch him.

"I don't," he says. He squeezes his eyes shut. When he opens them, he's still in the middle of the same huge mistakes. "I'm sorry," he says.

"What?" Clint says. "To me? I don't give a damn. Except that I expected more, like, to the tune of anything, from Captain America. And I like having you on the team. And you're making my boss cry." He considers. "Okay, yeah, I do give a damn. So why don't you tell me what is so fucking insurmountable about being like us?"

The same fears from the past two weeks crowd Steve's mouth, but he squares his shoulders and says softly, "Nothing. I just--I don't know how to do it, Clint. I've never been normal. I was weak and then I was--like you said, I was given everything. And I don't know how to do this." He didn't mean to make Clint angry. He didn't mean to make Tony cry. But he's also still miserable and hopeless.

"Practicing would probably help," Clint says. "Which, pro tip, does not mean moving out and hiding in some shitty apartment hating yourself until you run out of money and Nick Fury fishes you out of a ditch."

Steve gives Clint the tiniest smile. "I certainly wouldn't want him to have to do that," he says.

"Well no," Clint says. "It's really obnoxious when he shows up here, you know? Really obnoxious. Okay, so, how fucked up are you?"

Steve blinks. He isn't good at this kind of thing, but he's also not stupid enough to think he's fine.

"Very," he says.

"Are you likely to try and kill yourself?" Clint asks bluntly.

"God," Steve chokes out. "You can't just--I don't know, Clint. I don't know."

"Considering what I know about you," Clint says, "which is a lot, if you count, like, action figures and kiddy biographies and whatever else I did with my childhood--I think I can take that as a yes."

Steve shuts his eyes. "I'm scared," he forces out through his teeth. "And I can't think right. And I just alienated my whole team and I hurt Tony. So yeah. I guess that's a yes."

Clint grimaces. "Jesus, Rogers, I know Tony hates shrinks, but do yourself a favor and take this life lesson from somebody else. You need a doctor, we can get a doctor. That's why we live with a trust fund baby."

Steve balks. "No doctors," he says. "I'm not crazy, Clint. The last thing I need is to be locked up somewhere."

Clint stares at him.

"Steve," he says slowly. "Wait a minute. Steve. Do you think...? Listen, most people who go to mental hospitals get out again. They get better.”

Steve stares at him.

“Jesus Christ,” Clint says. “Most people don’t even go to hospitals. The nice pharmacists give them some nice pills, and they come home and they--Steve, did you think if you were sick we were going to throw you in some freaky old school asylum and leave you there?"

Steve shudders. "I didn't know." His voice comes out rough with tears. "Nobody told me. Tony talked about doctors and I thought--I thought it might be different, but no one told me it wasn’t how it used to be. He hates them so much." He's suddenly so, so tired that he wants nothing more than to sit down on his couch and sob.

"Shit," says Clint. He is very unhappy about this. "Shit. Steve. It's not like that. Okay? From how I understand it, doctors actually help people now. And you can even see a shrink if you’ve gotta and you can still stay here."

Steve nods. "I believe you," he says. He has no energy for anything else. "I--I think maybe I should sit down. And drink this tea. Do you want tea? I'm so sorry."

"Steve," Clint says, "I have never seen anyone be so obviously depressed as you. Now I know you are depressed but not an evil asshole, so that's good, right? Listen. Sit. Drink tea. I'll drink tea too. Then I'll even help you make a plan if you want. Okay? Seriously, though, like half the people I know are medicated." He sure is, although he misses the hell out of his appetite.

Steve gives him a very weak smile, taking all of that in. A fraction of the heaviness lifts.

"I would like that very much," he says.

"Good," says Clint. "Me too. Also, if you're planning to not actually break up with your boyfriend that you made to cry, you should probably call him. Now-ish."

"Oh, hell," Steve says. "No, you're right. I'll do that."

"Oh my god!" Clint says, throwing his hands in the air. "I'm useful! Look at you proving all my points."

Steve smiles at Clint and picks up his phone. He's not sure exactly what he's going to say, but he's had enough of making Tony unhappy, and he needs to fix this now. He dials Tony's cell phone number and hopes he picks up.

Clint watches the phone, seeing how many times it can possibly ring before Tony does or does not pick up, and then realizes that maybe he should not be doing that and wanders off into the kitchen to pretend he's stealing a snack.

Tony does pick up. He almost doesn't, except Jan has just said, "Hey, if that’s Steve and he says anything bad just pass it over here and I'll kick his ass!"

Tony swallows, and answers. "Yeah?"

"Tony," Steve says weakly. He takes a deep breath. "I--I made a terrible mistake. Earlier. I just wanted to see if you'd give me a chance to apologize."

Tony's breath catches. "What?" he asks. There's supposed to be more to it, but it doesn't quite come out. Tony has just gotten through the looking like an idiot in front of his team, and having some tea, and daring to imagine that maybe at some point not having Steve won't make him want to die, and here is Steve on the phone, being tidy and polite and so proper Tony wants to scream.

"You asshole," Tony says, before Steve can answer. His ears are ringing. He's practically strangling his phone. "Okay, sure. Apologize." Show me what you've got.

Steve grits his teeth. He deserves that.

"Clint just came over and yelled at me, and he was right to,” he says. “I wasn't thinking what it’s like being--not me. I didn't have to fight or suffer or even pay for my upgrade. And I've got no right to act like having it taken away makes me less of a person."

He takes a shaky breath. He already feels more like himself again. This is what Steve Rogers is supposed to do, Captain America or not.

"No kidding," Tony says. Jan gives him a complicated grimace and wanders into some other part of the house. Thank god.

"I behaved very badly," Steve says. "Tony, I--I shouldn't have done that to you. I shouldn't have tried to leave. Not after everything you've put yourself through for me."

"You behaved very badly?" Tony starts, incredulous.

Steve swears under his breath. He's no good at things like this. "I'm sorry," he says. "That's what I mean. I mean I'm sorry."

"Well, good!" Tony says. "I'm glad that's over with and now you're just fine. Are you coming back on the team?"

Steve stalls out. "I--I don't know. Tony, I can't--”

“Can’t what?”

I'm not fine." Steve is gripping the phone so hard that he'd be crushing it if he still had his full strength. That thought doesn't help.

Tony opens his mouth to spit out more bright, angry payback, and he--can't. He knows the sound in Steve's voice. He has since Steve first woke up and wasn't right. It's just really hard to consider the possibility that--

"Steve?" he says. His voice isn't steady. He doesn't want the safe person in his life to feel the way Tony does half the time. He can't take care of himself this way, let alone someone else.

He doesn't want it to be his fault.

"I'm sorry," Steve says again. It comes out choked. "I think--Clint thinks I should see someone. A doctor. I'm not fine." He hopes he's getting through, because he can't force any of the important words out.

Tony stands up, fast enough that he's dizzy for a few seconds. "Shut up. Steve? Shut up. Stay there. Make Clint stay with you. Tell Clint he's a doll. Stay there, okay? I'm coming right there. Is that okay?" He stops babbling, breathless, and tries not to let his insides turn themselves into knots.

Steve shuts his eyes and hangs onto the phone and says, "Yes."

"Good boy," says Tony. "I can--I can stay on the phone if you want. But I'll be there in ten minutes, okay?"

Steve would feel incredibly silly asking Tony to stay on the phone, but that's what he wants. Instead, he says, "Clint's in my kitchen. I said I'd make him tea." Even perfectly normal statements come out sounding messy and unhappy.

Tony starts to answer, but, "Are you stupid?" Jan yells from the other room, where she has clearly not been eavesdropping. "You came here in your suit. That's like, three minutes tops!"

"Oh," says Tony dumbly. "Yeah. Uh--make that five minutes, okay? I'll put you on the line when I'm...online. Be right there."

"Okay," Steve says. He doesn't think he knows how to let go of the phone. He feels stupid and frightened and still so, so tired, but at least he knows that Tony's coming.

"Yeah," says Tony, popping open the suit's case and remembering how you breathe when everything isn't ruined yet. "Yeah. Hang on, buddy. Just a sec."

"I know you'll come through," Steve says, even though right now he doesn't feel like he knows anything. He realizes he's still standing up, but the couch seems too far away. Instead, he sits on the floor.

Tony doesn't says, You're the only person who has ever thought so. He says, "You bet. Be right back. Love you." He hangs up and yells, "Thanks, Jan, you're perfect!" gets out, suits up and leaves all in about fifteen seconds flat.

~

Steve stays on the floor, talking enough when Tony calls from the suit that neither of them gets too worried, and waits. The door isn't locked. When Tony comes through it, Steve looks up, still holding the phone.

Clint gives Tony a little smile, and says, "Hey, Tony. See you 'round, Rogers. Maybe a workout sometime. Try some real odds." He pats Steve's shoulder and sidles his way out.

The door shuts. Tony says, "I am so sorry."

"You didn't do anything," Steve says numbly. "I yelled at you and quit and, and, broke up with you. It's my fault."

Tony strides across the room, drops to his knees, and grabs Steve in the fiercest hug he can manage at this ridiculous angle.

"That's what just happened, yeah," Tony says. Tell the truth, you idiot. "But being in Asgard was my fault. Not making the net good enough was my fault. Pretending you weren't hurt that badly was my fault."

Steve lets go of the phone and clings to Tony. Right now, it feels like everything is his fault.

"Can we just agree that I'm not mad at you?" he asks.

"Yeah," says Tony. "I've got that. Because you feel like shit and you're still the nicest guy on Earth." He kisses Steve's hair and says, "Y'know, the day you realize you're willing to let your favorite person in the world go through shit and feel like shit just because you're afraid to fix yourself--that is a day when you really need to change."

Steve buries his face in Tony and just breathes. That's something he's wanted to hear Tony say since they met, or at least since very shortly after. "Does this mean you're going to start taking better care of yourself?" he asks. He's going to pester Tony about this later. Right now he mostly wants to hold onto someone.

Tony's heartbeat speeds up, and he says, "Ah, maybe, that would be smart, wouldn't it? Eheh, but, hey, I'm not drinking! So that's something." He pulls away, because this is making his back hurt, and settles on the floor right next to Steve.

"I'm proud of you," Steve says quietly. Even through how much he hurts, he needs to say that.

Tony grabs his hand and squeezes. "I'm really sorry," he says. "I know all about this, right? Horrible thing happens to you, you go a little crazy, you ignore the hell out of it until everyone leaves you alone." He blinks, hard. "I was mad at you for being like me."

Steve holds on. That sounds like Tony, all right. Bad at making himself okay.

"Now that we've sorted that out," he says, "let's not do it again." He nuzzles Tony's ear. "I love you, Tony. Just in case you forgot."'

Tony lets out a little huff of air, then grabs Steve into a kiss. "You," he says, "are the best thing in the world. And we're going to make this better. You're not going to feel like this forever."

He says that, and he means it, and he's never done it himself. Fine. He'll try, for Steve. And if psychiatric medicine is one giant crock, he is going to be heartbroken.

Steve doesn't believe Tony, not this second, but he'll work on it. And he'll try to trust Clint that letting people fix you is safe now.

"Okay," he says. "We're okay."

"We don't have to be," Tony says. "Individually, I mean. But between us, yeah. Between us is okay."

That, Steve believes. "Yes," he says fiercely, finally looking Tony in the eye.

Tony feels limp with relief. He drops his head against Steve's shoulder. "Okay," he says. "Tomorrow we can make some calls. Right now, unless Pietro calls, I guess, the only thing I have scheduled is you, me, some disgustingly buttery popcorn and a disgustingly wholesome movie. You know. A Steve movie."

Steve could cry with relief, but he's done enough of that today.

"Thank you," he says. He feels safe for the first time since Asgard, and he feels like maybe the world isn't about to end.

"Sorry I was late," Tony says, getting to his feet. He gives Steve a hand up.

Chapter 13: things could go better with pietro

Summary:

This is going astoundingly poorly.

Notes:

Chapter Warnings: tony is a hot mess of privilege, racism/xenophobia

Tony is less miserable after patching things up with Steve, but he's still sad and anxious and on-edge. He's also still got a lot to do. And he has to worry about how badly he's fucked up with Nick. He hasn't forgotten about Pietro, who has a meet-the-Avengers-Tower thing scheduled, but basically, he's in no mood for Pietro.

Pietro, naturally, isn't in the mood for Tony, either. He shows up on time, too abruptly to be polite, wearing a sullen expression and a shirt that's too big for him. He looks like a sort of belligerent, pummeled kitten. Well--a pummeled, gawky kitten.

"Okay, I'm here," Pietro says, crossing his arms. "Show me stuff, I guess."

Tony's day is not made. He glares at Pietro.

"Wow, I can tell you're excited to be an Avenger, little guy. I can't even think where to start." He wishes he could start by throwing Pietro out a window. Or having a drink.

"You're calling me little?" Pietro says, and then seems to forget that he's just given himself a lead-in for an entire round of Tony bashing. "Rough night. Sorry. I should probably see where the training rooms and stuff are, right, if we want to make it so I play well with others."

Tony smiles, surprising himself. Logan's right; he can connect with this kid. Unfortunately, it's like all the nasty parts of himself and then some bonus nasty parts. That's okay for now, though.

"Rough night for everyone," he says. "Why don't you tell me about it and I'll walk you through the training rooms." He beckons Pietro in the right direction.

Pietro trails after him and shrugs, a little gingerly. "Well, first I fucked my boyfriend, and then my boyfriend went on X-Men duty, so then I fucked--wow, it occurs to me, you know? that I really don't feel like telling you who I fucked. Logan was pissed, though."

Tony tries not to have any expression. "Wow. I'm surprised you have time for anything else, with all that fucking. This is the main training room, by the way." Oh, this kid is going to be so much trouble.

"I move very fast," Pietro says. "Maybe you've heard that." He skirts by Tony and starts poking around without waiting for direction. After a few seconds he stops, and says, "Sorry. Again. Maybe you should tell me what buttons not to push to avoid blowing anything up."

"Given the team we have, we mostly put those buttons behind walls or with big signs over them," Tony says. It would normally be kind of a relief not to be the fastest person in the room, but today he already feels slow and unhappy. "There's another training room through there, which will attack you if you give it half a chance. Sort of the like the X-Men's Danger Room." He grimaces.

"I know, right?" Pietro says, meandering away sort of quickly. "What kind of stupid name is that? And who puts a room called DANGER ROOM in their house full of adorable children and actually means a room full of danger?"

Tony laughs. "I figured you hated them about as much as I do, or Logan would've sent you to them. I'm just amazed you don't hate him, too." Which is not quite the same as yelling Why are you dating Wolverine, you baby of Magneto?, but almost.

"Logan is an asshole," Pietro says. "He's not smug, though. Have you met the X-Men?"

"Sadly, yes," Tony says. Of course, he has a boatload of other reasons to dislike Logan. "Oh well, your life, your choices. Right! So, we have jets in the hangar through there."

"Jets!" says Pietro. "I like jets. I run into an issue with oceans, in that they’re kindawide. Wears me out a little?"

"You can't fly one," Tony says quickly. "I mean, they have an autopilot. Anyway, lots to see, moving on. Sorry, long day. Are you okay? You look a little...tired."

"I didn't say fly one," Pietro mutters, and ignores the rest.

Tony suddenly feels really bad. Pietro looks really young. He is really young. Everything is terrible.

"Sorry," Tony starts, putting a hand on Pietro's shoulder.

Pietro flinches, which for him means being very abruptly out of arm's reach.

"Uh," says Pietro. "Yes. Sorry. That's fine. This is a really bad idea, isn't it? I'm gonna fuck it up andLoganwillbepissed." He talks faster as he gets more anxious, but he can't make himself slow down and repeat it. Maybe Stark won't have heard? That would be nice.

Tony takes a big step back, giving Pietro even more space. He holds his hands up.

"Whoa, easy. You haven't fucked anything up. Sorry, shouldn't have gotten in your space. Hey, you want to see the living quarters? I know you're probably at Logan's place, but if you ever need to crash here..."

Pietro doesn't explain that he's less worried about personal space than about the nasty bruise that's on his left shoulder. Instead he says, "Yeah. That could be useful sometimes." For what? He feels like he's being shown around his new high school. The last thing he wants is to live in a dorm.

Tony nods. "Look, you don't have to pretend Logan didn't send you here because he wanted us to help you out. Maybe if we just admit that, we can get past it and you can actually enjoy being part of this team. For instance, I'd love to see what you can do."

Pietro almost does something resembling a smile.

"Really?" he says. "ImeanIjustassumed." That Logan had just guilted them into taking Pietro, somehow, and there was nothing about him that they actually wanted.

Tony smiles, feeling a little better about today. "Yeah, really. We're a superhero team, not a charity. If I thought you couldn't pull your weight, or that you weren't useful, I wouldn't have said yes." And yeah, he wants to help Pietro. But saying that isn't helpful.

Pietro grins. "I go fast," he says. "I can show you fast."

"I like fast," Tony says, grinning right back.

"Okay," Pietro says, and goes.

He comes back about ten seconds later and puts a cup of coffee in Tony's hand.

"You like coffee, right?" he asks. "Sorry that took a minute. Couldn't get the lid on."

Tony whistles. Holy shit. "So, not only did you move faster than anything should be able to move, you got me the only thing that could make my day better. I think you've got what it takes."

Pietro looks genuinely flattered. His voice is a little warmer, too, when he says, "That's nothing. Next time, put me up against your jet."

Tony laughs. "I think I'd wind up embarrassed. With all my tech, I guess it turns out people are still beating me. I mean, mutants. Sorry, which...?"

"Really?" Pietro says, less pleased. "This is a question?"

"Ah," Tony says, caught. "We're incredibly behind on politically correct terminology for, uh, anyone. And to be fair, and not to be bring up a sore point, but you've been known to associate with groups who are very...mutant-positive. Above all other identities."

Well, Tony's dug himself a nice hole now.

"Just because we're not human doesn't mean we're not people," Pietro says, frowning. "What, is Thor not a person? Or your best friend Loki?"

Great, Tony's favorite topic to avoid. "I'm sorry," he says. "I really am. I know you're a person. Of course you are, look at you. A whole person."

"Look at me, a whole person," Pietro mimics to himself. "Great. Yes. Sosoglad to be your diversity training here today."

"I'm an asshole," Tony says frankly. "I fucked up. I'm sorry." It's surprisingly easy to make it that easy, instead of digging himself deeper.

"This is so fucking uncomfortable," Pietro says, crossing his arms again. He's practically putting out spines like a hedgehog. "I'm too fucked up! Y'know? And you had to ask if mutants are people. Christ." He actually intended to be good today. It's pretty upsetting that he's not keeping a handle on anything.

"That's not what I meant," Tony says roughly. "It's--Look, we all make mistakes, on this team. Everyone. People say some really insensitive shit. But it's okay, because we take care of each other. And now that you're here, we're going to take care of you. Fucked up or not."

"Okay, sure," Pietro says, only because he did promise, and it's just the second day. "Show me where you sleep." He adds after a second, "I didn't mean that to be as creepy as it sounded."

Tony laughs, mostly relieved. "Okay, sure. Several of the Avengers have apartments in the Tower. Pretty much everyone, at this point. Mine's this way." He leads the way, feeling guilty and worried under the relief.

Pietro tags after him, hands shoved in his hoodie pockets. "So I could have one that's like, mine? I mean a room. I mean, can I put stuff up in it and lock the door if I want?"

Tony is reminded, jarringly and unpleasantly, of himself when he was younger.

"Of course," he says. "We aim to please. And provide storage space. Seriously, though, you can have a room for whatever you want to use it for, short of evil experiments. Not that you would, but you never know with people like Ant Man."

"Whattanerd," Pietro says. "Although I guess you are too, so sorry. Nerds are great, is what I meant to say. Great to have nerds."

"We're almost all nerds," Tony says cheerfully, although he's a little nettled. "Or geniuses. Nerdy geniuses. You'll probably fit in, though.” He calls up a little blue display of the building from the wall. “Hey, this suite's empty. Maybe we can put you in here." It's nicer than he thinks Pietro probably deserves, but that's okay.

~Pietro wanders in past Tony and looks around. "This is nice," he says, casually, so there's not any weight attached to it for how nice he's used to. He looks at Tony. "So do you search these rooms?"

Tony is caught off guard. "Uh--no. No, but full disclosure, the house has fairly advanced AI, and if someone's hiding anything to dangerous and the scanners pick it up, it'll let me know."

"Oh, that's fine," Pietro says. He isn't planning to do anything objectionable. "Just wanted to know if locking my door meant...a locked door. Or whatever."

Don't be pathetic, Pietro.

"I have to be fair to my team," Tony says. "We trust everyone, but we can't get stupid. People get possessed or blackmailed, too." He doesn't say anything about Pietro's past, and he especially doesn't say anything about Pietro's dad.

"Got it," Pietro says. What he gets is that this definitely is not going on his very short list of safe places. It's disappointing--for a few seconds, there, he almost started imagining this room as his room, imagining being alone in the dark with no sound and being able to relax for just a few seconds.

"Right," Tony says. This is going astoundingly poorly. "So, guess all that's left is for you to meet the team officially. You know, get a chance to chat one-on-one. I don't have to be there for that," he adds after a second.

Pietro waits, and when Tony doesn't divulge anything else, he says, "Want me to go...find people? And talk to them?"

"You might be surprised how excited some of them are about having you on the team," Tony says.

"Yeah, I might," Pietro says dubiously. "Who, exactly? I want to save them for last."

Tony thinks about it. "Maybe Black Widow." Natasha doesn't get enthusiastic about very many things, but she was right there demanding that they take the kid.

Pietro looks pleased. "Okay," he says. "I'll talk to her, then."

"Great," Tony says, not feeling it. "Good luck. Uh. See you." He waves and walks out, not really sure where he's headed.

"Cool," Pietro mutters after Tony has disappeared. "Gee, Logan, this is your best idea ever. So glad you got me in with the Avengers." He walks off in the opposite direction from Tony's, taking it slow. If he went as fast as he feels like going, he probably wouldn't even notice an Avenger if he went by it.

Chapter 14: loki has a project

Summary:

"Your work with nets is very good, Stark, but I would like to see what you do with a fence."

Notes:

Chapter Warnings: references to depression/suicidal tendencies

Tony ends up in his lab, because it's the only place where he can make his head quiet. Nothing is going the way he wants it to, and he's starting to think he's the problem. He's already messing up with this poor kid. And Steve isn't out of the woods yet. Plus, Nick still wants to murder him.

So that's going well. He stares at his monitors, fiddling with some superficial settings on a plan for an upgrade for the suit, but his heart isn't in it.

He's there less than half an hour, though, when JARVIS interrupts, saying, "Someone has entered the building, sir, without making use of the doors or windows."

Tony sighs. Just what they need. He starts narrowing down the possibilities in his head. None of them seem good. "Where are they now?"

"With you, sir," says JARVIS, and somebody else says, "Stark. Are you busy?"

Tony spins his chair around. "Jesus!"

Loki is standing there, looking a hell of a lot better than he did last time Tony saw him. Tony tries not to feel immediately upset or resentful about that.

Loki makes his pinched little smile. He says, "I hope you have been well since we parted ways. I heard Captain Rogers was--did not fully recover."

Tony swallows and for a second he can't say anything. "That's right," he says cautiously. "He really didn't." He wants to know what Loki will say next.

Loki says, "Ah. Will he?"

Tony glances at the monitors. "I don't know," he says. "I should be working on a fix, but I don't know where to start. He's--he's not--" All he wants to say is that his perfect boyfriend is suicidal because of something he did for Loki.

Loki isn't prepared to apologize for casualties in a coup, or to pretend it (or something like it) was an unforeseen disaster. He won't wish it had not happened, either, because if Rogers hadn't thrown himself at Odin, the whole rebellion might have ended very differently, very much more badly, than it did.

Loki says, taking several steps forward, "I was not there long enough to learn what happened to him. I only know what the net was made to do to gods."

"What it did to Steve," Tony says through gritted teeth, "is take away everything he holds onto."

Loki stops advancing. "I shouldn't have come back," he says, like a suggestion.

"Wait," Tony says. He gets to his feet. "No. No, that's not what I'm saying. I'm just really--things are bad right now. Hey, I looked for you. Where'd you run off to? Latveria?" He's suddenly desperate to make things right.

"After Barton shot my brother for me," Loki says, nodding.

Okay, Tony can see why Loki might not be up for very much human interaction. "Yeah," he says, "okay. I just wish--Ha, I guess I just wish I could have gone and hidden in Latveria, too. I'm not doing so well at making friends back here."

Loki's expression goes a bit odd, which is not actually odd in itself, but--

"Are we friends, Stark?" he asks.

"Yes," Tony says miserably. "God, I hope we are. Loki, I wanted--" To what? he asks himself viciously. Hug a god?

"Wanted what?" Loki asks, still a pace behind. He had not entirely realized that Tony really liked him.

"To hug you," Tony says. "Which sounds so stupid. Can I? I feel like I should ask. I know I like it when people ask." For someone who gets in people's space, he doesn't like people getting in his.

"What?" says Loki baldly. First there was Hogun. "Why?"

Tony kicks a piece of a robot with the side of his foot. "I don't know, because I feel like shit and you did some really brave, hard stuff? That seems like an okay reason."

Loki purses his lips and glares at the ceiling for a moment, and then says, "You may not yet have observed, Stark, that I do not have many friends."

"Because you're crazy and kill people, yeah," Tony says stubbornly. "I have the same problem."

Loki glares at him instead of the ceiling. "Because I'm an outcast and almost everyone I trust tries to kill me," he spits. "So I beg your pardon if the social mores for hugs don't come naturally."

Tony laughs, incredibly unhappy. "Yeah. I know. Look, of course you didn't come here for this. I'm just being--crazy, I'm being crazy. Why are you here?"

Loki makes a frustrated noise and curls his hands into fists. "I wanted to know if you were interested in--helping me find a way to keep my children in Midgard."

Tony wasn't expecting that. "Your children? Care to clarify? Because I've read those myths."

"Exactly," Loki says, working up to a brilliant and not at all trustworthy smile. "Only two. Only Sleipnir and Fenrir. I want them here, Tony. I want them safe."

Hearing the words is jarring. It's like they're coming from someone else, from still another side of Loki Tony hasn't met yet.

"Yeah," Tony says quietly. "Yeah, of course you do." Then he starts thinking, already making plans. "But, hm, right, they're pretty big, aren't they? Especially Fenrir? And he's chained up, if I remember correctly. Can we break him out? Will they stop us?"

"No," Loki says. "I don't think so. At any rate--I don't only mean safely in Latveria. I mean safely contained. Your work with nets is very good, Stark, but I would like to see what you do with a fence."

Tony beams at Loki. "Oh, I can make a fence. I definitely can. I might need to find out a little more about how strong they are, but I can definitely do that." This is what he wants. He's making nets and fences instead of bombs. He really wants to hug Loki, this time.

Loki smiles at him again, more credibly. "What's convinced you you're bad at making friends?" he asks.

"Do you know how few people give a shit about engineering? Do you know how many of those few can actually discuss it at my level?"

"Few, I'm sure," Loki says, raising his eyebrow. "But you're kind."

"Not usually people's first choice of words that describe Tony Stark," Tony says, caught off guard.

"If I listed everything you have done for me, my dear," Loki says, leaning against a table, "it would embarrass us both."

Tony feels so grateful that for a second he can't laugh it off. Then he smiles and says, "Then don't. But let's agree that we're doing okay at friendship. I'm glad you came back. This day wasn't very inspiring."

"I'm sorry Rogers is unwell," Loki says. "I didn't mean--for that to happen." He can apologize, it turns out, for standing dumbly in Odin's raging path while somebody else pays for it. It wasn't the plan, and it was his fault.

"It's okay," Tony says, meaning it. "I know. I think he'll be all right. It's just been kind of, uh, rocky. And we kind of a took on a really unstable new member. Anyway! Lot of stuff."

Loki nods slowly. "Thor told me Rogers was unwell, but I--I did not know you would want me to come back."

Tony wishes he could explain to Loki that people who care about his work and like him are incredibly rare, but he thinks Loki probably gets that. Instead, he just says, "I wanted you to."

"So I've gathered," says Loki. "But I am here now, aren't I? And I brought a project. How do we contain the wolf that ate the hand of the god of war?" He smiles unpleasantly, even though under it is still visible the small current of fear that always goes along with Fenrir, and Loki's other children--one that's part fear they won't be allowed to live, and part the fear that they're only beasts, and part the fear that they're more than beasts and they will hate him.

Tony puts his hand on Loki's arm, risking it. "I'm planning it already. Of course, a lot of it depends on whether or not he has power of any kind, or just brute strength. And whether he can be reasoned with. Beyond those factors, though, I have several materials we can test out. And I like the idea of a collar of some sort."

"He won't," Loki says with a grimace. "I will have to see what I can convince him is a better deal than honest and total captivity. I don't think Sleipnir would throw off a bridle, however; he is spirited, but not contrary."

For a moment, it sounds as though Loki is talking about normal kids and not terrifying monster kids. Maybe it doesn't make a difference.

"That's something to work with, then," Tony says. "Any other children you have lying around who might be more comfortable in Midgard?" Surprises are not particularly welcome in this department.

Loki says, "None who would thank me for bringing them here, no." Truthfully he doesn't know how many there are. There could not be many he didn't birth himself--but there was Amora the once (no children by her), and one of the Jotuns had taken female form, and there had been that other girl. She might have borne a child, but if she did, she did not tell Loki. Loki probably should not have implied that they might be married.

"Right," Tony says, sidestepping further forays into awkward questioning. "Well, I think we can work with those two. Especially Sleipnir. Don't worry, we'll make this happen." He doesn't know how crazy he is to be agreeing to this.

Loki says, "Oh, yes, it will happen. I only hope not very many people will be eaten in the process."

That...puts things into perspective. "Huh," Tony says. "In that case, I guess I owe it to humanity."

Loki is well aware that it would be safer to bring Sleipnir and leave Fenrir where he is, but Sleipnir is happy enough in Asgard. The truth is that it's Fenrir Loki wants. Fenrir is terrible and cruel and steeped in rage, and he is clever and canny, and chained unmoving on an island he can't escape.

Loki says, stubbornly against his judgment, "If you do this, I will owe you twice favors that will not be easy to pay back."

Tony isn't about to take something like that lightly. Loki being in his debt is--He's willing to bet very, very few people are in that position. And then there's the real reason.

"Of course I want to help," Tony says. "You're my friend, right? I try to help my friends."

"What did I say?" Loki answers. "Kind." He hopes this project doesn't get Tony killed. It would be good, perhaps, to for once aim for something within his means. He would, if anything he wanted were.

"Shockingly, you're worth going out of my way for," Tony says. And because the other option is getting embarrassingly sentimental about how Loki is the first thing to calm him down in a while, he pulls Loki into an awkward hug.

Loki says faintly, "That is shocking." His arms try on reflex to splay out and avoid touching back, but he stops that and rests one hand lightly on Tony's shoulder blade. He is still not certain what he's done to make Stark--be this way.

Tony squeezes Loki very tightly for a second before letting go. "Just--thanks," he says. "I don't think I would have made it through the coup if you hadn't given me projects."

Loki laughs. "Yes, I got shot to stave off your boredom. I am glad you are grateful."

"Any time, right?" Tony says, grinning. "Okay, I need to look through some stuff and see what kind of headway I can make on the Fenrir project without actually meeting him. Anything you can tell me about how he's bound now would help, of course."

"Odin's magic," Loki says. "And very thick chains. Well, I know the chains will have remained, but it does occur to me to wonder whether the enchantments still hold." That is not such a pleasant thought. "His prison is also an island," he adds.

"I kind of think wolves can swim," Tony says mildly. Oh, that's very alarming. He really, really hopes he can keep this creature somewhere safe.

"Whatever we do, he'll need to be bargained with," Loki says, crossing his arms. "If he'll speak to me at all."

"What do wolves like?" Tony asks. Besides hands.

"I know what I think he wants," Loki says. "I only hope I am right. And that I can give him that within...boundaries." What he thinks is that he may have to offer up Latverian peasants on a regular basis, but that is not something to tell Tony.

Tony raises his eyebrows. "Okay. Well, I guess I'm going to have to trust you on that one." Trusting Loki is possibly not the best plan, but Tony said he'd help.

Loki says, "He may not even want to be freed, of course. For spite. Or pride." He won't look at Tony when he says this. "If I were you I would think about Sleipnir first."

Tony whistles under his breath. "Wow. These kids really resemble their--parent, don't they?"

Loki says, amused, "You can say 'mother.' Though I do not think Fenrir would like you to say so."

Tony smiles. "Mother, then. Sorry, I know other realms don't exactly play by our rules, so I'm never sure." Not that all of Midgard always plays but its own rules.

"I don't have rules, myself," Loki says, shrugging. "But I did give birth to them."

Being someone who doesn't have rules, Tony knows, is either easier or horrifically painful. Both. He nods. "Okay. Well, if you think we can convince Sleipnir to come along--What, do we just wave some carrots in front of his nose?"

Loki grins. "He's a horse. Very likely. And, you know, he has taken the Bifrost plenty of times. He’s not a skittish creature."

"He probably enjoys it more than Clint," Tony says. It occurs to him that they're talking about Loki's equine child. It should be much weirder.

"Barton!" Loki says, uncrossing his arms with a jolt. "I never thanked him for shooting Balder. Damn. I forget one does these things."

"He takes these things in stride," Tony says, shrugging. "But yeah, if you want to. I need to go make sure Pietro hasn't killed anyone, anyway."

"The new recruit?" Loki asks. "What's wrong with it?"

"He's a little...wound," Tony says. "Which may sound unfair coming from me! But trust me."

"Perhaps I'll meet him and see," Loki says, but he's not particularly interested. "Tony. Should I see Captain Rogers, or avoid him at all costs?"

"Avoid him," Tony says without thinking. He doesn't want either of them in a position to hurt one another. "Sorry. He's feeling a little rough right now."

"Well," Loki says, "it is my fault. And no one wants to give up their power for someone they hate."

"I mean," Tony tries again, "I'm not sure you're going to be much help. He'll probably just snap at you and then be unhappy."

"I'll find Barton," Loki says. "And I'll come back when I've spoken to Fenrir and Frigga." And Tyr, of course.

"It's a plan," Tony says. He likes plans. Even Loki's plans, which, mythologically speaking, don't have a very high probability of working out. "If Clint's being harassed by a tiny, angry kid with funny silver hair, just send him my way."

"I'll do that," Loki says. He takes a step to leave, and then stops, with an odd, not unhappy expression. "I--thank you," he says. "I wouldn't have guessed we could be friends." Not the kind where Loki meant it.

"No kidding," Tony says. "I mean, me too. I wasn't a hundred percent sure we were until today." Tony is terrible at making friends and worse at keeping them, but he's going to make an effort with Loki.

For a moment Loki looks slightly anxious, but that disappears, shoved back out of sight somewhere. "Yes, well," he says. "I did leave. But I've come back, as you said I ought to." He nods. "I'll find Barton."

Tony relaxes the rest of the way and smiles. "Stay in touch." This time, he thinks, Loki will, especially when Loki waves an of course, don't be absurd on his way out the door.

Chapter 15: natasha makes pietro feel kind of okay

Summary:

"Everything you can possibly know about me doesn't look too good."

Notes:

Chapter Warnings: ref to suicidal behaviors

Pietro's main goal in wandering through the tower looking for Avengers is to find as few of them as possible. Logan wouldn't like that, but then, Logan would do exactly the same thing, so Pietro isn't too worried about living up to his dreams.

He manages to avoid everyone without trying for a good few minutes, but he makes the mistake of honestly investigating the gym. He sees her, and she shouldn't have time to see him, but--well, he's been told before that she's the deadliest assassin in the world. She has good reflexes.

Natasha spots Pietro when she's flat on her back on a bench and in the middle of lifting an extremely heavy weight without a spotter. She narrows her eyes and decides that fast as he is, she isn't going to let him get away. She sets the bar back into its groove with minimal effort, rolls upright, and beckons to him.

Pietro balks and stares at her for a second, and then remembers he's supposed to be a good girl now. And looking for his teammates. He seats himself on the bench next to Natasha's and faces her.

"Morning," he says.

She can tell immediately that something is not right with the boy. His shoulders are hunched in a way that means nothing good. "Good morning," she says. "Tony gave you his grand tour?"

"Yup," Pietro says, jiggling his legs. He sits on his hands for a couple of seconds, and then frees them so he can rap his fingers against the bench. "Prettymuchmostly. He gave me a room, not that I really need a room. Now I'm supposed to get to know you. You know, not you, but you all. One at a time."

Natasha shrugs. "I would like to get to know you."

"Pretty sure you wouldn't," Pietro says cheerfully. "But what do you want to know?"

"I am not planning to interrogate you," Natasha says. "But I was curious about what brought you to us."

“Boyfriend," Pietro says. "You know that, though, right? Stark told you. Pietro Maximoff is off his rocker and his grumpy boyfriend wants to distract him from suicide."

"That was his side, yes," Natasha says. She waits. She doesn't think Pietro is the type to keep quiet for long. His power practically demands that he be doing something constantly.

"Not a side," Pietro says. "Just true. I’m doing what Logan wants 'cause I'm so fucking obedient. Don't believe me?"

Natasha laughs flatly and looks him in the eye. "No."

"What answer do you want?" Pietro asks. "Why do you want me to be here?" Not that she does, probably. Not even Stark wants him here.

Natasha looks him over. "Probably for some of the same reasons your boyfriend does. I would rather you not die, stranger or not. And for some of the same reasons Tony said yes. We help people. And we could use your help as well." And, as futile as it sometimes is, she is always tentatively interested in someone Logan thinks is a worthwhile idea.

Pietro shrugs. "No questions about if I'm a spy for my evil dad? No questions about if I'm really gonna help a bunch of non-mutants?"

"Those questions will probably answer themselves soon enough," Natasha says lightly. She doesn't trust people easily, but she's also become a fairly good judge of character over the years. "I will trust you if you will trust me. Deal?"

"Yeah, sure," Pietro says, raising his eyebrows. "The super spy trusts everyone she meets."

"If I thought you were completely untrustworthy, I would never have agreed to work with you," Natasha says. "I am more careful than you think."

"Still pretty stupid, then, huh?" Pietro says. He doesn't mean to say it at all, and it comes out more vicious than he would have planned if he'd planned it. He looks away. "Everything you can possibly know about me doesn't look too good."

"I also know I could take you down if I needed to," she says lightly. "Bear that in mind, and think of it as a comfort." She smiles, so he'll know she would rather not take him down.

It doesn't really help. "I heard you guys all ran off to Asgard without telling Nick Fury," he says. "You're friends with Doctor Doom and shit now, right? Heh, because I can probably live up to expectations after all, if that's the bar."

"It is," Natasha says. "This team is a difficult thing. But that means we have room for more difficult things. If they want to come in." She is tempted to reach out and grip his arm, but he's new and she doesn't know how he'll react. Besides, she would guess he's hiding injuries.

"You know," says Pietro, and it's not even that barbed, "it actually kind of sucks when everyone tacks 'we know how fucked up you are' onto 'welcome to the team.' I mean, it’s nice, I guess, but that does not actually encourage me or whatever it's supposed to do. Unless what it's supposed to do is make me feel kind of shitty."

Natasha laughs. "You are so young," she says. "Most of us have become proud of being difficult, because we have lived it long enough and learned we had no choice. Well, then. A clean slate to begin with. So far I have no reason to think you are anything but a very good young man with a very sharp tongue."

Something in Pietro's shoulders loosens up, though not all the way. It changes in his face, too, though. He looks more babyish than ever.

"You're really not even gonna ask if I really wanna be a good guy?" he asks.

"Until you show me otherwise, I think you already are," Natasha says. Her chest aches. Pietro is so young. With this team, she often feels old, but not like this.

"Oh," he says. He leans back on his hands. "Cool. Hey, can you teach me some fighting stuff? I'm basically just really fast. I mean, I don't know if that's useful by itself. Probably I should know some fighting stuff. Sometime."

Natasha tsks. "Of course. The others forget these things. You should train with all of us, but especially me." She considers. "And Clint. He has a lot to offer." Most of the others have skills that don't apply to Pietro's needs. Steve could help, if Steve were doing anything.

Pietro actually smiles--he looks practically excited. "That would be cool," he says. "We should start whenever. Can we start now? Oh, no, I guess you were already working out."

"So join me," Natasha suggests.

"Really?" Pietro says.

"Really." She extends her hand, palm up.

Pietro takes it, and hauls himself up. "Awesome," he says.

Chapter 16: janet van dyne is not ready to adopt

Summary:

The problem is that he makes her feel unsafe, and makes the Avengers feel less like family.

Notes:

Chapter Warnings: ?xenophobia, ?victim-blamings, references to suicidal behavior

Jan is always early on dates, mostly so she can: get the best table, time Natasha (who is never late), and pose herself alluringly in whatever adorable date outfit she has dug up that day. Today she is wearing a cashmere turtleneck mini dress and plum-colored leggings, and ankle boots that cost way more than was decent but about as much as they were worth. Her ankles are crossed and tucked behind one leg of her chair, and she is leaning forward across the table on her elbows, fingers meshed, peering out of the cafe window into the heavy January rain. Rain. Grossest winter ever. She's looking for Natasha, but more looking like she's looking for Natasha for when Nat walks in behind her.

Natasha is wearing all black, as usual, but today it's dressy rather than utilitarian. She could still fight in it if necessary; there’s no need to get sloppy. She's not thinking about that at the moment, though. She's thinking about how well her training session with Pietro went and what a nice night she's going to have.

She comes up behind Jan's chair, smiling because she's isn't sure if Jan knows she is coming or not. Jan can still surprise her.

"You were early," she comments, leaning down to kiss the back of Jan's neck quickly.

Jan turns around quickly enough to catch Natasha by the back of her neck and give her a kiss. "I am so punctual," she says, smiling. "I wouldn't want to miss a second of your hotness, would I?"

Natasha laughs. "You are ridiculous." She sits, letting her gaze roam over Jan's--outfit. "Absurd."

"Oh, that's nice," Jan says. "Call your girlfriend crazy for noticing you’re attractive. Like I’m the only person checking you out right now? I'm not even." She pushes a teapot towards Natasha's empty mug. "It's so gross out there. Put down your umbrella and drink something hot?"

Natasha relaxes further into her chair and obeys.

"Thank you," she says when she's had some tea. Sometimes she forgets to take things slowly. "And how was your day?"

"So good!" Jan says. "Me and Clint and Hank went to investigate this lab, where we thought there was some kind of AIM activity. Turns out, no, it was just one of the lab assistants has delusions of grandeur and was slowly turning interns into rat people. That was about as fun to clean up as it sounds."

Natasha grimaces. The problem sounds appropriate for their skill-set, anyhow. "Messy," she says. "I spent time training our new member."

Jan grimaces. "Pietro the creepiest mutant?" she asks. "How long do you think he's going to last?"

Natasha frowns and toys with her glass. "As long as he wants to," she says. "He seems capable."

"Yeah, if we wanted, like, an arsonist or someone to commit manslaughter in a tavern brawl," Jan says.

“He is a good boy," Natasha says fiercely. She hadn't realized she felt so strongly. Her hand is pressed against the too-hot side of her mug.

"I don't like him," Jan says, crossing her arms. "He doesn't seem that interested in being on a team, anyway." Which isn't the problem. The problem is that he makes her feel unsafe, and makes the Avengers feel less like family.

"He may not be able to say it yet," Natasha suggests. "Besides, would you want a team that didn't seem to want you?"

"No, but I don't want him," Jan says. "Wolverine just dumped him here so we could play babysitter, you know? But we shouldn't be! We're going to get into one fight and Pietro's either going to bail or kill somebody."

"If you treat him like he will, he might," Natasha says. She glares at her tea. "Why not let him have a chance to prove himself?"

"Prove what?" Jan says. She can tell Natasha is angry at her, but she can't help it--Pietro scares her in a way even Loki didn't. "That he really does have a conscience in there somewhere? That he's not just being a 'good guy' because the alternative is dying? How hard to you really think he’s going to try? He's suicidal, Nat. He wants to die."

"That doesn't make him bad." Natasha's voice is steely. "It makes him someone we need to watch. Don't think I ever let my guard down, around him or anyone else. But he wants to try."

Jan hugs herself. "Oh, cool, so then if he doesn't die or betray us or something, everyone else just gets to feel uncomfortable on their own team forever." She hates arguing with Natasha, she hates it, but there's no way to say I'm afraid he's going to hurt me without sounding like a bigot. He’s just a scary little punk, and they already know he’s out of control. "Hank doesn't like him either, and Clint thinks he'll screw up in a week."

Natasha makes herself take another sip of tea and think before answering. She hates it when Jan gets like this (anxious). It makes Natasha defensive, and defensive of Jan, and she can't make the two feelings resolve into something useful.

"I didn't know you felt that uncomfortable," she says.

Jan feels bad about that, she feels bad about being uncomfortable, and when Pietro's not here and Natasha is talking him up, the panicky feeling she gets when he's in the room turns into doubt that she's a good person or a good judge of character. She pushes her tea cup around with her fingers. "I don't know, it doesn't matter, I already said yes to him being here, so it's fine."

Natasha sighs shortly. Of course Pietro is going to be a problem after all. "You don't mean that. But he's just a child. And he needs us."

He's still bigger and meaner than me, Jan thinks, but she bites her tongue. "Fine," she says. "Okay, he's cute and adorable and sad and it's not his fault, just like Bucky and Loki, we'll fix him up and it will be great. Can I have dinner now?"

Now Natasha's mood is ruined. She wants to say that no, he's nothing like Bucky or Loki. He's probably much worse. Maybe a little bit like what Bucky used to be, only with more trauma and more power. Natasha wants to believe in Pietro. She wants to say so. But these things are never worth pursuing when Jan gets like this.

"Very well," Natasha says stiffly.

"Okay," says Jan, and she picks up a menu and puts it in front of her face. She holds it there long enough so Natasha won't see her cry. It's not real crying, anyway, just that her mouth wobbles and she tears up, and then a few seconds later, she blinks her eyes clear and forces her expression back towards something neutral. She's okay, now, as long as she doesn't think about wanting a hug.

Natasha looks at her own menu, not really reading it. She feels guilty, but she can't agree with Jan. She can't give up on Pietro, if only because everyone else has. She's known enough people to believe he can surprise her.

"He just scares me," Jan says quietly to her menu, and no, she's not completely done crying.

Natasha's head snaps up. "Janet," she says. She reaches across the table to grip Jan's hand.

"Sorry," Jan says. "I'm sorry. I don't want to be mean."

Nearly anyone else's objections to Pietro might be, but Jan, despite her tendency to gossip, is rarely mean.

"You weren't," Natasha says. "Shhh. We will try to make this better."

"Do you think we can?" Jan asks, hanging on to her. "Do you think it's too late and now he's going to give up and die because I hated him? Oh, I hate this!"

"No," Natasha says. "He was in good spirits today. We can keep things this way. While finding a way to make you feel...safer."

"Oh, god," says Jan. "Not in any way where he can figure out that's what's going on." Natasha being understanding is possibly even worse than Natasha being angry. Now Jan feels like a jerk and she doesn't like Pietro. Stupid kid. Stupid kid with his legit issues and his freaky lack of eye contact.

"Of course," Natasha says briskly. "And don't worry--No matter how fond of him I am, I won't let that blind me. And if you tell me he's doing something wrong, I will trust you. Agreed?"

"Ugh," says Jan. "Of course agreed. I mean, I hope you're right and it's okay. Ugh. This is so the worst way for me to start a date."

"I think it will be all right," Natasha says. She smiles. "We've had worse dates." Several, most of which weren't due to either of them doing anything wrong.

"Okay," Jan says. She finally relaxes. "I'm going to look at this menu now, okay? And get something to eat. And then I'll be nicer. And after we eat we can go to my house and think about exactly zero other people?"

Natasha ducks her head to examine her own menu and hide the faint blush. Jan is very good at catching her off guard. "Of course," she says.

She will find a way to make this situation with Pietro work.

Chapter 17: loki is and has a visitor

Summary:

Loki says, firm and quiet, "I want him."

Notes:

Chapter Warnings: misgendering, ref to past rape

Clint is in his room, working on some new arrows. The team seems to think he just orders them online or something, but you can't buy exploding arrows online. Or net trap arrows. Or most of the ones he uses on a regular basis.

He's in the process of fitting an explosive pouch into place, trying very hard not to let his hand slip. JARVIS says, annoyingly softly, "At the door, Mr. Barton."

"Gah!" Clint says. Clint does not drop his arrow, though. He just sets it carefully on the bed and jogs over to the door.

When he opens it, he wishes he hadn't.

Loki smiles. "Oh, don't worry," he says. "I don't want anything."

"In that case," Clint says, "you might as well come in." He holds the door open. "I guess we're kind of friends now." Of course, there's no guarantee that's lasted, but he can hope. He wishes he'd finished up the arrow.

"We needn't be," Loki says, but he does step inside. "I left without thanking you. In Asgard."

"Huh?" Clint says, genuinely confused for a minute. Then he remembers. "Oh. No, uh, don't worry about it. I mean, I knew you were..." He waves his hand awkwardly. "It wasn't a great time to slow down and say thanks."

"Even so." Loki's gaze wanders from Clint to his half-finished arrow and back again. "It would have been much more difficult without you," he says, frowning. "And you acted on faith that conditions would be as I said they were."

Clint shrugs. "After a certain point, you just have to lay it on the line and assume the person giving orders knows what they're doing." If he went around being as paranoid as Natasha all the time, he'd never get anything done.

Loki laughs, which is the first time Clint has heard that out of him in any form.

"Nonetheless, thank you," he says.

Clint smiles. "You're welcome." Someone being grateful is nice, and he notices that Loki seems a hell of a lot less wound up that any other time they're dealt with him. "So, you back in Latveria now? With your big, scary boyfriend?"

Loki grins. Still made of teeth. "Yes."

"And he gets his big, scary Lokifriend," Clint mutters. "Okay, great, everyone's happy. Coup well-executed."

"Very well-executed. Very good to be home. You should visit," Loki adds guilelessly. "After we've installed the children."

Clint's eyes get so big. "The children?" he asks hoarsely.

"Oh, I'm sure you know, Barton," Loki says. "You are a natural informant. The children. My children."

Clint was afraid of that. Key word afraid. "Oh," he says. "So, that's gotta be...toothy." Then he thinks of the horse and of the reasons for it, and all he can do is wonder why the hell Loki would want any of them.

"Family trait," Loki replies.

"Oh, we remember," Clint says, his voice mock-cheerful. "Especially Bucky."

"And it troubled him so much that he emigrated to Asgard and started sleeping with my brother," Loki says.

"Ew," Clint says without thinking. "That's just--ew. I don't want to picture it, man. No thanks. But point taken."

"You have a delicate imagination," Loki notes, raising an eyebrow. "But I didn't come to trouble it. Only to thank you; and I've done that."

"Well, come back any time," Clint says, surprising himself by meaning it. But he doesn't hold grudges, and Loki's turned out decent to them. "I'll show you how to use a bow."

Loki perks up, like maybe he's legitimately interested.

"Ah, I would like that," he says. "Perhaps I will, yes--yes. Goodbye, Mr. Barton. I'll let you know if we need you to stun any wolves." He nods goodbye and lets himself out.

Clint makes a sound like eesh and sits down on his bed again (carefully, to avoid the arrow). Oh well. Loki is practically friendly and normal compared to their new recruit. And at least he's an adult.

Clint goes back to fitting the arrow together, trying not to think about how big that wolf is.

~When Loki returns to Latveria, Frigga is in the parlor. Victor is serving her tea.

"Loki," Frigga greets him.

"Mother," Loki says. It's sweet, Frigga thinks; he looks equal parts pleased and out of sorts.

"She came here, so I gave her tea," Victor says, trying not to show how ruffled he is. He never gets visitors. Not of this sort. "It seemed appropriate. How was your trip?"

"Very well," Loki says. He comes over and checks himself halfway to sitting down. Frigga catches the moment of indecision and stands up to give him a hug. He smiles at her, quickly, and says, "Tony will help with--what we want."

Frigga raises her eyebrow as she sits.

"Ah," says Loki. He sits, too, but he makes something very expressive out of stillness. "I had planned to speak to you next. I wondered--I had thought--that is, Odin no longer requires a mount, and, if Tyr didn't mind, I thought..."

Frigga tilts her head. "Loki," she says. Speak your mind. She never knows whether he will or won't, but it's always disconcerted her when he refuses.

He looks up at her, pale and probably glaring more than he intends to. "My children," he says. "Odin's. I want them."

Frigga looks to Victor, to see what he wants.

Victor clears his throat. "If Loki wants his children here, I want them here. We'll find a way to house them safely. Doom is not so easily deterred." He reaches over and lays his hand on Loki's back.

"No one dares ride Sleipnir," Frigga says. "You should bring him here. Let him run free sometimes. He knows war but that does not mean he lives off it."

Loki nods.

"Are you certain about Fenrir?" Frigga asks carefully.

Loki says, firm and quiet, "I want him."

Frigga says, "Oh, my child." She puts her hand against Loki's face. She will hate it if Loki brings Fenrir to him and Fenrir's bitterness tears Loki apart. She might kill the beast herself, if he does that.

"Does that mean you won't let me take him?" Loki asks, an edge in his voice.

"No," Frigga says. "But you must speak with Tyr, if you would give Fenrir more freedom and put him here."

Victor is tempted to dismiss this request, but Loki thought it important as well, so it is. "Then it's settled. We'll bring them here and care for them as best we can. Perhaps this will be a burden lifted from Asgard." He remembers the old myths, and wonders, not for the first time, how much truth is in their predictions.

"Asgard can bear the burden," Frigga says thoughtfully. To Loki she says, "Don't you forget so. If there is trouble, you are not alone in it." Loki nods in agreement, although he doesn't look pleased at the implication that his children might be too much trouble for him.

Frigga says, "It is good to see your home and know your plans, my child, but I came with another purpose."

"What is that?" Loki asks.

Frigga hesitates. Then she says, "Laufey wishes to meet you. As your mother."

They have already met as strangers, enemies, conspirators, and assassins. She does not know if Loki can bear anything more gentle--if gentler is even what this would be.

Victor takes a quick breath. He doesn't know what this will mean to Loki, but he knows it will matter, one way or the other. It will be a day of mothers, then. He slides his hand up to grip Loki's shoulder reassuringly. Loki glances back at him for a moment, only just, and he looks both startled and afraid.

"How can he?" he asks Frigga. "I killed him. Or I tried, which is as good. He cannot want me. He never did before."

"Do you know that?" Victor asks quietly. He can hope. If it turns out he's wrong, he'll kill Laufey himself and burn Jotunheim to the ground.

Loki whips around in his seat. "You too?" he says. "He has no reason to want me. He has every reason to hate me. It must be a trick."

"You want Fenrir," Frigga says, to staunch the flow of words. She puts her hand over Loki's. "Loki, Loki, do you think Laufey was any more able to keep you from being stolen than I was able to keep you from being hurt? Whatever you have been to each other, you were their child, first."

Loki stares at her, anxious and speechless.

"I promised them I would ask," Frigga says. "When I--put Balder in their care, part of our bargain was that I ask you if you would see them."

Victor smiles. A living child to balance out a dead one. That's...tidy. He respects Frigga even more than before.

"At least see him, Loki," he says. "I'll make sure it's safe."

"No," Loki says abruptly. He twists around, and shakes his head. "No," he says. "No need. I'll--I'll go." He sounds dazed, Frigga thinks, as if someone's struck him and his ears are still ringing.

Victor just hopes it's not too much, on top of everything that just happened in Asgard. Loki might not react well to another blow, even if it just means he's loved more than he thought.

"Will you go there?" Frigga asks. "Perhaps someday I might lift the ban enough...I told them it would be safe, here--not too warm."

"It is safe," Loki agrees automatically. He can't imagine Laufey in this place, and he doesn't want to. "I'll go there. You can tell--them so. Soon. After I've spoken to Tyr about the wolf."

Victor tucks away the sound of the word safe in Loki's mouth. He won't forget it.

"After you've had some dinner, perhaps," he suggests lightly. "Both of you should stay."

Frigga looks for a moment as though she'll say no--but she doesn't.

"I would like that very much," she says. "It is a terrible thing, how far my children have flung themselves across the realms to avoid sharing meals with their mother."

"Oh, stay," Loki says, crossing his legs and leaning back. He sounds so cranky and normal that Frigga laughs, and picks his hand up to kiss it.

She feels a deep shared sorrow with Laufey, but the terrible consolation that accompanies her part of it is exactly this--Laufey's lost child is hers. And he has survived everything. And his hand in her hand is still her child's. She is sorry for many things, but she is grateful for this.

Chapter 18: this conversation is not what tyr hoped for

Summary:

Finally, he says, his voice a growl, "Why?"

Notes:

Chapter Warnings: misgendering giants, ref to violence, past rape

When Frigga leaves Midgard, Loki accompanies her on the Bifrost. He leaves her with Heimdall, and goes to Tyr's training camp outside the boundaries of Asgard's shining capital. He knows which are Tyr's quarters there, but it isn't Tyr he meets at the door.

"Huh," Bucky says. He's shirtless, but who cares? "You look good," he tacks on, because he's not really sure what to say to someone whose personal life you just staged a revolution over.

"You look occupied," Loki says. "If my brother is as well, I will come back another time."

"Uh, no, he's not here," Bucky says, too used to this shit to blush. "He's on the other side with the recruits. He'll probably be back soon, though." He smiles, not entirely apologetically. "I can take you over there."

"No," Loki says. "I will wait or I will go, but I would rather not interrupt."

Bucky was already guessing that Loki wanted something, some sort of favor, and this just confirms it. "Yeah, okay. He shouldn't be more than a couple minutes. You might as well come in." He opens the door to a room he's already made somewhat his own.

Loki follows. He's walking normally, now, and without most of the obvious sharp edges he’s had every other time he and Bucky have met. Without waiting to be asked, Loki seats himself at the small table. He says, "Are you much in touch with your friends in Midgard?"

Bucky hesitates. "Not really," he says. It's not that he hasn't wanted to check in on Steve, but he's kind of enjoying the little bit of space from his past life. He hasn't had more than a few nightmares since he got to Asgard. "Should I be?" he amends. If Loki knows something about Steve...

Loki raises an eyebrow. "That is up to you, I'm sure," he answers usefully. There's a cup sitting on the table, empty. He turns it on end. "I cannot tell you much myself; but as I understand it from Stark, Rogers has suffered a greater loss of spirit than of--form. If it is not a crisis now, I believe it...was."

Well, that makes Bucky feel like shit. He's supposed to be there for stuff like that. "So, past tense, though?" he asks. Not his job anymore, he reminds himself. And as long as Steve winds up okay, that's fine.

Loki says, "As difficult as it is to tell, sometimes, whether Stark's nerves have any basis in circumstance--I don't believe Rogers is what you'd call well."

"Okay," Bucky says carefully. "Okay. Well, I think maybe I should check in, then. If it's okay with Tyr and all."

Before he can qualify that or be embarrassed about, Tyr comes in. There's mud smeared across one side of his chest, and he's holding a dagger.

"Ah, Loki," he says, not very surprised.

Loki smiles at him. "Tyr," he answers pleasantly, and then remembers why he's here and holds the smile a second too long.

"What brings you back to Asgard so soon?" Tyr asks. He sets his dagger on the table and takes a seat across from Loki.

Bucky raises his eyebrows at Loki and jerks his thumb toward the door. "I can get outta here."

"I appreciate the diplomacy," Loki says. "It would be better."

Bucky nods, waves to Tyr, and exits. Tyr frowns, and turns from watching Bucky leave.

"You come on business, then."

Loki has the grace to look uncomfortable. "Not exactly," he says. "I need to ask you something."

In light of recent events, Tyr can hardly imagine what could be left to ask. "Go on," he says.

Loki purses his lips, and then says, quietly, "I want to unchain Fenrir and bring him to Latveria."

Tyr is still. There is nothing in this realm or any other that he fears, but Fenrir comes closest. His hand goes unconsciously to the metal that covers his other wrist.

Finally, he says, his voice a growl, "Why?"

Loki swallows. "Obstinacy?"

"Do you remember Fenrir?" Tyr asks slowly. "I mean, truly remember him? Not just his size, but his viciousness? I will not ask how you could want something that came to you in such a way, but I will ask how you could want something that does not love."

"You do not know he can't!" Loki snarls, and then draws into himself. "What chance has he had to be something other than vicious? I wept and Odin made commands and then you had him bound, Tyr, and yes, I know what he did to you, but what else was there in his brief moment of freedom except anger and struggle?"

Tyr sighs sharply, angry and worried. "I know you empathize. And if it were anything else, I'd agree. Take Sleipnir. Take any of the others you may have gotten along the way. But not Fenrir."

Loki knew this might be Tyr's answer, was even prepared for it. All the arguments he has readied vanish like vapor from his mouth as soon as Tyr speaks. "Oh," he says. "Well, I had planned not to if you said--" He can't finish.

"Wait," Tyr says, not sure who he's angry with. The answer is probably Odin. "Loki, wait. I told you before I bore Fenrir no ill will. Right after you told me what having him held captive does to you. I ought to stand by that."

Loki looks at him, perplexed and unhappy. "I will take Sleipnir," he says. "Mother has agreed to--" He stops and takes a little, anxious breath. "Fenrir might hate me, but he's the only one who needs me."

"It's your choice," Tyr says firmly. "Not mine. He only took my hand before anyone else was brave enough. If you want your child, Loki, he is yours to take. But promise me you'll be careful."

Loki grimaces. "Are you worried about his teeth or his tongue?"

"Brother," Tyr says, "I am worried about all of it."

Loki says, "If I am able to try, I can't leave him."

Tyr nods. "Then your asking is what just what it needed to be—an act of kindness. I would rather he were not freed, but I would never deny you your child. That has been done for too long. I'm sorry I thought to do it." He lays his good hand over Loki's.

"Naturally you did," Loki scoffs, but he doesn't offer to leave Fenrir where he is. "Assuming he doesn't eat us," he says, "you need not ever visit. I can come to you, if you wish to see me and not to go near him."

Tyr bristles. "I'm not afraid. I was going to offer to come with you to unchain him if you wanted protection." He hardly rejoices at the idea, but it would only be the noble choice.

"I didn't say you were afraid," Loki says, noncombative. He shifts. "I will tell you what is needed, when I know. First, to find out whether Fenrir would rather not be moved at all."

Tyr can guess, but he says, "A good first step."

Loki sighs. "Whether to speak with Fenrir or Laufey first, that is the question."

"Laufey?" Tyr raises his eyebrows. "What do you want with him?"

"I don't," Loki says. "I've been asked for." He raises his eyebrows. "I suppose I'm his Fenrir."

Tyr laughs, although not really because it's funny. It's just symbolically neat in the way that Loki appreciates. "True enough. Try not to bite him more than he deserves."

"I've already tried to kill Laufey and destroy his people," Loki says, and there's no humor in it at all. "I think that's enough."

Tyr winces. "I--yes." But then he smiles. "Still, brother, he wants to see you. That's encouraging. If it’s something you want."

Loki looks blazingly gloomy in response, but he says, "I can't imagine what good it will do anyone. But I'll go."

Tyr, for his own part, is unsure. What he's heard of Laufey has been largely distorted by rumor and Odin's creativity, but he respects any being, god or giant, who can do what Laufey did in battle.

"You may be surprised," Tyr says. "Either by Laufey or by Fenrir. I hope by both."

"Let us both hope," Loki says, and stands up from the table. "I will let you know how it goes with Fenrir, Tyr. I swear he won't be moved before you know of it."

"You are far better in every regard than anyone ever gives you credit for," Tyr says gruffly. "Fare well, brother. We shall speak soon."

Loki loses countenance for a moment, but he recovers quickly and says nothing about Tyr's compliment. "Very, I hope. Fare well," he says, and lets himself out.

Chapter 19: bucky and tyr have their own things to deal with

Summary:

Tyr is not a jealous god.

Notes:

Chapter Warnings: none

Bucky gives it long enough that he thinks probably Loki is gone, and then he swings back by their quarters. Tyr is alone (good) and brooding a little (not exactly as good, but not surprising, considering his visitor). Bucky comes in and sits down where Loki had sat before.

"Did you clear up your business?" he asks.

"Mm," Tyr says, looking up. "Yes. Although it will not be concluded to my satisfaction until Loki returns." He pauses, unsure of how much Bucky knows of the wolf. "He's gone to see if his children will have him."

Bucky flinches. Automatic response, which he'd really like to get rid of. "Not the wolf?"

"Yes," Tyr says shortly. "Fenrir. Loki came to ask my permission."

"Thoughtful," Bucky says. "To--what, exactly? Say hello? Form a bond?"

Tyr shrugs. "Perhaps the latter. Who can say?"

"Good luck to him then, I guess," Bucky says. He's skeptical, but maybe emotionally scarred mischief gods are better equipped to tackle angry, giant immortal wolves than emotionally scarred ex-sidekicks.

"I think he wants something of Asgard worth keeping, or worth saving from it," Tyr suggests. "But I tire of this talk. Loki will succeed with Fenrir, or he will not. We'll know soon enough."

Bucky nods. He bites his lip, and says, "Say. When Loki was here, before you came home, he told me--said Steve wasn't doing so great. I was thinking maybe I should check up on him."

Tyr knew it was only a matter of time before Bucky needed to go to his commander. He also knows, the same way he knows that Bucky carries war inside him, that the boy will be back. Tyr is not a jealous god.

"Heimdall will let you use the Bifrost," he says. "Go, and return when you've seen to your comrade-in-arms. I'd like to know how he is. He put himself in danger for Loki."

"Yeah he did," Bucky mutters. He's surprised, actually, not to be more pissed off about that. Except, well, Steve's a hero, and nearly getting murdered in front of half of Asgard clearly was not a part of Loki's master plan. "Well, I'll bring news," he says. He gets up. "Might as well go now, I guess." He leans over and gives Tyr a kiss on the cheek.

Tyr laughs. He never seems to mind how bad Bucky is at being an actual good boy. "You have nerve, I'll grant you that. Tell Rogers I wish him well."

"Yessir," Bucky says, with enough real respect in his voice that Tyr's pride can't be irritated. He leaves for the Bifrost, and Tyr is left to think about Fenrir without chains. But Tyr has never been one to spend much time in contemplation. He only spares a moment's glance at the metal at the end of his arm before standing up and returning to his recruits.

If Fenrir is loosed, Tyr will be all right. He tells himself this firmly, and tries not to worry about Loki.

Notes:

Short slow update! Posting chapter twenty directly!

Chapter 20: loki and laufey alone in jotunheim

Summary:

"He's brilliant," Laufey says bitterly. "He knows how to wound."

Notes:

Chapter Warnings: discussion of past rape, incest, attempted murder

Laufey has, in the back of their mind, waited for Frigga to send word to Loki. They are not really expecting an answer; Loki has every reason to distrust the Jotuns, and more importantly, anyone who pretends to be family.

They have walked through their kingdom, tending it, for the length of what Jotunheim calls a day. When they return to their palace, they are proved wrong. Loki waits for them in the open vastness of the throne room. He waits patiently and discreetly, standing against a pillar of ice and stone with his hands tucked against the small of his back. No one else has found him here, which is good, or the visit might have begun rather more poorly.

Loki sees Laufey, and Laufey sees him, but Loki does not speak first. From Laufey's experience of him, this is neither a good sign nor a bad one. They're too shocked to analyze it closely. The ruler of Jotunheim does not surprise easily, but they genuinely had not expected Loki to come.

"I see Frigga spoke to you," Laufey says after a moment. They do not smile. They do not like being unable to see what Loki's hands are doing.

Loki doesn't like having his hands behind his back. He shifts forward and stands straight, with his hands resting lightly against his thighs.

"She did," he says. He nearly sounds like one of Odin's overproud and violent children, saying it, but there is a catch in his voice Thor would never have. "She said you wished to--that you wished for me. As it was part of a bargain that greatly benefits me, I thought I...owed it you."

"What do you owe me, child?" Laufey asks, their voice deep and harsh. "To listen to the truth, at least."

They cannot read Loki, which is maddening. It also makes them proud.

Loki hesitates. "I don't know what you want," he says. "I understood when it was revenge. Perhaps it still is that now. I tried to kill you. I banished you from Asgard damaged. I tried to destroy this place I’d banished you to."

"Yes," Laufey says. "And I hated Odin for turning my child into someone like him and his brood."

Loki's silence is longer this time. "What now?" he asks finally.

Laufey pauses. "I left you in the temple because, fool that I was, I thought it was the one place Odin would not dare destroy."

Loki's breath catches. The change in direction is so swift and Laufey's words so unexpected that he feels (fittingly) frozen in place.

"That is the truth," Laufey says. "I thought someone should tell you truths."

"Do they matter?" Loki asks, when his voice unsticks. "You lost me, and I became his instead. There's little that isn't bitter in knowing you didn't intend it." He sounds as uncertain as he does unkind.

"Do not imagine I do not know bitterness," Laufey snaps. Loki doesn’t, but he does not say so.

"For years I counted you as lost,” Laufey says. “But with Odin gone, I thought I would like to know my child. If--he'll have me." They cross their arms over their chest, now what the Asgardians would call female, and wait.

"Why?" Loki says. It barely comes out. He is that smug little creature luring Laufey into Odin's chamber for vengeance. He can remember the look on Laufey's face when they saw Loki had betrayed them. Not surprised, not angry—only old and worn. "Why would you want me now? I'm made of everything you hate, and I have done everything to make you loathe me."

"Because," Laufey says, "you are mine. Loki, I bore you. I loved you. You have grown up a snake. You lie and shape-shift and twist yourself into whatever reality will help you most. You are Odin's child, but he never saw how like me you are."

Loki realizes, curious, that he can't tell whether Laufey means the comparison as a condemnation or a compliment.

"I have been too clever," he says. He has not paid attention, he has played his tricks so much to the hilt that he has failed to understand his opponent. "I do not know you. I do not know how I am like you."

And now Laufey smiles. "No," they say. "You do not. But I know that you lie as easily as you breathe. And that you still love. And that you let your loves destroy you."

Laufey keeps catching Loki off guard. "What do you--" he starts.

"I cared for Odin," Laufey says fiercely. "I cared for him as one does care for a bitter enemy. So I let him close. I ignored the fact that he was as cruel as I was." They sigh. "Asgardians are good at seeming to be things they are not. Better even than we. He was crueler than I knew."

"You cannot surprise me," Loki says, flat and sharp.

"I won't try," Laufey says. "What matters is that he's gone, and I want to know you. I want a chance to be your parent, or if you have had enough of family, to be your ally."

Loki feels as though Laufey is drowning him in iron. He wants to bring his children home and hide, and that will be hard enough. He doesn't want to make cold and cautious negotiations with a distant parent he's only ever tried to trick and murder.

But he's also curious.

"What do you suggest?" he asks.

Laufey's smile is hard and cold. "Only this: If you ever need my help with your children--wherever they may be--you will ask it." It's only a guess that Loki's mind has turned to his children, but Laufey knows what they would do in Loki's place.

Loki says, expressionless, "Do you think Fenrir would respond any better to two generations of sentimental victims?"

Laufey laughs, and the sound is the grinding of ice against stone. "If nothing else, I'm closer to his size."

"Then you should have fought back harder," Loki snaps, and then flinches. Lately he is too bare by half.

Laufey is still. "You're still so young," they say. "Do you truly believe you could have fought harder? Do you believe anyone can, against Odin? He said things to me about you that broke me. I, the ruler of an entire realm. I could not fight any harder."

Loki stares back silently, his mouth a straight line, and his teeth clenched.

"What matters," Laufey says softly, "is that you're safe now."

Loki relaxes, and shivers. "I did not think," he says quietly, "that Odin would have--mentioned me. When you were together. But of course he would. If you cared."

"He's brilliant," Laufey says bitterly. "He knows how to wound. Once he realized I could be mother as well as king, he never stopped hurting me."

Loki looks at his hands, pressed together. "So is this where we make our alliance?" he asks. "On the memory of our own helplessness? On our fear of the god who fathered our children to punish us?"

"Odin left our race without hope," Laufey says. "But I am not hopeless now. That's thanks to you, and what your friends have done. Let us make our alliance on that." They hold out a hand.

Loki reaches out and takes it. Laufey's hand is large and cold and firm. Loki swallows, and his skin flushes dark until he looks like his mother. "You're right," he says hoarsely. "I do lie too easily. I am taking your hand in friendship, but I don't believe for a moment that you might want me. I don't know what can be done about that."

"Time, perhaps," Laufey suggests. They didn't think they'd get even this far with Loki.

"Time," Loki sighs, and his skin bleaches back to Odin's color. He takes his hand back. Then, because he doesn't want to know and can usually do without and needs to hear it anyway, he says, "When m--when Frigga told you about Odin's...wrongs against me...did she tell you of your heir?"

Laufey's eyes flash. "Yes. And I have dealt with the matter, as it would have been dealt with long ago, had I known."

That startles Loki. "You dealt--"

"They were punished," Laufey clarifies. "My child, and those others whose names I could discover."

Loki is pale. "I see," he says. "Thank you." He doesn't mean thank you, but it comes out on its own to fill in the awful gap in Loki's thoughts.

"What can I do?" Laufey asks. Seeing Loki standing in front of them in pain is like a fast, brutal repetition of what it felt like to have Jotunheim destroyed and their power taken. "To truly help, I mean." They have lived on the idea of vengeance, but Loki has had his. They do not know what is left.

Loki is quiet for a minute. At last he says, "I think what I cannot believe is that it is me that you grieve for and want back. The idea of your child you want, of course, but I'm not that. I would have slaughtered you and your people." He looks up. Laufey knows what he is, what he's done, what's been done to him. "Isn't it too late for me to be called anything you want?"

"You are everything I want," Laufey says. "I told you. You're a liar and a witch. You're everything I am. I'm proud of you, Loki." They wonder if they could have been proud of a child who didn't try to kill them. Unlikely.

Loki swallows. He can feel an anxious storm building inside of him, but there isn't space for it, and he doesn't know or trust Laufey enough to let it go here. He stoppers it up instead. He says, "Perhaps we will have friendship."

"Let that be enough for now," Laufey says.

“Enough?” Loki says. “You should hate me.”

“I do not,” Laufey says.

Loki nods. “Very well,” he says at last. “Excuse me, but I must go. There will be no light in Asgard soon, and I would not go to Fenrir in the dark.”

Laufey raises their hand in farewell. "Remember to call on me if you need help with him."

Loki very nearly smiles, although Laufey has to be looking to see it. "I might," he says, and slips out of Laufey's palace and out of Laufey's realm without Laufey or Heimdall ever seeing him go.

Chapter 21: loki and fenrir speak each other's language

Summary:

"I am your mother," Loki says. "If am free, you ought to be."

Notes:

Chapter Warnings: reference to past rape/incest

Loki is quite certain that Victor will have expected him to come home after his talk with Tyr. He wouldn't have expected Loki to go to Jotunheim, and he is surely hoping, even now and very strenuously, that Loki won't be stupid enough to go to Fenrir alone, without anyone's knowledge. But, Loki is only going to talk.

Fenrir is bound on a small island, little bigger than he is, in the waters surrounding Asgard's great city. Loki is careful to let Fenrir see him as he draws close, and he wears as little expression as he can. Fenrir will snap at any weakness; Loki is practically is one.

The wolf’s entire body is a snarl.

He smells Loki before he sees him. He growls deep in his throat as Loki approaches, ready to rear forward as far as he can in his chains and bite him. He wants to bite anyone who is fool enough to get close.

"Motherrrr," he says, his voice trailing off into meaningless anger.

"You remember," Loki says. Of course he does--Fenrir has almost nothing to do except remember. "How long it has been." Too long. The number of times Loki has come and seen the wolf is far fewer than the number of times he has tried and failed. Neither is as great a sum as it should be.

Fenrir laughs, low and gravelly. "No. Nothing. No memory. Just a beast, remember?"

Loki remembers saying it. Maybe it is more to the point that he doesn’t know who hasn't. On the other hand--

"I suppose saying it once was more than enough," he answers, "in consideration of how few words I've given you at all."

If Loki had not said it, Tyr or Odin would have killed Fenrir cold, after Fenrir maimed him.

"Look at me," Fenrir snaps, and his teeth click together. "Everything is right. What they say is right. I would kill you all."

Loki waves a hand impatiently. "I would strike down Jotunheim, Thor would abandon the throne, Frigga would overthrow her husband and Tyr would destroy worlds. Either you are more than a beast or none of us are, and either way it doesn't matter."

"Some are worse than beasts," the wolf suggests. He strains at his bonds, just for show.

"Yes," Loki says impassively. "Some are gods."

Fenrir laughs. Everything seems funny, with his mother standing in front of him for the first time in years. He wants to rip him apart. Instead, he howls at the sky.

Loki waits for him to quiet.

"I would ask what news reaches your keen ears here," he says, "but I do not think you would care to be caught up, however much you had missed."

"Is Odin dead?" Fenrir asks. "Is Asgard burning? If not, leave me in peace."

"Not dead," Loki says. "Our father breathes. But he breathes in sleep, and perhaps if we are lucky it will last an age. She who bought your life now holds the throne."

Fenrir makes a questioning noise. This, he did not expect. It's a change. He never expects change--only endless rage against the chains that bind him.

"Good," he says.

"I thought so," Loki says. "You are the cause of it, you know."

Fenrir is silent, trying to work it out. He's clever, but he's been away from anything with a mind for most of his life. He can't think like them.

Loki relents. "Even to someone as bloodthirsty and rage-filled as you, Odin is despicable. He appears the same to your siblings and uncles. Now that they know who made you."

Fenrir snarls again. "Hate, hate him, hurt you, he hurt us--" He bites at the air.

Loki puts up a hand automatically to soothe him, and lets it drop before he can end up like Tyr.

"They did not know," he says. "Thor dragged it from Heimdall, and then they all knew. Well, all but Balder, but he was a lost cause and now he is as dead as Odin is deposed." He smiles. "We ripped his power from him and made him weak before all of Asgard. Frigga took the throne, and Odin is guarded as less than a beast in the vaults of his own palace."

Loki is not entirely honest about where Odin is kept. If Fenrir ever manages to reach him, and eats him, no amount of fresh disdain for Odin will keep Fenrir safe from Asgard.

Fenrir shivers, his whole giant body trembling. He wants to devour everything he can reach, but that is nothing. He tries and tries to think through what all of this means, but he cannot. Finally he says, "So why are you here?"

Loki says, "Only Odin ever hated you. The rest of us had no power to gainsay him, except as much as Frigga managed in keeping you alive. He is out of power, now. If you could be trusted not to kill everything you laid eyes on, you could be freed."

Fenrir's eyes narrow. "You won't do that." He can barely remember a time he wasn't chained. His whole life has been this island.

"I have begged for it," Loki says calmly.

"LIAR!" Fenrir cries, but he's not sure he's speaking in Loki's tongue.

"I begged, and Frigga answered yes," Loki says, still and even. "I asked Tyr, whose hand you took, and he said I should have my children if they would choose me."

At Tyr's name, Fenrir quiets himself. If he can respect any of their hungry, bloody pack, it's Tyr. "Why?" he asks shortly.

"Because they love me," Loki answers bluntly. "And because none of them, including Tyr, blames you for being born. They do not understand, but they allow."

"Do you understand?" Fenrir asks, leaning forward until the chains press into his fur and the flesh beneath. "Do you?"

"You?" Loki asks. "Hardly. Barely. The only time I knew anger like yours, I lost myself to it. As long as I have been trapped, I have moved freely. I gained peace, but only barely. I cannot imagine how it would be to stretch your legs from this..." He gestures to the island, the chains. "...and not simply destroy everything around you until nothing and no one moved."

Fenrir bows his hand. "Come closer," he says. "Come closer, and I will tell you if I think I can."

Loki regards him. "I was so young," he says. "I knew only how to hide. I tried to see you, but not to free you. And when I failed even to come to you, I gave up thoughts of you until it was safe again. You have no good parents, poor Fenrir. You have only me. I have conspired to kill two of my parents, and for no more than what you have suffered. I would be a fool to come closer."

Fenrir is more than a beast, but he cannot make himself into a creature that feels in the way the rest of Asgard feels. Everything in him is too simple and horrible, and when he tries to think further, he just wants to eat them all.

"Come closer," he insists, "or you won't be able to free me at all."

"I cannot free you today," Loki says. "I needed to know if you would let me free you at all. If you will, I must go back and make you a place. It would have forests, and mountains. It would not be boundless, but you would stretch and you would run."

Fenrir rolls his shoulders and against the chains bite into him. He cannot imagine being able to stretch and run. But surely saying yes means he's weak?

"What are you?" he asks. "Master freeing captives? Guilty juror driven here by conscience?" The words come more easily the longer he spends speaking.

"I am your mother," Loki says. "If am free, you ought to be." He steps forward and puts his hand on Fenrir's flank, and half waits to be killed.

Fenrir tries to jerk back, purely out of reflex, and cannot. After a moment, he turns his head as best he can in the chains and nuzzles his snout awkwardly against Loki. Twisted sideways, the chains biting into him, he makes a sound in the back of his throat, half whimper and half growl.

"We're vicious little beasts, aren't we," Loki murmurs, and then meets Fenrir's ice-blue eyes. "Well. Perhaps not both so little." He puts his hand on Fenrir's rough, damp nose. "My beautiful child. Odin is so close to dead that next time he wakes to threaten us, you could kill him, and it should be considered just by all the vain fools of Asgard. But I don't want you here, waiting for revenge against someone who will never love us. I want to take you home."

"Home." Fenrir turns the word over. He has never known a home worth having. The island has been the only place that's been his. "Not chained. Not hurt." The rest of what Loki is saying does not go unnoticed, either. Your mother wanted youFenrir won't love weakness, he reminds himself, and bites his tongue.

Fenrir snarls, and the snarls becomes a howl. When he is done, he says furiously, "Whatever makes my mother afraid is something I want to devour. But I cannot devour myself." He bends his head painfully against and licks Loki's cheek roughly.

Loki blinks hard, but in the end he just lets Fenrir lap up his tears. "Not afraid," he whispers. "Only undeserving of you."

"No," Fenrir says. "And I don't lie. Not well." He runs his nose up against Loki's, worried. "Mother, don't cry."

Loki smiles, and does his best to stop. "I do not think I am much better at accepting gentleness than you," he says. "But we'll accustom ourselves."

Fenrir cannot imagine. He thinks perhaps there may be a few mishaps along the way. But he wants to try. He wants to be free, and he wants the mother who has tried to keep him safe. "Yes," he agrees.

"Don't worry," Loki says dryly. "It won't be all at once." His expression shifts. "I will have to leave you here," he says. "I have to leave, to make your place ready. I should have done that first, in case--but I didn't. I suppose you cannot trust me to come back. But I will hurry."

Loki's haste makes Fenrir nervous, but that's only a reflex. "I don't trust you," he says. "But I don't hate you, either. Come back."

Loki holds up a hand for Fenrir to sniff and then lays it flat against his muzzle. "I'll come back," he says. "If I don't, it is only because I have died. I don't plan to, but you should know. I don't have to go yet. I can stay for awhile, if you like."

Asking for that would be weakness. Fenrir cannot let himself be weak, not even in front of his mother. Not yet.

"Go," he says. "Don't die. Go, and come back."

Loki nods. He backs away, instead of turning his back to Fenrir (neither of them trusts each other), but before he's out of reach, he sneaks a hand up to stroke Fenrir's tall, velvety ear.

"Soon," he says. "I'll come back to you."

Fenrir makes a tiny, soft whining sound and watches Loki go.

Chapter 22: pietro maximoff is pretty good at his job

Summary:

Creel snorts. "You really do have great taste in friends. I don’t think you even know how good."

Notes:

Chapter Warnings: gendered/slut-shaming language, references to suicide

None of the plans Clint would make, if he were the person who actually made the plans for fighting Carl Crusher Creel, would involve four whole people. Most of them would involve one--namely, Hulk. But Pietro Maximoff has been nominally on the team for three weeks now, and Tony won't stop turning missions into training exercises. Whether they're supposed to be teaching Pietro about teamwork or teaching the team about not hating Pietro, Clint isn't sure. Either way, now he's in Brooklyn with Tony, Jan, and Pietro, facing down the amazing Absorbing Man with basically no plan at all. And if he’s supposed to like Pietro by now, it’s not working.

"So you're saying he's a chameleon," Pietro is saying. "Only he turns into stuff. That's kinda...lame."

Creel growls. "Not as lame as you'll be when I break your legs, ya little turd."

"Classy," Pietro says. "Avengers fight some classy-ass villains, Stark, you did not put this in the welcome packet."

"We try to forget about the less glamorous aspects of the job," Tony says. Clint nearly protests, but he can’t totally disagree about the quality of the Avengers’ villains.

Jan, small-sized, is hovering somewhere near Creel's head, but well out of his reach. She's a little worried about this one. Creel isn't a top-tier villain or anything, but he's tricky to beat. Besides, there's Pietro to think about. Jan is getting a little more used to him, but she still can't relax around him. Natasha promised she'd try to make Jan feel safe, but it's only working some of the time—and anyway, Pietro is barely tested in a fight with this team. It could go anywhere.

"Let's just get this over with," Jan says. "And remember, nobody touch him."

"Standing right here, little girl," Creel says. "So tell me, what's the rest of your great plan to stop me?" He chokes up on the ball and chain in his hand, and hurls it violently at Jan.

Jan darts a little further away and readies her stingers. "I figured we'd start with these and go from there."

"She's not the only one who packs a punch," Tony says, his hands starting to glow.

"You don't think someone called the absorbing man can maybe absorb, like...energy? Like stinger-whatever-arc-energy?" Pietro asks. Which, Clint thinks, is a good question.

Creel laughs. "What a cute kid you are. What are you, anyway?"

"A punk," Pietro says.

"A--" Clint starts to mutter, but actually, that's what he was going to say. Huh.

"So about that energy thing," Pietro starts.

"Gonna have to try if you want to know," Creel says. "What are you good for, kid? What do you do?" He swings his ball and chain at Pietro's head, and Pietro vanishes.

"Quick," Creel observes. "As a super hero, are you super at running away?"

"Not gonna lie," Pietro says, "I really am."

"Okay, well, let's get this out of the way," Tony says, sounding resigned. He shoots a short, sharp blast at Creel.

Jan darts further away. "Warn us, maybe!" she shouts.

Creel is knocked backwards, but he doesn't get turned into a ball of raging energy. Clint guesses that is probably for the best. He’d rather shoot (and he does shoot, a net-arrow that bags Creel pretty neatly) at a giant blunt-headed guy with no personality than at a dissipating energy cloud.

"Huh!" says Pietro. He looks over at Clint, who looks back. "I guess we know that, now," Pietro says. "Do you think maybe--?" Whatever he thinks maybe is interrupted by Creel lurching to his feet and taking a massive swing at Clint.

"Shit!" Pietro yelps, and the next thing Clint knows, he's on the ground with the kid and his pointy elbows all over him. "Sorry!" Pietro says. "Sorry, distracted you, didn't mean to." He scrambles up to his feet, offering a hand up to Clint. When Clint is up and steady, Pietro checks in both directions and speeds off so fast Clint hardly sees him go.

"What the fuck?" Clint says.

"Dunno, but I think he just saved your ass," Jan says. "Trust me, I'm as shocked as you are. Look out!" She bobs down and shots off a blast at Creel, hoping her energy is as useless to Creel as Tony's.

"Where'd he go, though?" Tony asks.

Creel snorts. "You really do have great taste in friends. I don’t think you even know how good."

Clint is getting so sick of this guy.

"What?" he says. "Is this gossip? Are you seriously about to gossip at us?"

"Why not?" Creel says. "You guys picked up the biggest slut in the underworld and you're trying to turn him into a superhero. He wouldn’t know a moral compass if somebody shoved one up his ass. It's priceless!"

Jan laughs, but she stifles it really quickly. Whose side is she on, anyway?

"Shut up about our friend," she says instead, which is a little weak.

"Less talk, more action," Tony says--hypocritically, in Jan's opinion. Tony gives Creel another few energy blasts from his hands. Creel shouts and stumbles backwards a couple of paces, but he recovers fast.

"Action?" he asks in a growl, and he heaves his ball and chain up so they whip around behind his head and go flying towards Tony.

Something hits Tony, but it's not Creel. Tony slams into the wall before he sees what it is.

"Sorry," Pietro says again. One arm is tucked up against his body, full of something. "Reallygottaworkonthat."

"So Magneto's little disappointment decided to come back after all," Creel says. "Maybe you thought since I'm a big bad villain I might just be willing to fuck you. That what you want? Want me to get in your tight little pants, bitch?"

"HEY!" Jan shouts. Because, whatever, Pietro may be a terrifying little punk, but he just saved them twice in a row. Besides, unacceptable. She flits around in front of Creel and shoots her stingers straight at his face.

Creel, blinded, roars and moves to strike at her. In her periphery she can feel Pietro rush past. She can't see what he's doing (that's the problem with Pietro, aside from how unnerving he is), but Creel turns with a yell in mid-attack and starts batting at the air where Pietro has been.

In a few more seconds, though, it doesn't matter where Pietro is. Creel lets out a strangled cry and slumps to the ground. Pietro trots to a halt and grimaces at his work.

"I asked Pym for something that only worked if you injected it," he says, poking his foot against one of the needles. "Probably a self-aware airborne paralytic wouldn't be that good, right?"

Jan lands and gets big again (she still doesn't love being little around Pietro). "Holy," she says.

Tony takes off his helmet and looks from Pietro to Creel and back. "Yeah," he says. "So. You just saved us from a really dumb situation. Ready to start feeling good about yourself?"

"Uh," says Pietro. "So did Creel make fun of you for being all best friends and shit with the guy who made him into the Absorbing Man? Because that is kind of funny."

"We are?" Tony asks dubiously.

"Uh, yeah?" Pietro says. "Don't front or anything. Loki?"

"He did that?" Jan asks, pointing unnecessarily at Creel. "Jeez, remind me to thank him."

"Well, it's not like he was just sitting around in off mode whenever you weren't fighting him," Pietro says with a shrug. "I dunno, didn't you expect a bad guy to do some...bad things? Here I thought you were just really forgiving."

"I just didn't expect that bad thing," Jan says. "I mean, it's not really on the epic domination scale you'd expect from a god."

"A trickster god," Tony points out.

"What a huge dick," Pietro agrees.

"You'd know," Clint tells him, raising his eyebrows.

"Nope," says Pietro brightly. "Not really. Sorry. Haven’t fucked that one. We haven’t even met.”

"Ugh," Jan says, sidling away a little. The whole thing is just creepy.

"I'm sure we've all had villains hassling us about our personal lives," Tony says with forced cheerfulness.

"I was joking," Pietro says. "Jeez, what did Creel say about me while I was gone? Hey, this stuff I stuck him with probably won't last long. I hope someone has some really awesome handcuffs."

"Always," Tony says, putting his helmet back on (so he won't have to look at Pietro, Jan guesses). He cuffs Creel with something that is definitely not police standard issue.

"I guess that's a wrap," Jan says. "Uh, good job, Pietro."

"I guess I did okay," he says matter-of-factly, but then he gives her this look, and even though he's a skinny, wild, funny-looking kid who is into probably nothing Jan ever wants to hear about, his proud little grin hits all her weak spots, and she feels like crap.

"I mean it," she says. "You're good." She smiles back, to emphasize the point.

"Huh," says Pietro, all sharp edges like a hedgehog, but his spines go down after a couple seconds. "Well, cool. Guess I'm not just observing anymore, am I?"

"No kidding," Jan agrees. "Hey, Natasha will be happy. She keeps saying how much better you're getting at, you know...fighting and stuff."

Pietro perks up. "Really?" he says. "I mean, I feel better, about it, but it's hard to tell."

"Great, pep talks, that’s good, can we get this show on the road?" Clint says, gesturing to Creel. "Call Nick to take him away, maybe?"

"No," Tony snaps reflexively. Then he pauses. "Actually, yes. He might as well see that we're doing something he likes."

Jan would love to be a fly on the wall when Tony and Nick get each other alone in private. Ugh, terrifying.

"Yeah, also,” Clint says dryly, “he has access to the prison Creel should be in.”

"I think Hawkeye’s saying your hate-on is a gap in your leader-armor," Pietro explains helpfully.

"Thanks for clarifying my point," Clint says.

"His hate-on is a gap in my leader-armor, too," Tony sighs. "Okay, I'll call him and get this dealt with. The rest of you don't need to stay."

"I'll hang out," Pietro offers. "You know. Until Fury shows up. I can leave when Fury shows up." He doesn't actually want to be around when Fury is here, because he is fairly certain Fury will hate his guts.

Tony laughs. "Yeah? Okay. Deal. You guys can go."

"Later, then," Jan says. She waves at Pietro enthusiastically, to show she knows that even though he’s still kind of creepy and scary, he's maybe not trying to be all the time. He gives her a weird smile and waves back. Clint snorts, a little bit on Pietro’s side without meaning to be.

"See ya, kid," he says. "Bye, Tony."

Tony waits until they’re gone and takes his helmet off again. "So, be honest: how's the team working out?"

Pietro hops up onto the fence that borders the park they've been fighting in. A few of the people passing by stop to take pictures with their phones, which both of them ignore. "Better than I thought, but if you're using me to put off calling Nick Fury I'm gonna be so pissed."

"Already paged him," Tony says, a little proud of himself. He taps the inside of his wrist. "Honestly, though, I think you're doing a great job."

"Yeah?" Pietro says, rubbing his arms. "And I haven't offed myself, which I bet you're counting as a victory every day. I mean, you and the rest of the team."

"Well, yes, actually," Tony says, a little sharply. Steve's latest bad day is still fresh in his mind.

Pietro fidgets, which doesn't actually mean anything because he fidgets all the time. "I wasn't," he starts, but it's not worth it. Stark can never tell when Pietro's joking and when he isn't, but Pietro doesn't need a soulmate or a mentor or anything. "Well, whatever. I like the team. Mostly. More than I thought I would. That what you're wondering? I like doing good guy stuff."

"That's good enough for me," Tony says. "For what it's worth, I'm proud." He says it because it might be the right thing to say and because he means it, at least tentatively.

"Really?" Pietro says, with a huffing little laugh. "Wow. I think that might be a first."

"Kinda thought so," Tony says, wincing a little.

Pietro shrugs. "We all got shit," he says.

"I wish I didn't know that as well as I do," Tony says. To be fair, it seems like Pietro has more shit than most people.

Pietro nods in agreement. "Man, where is SHIELD? I thought they tailed you guys like police dogs. What the hell are they doing when you actually need them?" He waves a foot at Creel. "Big guy's not gonna stay asleep that long. He absorbs shit."

"It figures Nick Fury would leave me to handle things on the one day I actually need him," Tony sighs. "But don't worry, I think he'll show." If only, Tony thinks, because he wants to see how badly Pietro could be messing up.

"One sec," Pietro says, and vanishes, pretty much, which doesn't stop being a little--much. He rushes back in just about the promised second and says, "Never mind. They're down the block."

"Impatient," Tony mutters, startled. "Look, you don't have to be here when they show up."

"Yeah?" says Pietro. "Well, I know how much you like Fury. I can leave if you want, but, y'know, I don't have to."

That's embarrassing, Tony thinks. "Hm," he says. "Well, you can go or stick around. Your call."

"We're a team, aren't we?" Pietro says, like he's genuinely asking. A SHIELD prison transport pulls up to the park fence where they're roosting. "Welp, too late," Pietro says. "I guess I'll just stay here."

"Because we're a team," Tony says firmly. He realizes he's squaring his shoulders like he's getting ready for a fight, and he stops.

Pietro relaxes too, when Tony says that. "Okay," he says. "Cool. Hey, that is fucking Nick Fury!" And some guys, and one angry looking, seriously striding lady.

"Hi!" Tony says brightly, looking at Fury. "One very unconscious Absorbing Man, thanks to Quicksilver here. Pietro, I don't think you and Nick have officially met." He grins a little manically at Fury.

Pietro hops down off the fence and sticks out his hand. "Pietro Maximoff," he says. "Good to meet you, sir."

Nick Fury raises his eyebrows very high and shakes Pietro's hand. All he says is, "Mm. Fitting in well?"

Behind him, his men are hauling Creel to the prison transport. Maria is supervising. So are a number of civilians, most of whom are armed with cameras.

"Yessir," says Pietro, trying to ignore everyone else. "It's a good team. They've helped me out a lot."

Fury gives Tony an unreadable look. For all Tony knows, he's trying to convey, How did you brainwash the poor kid?

What he actually says is, "Well, I hope that's true."

"I'm not very good at lying," Pietro says shortly. He adds a penitent, "Sir."

Fury looks him up and down. "That comes as something of a relief to me. And you'll fit right in."

"Hilarious," Tony says, feeling a little ill. He needs Nick not to be grilling Pietro right now, or ever. Or standing here at all.

"Director Fury, sir," calls Maria, "the prisoner is secure. We're ready for transport."

"That's my ride," Fury says, still watching Pietro. "I hope you know what you and your team are doing, Stark." He turns and strides toward the transport without waiting for an answer.

"And overwhelming vote of confidence," Tony says under his breath. "Or a veiled threat. Either one."

"What the hell!" Pietro says. "Did we or did we not just take down a fucking difficult creep without anybody getting hurt? What the fuck is wrong with that guy?"

"He doesn't trust us," Tony says unhappily. "I'd love to say he's just an asshole, but he really thinks we're going to screw up. That we are screwing up." Nick was probably pleased with the whole Creel thing, but it's not like he was going to say it when he could deal with the more immediate threat of Avengers whose self-esteem hadn't been completely crushed.

Pietro scowls. "No wonder Logan picked you," he says.

Tony laughs. "Thanks," he says. "Hey, for what it's worth, we're trying pretty hard to impress you, too. Let's all surprise everybody, okay?"

Pietro gives him a hard look. "Yeah," he says. "That's what I mean." He smiles crookedly. "Wanna race back to the tower?"

"You bet," Tony says. He's suddenly just so exhausted he wants to collapse.

"Hang in there, old man," Pietro says. Good thing Logan isn't here to overhear it. "Count of three?"

"Ready when you are," Tony says, gritting his teeth.

Pietro grins. "Three," he says. "Two. One--"

He's gone, practically like flying. He decides it was fair game not to say “go.”

Tony takes off, but he knows he's never going to beat the kid. Still, might as well try. He should be able to see him from the air, but he can't. By the time he gets to the Tower, important parts of the suit are threatening to short out from being pushed so hard. He's going to have to work on that.

Pietro, on the other hand, is waiting for him by the door, pink and windswept and otherwise content. He’s breathing normally, Tony notices.

"You were fast," Pietro says. "That's awesome."

Tony takes his helmet off and smiles, even though he just want to curl up somewhere, preferably with Steve, and sleep. "Not as fast as you," he says.

"Yeah, but," Pietro says. "That's the thing. Nothing is as fast as me. Sound is not as fast as me. Light is, but, you know, not gonna catch that. And subatomic particles."

"Logan was right," Tony says approving. "We do need you on the team. Congrats, kid. Now get some rest before the next big threat rears its ugly head."

"Back atcha," Pietro says. "Hey. A question. Am I still too big a problem to even, like, meet Captain America? I mean maybe even if I did he'd just look sad and then hate my guts cause I'm a mutant and he’s all old school, but he's right there, y'know and I reallywannameethim."

Tony laughs, caught off guard by the torrent of blurred-together words. "Why not? He'll probably like you. He likes most people." That's not exactly true, but Tony thinks it'll be fine. "I'm headed there now," he offers. "Want to come say hi?"

"Um," says Pietro. "Yeah."

Chapter 23: captain america and pietro have a chat

Summary:

This must be his not-a-replacement.

Notes:

Chapter Warnings: RACIAL PRIVILEGE TIME, Jewish/Roma/gay Holocaust discussion (nothing explicit), self-loathing, depression, references to suicidal behavior, language

Steve is sitting in his room and trying to read something he actually went out and bought himself. That was something his therapist suggested, among other things. Several of the suggestions, surprisingly, have been helpful, and no one's tried to lock him up or send him away yet. Mostly it just feels like going in and chatting with someone.

Last time, they talked a little about medicine. Steve still isn't sure about that, but he'd also like to stop feeling crushed and desperate every day. He's had some better days, though. Today is one. He's still sad and still at sea, but he can see the point in, for example, picking up a book. He's not ready for the knock on the door. People--even Tony--have mostly been giving him space lately.

"Hi," Tony says, when Steve opens the door. He looks completely drained. "Got a few minutes? There's someone I'd like you to meet."

"So I see," Steve says, frowning. "Well, come on in." He isn't sure he wants to see people right now, but he's curious. This must be his not-a-replacement.

The not-a-replacement sidles into the room. He's scrawny and fidgeting, but he looks like he keeps his feet pretty well. His hair is silver, which is odd, because he looks like he should be in grade school. Or lying his way into the army.

"Hey," says the kid.

Steve extends his hand. Worth a try. "Hi. You must be Pietro."

Pietro, all sharp edges and darting eyes, goes weirdly still. He bites his lip and stares at Steve's hand for a couple of seconds before he puts out his own to shake it.

"This is so weird," he says rapidly. "This is so cool. I mean, you're Captain America, okay, but you probably knew that, but seriously I am so fucking excited, ohmygod I hope you don't hate mutants because that will totally fuck up my day, but seriously I was gonna fucking cry that you and me were in the same fucking building and I was never gonna meet you."

"Tony said you were fast," Steve says, smiling despite himself. Then he stops smiling. "But I'm not really Captain America at the moment."

"So what?" says Pietro. "You didn't not do all that Captain America stuff just 'cause you're not doing it right now."

Steve glances at Tony, who now looks tentatively hopeful in addition to tired. Maybe this is an attempt at a different kind of therapy.

"Well, I appreciate that, son," Steve says. He frowns. "Just how old are you?" The words are out before he means them to be.

Pietro makes a little noise and says, like he's more than used to it, "Nineteen. More legal than you were, I bet. Or Bucky either. Say, is he really alive? I haven't seen him anywhere, but Logan said-"

"He's not here," Steve says quickly. "But yes, he is alive. Saw him just the other day, as a matter of fact." He shouldn't have thought of Bucky, because now he can't look at this kid and think of anything else. Suddenly the boy's sharp edges don't seem quite so sharp.

"Fuck," says Pietro. "It is kind of awesome how nobody around here stays dead. I hope I--uh. I hope I'm still on the team if you decide to come back, y'know? I mean it would basically be the coolest thing ever to fight with you."

Any small bit of resentment Steve was harboring toward Pieto vanishes. He can practically see Tony glowing out of the corner of his eye.

"If I ever do come back," Steve says slowly, "you make sure you're around to see it."

"Oh, yeah," Pietro says, grinning. "Hey, but, I'm sorry about the--thing that happened. I think if I lost my speed I'd...I dunno. It'd fucking kill me." He tilts his head. "You don't hate mutants, right?"

Steve blushes. "I--Well, I hardly know about them. About you. No one told me. Back when I'm from, they were almost a myth, just something you heard the higher-ups whispering about. And I'll be honest with you, most of that whispering wasn't very nice. But I don't listen to rumors, Pietro. If you fight for my friends and for America, I think I'll let that speak for itself." He subsides, embarrassed, but still meaning it.

"You are actually the past," Pietro says after a moment. "That's amazing. Also, thanks." Although he’s not strictly interested in fighting for America.

"So I hear," Steve says. He pats Pietro on the shoulder. "I think you'll get along just fine here."

Tony nods a little frantically. "Told you." He could be talking to either one of them.

"God, I should not have asked to meet you," Pietro says to Steve, looking suddenly ill.

"What's wrong?" Steve asks.

"Well," says Pietro quickly, and only gets faster as he goes along. "You have expectations for people, and I don't really do great with those, and I think you're really great and nowwhenIfuckitup I'm gonna personally disappoint Steve Rogers."

"Hey, now slow down," Steve says. "You remind me of a friend of mine. He never thought he was worth a damn, and he's done some very bad things, some of which are even his fault, and do you know what? He's never once disappointed me. And if he comes back from Asgard to visit again, I want you to meet him."

"Yeah, but," Pietro half-smiles, and it looks horribly uncomfortable. "You don't even know me. No reason to be on my side, right? Heh, especially if Stark told you all the reasons I'm on the team, even though nobody wanted me."

"Nobody?" Steve asks gently. "I can't believe that." He's so young, he thinks. "Look, I'm prepared to be on anyone's side until I see a reason not to. And just because you've been in some trouble, that doesn't mean you're a bad kid."

"You sound like Logan," Pietro says, and then grins. "That's a compliment. In case you weren't sure."

Steve isn't sure he takes it as a compliment, but he appreciates the sentiment. "Well, thank you. I wasn't sure we'd get along, but I was wrong."

"Right?" says Pietro. "My dad hates you."

Steve frowns. "I'm sorry?"

"Uh, my dad," Pietro says. "Magneto?" He twists around to look at Tony. "Has he not heard of my dad?"

"To be fair, he's still a little new," Tony says. "And your dad was just a kid when Steve was--uh."

"What?" Steve says. "No, I've heard of him. Nothing good, I'm sorry to say."

"Yeah, you guys would get along great," Pietro agrees. "You think he's an evil mutant, he thinks you're the posterboy for America in the war, so basically, anti-semitic gentile propagandist assholes pretending to give a shit about the Jews when they were basically just protecting their political interests and trying to get their pride back after the Japanese bombed them. I mean, that describes like, any country right then, but he usually leaves off that part."

"Oof," Tony says quietly.

Steve is at a loss. "Oh," he says. "Er. Everyone just said your father was some sort of--But that doesn't matter." He looks at Tony helplessly.

"Steve's still got some catching up to do," Tony says. "Including on his own time period."

Pietro shrugs. "I get that," he says. "Anyway, I still think you're pretty cool. But I mean, I can see his point. You obviously don't know shit about mutants, which is like, a time thing, but I'm guessing you weren't actively campaigning for half-Jew half-Roma fags when you were fighting Nazis, either." He shrugs again.

For a second, neither Steve nor Tony says anything. Then Tony says, sort of under his breath, "Diversity!" He looks incredibly embarrassed.

Steve clears his throat. "You're not wrong. But maybe I can make that up to you now."

"How?" Pietro asks. "I mean, you don't have to make up anything, my dad's the Holocaust survivor, not me. I basically top out at 'don't be a massive prick.'"

Steve runs a hand through his hair and tries not to look at Tony. "I don't always do so well at that one. Just ask Tony. But I promise you I'll try like hell."

"Nice of you," says Pietro, like he means it, probably. "Does that mean I'm gonna see you around? Maybe without the babysitter?" He gives Tony a look that makes him think of the word "insolent" and nothing else.

Steve smiles and makes a mental note to make sure Tony's hanging in there. "I'll see you around. Maybe not here, but I'll be...well, I'll see you."

"Cool," says Pietro, still fidgeting, still all angles, but smiling through it.

"Great," Tony says, "Okay! Glad we did that. We should give Steve a chance to--do whatever it is he's doing."

"Yeah, yeah," Pietro says. "I'll go, you stay, and then--" He says something so fast that neither of them catch it. A moment later, he’s gone with the words.

Chapter 24: tony and steve can go it together

Summary:

And suddenly he can see himself saying yes all the way down the line, whatever Tony asks him.

Notes:

Chapter warnings: ref to depression, privilege, racism

When Pietro is gone, Tony is silent for about half a minute longer before he grips one hand to his face and says, "Oh god."

Steve looks at the ceiling. "That was awful."

"Y'know, I'm not sure Pietro knows it was awful," Tony says. "Which is so, so much worse." He feels a really unhelpful urge to giggle ballooning out from the center of his lungs.

"Just never let him find out our team is incredibly backward," Steve says miserably. "Tony, I don't even know what Roma means. And I know next to nothing about mutants."

"Well," says Tony. "Okay. Roma means gypsy. Don't say gypsy. And we can work on the mutant thing. It's not your fault that Pietro's father is--who he is. That just means we're lucky Pietro isn't more terrifying. Which, I might add, we thoroughly deserve him to be."

Steve is about to say something defensive, but he swallows it. "Right," he says. "Okay. I think he'll be fine here."

Surprisingly enough, Tony agrees.

"He's a good kid," Tony says. "Sort of. Mostly. Gotta hand it to him, he promised Logan to give it a try, and he's been giving it more of a try than most of us did at first. And today he practically took down Absorbing Man by himself. He's smart, Steve. And resourceful. I'm--actually, I'm pretty impressed." He decides not to mention the thing about Loki and Carl Creel. Fury, on the other hand... "Fury was a dick, of course, which is the last thing the kid needs. But he's doing really well. You'd like working with him."

Steve frowns at this last part. "I'm sure I would. I wish I could. Tony, my therapist thinks--I think...well, while we’re on the subject, I'm not doing anyone any good here, and I don't mean that in a negative way. It's just true."

Tony bites down hard on all his first responses, and tries not to panic. "Okay,” he says. “So what--what does--your therapist think you should do?"

"Move out," Steve says. Then, quickly, "Not far, okay? Just out of the Tower. And not--I don't want it to mean anything to do with us, all right?"

Tony tries unclenching his hands, gives it up as a bad job, and nods instead, tightly. Moving. Okay. "Somewhere in Manhattan?" he asks. His voice is too high.

"Yeah," Steve says. He was going to suggest Brooklyn, but--he does want to be close. "It wouldn't have to be forever. Not necessarily. But for now, I think it's better. This is—it’s a workplace, and I’m not working."

"Oh," says Tony. Not necessarily. "I mean, sure. Yeah. I guess it would be rough, living with your team when you're not--and I guess we weren't spending that many nights together lately."

"Wait," Steve says. "Slow down." He can see Tony getting panicky. He checks himself to make sure he's looking out for himself as well as Tony before saying, "I want to see you. I want you to come over and sleep at my place sometimes. A lot of times. If you want that."

"Not here, though," Tony says unsteadily. "Got it."

"Sorry." Steve rubs his forehead. "I don't think I can be here and feel okay right now."

Even knowing enough of what Steve means to know it's okay and not his fault, Tony feels like he's been punched. And he's still exhausted. He just wants to throw himself down on his bed and cry about how empty it's suddenly going to be.

"Wow," he says. "Okay. That's what you have to do, I guess. I'll just--" He stops abruptly, and backs up. Oh. Oh. "You know, actually, and I'm not trying to fight, here, and I want you to be okay, but--I mean, did it not even occur to you that if the place is the problem I might want to come with you to a different one?"

"What?" Steve says, momentarily stunned. No. It hadn't occurred to him.

"Um," says Tony, scared despite himself. "Yes. Come with you. I mean, if the place is the problem and I'm not the problem and you need a new place and not a new me, can't I just--I mean, I could not go with you, but the truth is I will cry myself to sleep for weeks. Weeks. Just, bear that in mind."

"Tony," Steve says hoarsely. He grabs Tony's arm. "Would you? Can we? Won't people ask--no, scratch that, I don't care if they do."

"You know, I've had the chance to think about this," Tony says brightly, dry-mouthed (and in part that’s because he hasn't, because he's avoided it, he's just thinking about it right now). "And you know, I think--who cares if I get outed? Been there, done that, half of America probably assumes being trans makes me gay anyway. And you've never been out, but that would be an adventure, right? And if America disowns you, you can...get a new outfit in rainbow colors, or something. And, hey, maybe no one will care." That's unlikely, but Tony doesn't care, which is much more important in this conversation. "Uh, more to the point, I really don't want to sleep in a bed you're never going to be in."

Steve hesitates. Then he realizes he doesn't want to hesitate. "Then yes," he says. And suddenly he can see himself saying yes all the way down the line, whatever Tony asks him. Right now, that seems possible.

"Oh," says Tony in a small voice. "Oh. Really?"

"Really," Steve says, taking Tony's hands in his.

Notes:

Today's the one-year anniversary of the writing of HQA and also its authors, so even more thanks than usual to everybody who is reading. <3

Chapter 25: pietro maximoff is quick and good

Summary:

Logan is pushing, but not too hard.

Notes:

Chapter Warning: explicit consensual m/m sex, relationship age gap, bdsm, kink, references to self-destructive/suicidal behaviors and mental health issues, cissexism

When Logan comes home, Pietro is doing one of his cooking things. It's not gourmet, but neither of them would appreciate that if they had it. And it's not bad, either.

"Hey, hey," Pietro says. He's wearing a t-shirt and pajama pants and nothing on his feet. He looks more worn out than he usually is by this time of night--worn out, but not unhappy.

Logan proceeds with caution, or his version of it. "Hey, kid. How're the Avengers?" he asks, throwing his bag down on the floor and kicking off his boots.

"I met Captain America!" Pietro says, suddenly animated. He drops the spoon he's holding into the pot and corners Logan to give him--not a kiss, of course not, nothing so cute--a bite on the ear. "It was so awesome, and I met Nick Fury and he's a total dick! And I fought a bad guy and kicked his ass, also. And then I met Captain America."

Logan laughs and bats Pietro away, but not very hard. "Sounds like a full day. Fury's a fucker, but don't worry about him. No one will let him get in your way. But the others are doing okay? Not bugging you too much?"

Pietro shakes his head. "Tasha fucking loves me," he says. Which is not quite the full roster, but at least Logan counts her as one of the Avengers he actually likes. She’s fucking terrifying. Her approval is more satisfying than some of the alternatives.

Still.

"Good," he says. "Uh. That it?"

"I think Tony likes me!" Pietro says. That's kind of an accomplishment, Pietro thinks, because Tony definitely didn't like him at first. "He said he was proud of how I'm getting on with the team and stuff."

"Proud, huh?" Logan smiles. "He probably meant it, too. Well, he's an asshole and he sets my teeth on edge, but I'm glad he likes you."

"Kinda nice," Pietro agrees. He goes back to his cooking and adds, eventually, "Everyone else is okay. They're not mean or anything."

"Some of 'em are," Logan mutters. "But not to you, I guess, and that's what counts." He walks over and ruffles Pietro's hair. "So you're sticking with it?"

"Yeah," says Pietro. "Yeah, I think I will. For awhile, you know? It's kinda fun."

It's easier to notice, suddenly, that there aren't as many fresh bruises on him as there were a month ago, or any other injuries that can't be explained best by training or going on missions.

Logan takes a deep breath. "Hey. I'm proud, too." Proud and amazed that this suicidal, insane kid is managing to get back on track, just like Logan hoped. He's had worse partners.

"Hah!" says Pietro, but he gives in and smiles, looking bashful. "Thanks."

Logan kisses the back of Pietro's neck quickly. "Told you it was a good idea. And now you're too busy to get yourself in trouble."

Pietro makes a little meep of sound, and says, "Y'think?" Pietro has time for everything, mostly.

"I hope," Logan corrects himself. "How 'bout you try to limit yourself to sleeping with me?"

Pietro taps the spoon against the pot, which is only soup from a can, so it's probably okay if it gets gross and he has to make another. He sets it down and says, "You know I'm really fucking bad at promises."

"But really fucking good at, well, y'know," Logan says.

Pietro rolls his eyes, but he's grinning. He turns around in Logan's arms and leans in to bite his neck. He doesn't really kiss unless someone suggests it before he does something more vicious.

Logan tilts his head back and growls. "Oh, yeah." It's been a while (a couple of days, at least), and he wants his hands on Pietro. He grabs his waist and digs his nails in.

Pietro makes a smug noise and bites Logan's chin. "You want something, old man?" he asks innocently.

"If you think you're man enough to give me something," Logan mutters, working his knee between Pietro's legs.

"I don't really like how you're phrasing that," Pietro says, annoyed, but not that easily distracted. He yanks on Logan's hair. "No kitchen," he says. "Couch at least. It’s a shitty couch, but it’s still a couch. Or even, I dunno, bed?"

"Bed," Logan agrees, ignoring Pietro’s annoyance. He figures he's supposed to be a little more politically correct and a little less of an asshole, but he's working up to it. He grabs Pietro's arm and hauls him into the bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

"Right, yeah," Pietro says. He doesn't pull away, but he adds, "Don't act like it's bad if I'm not manly enough, okay? I'm not you."

Logan pulls up, frowning. Shouldn’t have ignored the miniature lecture after all. Pietro doesn't usually get serious like this. "I was just talking, okay? Didn't mean anything by it. But I'll watch it next time."

"Cool," says Pietro, and relaxes a little bit. "Do you really want me to fuck you? I don't know if I--"

"Hey," Logan says. "Listen. I had a long day. Don't know if I'm up for that after all. But I bet you'd love to get my fingers inside you." He ruffle-tugs Pietro's hair.

Pietro whimpers and leans into him. "You didn't even ask about my great big victory," he murmurs.

"Figured you'd tell me," Logan answers, leaning in to nip Pietro's ear. "Who was it?"

"Absorbing Man," Pietro says, tugging at Logan's shirt. "Carl Creel. He absorbed a lot of sedatives."

Logan laughs and grabs Pietro's ass. "I'm impressed. I hear that guy's rough to take down. Unless you've got half a brain, apparently." That's his boyfriend, bright as anything.

"Hnnn," says Pietro, apparently willing to be pleased with himself if Logan is forcing the issue. He ducks away and pulls off his shirt. "C'mon, old man, get to it," he says, and levers himself onto the edge of the bed, legs dangling over the bedstead.

"I'm not as fast as you, kid," Logan says, but he makes a pretty good attempt when he removes Pietro's pants. "God, you look great naked." He flicks Pietro's collarbone lightly.

"I also look good on my back," Pietro suggests, leaning on his elbows and smirking up.

Logan shoves Pietro down, one hand splayed in the center of his chest. "You look good in lots of positions, yeah."

Pietro smirks and wriggles backwards, making room for Logan. "Which ones are you gonna put me in today?" he asks, and tucks his hands shamelessly behind his head.

Logan grins and climbs onto the bed, pushing Pietro's knees up. "Any one where I can get inside you," he growls. "Fuck, you look good."

"Hnn," Pietro says hungrily, rolling his eyes up. His hand sneaks up fast, nails scraping Logan's neck. "I am good," he says. "Didn't you hear? I'm a motherfucking Avenger and shit."

"I don't know what I think of the Avengers," Logan says, grabbing Pietro's hip, "but I've always been fond of you." Yeah, he thinks, digging his nails in. Even when you were working for your dad.

"Gross, old man," Pietro says, arching up to get closer to him. "I'm practicallyaninfant, y'know."

"Does it matter?" asks Logan, thinking about how it matters a lot, but how this isn't the time to let it bug him. "Everyone my age is dead." He leans in and kisses Pietro's chest. Pietro yelps, because that almost always feels like more of a surprise than it should be. He grabs Logan's hand.

"Pet," he orders. "C'mon, touch me, push me around a little." He gives Logan a beady look before Logan can answer, and adds, "I know you'll only give me a little, shut up, I know, come on and do it."

Logan hates this part. He likes pushing just as much as Pietro likes being pushed, and that's the problem; he can’t go and let himself become another one of Pietro's monsters. But he's had decades to learn self-control. He can handle a little rough sex.

He grabs a handful of Pietro's hair and straddles him, rocking a little. "Who's the boss here, anyway?" he growls.

"Me, apparently," Pietro says, arms flat on the bed. He has a hard time hiding what he wants and how much he wants it and he doesn't really try most of the time. "Look at you, so eager to please me."

"Oh, yeah, I'll make sure you get pleased," Logan says lightly, raking his nails down Pietro's chest. The skin turns satisfyingly red in their wake.

"Yeah?" Pietro says breathlessly. His legs hitch up around Logan's waist, but whatever he says about being in charge, he can't really get at Logan in any way that helps. It's always infuriating, how much he has to do before Logan will even wince. Bruises fade before their color settles, and Pietro's claws aren't sharp enough to mark him for more than half a second.

"Yeah," Logan agrees. He slaps Pietro across the face lightly, twisting his nipple with the other hand.

Pietro breathes in fast, but it's not good enough. It's not as good if he can see it coming, and he can always see it coming.

He shuts his eyes.

"How far do you think I can push you, huh?" he asks. "I've been so fucking good, haven't even been messing around, you gotta reward that, right? Or else how do you know I'll stay put?"

One thing Logan has to appreciate, the kid's blunt. It's never a secret what he's thinking.

"You think up a reward that isn't just as bad as the shit I'm keeping you away from, and maybe," Logan says moodily.

"Don't get your panties in a twist," Pietro says meanly. "I'm not asking you to cut me or anything." This time. "Just fucking hold me down and fuck the hell out of me, won't you?"

Wanda tells him, used to tell him, that he'd get a lot farther in life if he'd just stop being so vulgar, but Pietro isn't sure that's true, and he’d never felt like giving it up to test the theory.

"You want that? Then shut up and open your damn legs," Logan says. He slides off Pietro, using one arm to pin his hands above his head. With the other, he shoves Pietro's knees apart.

Pietro gasps in a satisfied little way, and lets his legs fall open as far as they'll go. "This good?" he asks. "Want me on my stomach?"

"Easier for me to fuck you up the ass that way," Logan says casually. He doesn't feel casual, though. He turns Pietro over, shoving him roughly and making sure to use his nails some more. When Pietro is sprawled on his stomach, Logan slaps his ass.

Pietro's moan is muffled by the pillow Logan's crammed his face against. He works his knees apart, as much as he can; he doesn't stop moving for a moment. "Yes, fucking give it to me," Pietro says unclearly. His hands are clenched in the sheets.

Logan still hasn't figured out how much is okay to give Pietro, just like he hasn't figured out how much it's okay to tease him or how okay it is that Pietro's nineteen. Logan's bad at things like that. But he's kept the kid alive so far, so that's something.

He spits on his fingers and presses one against Pietro's ass, keeping him pinned with a hand in the middle of his back.

Pietro pushes back against Logan's hand, both his hands, like he's trying to fuck himself and get away at the same time.

Logan growls and fingers Pietro, faster than he probably should, adding a second finger before Pietro has a chance to adjust to the first one.

Pietro yells and struggles, and Logan has enough time to worry that he's pushed too hard before Pietro says, "Jesus fuck, that's so...fucking...good." Which it probably is, because Pietro never slows down like this unless he's spacing out. Good reason to be extra careful.

Logan feels a little flash of pleased pride any time he manages something that works for Pietro without destroying him. He works his fingers in and out, finding a rhythm, his other hand still flat against Pietro's back.

"Fucking..." Pietro starts, and then swallows and tries again. His face is pink--Logan can see him flushing over the curve of his shoulder. "Touch," he says. "Please. Don't have to--that rough."

"'Course," Logan says, dragging his hand down Pietro's back, over the curve of his ass, up and down his thigh, anywhere he can reach. The roughness of his palm rubs Pietro's ridiculously soft skin red wherever Logan touches him. Logan is pushing, but not too hard.

Pietro starts whimpering after a few seconds. He really can't handle gentleness that well, and he can always feel where Logan is being careful. At his roughest with Pietro he’s still holding back, not because he doesn't want it, but because he doesn't want to give it to Pietro in particular. It's taken months just to get Pietro to stop trying to trick Logan's claws out of him.

"C'mon, kid," Logan mutters, bringing his hand up to press Pietro down by the back of his neck. It’s all experimental. He isn't sure how well any of this is going to work. He can never tell, going in.

Pietro laughs, or sobs, and wriggles back against Logan's hands.

"C'njermeoff," he slurs, somewhere inscrutably in the middle of upset and blissed out. He pushes himself at Logan. "Take something."

"Hn," Logan manages. He reaches around and drags his nails over Pietro's stomach. "You want my hand on you?" He's bent over Pietro now, his body pressing against Pietro's.

Pietro makes a desperate noise, holding himself still (being good) with all his might.

Logan touches him; Pietro's skin, always a shade too hot, feels like it's burning. Logan grunts and works both hands in an effort to keep up with whatever Pietro needs.

Pietro moans, and starts shaking almost immediately, but he manages not to kick against the mattress or move his hands from where they're planted for nearly half a minute. Practically an eternity. After half a minute, though, he feels nearly broken. His arms are dumping him down on the bed and his ears are ringing, and Logan's hands are moving in different directions, at different paces. Pietro feels like he's being dragged in all of them at once.

"Gonna be good for me, kid, gonna come for me, just come on," Logan mutters. Pietro never takes long, because nothing about Pietro takes long.

Pietro moans through gritted teeth, curls in on himself, and shoves back against Logan hard. Logan's fingers go in deep and his other hand tightens its grip, and that is it.

"Shit," Pietro yelps, and then his vision sparks and he yells into the blankets, kicking and gasping and bucking until it's all out of him, and he flops against the bed without any muscle left to stop himself.

Logan laughs and rolls off, still pretty turned on, but mostly interested in seeing the way Pietro looks afterwards.

Pietro rolls heavily onto his side, and stares up bleary-eyed and unspeaking at Logan for a long minute. "Cold," he says eventually.

Logan nods and pulls a blanket over Pietro, first pulling it out from under Pietro. "You were good," he says, because that part's important.

Pietro squeezes his eyes shut and makes a little noise of protest. "You want anything?" he asks, clinging to the blanket.

Logan thinks about it. "Nah," he says after a moment. He can take care of himself later, if he feels like it. Instead, he ruffles Pietro's hair.

Pietro shifts under his hand, but it's hard to say whether that's protest or enjoyment.

"Was good, huh?" he says. "Got the bad guy. Made you soup. Met Captain America."

"Full day, but you're fast," Logan agrees, leaning in to nuzzle.

"Faster than noises," Pietro agrees, and then he falls fast asleep.

Logan wraps his arms around Pietro. He wants to cuddle (which, yeah, is hilarious to everyone he sleeps with), but he also wants to make sure Pietro doesn't wake up and go wandering out and looking for trouble. He's quick, but Logan's a very light sleeper.

He buries his nose in Pietro's hair and tries to take a nap.

Chapter 26: tony and loki see about a baby or horse

Summary:

"He's just a horse," Tony says, surprised.

Notes:

Chapter Warnings: none

"It's no good," Loki says, brushing her fingers through Tony's models. "I can tell you fifty times how tall Fenrir is or what acreage Victor's giving us, and it's not going to turn out. We need to go to Asgard."

Tony sighs and pushes his hair into new shapes again. "Okay. Okay. That's probably doable. I just need to make sure it's an okay time for me to do that." He's been driving himself crazy over this project, and Loki's right. He needs more hands-on data. But stuff with Steve is just evening out, and Pietro is starting to settle in, and Tony doesn't want to take any long field trips.

"What, now?" Loki says. "It won't take long. You've been on the Bifrost. And if you think Fenrir will put up with any extended audiences I don't think I've described him properly."

"I said I'd do it," Tony says, a little sheepishly. "This is important to you, I get that. When do we leave?" It's always harder to forget that Loki's a god when she's in a mood like this. She's more impatient in this body, Tony has noticed. More impatient, scarier. He wonders how much of that is natural and how much of it is a reaction to other people.

"Now," Loki says again.

"Now now? Right, of course, what was I thinking?" Tony rubs his arms to shake himself into shape. "I'm ready to go and meet a giant wolf. Uh. Should I wear the suit?"

Loki considers for only a second. "No," she says. "You probably smell enough like it already without appearing...defensive."

Tony doesn't question her. She probably knows her own...wolf. "Got it. Okay, well, let's do this. Fingers crossed we don't both get eaten."

"Naturally," Loki says, and grasps Tony's arm, hard.

In a stomach-twisting moment they're standing in the middle of a desert, yellow sand stretching out around them.

"I didn't think you'd like the alternatives," Loki says.

"Aaugh," Tony says. "I can't say I'm wild about what just happened, either." He looks around. "Uh, what now?"

"Bifrost," Loki says shortly. She moves them onto the portal. "You've done this part before, Stark." The other way around.

"Heimdall!" Loki calls, still gripping Tony's arm. Again there are bare seconds before the tunnel roars down from the sky, and Loki and Tony are dragged up to Asgard.

Tony stumbles when he hits the ground, skidding to his knees. That's going to bruise. He picks himself up and looks around, trying to catch his breath. Yeah, it's still stunningly beautiful.

"Which way?" he asks Loki, hoping she doesn't bite his head off for asking stupid questions.

"Stables," she says, exchanging a look with Heimdall that has nothing to do with Tony. The corner of Heimdall's mouth twitches. It's hard to tell what that means.

"Great," Tony says. "Lead the way."

Loki does, down the bridge and into the city. The looks they get on the way vary from curious to pleased to palpably hostile, but Loki ignores all of them. She leads them at a quick pace to the palace stables. Sleipnir is in with the rest of the horses, even though no one has ridden him since Frigga's ascent; he'd be lonely, otherwise, and the groomsmen like him too much to allow that.

It's easy to tell which he is before they can see his legs--his father is the greatest stallion Asgard has ever known, and his breeding shows in his height and his coat and his quickness.

"There you are," Loki says when they approach. When she holds out her hand there's an apple in it, and Sleipnir takes a sniff and crunches it with satisfaction.

"He's just a horse," Tony says, surprised. "I mean, eight legs, yeah, but just a horse." Not as horrifying as he expected. Although, don't the legs get tangled up? Maybe not.

"Well, of course he's a horse," Loki says. "His parents were horses." She waves a hand. "Some Jotun and Asgardian mixed in, and Svadilfari was a singular creature, himself--but yes, the horse is a horse."

"Of course, of course," Tony mutters. "So! Is Fenrir likely to eat him?"

Loki frowns. "I'm not sure," she says. She's a little worried about that, actually. "Sleipnir isn't harmless. He is--has been made, that is, a warhorse. If Fenrir tries, I expect Sleipnir will give him a lesson on the error of his ways. But I'd rather it not happen."

"Like dogs and cats," Tony says. "Only much more terrifying. Well, I guess we just hope for the best. Or try to explain things to Fenrir." He has no idea how easy that's going to be. He's always afraid he can't handle this project.

"You should probably see what he can do," Loki says, opening Sleipnir's stall gate. She takes his tack from the wall and he shakes his head, but he turns it to face her so she can slip his bridle on.

"Good boy," she mutters to him. "Have you missed it? You are very good." She brushes a little magic into the reins, in case he gets away, and leads him without a saddle out of the stall.

Tony follows, making sure not to walk directly behind the horse. He's never been much of an animal person. "I'll just stand here," he suggests.

"We're going to run him," Loki says. "Sleipnir doesn't like to travel by magic. You'll have to walk at least as far as the field with us if you want to see anything."

Tony wishes he'd at least had a puppy or something to practice with. He doesn't want to be within ten feet of this beast. But he says, "Okay! You lead, I'll follow. Fingers crossed." And he trots after Loki and Sleipnir, just hoping he doesn't get stepped on.

Loki leads them back behind the palace, across the yards where Tyr’s soldiers practice, and into the parade beyond, where the horses (and so on, when the Valkyries are in house) are trained. There are a few drilling at present, and they eye Loki and Sleipnir sideways when they enter the ground. On the one hand none of them likes Loki overly much; on the other, they all know Sleipnir, and no one’s seen him run since Odin fell.

Tony looks at Sleipnir, and at the way everyone else is looking at Sleipnir, and he thinks, This isn’t just a horse. Whatever Sleipnir can do, he isn’t just a horse. He’s Odin’s horse, and Loki’s, and he’s clearly important to a lot of people.

“Go ahead, blow my mind,” Tony says. If nothing else, Sleipnir probably needs to stretch his many legs.

Loki grins at him, and then faces Sleipnir, her hand on his nose.

“I’ll give you a ride later, if you’re good,” she tells him. “My friend needs to know how fast you can fly without a rider.” She drops the reins, and points to the far end of the parade, a quarter mile away. “Run. Don’t let the wind catch you.”

Sleipnir bolts, hooves thundering in waves against the dirt, stirring up clouds of dust and rippling with muscle under his sleek coat.

Tony is holding his breath, but he doesn’t have to hold it long. He’s never seen anything made of flesh and blood move like that—well, before Pietro, anyway. But Sleipnir isn’t just fast, he’s powerful, and sure-footed. When he runs, his eight legs don’t look unnatural at all.

 

“Wow,” Tony says under his breath. “Some kid you’ve got, lady.”

Loki gives him the slightly startled look she always gets when somebody says something nice.

“He’s well-trained,” she says. “But spirited. And pampered. He’ll run that fast if he feels no allegiance and sees a way free through a gap in the fence.” Sleipnir trots up to her and pushes his nose against her hands.

“No more apples,” she says. He snorts, and she quirks her mouth and provides one after all.

“I can get you more apples, too, if you have trouble finding them in, uh, a colder climate,” Tony says, raising his eyebrows. He doesn’t think Loki’s going to have any shortage, though. She seems to usually find what she needs. “So, that’s the horse. Now the hard part, right?”

“Now the hard part,” Loki agrees. “We ought to let him run awhile. I know they’re letting him out, but still, it won’t hurt. Then Fenrir.” Sleipnir slicks his ears and she says, “I know. You don’t like that. You’ll have to make do, though, my dear.”

“How much does he understand?” Tony asks, raising a hand to touch Sleipnir’s side lightly. “I know he doesn’t speak, but...” He gives Sleipnir a slightly anxious smile.

“He understands the more or less of things that concern him,” Loki says. “Horses are almost never stupid.”

That’s good enough for Tony. “Don't worry,” he tells the horse because whether or not Sleipnir understands, it’ll make Tony feel better. “I’m going to try to make Fenrir safe.” That’s a big promise, but his promises always are. “Now, your mom and I are going to go get some ideas on how to make that happen.”

Calling Loki a woman when she’s a woman doesn’t even seem strange now.

The horse nibbles Tony’s hair with his lips, but only with his lips, which Loki takes as a good sign.

Loki strokes Sleipnir’s side. “I’ll be back,” she says. “I’ll give you a real run then, won’t I, little Svadilfari? If your father looked over his shoulder he would be proud of his son. Come, now, back to your hall and we’ll give you a brush and a drink before we go.” Sleipnir decides not to make a fuss, though Loki can feel the caveats in the way he shifts his hooves.

Tony feels almost like he’s intruding, so he looks away, up at the sky. He doesn’t think he can understand what it would take to come away from what Loki’s come away from with that much love still hanging around, even if it doesn’t always come out right.

Chapter 27: fenrir has guests and asks for another

Summary:

“I vote for not being eaten,” Tony says quickly.

Notes:

Chapter Warnings: none

Loki brings them to Fenrir’s island the same way she brought them to the Bifrost site in New Mexico, which Tony of course does not care for and which is not best designed to keeping Fenrir’s hackles down.

“You have a choice,” Loki says. “Either I can bring you now and Fenrir might eat you, or I can leave you a few moments alone among the horses. They won’t eat you, and neither I guess will the ostlers.” The ostlers glare at that, but Loki ignores them. She seems to get taller and more shimmery when she is forcefully ignoring people.

“I vote for not being eaten,” Tony says quickly. Besides, it wouldn’t hurt to have a few minutes to look around the stables. Every part of Asgard is fascinating, because the ways it does and doesn’t work like Midgard have never stop surprising him. Tony hopes they manage to stay friendly with Asgardians forever.

“Good,” says Loki, and strides out of the stables. Tony doesn’t see her leave, but she’s gone when he looks.

~

The weather is clear and star-dazzled on Fenrir’s island as it is in the city (despite their proximity, these things are not always the same). Loki approaches at his shoulder, though she keeps her distance.

“Fenrir,” she says. “Are you awake?”

Fenrir opens his eyes. He smelled her coming long before she spoke. “I am,” he says. “And I’m hungry.” It’s mean and pointed, but he’s in a bad mood. His legs are cramped and he is, as ever, restless.

“I ought to have brought you something,” Loki says, annoyed at herself. “Never mind. Next time I will. If I bring you a visitor, will you eat him?”

Fenrir’s tail twitches. He wants to say yes, yes, he’ll eat anything that comes near him, but then he remembers that his mother said she might let him out. She won’t let him out if he eats a friend. Finally, he says dubiously, “Do you want me to?”

“No,” she says. “He is a friend from Midgard. He is helping us to build your hunting ground. You can’t eat him afterwards, either,” she adds.

Fenrir is proud of her for cutting off all of his ways around her decree. It’s all right. He’ll just eat someone else. A hunting ground sounds promising. “What good are Midgardians?” he asks. “Are they as cruel and stupid as the people here?”

“The good of them,” Loki says firmly, “is that you will have ground stretch and run and kill because one of them loves me.” That is not comfortable to say, but she keeps her face serene. “Besides, they are small and they are brief, but they are no worse than Asgardians, and often, I find, burn brighter.” She would like to add that some of them are very much like Fenrir, but she doesn’t want to introduce the idea of the Hulk so soon that he loses any of his advantage, if Fenrir causes chaos.

Fenrir nods, snuffling at the air. “If it doesn’t love you well enough, I’ll eat it up,” he says, partly protective, partly just hungry. “I’ll meet your visitor.”

Loki nods back, where he can see her, and steps back out of sight. She returns again in a few moments’ time with a shaken-looking mortal in her grip. “Sorry for that,” she says. “I know you prefer air travel.”

Fenrir sniffs, his nostrils flaring. He smells metal, some kinds he recognizes and some he’s never smelled before. He smells skin and blood and something else that isn’t either of them. He has a very good nose.

“Wow,” the mortal says, sounding a little stunned. “You weren’t kidding about the size. Good wolf.”

Fenrir backs himself up as far as he can in his chains. “Bad wolf,” he corrects.

“Fenrir,” Loki corrects them both. “This is Tony Stark. He is a friend. One of the ones you cannot eat.”

“Don’t want to eat,” Fenrir grumbles. “Smells wrong.”

“Sorry,” Tony says. “Probably the reactor. Uh. You’re—Just curious, how old are you?”

Fenrir snuffles the ground, considering. “Old,” he says. Doesn’t know, doesn’t care.

“It doesn’t really work the same,” Loki tells him. “You’d call him a teenager, I think. He might be some—five hundred years old? Too long, anyway, trapped here.”

Tony whistles. Impressed, Fenrir thinks, but unhappy. That’s good.

“Okay,” Tony says, rubbing his hands together. “So, we need to get him out of here. Fenrir, do you care if I ask you some questions?”

Fenrir glances at his mother, questioning. He hates questions.

She puts her hand against his neck, smoothing his fur with a curl of her fingers. “If he is not patient with you I will break his arms,” she promises. “But it will aid us in planning your emancipation to talk with him.”

Tony clears his throat. “Okay! That’s...helpful. I just need to know some things, like how high you can jump, and maybe I could do some tests with various materials. Basically, we want to make sure you’re safe to be out loose.”

“Safe for them,” Fenrir grumbles, “not for me. I can make myself safe, gold man.”

“Gold?” Tony asks. “You’re telling me you can smell the trace amounts of gold in the suit I’m not even wearing? That’s pretty impressive.”

Fenrir shakes himself and looks away. “Good wolf,” he mocks.

“Fenrir,” Loki says suddenly with a curiously uncomfortable expression, “can you do magic? When you are free?” She ought to know, but he was so small, and she doesn’t even know if he has the answer. She is so angry with Odin that she wants to march into the vaults and kill him under his guards’ watch.

Fenrir growls deep in his throat. “I don’t know,” he says. “I don’t remember. If you are my mother, I should be able to.” He isn’t even sure how to tell the difference between doing magic and what he just is.

“That is not the only reason,” says Loki tightly. “Very well. Let us assume you can. I told you there would be conditions—you can’t roam all of Midgard and kill and savage as you please, or we would both lose the place. We would both be bound. I can only give you some space, and walls in case you lose yourself.” She knows he would hold back if she asked, as contrary as it is to his wolf nature to do so—but he’s been trapped too long and he’s wild, after all. “If there must be walls, would you rather you could see them or that they be hidden?” She doesn’t think there’s much to be done about the scent, but she could give him the sky, at least.

Fenrir considers. “I want to see them,” he says. “No more tricks.”

Loki nods. “Very well.”

“Then we can work from there,” Tony breaks in. “This shouldn’t be impossible, especially if you’re on board with it, Fenrir. We just need boundaries.” He turns to Loki. “Which you and Doom have already figured out.”

“We have,” Loki says. “I can show you more than a map of what we’ve set aside. You’ll have to visit that next. There is one other thing.”

Fenrir snaps his jaws, impatient. “What other thing?”

“Sleipnir,” Loki says.

Fenrir laughs nastily. “Oh. That. You didn’t say I couldn’t eat him.”

“I’m saying it now,” Loki says. She does not think Fenrir can actually hurt Sleipnir without some truly devious tricks; but there is always the chance. “You may share your grounds with him peaceably or see them halved.”

Fenrir snaps at the air. He doesn’t like the choices, but he hates the idea of having any less space than he could. Perhaps he can just avoid his brother. Finally, he says, “I can share. On one condition.”

“Tell me,” Loki says.

Fenrir settles and puts his head down between his paws, suddenly docile. “I want to see my Uncle Tyr.”

Loki, to Tony, looks completely dumbfounded.

“I’ll try,” she says after a moment, her voice a small croak in her throat.

Fenrir nods, satisfied. “Now I’m going to sleep,” he tells her. “And when I wake up, I’m going to eat something. But not anything you don’t want me to.” As if he could get at it.

“It was nice to meet you,” Tony says. Fenrir, clever though he is, is bad at reading tone sometimes. He doesn’t know if the mortal means it.

Loki puts her hand on Fenrir’s nose for a moment, and draws away before Fenrir can snap or push his weight against her.

“When I come back I’ll bring you something you can eat,” she promises. “Come along, Stark.”

Tony waves at the wolf, and goes with her quietly.

Chapter 28: fenrir and his uncle

Summary:

“When last I saw you, you were bleeding, uncle.”

Notes:

Chapter Warnings: violence

Loki leaves Tony with Steve (whom he doesn’t give enough time to say anything, for everyone’s sake). He leaves all his half-grown plans for Fenrir’s wall at the back of his head. He goes to see Tyr. He rather hopes that Bucky (or James, or whatever it is now) isn’t there this time. It might be uglier than the last.

Tyr is still in the training camp, but today he isn’t with his men. He’s left them to spar on their own while he sits outside and repairs some accidental damage done to his armor. He prefers to do all of this himself, by hand, because then he knows where it will be weak and where it will hold. Bucky is with his men, hopefully holding his own and not garnering too much displeasure.

When Tyr sees Loki, he frowns. “So many visits lately, brother. What is it now? Sit, and tell me.”

Loki puts his hand on the back of the empty chair, but he doesn’t sit. “Fenrir asks a favor,” he says. He looks anxious, and a little as though he expects Tyr to hit him.

Tyr’s frown deepens. “Fenrir is hardly in a position to ask. But tell me.” He ignores the spike of fear that goes through him.

Fenrir is exactly in a position to ask, but Loki doesn’t say so. He says, “His exact request was to see his Uncle Tyr.”

Tyr shudders, and then curses out loud. “I have never been uncle to him, except by accident of blood. What are his designs?” He doesn't waste time assuming Fenrir is stupid. The beast is as clever as both his parents.

“I don’t know,” Loki admits. “I think—not violent. At least, no more so than with anybody. And he didn’t even try to eat Stark when I brought him there today.”

Tyr shakes his head. “You’re treading dangerous waters, brother. I don’t hate Fenrir, but I do think he’ll turn on you the moment you trust him too far. He’s been chained too long. And what could he have to say to me?” As he says it, though, Tyr knows he’ll go. He’s no coward, and if this is the price for Loki removing his children to safety, it is hardly too high.

“I don’t trust him,” Loki says, which isn’t as true as it should be (if he’s clever), but is as untrue as it needs to be (if his plans are to work). “I expect him to run, and I expect him to be clever about it, too. Even if he doesn’t intend it. I’m hardly blind to him, Tyr.” He twitches like an animal with an itch in its back. “As for you, I don’t know what he has to say. I only said I’d ask.”

“Then as before, my answer is yes,” Tyr says. “I think we all owe both you and Fenrir that much.” He looks at his hand. “I do not fear him.”

“I don’t know whether he’ll like that or not,” Loki says, too tired to hide it. Victor has suggested once or twice, in the last few months, that Loki’s habit of working at a problem until it’s solved, without rest, is appalling and unhealthy. If he didn’t, though, the problems wouldn’t be solved—at least not nearly so well or quickly. He can ignore the side effects until what matters is dealt with.

Tyr shrugs. “It might not be true. Anyhow, I’ll hear him out. You look tired, brother. Will you rest?” He knows the usual answer, but he asks it all the same. He would prefer not to see Loki as he was directly before their defeat of Odin.

“Do you want me to come with you, to Fenrir?” Loki asks, slightly to one side of the question.

“No,” Tyr says. “I don’t need a chaperone and neither does he.”

Loki inclines his head in acknowledgement. “Then I’ll go to Sleipnir,” he says. “I promised him a run.” He smiles oddly. “If I weren’t a coward I’d join him, but I think I’d rather ride, as strange as that idea feels, than ever take his form again.”

“I do not think it cowardice,” Tyr says with distaste. “Some old wounds should not have to be revisited.” He stands, shaking out the cramp in his good hand. “I will go to Fenrir now,” he says. “Whatever he has to say, I am ready.”

Loki looks even more uncomfortable and says, “How will you get there?” Tyr can’t row, or swim, or transport himself by magic. Thanks to Fenrir.

“On horse,” Tyr says promptly. He’s thought about this before, never mind why. “I’ll bring two.”

Loki opens his mouth and then shuts it again. “It’s true that Sleipnir is the only horse I asked him not to eat. And you are his payment for not doing so, which I suppose makes the horse poetic.” He grips the chair back. “Thank you. Again. I’m nearly in your debt, now.”

“We’re not close to even,” Tyr says. “For my years of silence at your unhappiness, I still owe you more than a few words with your child can repay.”

Loki waves a hand. “No one pays any heed to such things in Asgard. You owe me nothing. Much as I would like to say otherwise.”

“Then let us consider ourselves even, and friends,” Tyr says, clapping Loki on the shoulder. He disagrees with Loki, and more strongly than he thought he would, but there’s no point in pursuing the matter at present. “I’ll come to you and let you know how it goes with Fenrir. Good luck riding with your child.”

“Hmm,” says Loki, raising his eyebrows, but he seems a little lighter as he leaves.

~

Fenrir paces back and forth (he can only move a few yards in either direction, but he tries), sniffing the air and waiting. Maybe Tyr won’t come. Maybe he will, and he’ll be wrong. But it’s not too long before Fenrir smells something. Horse, he thinks. But not only horse.

It takes a while for him to be able to see as well as smell, but by then he knows it’s Tyr. Tyr, astride the back of one horse, accompanied by another. As the horses make their way through the water toward Fenrir’s island, he smiles.

Tyr and the horses come ashore in a rush of water. He dismounts, and stills the horses by the water with a touch of their faces. He doesn’t turn his eyes away from Fenrir for a moment.

When the horses are still, Tyr approaches.

“Loki says you wished to see me,” he says. His face is solemn and unreadable. His arms are at his sides, ready, if need be, to draw a weapon or become one.

Fenrir bristles just a little. “Long time,” he says. He has trouble making words come when he first speaks to someone. He growls and tries again. “When last I saw you, you were bleeding, uncle.”

“I remember,” Tyr says sternly. “Last I saw you, you looked much the same as you do now. Though maybe you’re larger.” He is amazed that Fenrir has managed to grow, chained and stunted as he is.

“Yes,” Fenrir agrees. “Larger. You know what my mother intends to do with me?”

“More or less,” Tyr says. “What do you intend?”

Fenrir laughs, a sound that usually unnerves people. “I intend to be good, but who knows? I may be too angry. Or too hungry. But my mother and her friends will make sure I can’t hurt anyone, so what I intend matters little.” He eyes the horses. “Hungry,” he says again.

“One is for you,” Tyr says, without following the wolf’s gaze. “Why did you want to see me?”

Fenrir licks his nose. “When I go to Midgard, I may not see you again. When I saw you last, I was only a child. I wanted to apologize, and to say I forgive you. That’s what Asgardians do, I think.”

Tyr is silent for a long time. He doesn’t know what he expected, but neither apology nor forgiveness seemed likely enough to consider. Then, he almost never expects Loki’s answers, either.

“You did what wolves do,” he says finally. “I did what soldiers do. And sons, I suppose. I told Loki I didn’t bear you any ill will, and that’s true.”

“You are the only one,” Fenrir tells him. “Except for my mother. The others are all monsters. But I know you. You understand blood and anger and hunger. I wanted you to know that.” He scuffs one giant paw across the ground. “I’ll have my horse now.”

“I’ll give her to you when I go,” Tyr says. “But I have one more question. If you were loosed, and no one could catch you, would you harm Frigga or—your mother?”

Fenrir considers it. He has to think hard. He’s clever, but too much of him is instinct to always know what he will and won’t do. “Neither of them,” he says finally. “No mothers. But anyone else, I would devour.” He looks up at the sky. “Except you. But if you tried to chain me again, I would take more than just your hand. Be warned.”

“We will hope it doesn’t come to that,” says Tyr. He can feel his false arm gleaming in Asgard’s spangled light. “It is good, that you would not hurt them. They’re the only people who have ever tried to protect you.”

Fenrir nods. “Yes. I am so angry. I will never, ever stop, and someday I fear I will devour everything. But I do know this.”

Tyr nods. He understands that feeling, the fierce, glowing need to bring blood and ruin and death that does not turn back. His nephew has grown up here into something Tyr knows to his core. He considers that maybe he and Fenrir are equally lucky that anyone still reaches through their anger and bloodlust to love them.

“We’re lucky,” he says out loud. “We’ll both be free of our chains, soon. If you ever forget who slipped them for you, I’ll hunt you, but we’re at peace between us until then. Loki wants you.” That’s enough, as it turns out.

Fenrir says something, but not in a language Tyr can understand. It’s a growl, but it sounds approving. Then he says, “I’ll see you again, Uncle. If it’s in battle or friendship, I will see you.”

Tyr wonders what he’s said to make the wolf change his mind, but he thinks it may be a good thing, whatever it was.

“Perhaps I’ll be here for your moving day,” he says.

Fenrir pauses for a moment. Then he says, surprising himself, “I want you to be. You’re the only one besides my mother that I can trust.” Tyr may be devious and clever, but so is Fenrir, and in the same ways. He can understand Tyr’s rules.

Tyr nods. “Then I will be here,” he says. Which is as surprising as Fenrir forgiving him. He might not have blamed the beast (who was, Tyr is realizing, far more young and frightened than mindless when he took Tyr’s hand), but he did not intend to offer any favors. Knowing Fenrir would be loose from his chains was meant to be favor enough.

Fenrir is satisfied. “Soon, then. Horse?” He snuffs the air hopefully.

“Horse,” Tyr agrees. The mare is prancing nervously at the water’s edge, but even Tyr’s own mount (who has seen nearly all there is to see) flicks his ears uneasily. Still, Tyr manages to lead the mare far enough up the beach that Fenrir can catch a claw in her reins. Tyr turns and strides back to his mount, and they crash into the water and away from Fenrir’s island before he can make his killing bite.

Chapter 29: bucky and tyr take it sitting down

Summary:

"Do you need me to tend your wounds?" Tyr asks.

Notes:

Chapter Warnings: Explicit cis-manly muscular gay sex.

Bucky is home from training when Tyr comes back. Bucky is still damp, dirty, and slightly bloodied (normally they're not supposed to be, but there was an out-of-line moment, and noses were punched).

"I won't even guess," Bucky says when Tyr comes in.

Tyr is aware that he's frowning deeply, but he can't smooth out his expression.

Tyr is aware that he's frowning deeply, but he can't smooth out his expression. "I went to see the wolf," he says thoughtfully. He's distracted enough not to mention the blood or ask questions.

Bucky takes his feet off the table and sits up straight. "Why?" he asks.

Tyr settles in the other chair. "Because he asked to see me. Loki wants to release him."

"You said he did," Bucky says. "You didn't say you'd--hang on, the wolf asked you to visit?"

Tyr shifts uncomfortably. He is unused to having someone to discuss these things with. "Yes. He's like--I don't know what you were like as an adolescent, but I can guess. Picture that. Picture me at that age. Pure rage, but terribly clever."

"Thanks for the implied compliment," Bucky says. "You didn't say it was that kind of intelligent."

Tyr shrugs. "Such is Asgard. And the kin of Odin, whether they be man or beast. The horse is a different matter, but Fenrir's mind is much like ours."

"The horse is a different matter," Bucky mutters. He frowns. "So it's not just some poor animal they have chained up out there. It's a person. The wolf's a person."

"Yes," Tyr says uncomfortably. "A person who, much like Loki, would happily have destroyed everything he touched. I cannot blame him, but I believed it was for the good of Asgard to chain him there. At the time."

"Christ," Bucky says. He feels a little too much kinship with Loki's scary puppy all of a sudden. He remembers wolf-Loki in Pym's lab, how terrifying he was. This one's the real thing, and he's got to be worse...but Bucky's been the violent freak under lock and key. He's finding it hard to feel worse for Tyr because of his hand than he does for Fenrir. Hell, he probably would have done the same thing if he'd had the teeth for it.

"He forgave me," Tyr says. "And he apologized. Neither of us can bear the other any ill will for being true to our natures."

Bucky shakes his head. "Are you all right?" he asks. "You don't have to be all right to forgive somebody fucking you up."

Tyr smiles. "I am none of my brothers. I can handle a little rough treatment. He unnerved me, but no longer. He called me Uncle, and something else in his wolf tongue. I think we can be friends."

Bucky raises his eyebrows. "You remind me of my ex," he says.

Tyr laughs, startled. "I never asked about your past relationships." He somehow thinks of Bucky existing as a creature of war and nothing more.

"Oh," says Bucky. "Well. There was Steve. You probably figured that out. But also, uh--I guess you've met both the big ones, huh? Also Natasha? Black Widow. Pretty red-headed Avenger. Could kick your ass."

Tyr laughs. "Oh, her. Yes, I wouldn't like to meet her in battle." He's completely sincere, and he rarely fears an opponent. "I would not have guessed that you were lovers."

"Shit happens," Bucky says. "Namely, we were both the brainwashed assassin pawns of the Soviets and there really wasn't anybody else to talk to. Which is nothing against Nat. Probably helps explain why she'd fuck me, though."

"I find you attractive enough," Tyr says, reaching over to ruffle Bucky's hair. It's an understatement. His hand comes away slightly bloody. "Mm. I think you and Fenrir would get along well."

"He can't be as scary as his mama," Bucky says.

"His...yes," Tyr says. He smiles. "You never stop surprising me. I think if you managed Loki, you can manage the wolf. Come here. Let me see your face."

Bucky leans forward, looking unrepentant and pleased with himself. His nose isn't broken, and he's pretty sure his face is only going to bruise.

Tyr touches it gently, making sure. "Good. Almost certainly a sign that you handled the situation well." He drags his thumb over Bucky's lip before leaning back again.

Bucky instinctively leans further forward to follow him, then catches himself. He looks winningly at Tyr. "You could check a little closer," he says. "You know. In case you missed a spot somewhere."

"Do you need me to tend your wounds?" Tyr asks. Instead of leaning in again, he grabs Bucky's upper arm and hauls him into his lap.

Bucky makes a noise that starts as a gasp, descends into a giggle, and cuts off into a moan as Tyr's legs shift underneath him. "Tend whatever the fuck you want," he murmurs.

Tyr grips Bucky's wrist. "It's been a long day for both of us," he says. "Come to bed."

"I'll come to whatever you want," Bucky mutters against Tyr's neck.

Tyr grunts and tugs Bucky right up against him. "Yes. I'll take you in my lap, then."

"Oh, sure," Bucky says. He gets his metal hand in Tyr's hair, like a tether, and starts working loose the laces of Tyr's shirt with his other hand, violently and cheerfully.

"Always so willing," Tyr says. He leans in to bite Bucky's throat. "My champion," he mutters against Bucky's dirt-stained skin.

"Pretty sure I've never dated a damsel in distress," Bucky says. He gets his hand under Tyr's shirt and pinches his nipple hard.

"You talk too much," Tyr says, but then he has to grit his teeth to avoid crying out. He grabs the front of Bucky's shirt and, after a second's consideration, tears it off. Bucky can wear his clothes.

"Wish you'd stop doing that," Bucky says breathlessly, trying to free his arms from what's left of his shirt. "Really don't want to train naked."

"An image I won't easily forget," Tyr says. "It's bad enough when you come to me bloodied and filthy and shining with battle in your eyes. Must you torture me further?"

"Torture?" Bucky says, grinning. "I live to serve." His hands are free. He wriggles on Tyr's lap, hands snaking under Tyr's shirt to dig at his ribs.

Tyr snarls and grabs Bucky's ass. "Your trousers. Take them off."

Bucky gulps away a laugh and slides backwards off Tyr's lap. He leans down to unlace his boots and kicks them aside, and takes off his pants without looking down. He looks at Tyr instead, and grins at him with his bloody, pink face and his sweat-greased hair while be bares his ass without a second thought.

Tyr stands only long enough to discard his own trousers. "Get back in my lap," he commands when he's seated again. "And someday soon I'll let you fuck me. At least with your tongue."

Bucky shuts his eyes and whimpers, and asks (half-coherent), "Wh-which way d'you want me?"

"With your back to me," Tyr growls. He wants Bucky's shaking back pressed against him. He wants to be able to haul Bucky against him with an arm around his waist.

"Yes, sir," Bucky says breathlessly, and climbs into Tyr's lap. Tyr's cock brushes against his ass, and he bites his lip with a moan.

Tyr wraps the arm with his bad hand around Bucky's waist, hoisting him up enough that he can get his other hand under Bucky. He pushes a sweat-slicked finger into Bucky's ass, with his usual lack of caution.

Bucky shouts and kicks and then forces himself still, biting his lip again and still moaning through it. One of his hands (the right one) clings to the arm of the chair; the metal one digs in against Tyr's thigh.

"My good soldier," Tyr mutters, working his finger deeper inside. "My bloody little brute. I am keeping you."

Bucky gasps out and doesn't breathe in for several seconds. "Hnnn," he says. "Don't got anywhere else to be. Doubt I'd like it much...anyway." He grins bloody-faced up at Tyr. "Not sure your captains agree."

Tyr adds a second finger. He wants Bucky on his cock now, but he also likes making him wait. "They'll change their minds. Or they won't, but they'll accept it. It won't become a problem."

"I'm not worried," Bucky hisses, hidden in his hair, shoulders sloped forward. Tyr moves his fingers, and Bucky writhes on top of him. "Shit. Shit. I can take it, god, please, please let me, fuck."

Tyr slides his fingers out and nudges the head of his cock into Bucky's ass. "Then take it all. Fuck yourself on it."

"Oh, god," Bucky mutters. He puts his weight on his feet long enough to angle himself against Tyr's cock, and then settles back slowly, gasping as Tyr fills him. He falls back the last inch, legs sprawling to either side of Tyr's.

Tyr cries out and grabs Bucky's hip to steady him. He pumps his hips up against Bucky's ass in short, sharp motions, buying his cock in him over and over. Bucky sobs, arching back and curling forward, hands scrabbling against Tyr, and the chair, and himself.

"So fucking hot," he babbles. "Don't know why I'm so fucking easy today, couldn't stop thinking about you, wanted you in me so fucking bad."

"Good" Tyr says. "I want you easy." He buries his face in the back of Bucky's neck and reaches around to jerk Bucky's cock. He gets his mouth on Bucky's skin, tongue and teeth working, tasting the sweat and dirt of battle.

Bucky cries out. "Gonna come too fast," he says. "Don't wanna disappoint---"

"Never," Tyr hisses against Bucky's neck, driving himself deep into Bucky.

Bucky sobs and shakes. "I wanna be good," he says. "Wanna get you off, don't wanna come yet."

Tyr lets go of Bucky's cock. "Then ride me. I want to fill you." He could come from little more than the sounds Bucky is making and the smell of the battle in him.

"Should I turn around?" Bucky asks.

"Yes," Tyr says. "Good boy."

Bucky whines loudly and Tyr feels him tighten around Tyr's cock. But he pulls off and turns himself around, bracing his hands against the chair's armrests. He starts to lift his leg, to climb into Tyr's lap, but grows momentarily overwhelmed.

Tyr grabs Bucky's wrist. "Bucky. James. Shh. Take a moment." He need not be gentle with Bucky, but he knows when to slow down.

Bucky nods, still glazed. He lifts his legs, right and then left, between Tyr's thighs and the armrests. Then he reaches behind himself to grab Tyr's cock, and slides himself down onto it. He moans all the way down, his own cock sliding against Tyr's stomach.

Tyr reaches around the back of Bucky's head and grabs a handful of hair, using that to control Bucky's rhythm. "Yes," he mutters, working Bucky up and down faster and faster, "Yes, take it all, going to come inside you--"

Bucky is whimpering and babbling, eyes squeezed shut. His flesh hand slips down and fumbles for his cock, but he doesn't seem to be able to focus enough even to jerk off.

"You're all mine," Tyr says, and he comes, thrusting up into Bucky hard.

Bucky takes it, yelling while he clings to Tyr. When Tyr relaxes, breathing hard, Bucky pulls himself off Tyr's cock. He drops into Tyr's lap, rock-hard, boneless, and whimpering.

Tyr spits in his palm and warps it around Bucky's cock. "And I," he says, "am yours." He doesn't know what making this declaration means, if anything, but it seems necessary in that moment.

Bucky makes a desperate sound, bewilderment in his face. His hands are planted against Tyr's hips, shoulders straining at the effort of propping himself up.

"Here--" Tyr lifts Bucky off his lap and onto the floor. Then he kneels between Bucky's legs and bends to take Bucky's cock in his mouth.

"Please, shit, shit, shit," Bucky begs, kicking weakly at the floor. When Tyr's mouth slides down him, Bucky loses his last few words and just starts shouting. He's so fucking close that his whole body is already rigid.

Tyr sucks and swallows around Bucky's cock. He's done this a lot. But he barely falls into a rhythm before Bucky shouts and jerks his hips hard against his chin. Tyr doesn't pull off. Bucky's voice builds to a scream as he comes deep in Tyr's mouth, clawing at the floor.

Tyr swallows, and he doesn't pull of Bucky's cock until he's done. "So good," he mutters, patting Bucky's hip.

"Aaah," Bucky says, sprawled and limp. "Fuck. That was fast."

Tyr shrugs. "There will always be time for slow lovemaking when we tire of having one another quickly."

"Hah," Bucky says. After a few seconds, he says, "I'm not sure I can get up."

Tyr gets to his feet with only slight difficulty and offers Bucky a hand. "Let me help you. I seem to have exhausted you." He chuckles.

Bucky lets Tyr hoist him up, and sneaks in closer to steal a kiss. "So. Are you going to let that wolf eat the rest of you, or don’t I have anything to worry about?"

Tyr pulls Bucky against him. "Mm. I doubt he'll try. I might like to be there when Loki brings him to Midgard, though."

"Expecting trouble?" Bucky asks, trailing his metal fingers down Tyr's chest.

Tyr watches, tired and pleased. "Perhaps. But even if not, I would like to be there. It might put Fenrir more at ease." It would certainly put Tyr more at ease.

"Wonder if I could meet him sometime," Bucky says. "I'd kinda like to see what kind of kids your crazy brother produces, if nothing else."

"His children are like and unlike him," Tyr says. He frowns. "Fenrir calls him mother, too."

Bucky shakes his head, not sure he's grasping the right point.

"I never quite know what to make of Loki," Tyr clarifies. "Or rather, I don't know what he makes of himself." With all of Asgard having been bent against Loki for hundreds of years, Tyr wants to at least get something right.

"Well, if the wolf says Loki's its mom and Loki doesn't say otherwise, the wolf's probably right." Bucky shrugs. "You did say it was smart."

Tyr smiles and kisses Bucky's forehead. "I like you," he says unnecessarily. Bucky is clever and uncomplicated. Just what Tyr needs.

"Thanks," Bucky answers promptly, but his grin is a little shy afterwards. "Hey. Lie down with me. Maybe in a while you'd want to experiment with this crazy slow lovemaking notion?"

"I could be convinced to try it," Tyr agrees. He thinks there may come a day when he explains to Bucky how many parts of him are not to do with war, but showing him may be easier.

"I'll bet," Bucky says. He gives Tyr's collarbone a peck of a kiss, and then leads him to bed.

Notes:

SORRY, GUYS, I FORGOT TO POST THIS AT THE RIGHT TIME BECAUSE WE WROTE IT OUT OF ORDER.

Chapter 30: pietro maximoff would like to help

Summary:

There aren't that many mutants this guy's age. And the rest of them sure as hell don't come asking Pietro for help.

Notes:

Chapter Warnings: mutants are an allegory, poor life decisions, sketchy older men, references to terrorism

There's a sandwich bar a few blocks away from the Tower that the Avengers all like more than it probably deserves. Pietro is alone there, right now, because his and Natasha's post-victory lunch got cut in two by Jan showing up. Natasha likes Pietro, which he can tell, because she knows better than to make him hang out with her girlfriend.

He's not sure he's supposed to know Jan's her girlfriend.

Either way.

He's alone in the sandwich shop, picking over the remains of his lunch, when this guy leans over from the next table, shuffling his newspaper in his hands. Older guy, a stranger, almost meets Pietro's criteria for looking good.

"Can I help?" Pietro says, automatically a little blank and hostile before the guy has a chance to say anything.

The guy smiles, warm and inviting, his eyes sparkling. "You wouldn't happen to be Quicksilver, would you?"

"Uh," says Pietro, caught off guard. "I guess so. Why?"

"I'm a big fan of yours," the man says, not really like he's joking or being sarcastic. He puts down his paper. "You've always stood out from the pack a little in all the news reports."

"All the news reports?" Pietro says, and laughs a little uncertainly. "I've only been with the Avengers for a month, y'know. There aren't that many news reports. Especially not about me."

"There are if you listen to the right news," the man says. "Besides, I heard about you before the Avengers."

Pietro tenses. "Whaddya mean?"

The man shrugs. "Oh, I'll admit that most of it wasn't pleasant. But it's easy to read between the lines. Your father is...an unfortunate man. But you seem to be doing all right."

Pietro leans back in his chair. "Y'know, I'm not really interested in talking about my personal life with some creepy old stalker fanboy," he says. "And you probably don't want me to tell my teammates about a creepy old stalker fanboy. They have some strong feelings about that shit."

"So I hear," the man says. "Look, I think we got off on the wrong foot. My name's Ezekiel. And I'm interested in what you can do." He holds out one large hand.

Pietro, dubious, puts out his hand and shakes. "What exact thing?" he says. "Are you sure you want to be talking to me here?"

"If you can suggest somewhere more comfortable..." Ezekiel says, spreading his hands. He takes up too much space.

Pietro narrows his eyes. "I'll take a walk with you," he says. "But don't try anything." He doesn’t really feel like getting propositioned in an enclosed space today.

"What's got you so jumpy?" Ezekiel asks. He stands up, and he's tall. "Come on, let's walk. Just for a chat."

Pietro follows, slouchy and ready to bolt. He doesn't give Ezekiel any of the reasons he's got on file for being jumpy about some strange guy grilling him about his personal life in the middle of his lunch. He waits until they're a few blocks away, and he says, "So? What do you want? I'm kinda booked, right now, when it comes to like, productive work. And I don't do porn, and I don’t turn tricks."

Ezekiel laughs. "You're funny. I'll give you that. No, I was just curious about your powers. You see, I’ve been having some trouble controlling mine, and your name came to mind. I think we’re somewhat alike."

"What?" Pietro says, startled. There aren't that many mutants this guy's age. And the rest of them sure as hell don't come asking Pietro for help.

Ezekiel sighs and glances around. Then he lowers his voice and says, "I manifested late. I already have an entire life. Or had, I should say. Now all I have is this power and no idea how to control it."

"I'm not really the poster boy for helping mutants in need," Pietro says. He thinks he might be panicking. What the hell is this?

"Who else am I supposed to go to?" Ezekiel demands. "What, the, the X-Men? I can't do that."

"Why not?" Pietro says. "Plenty of people do."

"Plenty of scared runaways," Ezekiel says. "Plenty of kids. And plenty of people who want to settle down in a tidy little hiding place where they can pretend the world isn't the place that it is. I don’t want to drink that Kool-Aid. I like it out here in the world."

Pietro doesn't stop walking, but he glances over long enough to give Ezekiel a once-over. "Okay. Fair. So what's your power, exactly?"

Ezekiel hesitates. "I'm not sure, exactly, to be honest. I can get from place to place fast, but I'm not...I don't stay solid. I should probably show you, but not here."

"Oh, how about I go to some abandoned warehouse with my creepy stalker?" Pietro says. " I can think of a couple places, I guess--I mean, listen, I don't know you, or I'd just bring you around the corner to fucking Avengers Tower. I don't think Tony would like that, though, so just--how much space do you need, exactly?"

Ezekiel's eyes flicker and he's silent for a second. Then he seems to come back to himself. He says, "You can get a better idea with more space, but I could even show you across a room."

Pietro hesitates, and then says, "I might be able to think of a place, but it's up in the Bronx, and I don't really--you use the subway at all?"

"I avoid it if I can, but it's cheaper than a cab," Ezekiel says, grimacing. "Let's go."

"Great," Pietro says. At least he won't get abducted by a fake cab driver. On the other hand, maybe this guy will blow up the train they're riding on. You never know with weirdos.

~

There's something worse about this than possible explosions, and that's sitting still for nearly an hour. Pietro doesn't think he was thinking when he made this suggestion. By the time it seems completely unbearable, though, it's too late. They reached the station, Pietro bought a ticket, and they got on a train. And now they're sitting together for forty-five minutes with nothing between them that Pietro wants to talk about in public.

Ezekiel watches everyone but Pietro on the train. He seems to be keeping an eye out, but more like he's curious than like he's worried.

"You seem tense," he says after about ten minutes. "You probably don't take the subway too often."

"Never," says Pietro. "Don't like being cooped up."

"If I could do what you can do, I'd just run everywhere," Ezekiel says. "Hey, maybe someday, right?"

Pietro shrugs. "I'm gonna sit here, okay?" he says. "Really quietly. And pretend I'm doing about a hundred other things. I'm not into being underground. Okay? I'll tell you when it's our stop."

Ezekiel raises his eyebrows, but he doesn't say anything for the rest of the trip.

It's not far from the subway stop to Logan's old house, and since Logan's old house was condemned, like, months and months ago and then it had Logan in it, nobody's paying rent and nobody's squatting either.

"This good enough for you?" Pietro asks. "Better be. I'm fucking exhausted with all this fucking sitting still."

"This will do just fine," Ezekiel says. "I warn you, I don't have full control. But I can at least show you what it looks like."

"Sure," Pietro nods. "I guess show me what you're gonna show me." Not that he can promise to do anything to fix it.

Ezekiel nods and shuts his eyes. His body goes indistinct at the edges until he looks as if he's out of focus. Then his fingertips dissolve into pale blue light that spreads until he's just the outline of a man, glowing blue. Something shifts, and he's not even man-shaped anymore. He's just blue light that shoots across the room, almost too fast to see, but not quite. He bounces off the wall, then coalesces into a man again, stumbling to a halt in the middle of the room.

"So what do you think?" he asks, breathing hard. He looks alarmed.

"You look like a big ball of energy to me," Pietro says. "I mean, I can probably see you moving better than anyone else can, but you still just look like a big ball of energy. I don't know if I can help with that."

Ezekiel nods, his forehead creasing. "I was afraid of that. I just didn't know who else to ask, to be perfectly honest. Not really sure what my next move is."

You're a good guy, Pietro reminds himself. "Well, but I mean," he says. "What's the big deal? I mean, it's new and weird or whatever, but don't you just have to learn how to deal with it? That's what everybody else does."

Ezekiel sighs. "When I tried to tell my family, they--I don't really know where I'm supposed to go now. I can't even see my kids. My ex-wife won't let me near them now."

"Sucks," Pietro says uncomfortably.

"But it's not your problem," Ezekiel says. "Hey, you have your team and all. I'll probably find something like that." He gives a half-hearted chuckle. "Things are going well with the Avengers, right?"

"Yeah, sure," Pietro says. "You read the papers. I'm sure you know all about it."

"The papers don't always know," Ezekiel says. "But I'm glad it's true. I really am." He puts his hand on Pietro's shoulder and squeezes reassuringly. "You seem like a good guy, and they could probably stand to have a mutant around the place."

"You got that right," Pietro mutters. He shifts. "Hey, we got all the way here, y'know. You could maybe...show me some more? I can tell you if I see anything else. I mean, is it doing anything bad?

Ezekiel visibly relaxes. "Okay, well, like I said, I can't always control it. Sometimes I--I don't know what to call it. I dematerialize without meaning to."

"Ouch," says Pietro. "You should try meditating or something. Bruce always tells people that."

"Meditating," Ezekiel repeats dubiously. "I can try that. And sometimes it kind of hurts. Do you think that's normal?"

"Mister I have no idea," Pietro says, a little too fast. "Maybe Hank would have an idea. He's always got ideas, I guess, are you sure you don't want to meet the Avengers? Maybe you could do that, I dunno."

"No," Ezekiel says, very slowly and levelly. "I mean, maybe at some point. But right now you'll have to forgive me if I'm a little wary of organized groups, especially non-mutant ones."

"Not much I can do, then," Pietro says, shrugging.

Ezekiel runs a hand over his head. "All right. Fair enough. Look, thanks for the help. At least let me buy you a meal to make up for the one I interrupted."

The guy seems harmless enough, even if he's a little weird. And, as Pietro has noted already, he's not entirely hideous.

"Sure," Pietro says. "Someplace nice, I hope."

Ezekiel laughs. "I think I can manage nice, if only this once. Come on, I know a place. Nice and quiet and not too far from here."

Pietro raises his eyebrows. "Nice? Around here? I think I would have noticed if there was nice around here. Maybe you're thinking of when you accidentally go like, two miles in thirty seconds."

Ezekiel smiles warmly. "Trust me. It's a little out of the way of what you might expect to find. That's why I like it. But it is nice. I hear sometimes celebrities go there to avoid the press."

"I don't believe you," Pietro says. "You better prove it."

"Want me to prove it? Start walking," Ezekiel says. He strides out of the room without waiting for Pietro to follow.

Pietro catches up, as Ezekiel knows he will. He says, "So you have kids? What kinda kids? Any of them mutants?"

"As far as I know, no," Ezekiel says. "They're still young, though, so who knows? I've got two boys."

"My dad has two girls," Pietro says obscurely. "Whatcha do for a living? Y'know, before your life got ruined."

"I was in business," Ezekiel says. His face goes dark. "But it doesn't matter. All that's gone now."

"It happens," Pietro says. "If you don't up and die, whatcha gonna do now?"

"I want my life back," Ezekiel says, his voice still hard.

Pietro squints. For a second there's a tingle in his spine.

"Join the club," he says mechanically. He can’t decide if he's happy now, or if nothing will make him happy if it's not Wanda and their dad.

Ezekiel turns toward Pietro. "But if we can't get our lives back, we'll just have to make do, won't we?" The blue of his eyes is too bright, the blue of the energy he becomes.

Pietro misses a step. "Yeah," he says. He has to swallow before he can say anything else. "So, where's this place?"

Logan, he reminds himself, and, for fuck's sake, this guy shouldn't even be a temptation.

"Right down here," Ezekiel says, the glow dissipating a little. "Unless you'd rather eat in."

"Here's fine," Pietro says. "Maybe we could do your place after."

What the fuck are you doing, kid? Logan's voice growls at the back of his head, but Pietro ignores it, guiltily, and gives Ezekiel a smile.

Ezekiel smiles back, a warm, pleasant expression that spreads to his eyes. "That sounds great."

Pietro thinks his cheeks are probably a little pink. "Is this the place?" he asks, pointing to a kind of dingy-looking restaurant a few doors off.

Ezekiel nods. "Yep. It's a lot nicer than it looks on the outside. Definitely a hole-in-the-wall. Come on, follow me."

"Oh, sure," Pietro says. "Creepy stalker, suspicious building. I'll follow you anywhere." Ezekiel steps inside, and Pietro goes after.

Chapter 31: pietro and loki run into each other

Summary:

A second after he stops, someone says, "Oh. You must be the new one. The mutant."

Notes:

Chapter Warnings: ref to bad life choices

Pietro hasn't been home to Logan since yesterday morning, but it's kind of too late to make up for that one now. He goes straight from Ezekiel's hotel room to Avengers Tower. He figures it's just one more fuck up, and given how the last twenty-four hours have gone, not showing up right away to answer for last night is the least of his problems.

He wants to see Tony, but Tony isn't there. It takes Pietro less than a minute to check out every part of the Tower that isn't locked. No Tony. No Steve, either.

Pietro skids to a halt in the lobby. So. A stupid, good night followed by a stupid, bad morning. He's doing great.

A second after he stops, someone says, "Oh. You must be the new one. The mutant."

Pietro immediately says, without even looking, "Yeah, so what?" Then he actually looks. Some tall guy is standing there who looks like he's cosplaying an anime character.

"They do like their fixer-uppers," Loki says with a raised eyebrow. He's pleased with that term, because he only learned it from Tony last week. "Where is Stark?"

Pietro bristles. "I was wondering the same thing. Why, are you his masseuse?"

"Rogers would like that, wouldn't he?" Loki murmurs rhetorically.

"Fuck off," Pietro snaps, and he realizes his thing for loyalty has set in with the Avengers already. Huh. He hadn’t known.

"Yes, it would go something like that," Loki says. "Do you like them? I expect at least one of them thinks you're very deserving and is bringing you up with the others." He wanders over to the panel where Jarvis lives in this room.

Pietro zips around in front of the panel. "I don't think you should be messing with that that," he says. "I'm calling someone. And if no one's around, I'll just beat you up myself. Are you a supervillain?"

Loki glowers. "You're between me and what I want," he says.

"I do that," Pietro says. “With bad guys.” He crosses his arms. "C'mon, get outta here. Lastwarning."

"I'm not here to destroy your precious Avengers," Loki says with a sneer.

"Could have fooled me." Pietro takes a couple of steps forward. "You don't exactly look like a friend."

"Should I accept your word as an personal expert in deceiving appearances?" Loki asks. "You certainly don't look like the son of one of the most powerful men in Midgard."

Pietro is practically vibrating. "Yeah, yeah, we've all got daddy issues around here. Nobody's what they look like, anyway." He's trying not to think about last night.

Loki sighs. "Oh, don't," he says. "I'm not your enemy. I'm Thor's kin."

Pietro pauses for a split second. "Oh. You're Loki. He talks about you. Now I feel stupid." But not that stupid. The guy's still an asshole.

"Practically expected of the young," Loki says. "It should be expected of the old, as well, but they forget. You don't know where Stark is?" He was expecting Stark, not to be accosted by the hitherto easily-avoided infant. It's putting him in a bad temper.

"He's not here," Pietro says, shrugging. "Or Cap. Thor's here, though."

"He's no use," Loki says practically, and then waves a hand. "I'm sure he's fine. Only he has no hand for gardening, or magic, or engineering, so he isn't any use to me at this particular moment."

Pietro makes a face. "Gardening? I don't think Tony knows anything about gardening. Or magic. What do you need to garden? I'll garden it." He's just talking, wound up and too fast. He mostly wants to hit Loki. Like, a lot of times.

Loki says, with a light in his eyes, "Oh, if I can think of a job for you, I'll let you know. How are you with animals?"

Pietro makes animals nervous. He doesn't ever settle enough to calm them down. "I don't know," he says dubiously, "I really like them."

"And are your feelings easily hurt?" Loki asks.

"What do you think?" Pietro demands.

"I think," says Loki, "that you would do better with Sleipnir."

Pietro doesn't know what that is and doesn't really want to help Loki out. On the other hand, Thor's crazy about Loki, and Pietro likes Thor even if they don’t understand each other. "Maybe," he says.

"I'll send you with apples and somebody a little taller," Loki says musingly. "Would you like to go to Asgard?" He likes the idea of filling Asgard up with mortals, to the disgust of her average citizen (and Odin's disgust, if he weren't sleeping in the vault).

"Yeah," Pietro says, surprised. "Can I do that? I'll definitely do that. Unless you're evil. In which case, no. I should ask Tony how evil you are."

"By all means," says Loki. "Where is my brother?"

"Eating," Pietro's says, gesturing. "He's shoving like three sandwiches in his face. In the kitchen."

"Of course," Loki says, frowning. "Thank you. You know it's probably not wise to believe that people are who and what they say they are as easily as you just have. Certainly not in your line of work."

Pietro feels a jolt of sick guilt over last night. But that turned out okay. It still will turn out okay. He needs to be more careful, that’s all. "Thanks for the tip," he says weakly.

"You're most welcome," says Loki. "Excuse me--I think I'll see my brother, now, in lieu of anyone useful."

Pietro says, "'kay," at the same time zipping past Loki and bumping his shoulder very hard.

Loki staggers forward a step, magic to hand, but of course Pietro is gone. Loki can't decide how much to dislike him, and how much to find him--acceptably familiar. Like all of his horrible friends.

He can't unstick the expression of not making up his mind until Thor has seen him in the doorway and asked him if he's just done something wicked.

Chapter 32: logan isn't happy about pietro's stranger

Summary:

"Just tell me whether or not you slept with him."

Notes:

Chapter Warnings: references to self-destructive behaviors, cheating, sex with an old strange dude, discombobulated mental health, poor life choices, suicidal tendencies.

Pietro gets bored of looking for Tony before Tony ever gets back, so he goes to Hank's lab and chats with him about energy-phase mutations until Hank gets unbearably xenophobic and Pietro has to give up and go home. He sneaks into the house even though he knows it won't help.

It doesn’t. Logan smells Pietro before he sees him. He was already angry with the kid, but now he's so furious he can feel it all through his metal bones. He's waiting in the kitchen, drinking coffee, but he's not in the mood to waste time. As soon as he smells Pietro get home, he shoves his cup aside and strides out to confront him.

"Ohyou'rehome," Pietro says. His voice sounds pleasant, but he doesn't bother trying to smile. Logan is pissed. Surprisingly enough.

"And you're home," Logan growls. "Guess you finally remembered how to find it."

"I didn't forget," Pietro says stupidly, and hops up on the counter. He is fucking asking for it now.

"Is that like how you didn't forget to quit sleeping with crazy assholes and monsters while we're dating?" Logan snarls.

"I told you I wasn't gonna promise!" Pietro shoots back. "Anyway, I was just trying to help somebody. You know, like you told me to. Because I'm a good guy."

"And just where'd you help him to?" Logan demands. Him, because it always is. Or it.

"Our old house," Pietro says flatly. "He wanted to show me his--oh, fuck it, you're just going to fuck up everything I try to say anyway." He jumps down from the counter again and slams the fridge door open like he really wants anything to eat. He did, ten minutes ago.

Logan crosses his arms and wills himself not to rip up anything with his claws. He likes this place. "Just tell me whether or not you slept with him."

"Yeah," Pietro says. "I really did. Whoops."

Logan slams his fist into the counter, claws in. It makes a dull thudding noise and hurts a lot, but nothing gets broken. "Why?" he snaps. "I thought you were doing okay. What kind of damage did he do?"

"None," Pietro snaps. "No fucking damage." He swings the fridge door shut too hard and everything inside shudders.

Logan is stalled by that. "Then why?" he asks, no longer yelling.

"Force of habit, I dunno, he asked," Pietro says. But he feels guilty and he feels hurt, and running into Loki didn't help, so he adds, "Plus he was hot. And old enough to fuck you."

Logan's used to Pietro trying to run any given situation into the ground, but that doesn't make him any less upset. "Guess that's how much I mean to you, huh? I've stuck my neck out for you more than you even know, kid, and I'm not crazy about you trying to kill yourself or fuck anyone who looks like they'll do it for you."

"Sure, Logan, you're my type," Pietro says. Now he's on a roll, his blood's on fire and he doesn't fucking care. "That's totally why I fuck you. Old man with violent fucking tendencies. Except you won't do it for me, so much for that plan."

Logan grabs Pietro and hauls him bodily up against the fridge. Then he says, very quietly, "No. I won't."

"Well, you're an idiot," Pietro says. Logan's right, though, he has been okay. He doesn't even really want to be hurt now. It's just that he fucked up and he doesn't know how it happened. He doesn't know how Ezekiel got under his skin. He didn't mean to do it and now he feels repulsive.

"Yeah," Logan sighs, deflating. "Sometimes." Instead of letting go, he turns the grip into a too-tight hug. "Stupid kid. Stupid, stupid kid. Are you okay? Need me to take the guy's head off?"

He doesn't know how he got like this about Magneto's baby, except that he always gets like this about somebody.

"The guy is fine," Pietro mumbles, not holding him back. "He didn't do anything wrong. Just asked stupid me for help. Couldn't even do that."

That's better than how most of Pietro's dates end up. "Okay," Logan says, relieved. "Okay. Just don't ever do it again. Because I'm not happy."

Pietro scratches at his hand with unconscious, vicious fingers. "I know. I can't," he says. He can’t. Ever is a big word, way too big. He's not good at ever.

Logan knows. "Just try," he corrects himself. "Try, for me. And if you feel like you're not handling a situation, maybe give me a call. Just to talk."

Pietro stares very hard at the floor. He wants to say there wasn't time, and he didn't know, and by the time he knew it was too late, and how is he supposed to interrupt a proposition to call his boyfriend for a little one-on-one intervention time?

"Yeah," he says.

Logan has no idea what that really means. "Fine," he says. "Good. Now, you gonna let me kiss you, or what?"

"If you want," Pietro says.

"If you want," Logan says stubbornly. He kisses Pietro's forehead.

Pietro looks up and looks nearly as upset as he feels. "Sorry if you thought I was dead," he says.

"I called just about everyone I know," Logan says quietly. "I even called Raven, and she's not playing for our team right now."

"Oh," Pietro says. That hurts worse than Logan meant it to, because he knows what team Raven is playing for. He blinks hard. He can't stop scratching his hand.

"You matter," Logan says through gritted teeth.

"No," Pietro says, barely. He shrinks. His nails dig in.

Logan grabs Pietro's wrists and looks him in the eye. "To me," he says.

"Sorry," Pietro says. "I didn't, I never, I don't now how to--" Stop.

Logan kisses him, pressing Pietro's body against the fridge. It's not a fix, but he thinks maybe it'll keep Pietro feeling a little safer for a few seconds.

Pietro pulls away, though. "Met Loki. Loki is a jerk," he says, which is half of half of an explanation, but not the useful part of any of it. Sometimes, like right now, he wishes he could cry or get his words out right or both, but he can't.

"I'll bet," Logan says noncommittally. He was thinking it might actually be useful for Pietro to talk to Loki. From what he's heard, Loki could actually help the kid if either of them could settle down long enough to talk. He's a little disappointed, but not very, that Pietro's isn't being more responsive. Disappointment would mean he was surprised. But they've got time, he tells himself.

Pietro catches Logan's sleeve. "Sorry," he says again. "I really didn't--" It's worse because he wasn't trying to get hurt. It's worse because he's been feeling okay. He'd deserve it more, this time, if Logan really hated him for it. There's nothing he can say to explain, though, and it would just put everything in knots for him to try.

"You just need some work," Logan says. "I know. We don't have to talk about it any more right now. Don't think I'm not pissed about it, though. I forgive you, but it's not okay to keep doing."

Pietro feels so worn out, all at once, that he wants to just throw himself down in bed and never get up. What he really wants to know is why Logan bothers with him, why Pietro should bother to get fixed up, why it's anyone's business, including Logan's, if Pietro doesn't try. It would serve Wanda right if he did, except she wouldn't care anymore.

"I think I'm gonna take a nap," he mumbles.

"Yeah," Logan sighs. "You do that. I'll make you some food for when you wake up."

"Okay," Pietro says. He feels like a big pile of shit rolled in pine needles. He kind of wants to keep prodding at Logan, but he knows nothing Logan tries to give him is going to be right. He wishes Loki hadn't brought up pets, either, because what he really wants is a stupid little dog to hug, and stupid little dogs hate his guts.

He plods off to the bedroom and plants himself facedown across the bed to see if any of this bullshit will drain out of him, or if maybe for one fucking second he can cry when he feels like it.

Chapter 33: tony and loki make several decisions

Summary:

"Don't worry yourself, Stark," Loki says. "There is no Balder in this equation, and only a little blood, I hope."

Notes:

Chapter Warnings: ref to mental health issues

When Loki tries to find him again, Tony has the grace to be in the building. He also, as Loki bullies the building into revealing, has the grace not to be with Captain Rogers. Loki, in return, has the grace to knock instead of walking into Tony's apartment unannounced.

Tony bounds over to the door as soon as he hears. He's having a great day (he and Steve found a place they really like the look of, probably gonna take it), and nothing's going to ruin his mood. Thankfully, it's Loki. Which is probably fine anyway.

"Hey!" Tony says, "Hey, come on in. I wasn't expecting you."

"Why not?" Loki asks. He does come in. He stops after a few steps and frowns at Tony. "You look well," he says.

Tony shoves his hands in his pockets and smiles. "Picking out an apartment with Steve," he says.

"Not a castle?" says Loki. "You could get a castle, couldn't you?"

"Can you picture Steve in a castle?" Tony asks. "I can. It's not a happy picture. Not everybody's as comfortable with that kind of thing as your boyfriend. Hey, how is your boyfriend?" (Tony spares only a brief thought to how weird it is to be asking after Doctor Doom.)

"Victor is well," Loki says, looking around at everything he missed in Tony's apartment the last time through. Well is not entirely the same as good. Loki says, "I don't think he's as thrilled with the idea of building a massive fence around half his country as he was gracious about the idea of my children at the start."

Much as Tony would like to say something about how his favorite part of this whole process will be inconveniencing Doom, he's trying to make friends. "Maybe we can make something fairly unobtrusive. Any thoughts? I've come up with a few ideas, but I wanted to check in with you. Plus, you know, apartment-hunting..."

"A hedge," Loki says.

"A hedge," Tony repeats. Not what his initial thought was, but of course it makes sense. Loki always prefers working with organic materials. Tony adjusts his plans a little, changing the shape in his head. "I think I can do that," he says.

"Yes, it ought to be fairly simple," Loki says. "For Sleipnir it only needs strength to stop him, and Fenrir is as close to Odin as anyone can get without being him; foxglove and holly ought to be a fine foundation for him. I can do that; you can build it a frame Sleipnir won't break through, I suppose, and then of course we'll need a dome to keep Fenrir in at all, but that I think does not have to be visible or material and I'm sure you can liberate something from Nick Fury on that score."

Tony blinks at him. "Simple," he says. Actually, it sounds incredibly difficult, which is perfect. He's been itching for another project (not that Pietro isn't enough work). He's not wild about the dome, especially if it means talking to Fury, but he can work on that.

"Yeah," he says slowly, "I think that's fine. But no dangerous trips for the holly, okay? I can get my hands on some." He laughs half-heartedly.

"Don't worry yourself, Stark," Loki says. "There is no Balder in this equation, and only a little blood, I hope."

"That is definitely the opposite of worrying," Tony agrees. "Okay, I'll get this thing together as fast as I can. I might be slightly delayed by signing for houses and taking care of baby mutants."

"Oh!" Loki says. "I met your infant."

"Oh," Tony says, startled. "That's...Tell me everything before I assume the worst." Loki and Pietro are pretty much the last people on earth he wants talking to each other. Too many sharp edges.

"You work in patterns, Stark, and I don't care for it," Loki says. "He doesn't care for me, either. I'm bringing him to fetch Sleipnir."

"What?" Tony says. "Hey, I didn't say you could do that!"

"Think of how much he'll appreciate your leadership if you tell him he can't," Loki says.

Tony blinks. "Touche, I guess. Okay, fine, just don't make things worse. He's a really messed up kid right now, and he needs--well, just don't upset him."

Loki manages to look uncomfortable. "I didn't intend to. He thought I was a--villain."

"Can you blame him?" Tony asks. "Five minutes ago, you were. What did you say? What did he say?" Probably too late for damage control. Pietro's been doing so well.

Now Loki is nonplussed. "I don't know. I tried to call you on your wall and he got in the way, and then I invited him to Asgard. And then he hit me in the shoulder. What's wrong with him? You haven't ever said."

Tony hesitates. "Clinically speaking, I'm not sure. But he's really miserable and really bad at taking care of himself. Mostly on purpose."

"Why?" Loki demands.

"Oh, I don't know," Tony says, "maybe because his dad's completely insane, half the world hates his entire race--sorry, races--and he's queer into the bargain. Maybe you can relate." He leaves out the part where some people are just born a little crazy and haven't been reminded that it's okay to try to fix that.

"No need to be scathing, Stark," Loki says. "I didn't know. I still barely know, so you can save your disgust."

"Sorry," Tony says. "Just, panicky. About Pietro. He's really, really, really delicately calibrated. More so than you were, I'd say. Probably because he's about ten."

"Really?" Loki says, startled. "I didn't think you aged quite that quickly."

Tony barks out a laugh. "No, uh--sorry, joke. He's nineteen. Late adolescence. Young." God, Tony was nineteen when he had surgery. He remembers that age. Nineteen is a baby.

Loki mulls over this, mapping it quickly to himself. He says, "Not a good age."

"One of the bad ones, yeah," Tony agrees. "So I'm trying to take care of him, but what do I know about teenagers?"

"Well, he seemed interested enough in guarding you," Loki says, "so I suppose you haven't ruined the child yet."

Promising, maybe. "Okay," Tony says. "Well, you didn't know. But I should see how he's doing, probably."

"He's well gone," Loki says. "I had to come back for you, Stark. You were too busy with apartments for any of your pet projects."

Tony rubs his temples. "Okay. Well, this is going well. I'll have Natasha check in on him or something."

"Oh, yes," Loki says. "That's wise. She knows even more than you do about living as the walking wounded--and far more, I suspect, about keeping the candle with broken soldiers. Or children."

Tony frowns. "That's not really your--well, never mind, you're right. Need anything else? Any other, uh, shrubbery plans?"

"Very few," Loki says. "You'll have to come to Latveria. Are you able tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow." Tony flips open his schedule (blue light spread over thin air) and looks through it quickly. "Yeah, can do. Latveria. Probably cold even in summer."

"Temperate," Loki says.

"Probably means something else to you," Tony says. "But I'm looking forward to this.

"Patterns," Loki says again, with disgust. He gets to his feet. "I don't think running Sleipnir will hurt your infant any further. Only don't think of asking me to talk to him." He waves at Tony. "If you haven't thought of it yet, you will, but restrain yourself. I'm not a mentor. I'm a villain."

Tony's pretty sure Loki isn't either of those things. "Thanks for the tip," he says. He makes sure to watch in case Loki disappears instead of using the door. Loki does use the door, though, just to be polite.

On the other hand, he doesn't say goodbye.

Chapter 34: natasha puts pietro and logan together

Summary:

"There are things other than monsters with fangs and claws that can hurt you."

Notes:

Chapter Warnings: emotional distress, ref to dubcon/seduction, injuries/scars, suicidal behavior, bad mental health

Tony sends Natasha to find Pietro; she goes straight to Logan’s house. Logan is never very public about his address, for obvious reasons, but Natasha's been keeping tabs.

She knocks on the door, just to be polite.

Logan answers the door almost before Natasha finishes knocking. She doesn't really want to see Logan right now, but it’s unavoidable.

"Smelled ya coming," Logan explains. "Something I can do for you, Nat?"

She narrows her eyes. Logan sets her on edge, most days. A reminder that there are people older than she is. "I am here to speak with Quicksilver," she says.

"They grow up so ungrateful," Logan mutters. "In the bedroom. Might be taking a nap. Might be faking it. Don't piss him off worse than he already is. As a favor to me."

"As always, I can only do my best," Natasha says. "I'm not as nurturing as you." She gives him a small smile to show that she means it, then steps past him into the house.

Logan shuts the door behind her and shrugs.

~

Pietro is half-faking and half-asleep. He's lying on his side with a pillow under his head, clutched between his arms, and he keeps drifting between dreams where everyone is talking too loudly, and deafeningly quiet moments of waking up with his own breath in his ears and Logan not coming in after him. He hears a woman's voice in the other room, but he doesn't know whose. He doesn't bother turning around when the bedroom door opens.

Natasha crosses the room, sure to make enough noise that Pietro will hear her come close. She sits on the bed and reaches out to put her hand on his back. "Pietro? It's Natasha."

Pietro bites his lip, but he doesn't move otherwise. "Hi, Natasha," he says. "How's it going?"

She rubs small circles between his shoulder-blades. "Well enough. I've come to see how you are."

"Stupid," Pietro mumbles. "I can't be a good guy."

"Can't?" Natasha asks, her heart sinking. What's been done to him now? "You know that you already are." She tries to remember herself at nineteen, to grasp some small, useful piece of wisdom, but she can't even remember what nineteen felt like.

"I tried," Pietro says. "I was trying. This guy, this mutant, he asked me for advice about his powers because he saw me in the paper, and I couldn't help, and Ifuckedhiminstead."

Natasha forces her hand not to tighten into a fist or curve into claws against Pietro's back. "Are you all right?" she asks. First questions first.

"I dunno," Pietro says. "I didn't mean to." He keeps saying that, and it doesn't matter. "Logan's mad. I thought he was mad because he always worries that..."

"That you'll get hurt," Natasha says. "That you won't come home at all. I know Logan. And he knows you. There are things other than monsters with fangs and claws that can hurt you."

Pietro is woodenly silent for a minute. "Does everybody know about the ones that do have claws?" he asks. "About me and those?"

"I hear things," Natasha says. "But I hear most things. I'm a spy. I don't dwell on rumor."

Pietro flinches away. "Doesn't matter. It's not rumor. I could show you."

Natasha does not want to see. "You could," she says carefully. "If you want."

"You don't want," Pietro says viciously, but in half a second he's out of bed and pulling off his shirt. The light's not great, but it's bright enough that Natasha can see the scars. Some of them are red and fresh, maybe a month or two old.

"Never be good like this," Pietro says, his voice shaking, getting more intense with every word. His shirt is still on his arms, clutched unconsciously and protectively against his chest. "Just a filthy gypsy whore. No wonder my dad only wants Wanda, right? At least she knows how to keep that aspirin between her knees." Shut up! he screams at himself, because he can't, the one thing he can't let himself do is talk like that about her. For a second, he wishes he were dead, like he hasn't for weeks. He makes a sharp motion like he's going to put his shirt back on, but it dies midway, and he ends up standing there clinging to it and looking at Natasha so forlornly it looks like his heart is breaking. Or already broken.

Natasha wants to gather Pietro all together and hold him there, but she's seen damage this extensive (she's been it), and she knows the pieces are too scattered to be picked up in one moment.

Still. She'll do her best. She grabs hold of him, his arms curled against her chest, and squeezes. "But we want you," she says.

Pietro's expression breaks, his eyes large and dry. "I didn't even mean to," he says again. "I wasn't even trying to, I don't know what happened, I don't know why I did that. I was having a really good day."

"It isn't your fault," Natasha says fiercely. She hurts. "It isn't. Things happen to us. People happen to us. It is not you."

"How is it not my fault?" Pietro says. "Why didn't I just come home? Why am I such a fuckup?"

"You're nineteen," Natasha says. "It's not an insult, but it means you're wide open in so many ways. Sometimes you get ahead of yourself, even if you don't move so fast, and then you can't slow yourself down enough to stop it. No one likes admitting they were taken advantage of, but when you end up in a position where most of the world has more power than you, sometimes you are."

"Yeah," Pietro says. "Okay. But this wasn't like that. The guy wasn't doing anything wrong. I was just stupid."

"You don't think sleeping with an angry, frightened, foolish child is wrong?" Natasha asks. She doesn't know the answer as it applied to her life.

Pietro glares. "I wasn't, like, raging and sobbing," he says. "I was helping. He asked me to help. And I'm not a kid."

"How old was he?" Natasha asks. She distrusts anyone who could look at Pietro's face and assume he was anything approaching legal.

"Stop it," Pietro says, pulling back.

"Anyone who takes home someone who looks like you is someone I would like to hurt," Natasha says, her voice hard. "If you tell me where he lives, I will."

"Oh, thanks," Pietro says savagely. He's shaking.

Natasha grabs his shoulders. "You did nothing wrong," she says, her voice deep with anger and distress.

"Logan thinks I did," Pietro counters.

"Logan isn't always right." Natasha knows that. "Believe me. He gets angry and worried, and it makes him forget what matters."

"Fine!" Pietro snaps. "You're right. It was an evil old man. He probably didn't even need help, he probably just wanted to fuck someone who looks like a little fucking kid. And you're right, it totally wasn't my fault at all because you're too fucking dumb to know how to not have sex with strange men when you're a little stupid baby victim like me."

"You're not stupid," Natasha says quietly, her voice steely. "You are suicidal."

"It wasn't like that," Pietro practically screams. "Fuck you, you're not here to see how I'm doing, you already know, don't you? You fucking well know everything."

Natasha pauses. Not as long as she would for anyone else; giving Pietro time doesn't take long. "Then tell me," she says. "Tell me what you need."

Pietro realizes that at some point in his temper he's thrown his shirt down on the floor. He clutches his arms to himself. "Nothing," he says. "Nothingnothing, Idon'twant, I just want, is Logan still mad?"

Natasha recognizes the point at which having another person in the room can do nothing but make matters worse. "Let me go and check," she says. "Fast, I promise." If Logan is angry, he won't be when she's done with him. Not at Pietro, anyway.

Pietro nods quickly and won't meet her eyes.

Natasha leaves the bedroom, closing the door behind her. "Logan," she says.

Logan sticks his head out of the living room, frowning. He's got his arms crossed. "I told you not to piss him off more," he says.

"And I told you I'd try," Natasha says. "He thinks you're angry. Are you?"

"Little bit," Logan says.

"He needs you not to be," Natasha says. "He's furious and frightened and he needs his boyfriend to be there for him. You do know how to be there for people, don't you, Logan?"

Logan looks like his namesake, squat and out of sorts. "He screwed up. Of course he's upset. And I am here, but it's not gonna do him any good if everyone always lets him off the hook."

"What will do him good?" Natasha asks. "Yelling at him until he thinks his only friends have abandoned him? An old man took advantage of him and he thinks it's all right because he's not bleeding." She's shaking. When she realizes, she tries to hide it.

All Logan's uneasiness about Pietro and his age threatens to bubble over. "Yeah, well, if that's what you're worried about, maybe I'm the wrong person to fix it," he growls.

"Do not be so stupid," Natasha snaps. "It's not the same. You care for him. We know nothing about this other man. Age is not the point. Do you know how old my girlfriend is?"

"Haven't asked," Logan grumbles.

"Then I won't tell you," Natasha says. "The point is, no matter what you think you are, you want to look after Pietro. So look after him."

Logan hesitates. "I guess maybe he also, ah. Hurt my feelings a little bit."

"You have those?" Natasha asks. But she's not here to needle him, and she doesn't mean it. "Of course he hurt them. He cheated. Cheats. I'm not suggesting he keep doing it."

Logan stands there looking more and more uncomfortable and less and less happy. "I don't know how to help him, Nat. I can't keep him safe and it's driving me crazy."

Oh, Natasha knows. Logan can't keep anyone safe, and the worst part is that it's never his fault. "He has all of us now," she suggests. That's not enough if he's still doing this to himself, though.

Logan sighs and rubs his forehead. He doesn't look mad anymore. He just looks defeated.

"Okay," he says. "I'll talk to the kid. You wanna say goodbye first?"

"Yes," Natasha says. She goes back to the bedroom and sticks her head in. "Pietro? Logan wants to talk. I have to go home, but call me if he's useless, will you?"

Pietro is sitting on the edge of the bed, and on his hands. He's wearing his shirt again, and a closed-off little expression. He nods. "Thanks," he says. "Sorry I yelled."

"It's all right," Natasha says. "Sometimes I yell, too. Sometimes it helps. We'll see you soon." She waves at him and sends Logan in.

Logan glances after her, then shuts the door. "Hey, kid," he says.

Pietro's mouth draws itself into a flat, sad line and he looks up at Logan from his pointy little face with huge, sad, guilty eyes. It's awful.

"Not mad," Logan says, his throat tight.

"I can't get it right," Pietro says. His voice breaks. "I just want to--try, and I can't stop fucking up. I don't even like it, I just can't stop."

"Ahh, damn it," Logan says miserably. He puts his arm around Pietro. "It's okay. Listen, you don't have to be perfect all at once. I mean, am I perfect? Cut yourself some slack."

Pietro is so full of responses that don't fit that he feels sick. "I'm sorry I didn't come home," he says.

"Yeah," Logan says. "It's okay. I mean, try not to do it. But it's okay. I was just--I was fucking scared, all right?"

Pietro moans, and hides his face in his hands. "I hate myself so fucking much," he says, muffled but audible.

Logan growls and tugs Pietro close. This isn't how things should be. "Well, I love ya," he says. Doesn't help, probably. Besides, loving people never ends well for them. Still. Gotta try.

Pietro never cries, maybe twice since Logan met him, and he doesn’t cry now. He leans against Logan's chest, hands tangled in his shirt. "I can't find any good parts," he says thickly. "Every time there's a good part I just ruin it, I can't stop."

"I don't love people who don't have any good parts," Logan says into Pietro's hair. "I can see 'em."

"Like what?" Pietro retorts, and it's so scornful and vicious that it would be easy to miss the desperate edge in his voice.

"Like you care," Logan says. "You care about damn near everything, that's why you let it get you so messed up. And you're smart, when you want to be. Smarter than I am about some stuff. And you keep on wanting to be good."

Pietro buries his face against Logan and waits. Either there's more, maybe there's more, or there's not, and either way Pietro is sick of making sounds. He just wants to hold on until Logan grabs him up or pushes him down and warms him up enough that he can breathe again.

Logan drags Pietro down on the bed with him, still holding on hard. "And you're sweet," he mutters. "You pretend you're not, but you are. And you're a pretty decent cook." He pats Pietro a little, but not enough that he has to let go very much.

Pietro whimpers, blinking hard, but his cheeks stay dry. He tucks himself up against Logan and tries to suck up all his body heat. Like he doesn't have enough of his own.

Logan loosens his grip just enough to get his hands in Pietro's hair. "Good kid," he whispers. "Really, really good."

Pietro doesn't even really have to believe it for it to work. He relaxes, for Pietro, even though he's still warm and fierce and dangerously quiet in Logan's arms. He says, "I really want to. Be good."

"Believe me, I know," Logan says. "That's half the reason I like you so much." He curls himself around Pietro as best he can, still holding on.

"I still don't deserve," Pietro starts, but he cuts himself off and curls close enough to feel better.

Logan doesn't know when he and his good opinion became something for people to deserve. "Let me decide that," he murmurs. "Sleep, kid. I'll stay with you."

"I'll do better tomorrow," Pietro murmurs, but he falls asleep as fast as he does everything else.

Chapter 35: the idea of pietro infiltrates latveria

Summary:

"They have an infant?" Victor demands.

Notes:

Chapter Warnings: references to incest

"We should walk the boundary again tomorrow morning," Loki says to Victor. "To be sure it’s set right. I'm bringing Stark here in the afternoon." He takes a bite of an apple so he doesn't have to explain himself any better.

"Mm," Victor says noncommittally. He chews his food, swallows, then asks, "Is he prepared?"

"For what?" Loki says. "Your stunning hospitality? The weather? You should probably hide the natives, Victor, or he might suspect you don't feed them well enough."

"I'll feed them soon," Victor says darkly. "No, I was wondering if his pitiful science is really going to be enough for our task."

Loki's expression shifts into something that might be amusement. "Victor," he says. "Are you jealous?"

Definitely amusement.

"There's nothing to be jealous of," Victor grumbles. "No scientist can match me." Although, granted, it's something of a sore spot.

"You're lovely," Loki says. "Your jealousy is lovely. Stark is an architect as much as an engineer, and I know his part of a project won't willfully try to compete with my magic."

Victor can hardly argue with that. "In that case, I just hope he's good enough. He gets distracted so easily." Victor prefers some level of focus when he has a project.

"I begin to think you've never seen him work," Loki says. "But never mind. I know he'll do well enough. And frightening him with my children is fun."

Victor has never heard Loki use the word fun before.

He smiles. If it were a month or so ago, he'd be terrified that Loki would become a well-adjusted member of the Avengers and leave him.

"Are you planning on frightening the rest of the team as well?" he asks. As far as he knows, Loki mostly goes to see Tony.

"The infant," Loki answers, and reaches for his wine.

"They have an infant?" Victor demands. He wouldn't be surprised.

Loki gestures with his glass. "A young thing. Didn't I tell you? Stark said he was ten, but he meant nineteen. They both seem small to me."

Victor vividly remembers being nineteen. Nineteen was college, and Reed Richards, and America. He was constantly angry. "What's it named?" he asks.

Loki thinks. "Pietro, I think," he says. "We met today."

"Maximoff?" Victor puts his glass down with a thud. "Magneto's boy?"

"I don't know," Loki says. "Tony did say his father was insane."

Magneto, in Victor's opinion, is a little too sane. And he thinks he's better than everyone. "Magneto only loves mutants, and mostly himself," Victor says.

"He doesn't love this one, apparently," Loki says.

Victor frowns. "No. So I hear. Pietro ran away, which is, of course, his best skill."

"How do you know?" Loki asks.

"Rumor," Victor admits. "My...type of people talk to one another. Magneto's bad children are always the source of much amusement. Not for him, of course."

Loki frowns revealingly.

"Nor for me," Victor says. "I have no interest in helpless young people who have barely been involved in Magneto's more objectionable political maneuvering. How is the boy? What's he like?"

"Fast," says Loki. "I'm sending him up to help with Sleipnir."

"You are? Is that a good idea?"

"All of my ideas are good," Loki says. "Tony thinks the infant is not well. Worse than me, in point of fact." He scowls. "If Stark tries to make me talk things over with the boy, I'll rip his eyes out. Stark's. The boy is too fast, I think."

Victor smirks. "Not going to mentor the poor little thing, then?" He can't imagine.

"Don't be revolting," Loki says. "What has he done to deserve it?" He's sending the child to Sleipnir instead.

"Be broken," Victor says, shrugging. "Well, no matter. I'm sure he'll have no shortage of mentors on that team." He's curious about what they're doing with a mutant.

That's not what Loki means, but he lets it go. "He guards them like a good pup," he says instead. "They must be treating him better than his father, at least."

"From what I hear, that wouldn't take much," Victor says. "He's a cold, calculating man. Almost admirable, if he weren't so short-sighted and narrow-minded."

"So Pietro Maximoff is not his own fault," Loki says. He looks away. "I suppose that's not surprising."

"So it goes," Victor says. "I mostly feel bad for the twin. The powerful witch, the one he's in love with."

"What?" Loki says rather over-loudly.

"Oh, you know," Victor says. "Wanda, I think her name is. Everyone says the boy’s in love with her. Magneto is terrible at child-rearing."

“Oh, quite," Loki says acerbically.

"Ah," Victor says. He clears his throat. "I didn't--My apologies."

"Dear Victor," Loki says, profoundly bland.

"I sometimes fail to think," Victor says, embarrassed. "It's probably just a rumor, anyhow."

"He'll do well with the horse because he can catch him," Loki says.

Victor smiles. Loki finds a way to make use of everything he sees. "Tidy," he says.

"Sleipnir could use a friend," Loki says, looking down into his glass. "Especially to dissuade him from approaching Fenrir too easily."

Victor is suddenly glad he hasn't managed to have children. This entire conversation is a lesson in why it's a mistake. "The boy could probably use a friend, too," he says. "The Avengers will appreciate that, I hope."

"It's not for him," Loki says, and then bites his tongue to see if he's gone too far.

Victor laughs. "I think you're lying."

"I'm not them," Loki says, scowling. "I don't go around rescuing damaged people out of the kindness of my heart."

"No," Victor says, "but I think you rescue damaged people because it's neat and useful and you like things in their place."

Loki takes a long drink instead of answering, but Victor doesn’t give him an out.

"People like us don't like talking things through," he says finally. "This seemed better."

Victor slides his hand over Loki’s. "It's perfect," he says. "Your plans generally are." At least at first, he doesn't add.

"Don't worry," Loki says. "He'll wreck them."

"I have no doubt of it," Victor agrees.

Chapter 36: jan is still seeing natasha romanoff

Summary:

"But we wouldn't be like that," she says.

Notes:

Chapter Warnings: bad parenting

Pietro is practically tiptoeing around Logan again the next morning. Every time he smiles he looks like he expects to be told off for it. In all honesty, he doesn't really seem fit for work, but he won't let Logan keep him home, and so he's at the Tower by ten. Natasha and Jan are sitting in the rec room. Pietro has a hard time imagining Jan getting up in the morning for any reason but Natasha.

"I'm just saying, aquatic is a little weird, but green and morally ambiguous and changing sides all the time aren't necessarily bad," Jan says. "Look at Hulk. He's green. And you've been, like, a quintuple-agent."

"Hi," Pietro says quickly, before Jan can possibly land on him as morally ambiguous. At least he knows he’s not aquatic.

Jan shrieks and then laughs at herself. "Uh," she says. "Hi. Sorry, Pietro. Good morning!"

Natasha smiles. Pietro doesn't look particularly well, but at least he's here and speaking. "Did you rest well?" she asks, instead of asking anything more invasive.

"Yeah, 'm okay," Pietro says. He smiles, maybe a little hollow-eyed and anxious, at Jan. "Thanks for coming by yesterday. Um."

"Whenever you need it," Natasha says. "I like visiting my friends." She pats the seat next to her.

Pietro sidles in and takes it, and starts jiggling his leg. "So, do we have stuff to do today? I mean, I probably should've just waited till I got a call but I was worried you wouldn't call me cause you thought I was out sick or something so I wanted to make sure you knew, I'm good!"

Natasha forces her face not to show any of the expressions it wants to. He is so eager. She squeezes his arm quickly and says, "Don't worry, we always call. Tony has been distracted with..." She frowns. "With something. He's had visitors and relocating. I believe he is out. But perhaps we can find you something." There's always someone causing trouble.

"It's okay if there's--" Pietro starts, and then shrugs. "Actually I will go fucking crazy if I don't have something to do today, but I can always...learn to talk to Thor or something." He really doesn't know how to talk to Thor. He likes him, but.

Natasha suspects that Thor doesn't know what to make of Pietro. It might do both of them some good to try friendship. Thor likes friendship.

"You could do that," she says. "Or you could check in on AIM to see how many of them have escaped our notice lately. Hank's been monitoring them."

"Oh, Hank," Pietro says dismissively, which makes Jan frown. Pietro notices, and says, "He was saying ridiculous shit about mutants yesterday! He didn't even think he was fucking being offensive! I'm allowed to think someone who's being fucking offensive is being offensive."

Jan makes a face. That's fair. And Hank is totally stupid enough in that way to be a big jerk in front of Pietro.

"Right?" Pietro says. "But whatever, I can talk to him."

"Hank is a fool," Natasha says. She pats Jan's knee by way of apology. Of course, in her past, mutants were barely spoken of. But she's learned better.

"But I can talk to him," Pietro says again. "No, that's good."

"Good," Natasha echoes. "He can give you a project." What Pietro really needs right now is any distraction they can throw at him. It's a pity he moves so fast.

Pietro grins at her, believable if a little wind-battered. "I'll make him," he says. He gets up. "See ya. Bye, Jan." Jan waves half-heartedly, and Pietro takes off for Hank's lab.

Natasha sits back and sighs. "I hope Logan is taking good care of him," she says. "He always tries so hard."

"He's not the only one," Jan says, and then flaps her hands. "I know, I know, I was totally a dick about Pietro, but, y'know, he's a scary, scary baby and he keeps being good like it's a full time job. God, it's so cute and upsetting!"

Natasha can agree with both parts of that, for once. "He wants very badly to be a good person, and he's terrified that he's not." It is embarrassingly familiar.

Jan says glumly, "Let's never have kids."

Natasha blinks, surprised. They hadn't actually discussed this seriously, so she isn't sure how to respond to the joke. "Mm," she says, after letting the silence drag on a bit too long.

Jan gets up and flops down lengthwise on one of the couches opposite Natasha. "You know what I mean," she says. "Like every personal mission we've had as a team--everyone on our team--boils down to, parents will screw you up and probably they won't be sorry at all, cause they're just awful."

Natasha had parents, once. They weren't the ones who screwed her up, though. Not that she remembers. "But we wouldn't be like that," she says. She wonders when she became so naive. Probably too much time with Jan and Clint.

"God, you hope not, don't you," Jan says, looking closely at her. "Hey! Hey, hey, who do you think will have babies? Hopefully not Tony and Steve, they are way too high maintenance. Bruce and Thor should have lots. I guess Loki already has some somewhere..."

"Mostly animals," Natasha says. "I imagine they have a higher chance of making it out unscathed."

"You'd think so," Jan says. She's reserving judgment, based on Loki alone.

"But our children would be fine," Natasha says firmly. "If we did have them. You would be a good mother." Natasha would be a good mother, too. This time, she would.

"Aw, gee," Jan says, grinning at her sideways from the couch. "Do you think Thor can make babies all over the place like Loki? Maybe that's actually just an Asgardian thing and not a weird Asgardian-Jotun magic mixture thing."

"I think you should ask," Natasha says. "Just remind him not to have children with Hulk."

"Why not?"

Natasha considers. "All right," she says. "But whatever combination they choose for having children, Bruce should have the most say in raising them."

"Thor can be the fun one," Jan agrees. "Bruce can be the parent."

"Hulk can be the Hulk," Natasha says. She smiles. "This team, it is working out. I'm...surprised."

"And Pietro needs to never make babies, not for like thirty years at least," finishes Jan, refusing to be deterred, but she goes on, "We are good, huh? We help people, just like you said. Like us! Even if this is like, the most expensive, dangerous therapy I could possibly imagine."

Natasha tends not to think of it that way, but Jan is right. That's exactly what it is for her. "It seems to be working well for everyone," she says carefully. Pietro is still a wildcard.

"Yeah, I’m glad," says Jan. She rolls off the couch, gets to her feet, and leans over Natasha in her chair to give her a kiss. "You're my brave good girl, Nat," she says. "And every time everybody forgets it because they're too busy crying over the boys' problems, I don't forget. You're just like them. But you're a hell of a lot tougher."

Natasha shudders and closes her eyes. "I know you don't forget," she says thickly. "You notice everything. That's one of the reasons I keep you close." There are so many reasons, but Jan knows that. Natasha tangles her fingers in Jan's hair and kisses her again.

Jan lets herself be kissed, and then puts her hand on Natasha's face, and puts herself in charge. "I know you like it that way," she says into Natasha's mouth, barely pulling back. "You don't like everyone knowing your business. You don't like brooding. I'm really glad you let me see it, though. No matter how tough you are, y'know, I don't like you to be alone."

Natasha has let herself be alone for the past few days, especially with Pietro. He troubles her so greatly, but she hasn't said anything. Jan can see it, though, Natasha knows. She nearly says something about the past, and babies, and things going wrong, but she doesn't understand quite how it connects. Maybe later.

"Thank you," she says instead.

"Of course, sweetheart," Jan says, kissing her cheek, and puts herself down on the arm of Natasha's chair to give her a hug. She means, of course I see you, and of course you matter enough for me to look. "Of course."

Chapter 37: pietro only goes to help

Summary:

"You were perfect. Is that all right?"

Notes:

Chapter Warnings: Ezekiel is really creepy and manipulative about past sex, pietro's gender, rough sex (implications of torture?), family, and pietro in general. Also mixed into that, some stuff about mutants as a minority.

Pietro feels better by the time he leaves the tower to get some lunch. Hank wasn't a total dick, and he apologized for being a total dick before, once Pietro explained to him about motherfucking bigotry. So now Pietro knows all about AIM, and he thinks possibly Hank doesn't hate him, if only because he's too busy being interested in science to have emotions about other people.

So Pietro goes to lunch, favorite cafe, as per usual, and for five minutes he actually, tentatively, feels really...okay.

"Pietro?"

Ezekiel has just walked in the door, squinting as his eyes adjust to the relative darkness of the cafe. He's wearing jeans, today, instead of a suit.

Pietro jerks up in his seat, twisting around fast to see.

"Ezekiel," he says. "Uh. Hi. Didn't expect to see you."

"I always come here," Ezekiel says, smiling a slightly bemused smile. "I hope we left things okay last time."

"Uh," says Pietro. "Hah. Y'know, I thought so! But my boyfriend really didn't. So."

Ezekiel frowns and takes a seat across from Pietro, not too close. "Whoa, now. Hold on. You didn't say you had a boyfriend."

"Yeah, that didn't really come up," Pietro says. "I guess. I guess I thought maybe you would've heard that in all the...papers."

"Amazingly, they don't seem to know about that part," Ezekiel says. He looks upset. "You could have said something. I don't want to wreck any homes."

"Didn't think you'd give a shit," Pietro says, shrugging. "Anyway, he's--" kind of used to it makes him feel bad, because it's mostly true, so he shuts his mouth and picks up his coffee.

"Unless he's a complete asshole you shouldn't be with anyway, I give a shit," Ezekiel says briskly. He glances at the counter like he wants to order something, but he says, "Listen, maybe I should just get out of here."

"Is your power thing doing okay?" Pietro asks abruptly. He doesn't actually want his fuck-up to leave somebody in the lurch.

Ezekiel hesitates. "I really don't want to make it your problem," he says. On the word problem, his lips blur, blue with static.

Pietro jumps. "Fuck," he says. "Uh, I was talking to Hank. Pym, y'know, Ant Man. Not about you, but about energy stuff like--he gave me a reading list, kind of? I could bring it to you. If you want."

Ezekiel looks visibly relieved. "Would you? I'd like that." He meets Pietro's eyes, and his are very bright. “You're a really good kid.”

"Just a minute," Pietro says, getting up. He can fucking feel himself blushing. Not okay. Not good, not okay. He shoots out of the building and hopes the wind will knock the color out of his cheeks.

He's back in less than a minute. He puts the list right into Ezekiel's hand.

"Haven't read it all," Pietro says. "One thing I'm kinda slow at. Hope it helps?"

"Wow," Ezekiel says. "Never gonna get used to that." He glances at the list. "This is great. I'll get started on these tonight." He smiles and squeezes Pietro's arm before letting go fast. "Oh, didn't mean to--sorry." He holds up his hands, looking half amused, half worried.

"Oh, it's--okay," Pietro says, awkward. He tries on a smile, fidgets, and then sits down. "Um. So, I mean. Are you feeling okay? Do you think maybe you should talk to somebody after all? That didn't look good, I mean, I'm just kinda concerned."

"So am I, honestly," Ezekiel says. "I just need more practice controlling it, I think, but I've been all over the place lately. I just need to settle down. That hotel's not great for thinking." He gives Pietro a smile that's not quite apologetic.

"Yeah," Pietro says. He grins. "It's kinda soulless. I'd offer you my room in the tower, cause I never use it, but I don't think anybody'd like that too much. Although, I mean, since Steve and Tony moved out, there’s almost nobody left to annoy."

"Yeah?" Ezekiel says. He sounds concerned, and very interested, just like he does whenever Pietro says pretty much anything. "Everyone's taking off already? They sounded like such a solid team."

"Oh, god, not like that!" Pietro says, laughing so anxiously it comes out like half a hiccup. "I just--I live with my boyfriend, and Steve and Tony--" His mouth stops midway through making its next syllable, as he realizes exactly how much he's saying that he's not supposed to say. "--have both been really busy lately, and I think Steve wants something a little more old-fashioned to call home than Tony Stark's big fucking highrise playground, y'know?"

Ezekiel's mouth twists strangely. "Well, huh. I guess that makes sense. You know, it's really too bad you have that boyfriend. I want to apologize for that." His whole chest is glowing very faintly blue through his shirt.

Pietro eyes it with alarm. "You might want to get back to your hotel," he says. "You know, if you don't want everyone to see."

Ezekiel glances down and does a double take. "Damn it! I didn't--Okay, yeah, I should get back there."

"Are you okay?" Pietro says.

Ezekiel starts to say yes, but when his fingers touch his chest, they're blue, too. "I, uh," he says. He sounds baffled and lost. "I don't think I am."

Pietro swallows. "I could, um," he says. "Icanbringyouback. To your hotel? But you might--uh. There's..." He can't bring this guy to the Tower, he barely knows him, and the only other time they've met, Pietro fucked everything up.

"Please," Ezekiel says. "I won't lay a hand on you, if that's what you're worried about, I just can't do this in public." For a big guy, he looks pretty scared.

"Okay," says Pietro, trying to keep his voice down, but a couple people are starting to look. "Okay, let's go outside, okay? I can get you back to, I can't bring you to the tower, okay, but I canbringyoubackhome."

Ezekiel doesn't waste time. He gets out of the cafe before anyone else can notice. "Home," he says. "Now, please, I don't think I can--" He shuts his mouth before blue light can seep out of it.

Pietro grabs him, and runs as fast as he thinks he can without making Ezekiel--rupture, or something. He knows the way back to Ezekiel's hotel, luckily, and it doesn't take long to rush Ezekiel up to his door. "Yougottakey?" he asks, watching big-eyed while Ezekiel glows.

Ezekiel nods and pulls one out, with apparent difficulty. He's not even trying to talk now. He manages to get the door unlocked and get inside, but that’s it. He's a streak of blue light before the door shuts behind them.

He flares bright in the center of the room, rotates, and spins end over end for close to a minute before coming back together into a man. He looks exhausted and angry.

Pietro is backed up against the closed door, hugging himself and looking petrified. "Are you...okay?" he asks, when Ezekiel reforms. "I think you, god, I think you really need some real help, not just some stupid, are you okay? Shit."

Ezekiel sits heavily on the bed. "I do need help. But I don't want to go to people who aren't--you know, who aren't mutants." He still sounds more angry than scared, though.

"I am basically the worst person you could have asked, then," Pietro says. "I fucking hate the X-Men and I fucking hate my dad and everyone else knows who I am, y'know, so I don't really get to play with the kids next door." Especially not lately.

"But you can talk to me," Ezekiel presses. "Pietro, I don't have anyone. I think I—I really need you."

Pietro swallows. "Yeah, but, you're gonna get hurt. I can't help with that!"

"Maybe you can," Ezekiel says slowly. "I keep destabilizing, and I can't control it with just willpower. Maybe what I need is some sort of--stabilizing mechanism. Drugs? Maybe a machine? But I don't know anything that works like that. Nothing I have access too, anyway."

"And I do?" Pietro asks dubiously. His assets, as he mentally counts them, add up to a pissy old man, a shitty apartment that he's kind of fond of, and running really fast. That's about it. The Avengers are something he should probably tack on there, but he doesn't think he could use most of them at a moment's notice, and not in most in the ways that would be any use to him ever.

"Well, I don't know," Ezekiel says. "I'm not sure how it all works, but it seems like some of Iron Man's technology is..." He stops and buries his face in his hands. "Damn it. I have no fucking idea. I'm just grasping at straws, right?"

Pietro detaches himself from the door and edges closer to Ezekiel. "Sorry. I mean, don't freak out, okay? I'm sure there's something. It'll be okay."

Ezekiel looks up and smiles ruefully. "That's really nice of you. I appreciate all this, especially after what happened last time."

Pietro shrugs, and sits down on the other corner of the bed. "It's not like you did anything wrong. You didn't know about Logan, and I--I, uh, I wasn't exactly notgoingalongwithit."

"Yeah," Ezekiel says. He sounds confused. "I don't really--but it's your business. Honestly, I just really like you and I appreciated the company." He smiles.

"Your mistake," Pietro says. "My fuck-up." Things are awkward and silent for a minute (probably not a minute, but it feels like a minute to Pietro and anything that feels like a minute is way, way, way too long). "I don't really feel like I should leave you here," he says. "Uh. I mean, I don't know if I can help, but I--what do you want me to do?"

"If it's not--not weird, could you stay a while?" Ezekiel frowns at himself. "I could really just stand not to be alone."

Pietro fidgets. "Yeah," he says. "Yeah, no, that's not weird." It's not. It's kind of what he's supposed to be doing, and even Logan wouldn't say he's trying to cheat or get hurt by sitting with somebody who's scared and--well, sick. "We can put the TV on, or I guess we could--I dunno, talkorsomething."

Ezekiel smiles. "Yeah, that sounds good. I haven't really talked to anyone much since my mutation started getting...noticeable. You might as well tell me about yourself. I didn't ask before."

"What, are you a therapist?" Pietro says. "Anyway, I thought you know all about me except for my boyfriend." He smiles to show he doesn't mean it in a bad way.

Ezekiel covers his mouth with his hand, looking somewhere between thoughtful and frustrated. "I probably shouldn't have talked so much about reading about you. That stuff's never accurate." He laughs, a stilted little chuckle.

"Yeah, well," Pietro shrugs. "I mean, it knows everything that counts, right? I'm a bad kid, my dad's a big asshole mutie who's gonna blow up the planet, or a big damn savior of mutant-kind, depending on your delusion. I have a sister. Two sisters. They're both better children than me."

"Two?" Ezekiel asks. "Huh. I mostly only hear about, uh, Wanda. Who's apparently a model daughter."

"Oh, yeah, there's Lorna. She's just a kid, though. And she's only our half-sister."

Ezekiel nods. "I was an only child. No one to compete with, I guess. I never had that extra drive to succeed." He laughs again.

"You a frumpy middleman?" Pietro asks. "Damn. Wouldn’t have guessed that. Still might be better than self-destructive asshole who ends up on the bottom of the heap." With Wanda, too. Not just with Magneto.

"Hey," Ezekiel says. "Don't talk that way about yourself, kid. You're a really nice guy."

Pietro looks away uncomfortably. "Yeah, well, Wanda's my best friend and even she doesn't want me around," he says. "So I guess something could be going better."

"Ah," Ezekiel says. "Well, that's…you know, that's tough. But your family will come around. If you want them to. I sort of got the impression..."

"What?" Pietro says. "What did you think?"

"That your father wanted you to help him run his--you know, his grand plan to do whatever it is he thinks he's doing." Ezekiel shrugs. "I'm sure if you came back, he'd still want your help."

"Came back?" Pietro says flatly.

Ezekiel frowns. "Yeah. Everyone says you ran away because you and your dad had a fight."

"We did have a fight, yeah," Pietro says. Understatement.

"Well," Ezekiel says slowly, "I'm sure if you changed your mind and came home..."

"It was a bad fight," Pietro says. "Anyway, I don't want to do things that way. I'm a good guy now." He rolls his eyes. "I'm diversifying the Avengers."

Ezekiel smiles. "Let me see...Mutant, Jewish..."

"Big fucking queer, etcetera," Pietro says. He's not playing the Oh, wow, you're a gypsy?! game today.

Ezekiel winces. "Right. That too. Obviously."

"They're good, though," Pietro shrugs. "They just need to be shook up a little. I like 'em."

"They sound like they really get you," Ezekiel says. "I'm glad you've found people you can be honest with. I'd kill for that, right now."

"Punk-ass manic runaway probably not gonna cut it," Pietro agrees.

"Actually," Ezekiel says, "so far you're just what I need."

Pietro freezes. "Yeah?" he asks.

"Yeah," Ezekiel says. He makes a move as if to touch Pietro, then yanks his hand back. "Anyway," he says roughly, "I appreciate it. Like I said. You're a good kid."

"Hey, so you didn't say about you," Pietro says. "Are you really a frumpy middle manager?"

Ezekiel laughs. "What, don't I seem like it? That was my life, up until my mutation manifested. I guess the only black mark on my record was the split with my wife."

"I thought that was," Pietro starts. "Um, that wasn't because you're a mutant?"

He shakes his head. "It was before. I guess I messed up a few times. Got caught cheating." His eyes flash. "She wasn't perfect, though. She was selfish and irresponsible."

Pietro privately thinks that he's all their faults put together, but he doesn't say that. Not his moment to self-loathe.

"Things get fucked up," he says instead. "People aren't that great, sometimes."

Wow, Pietro, really profound, he thinks, as soon as it’s out of his mouth.

"It was my fault we split, though," Ezekiel says. "I wasn’t satisfied with our—relationship. But the things I wanted were..."

Pietro realizes the hairs on his arms are standing up. "Not so good?" he asks. His voice is scratchy. He coughs.

"She didn't think. Hell, I didn't think so." Ezekiel looks Pietro in the eye, his own eyes gleaming blue. "But I shouldn't be talking to you about this."

Pietro half-swallows a laugh. "I think it's okay," he says. "Anyway, I--"

"Know just what that's like?" Ezekiel finishes. "I know. I noticed. You didn't get all those scars in a fight."

"Oh," Pietro says. "N-no. Not...most of them. I mean, depends on what you call a fight." He doesn't want to tell Ezekiel about this. He barely even tells Logan, except that he can't hide it from Logan and Pietro can't get rid of the urge to disgust him into leaving.

Ezekiel grimaces, but not like he's disgusted. "Yeah," he says. "That's what I thought. I don't want to leave anyone with scars, but I--well, I understand the urge. From the other side. But I never found any women who wanted it."

"Women?" Pietro asks. "I thought--"

"Oh," Ezekiel says. "Well--I mean, it's always been women. In the past. I don't really sleep with men. As a rule. They're just not my..."

Pietro half-laughs, half-gulps out, "I wasn't too manly for you?"

Ezekiel looks down, not meeting Pietro's eyes. "You were perfect. Is that all right?"

"Yeah," Pietro says thickly. "I just don't know how you knew it would be."

Ezekiel looks up again. "It just seemed right," he says. "I'm a good guesser."

"I'm not, you know, I'm not a lady," Pietro says, kind of going too fast and not knowing how to slow down. "I mean I'm still not your thing, I think I'm in between, I guess, isthatweird? I thinkthat'sweirdbut I don't feel like a guy either, shit, what am I saying to you, shit, but I--not even Logan knows that. Shit."

"Hey," Ezekiel says. He puts his hand on Pietro's shoulder. "Hey. It's okay. You are what you are. It's all right. I get it. You're not the first person I've met with a complicated gender." He squeezes Pietro's shoulder.

Pietro eyes him. "Wouldn't've guessed it," he says.

Ezekiel shrugs. "Well, they turn up everywhere. So I guess you can't really shock me with anything you've got going on." He laughs, and he sounds relieved.

"Guess not," says Pietro. "Hey, are you feeling...?"

Ezekiel takes a deep breath, checking. "Better," he says. "For now, anyway. It's been happening more often, though."

"I really don't know what to do," Pietro says. "I mean I gave you that stuff, about...stuff. I can tell Bruce and Hank more about you, or, y'know, I guess Tony knows something about being a living lightbulb."

Ezekiel's laugh sounds forced. "Oh, yeah, guess he would. Lucky guy, with that much money and access to all that tech."

"To be fair he builds most of the tech," Pietro says. "I mean, with the money. So it’s not so much luck as luck and a really big brain? But still." He's feeling mostly kinder towards Tony as time goes on, and he doesn't really like idea that people are going to start trying to talk to him about the asshole rich guy he has to put up with. People already do that with Magneto.

Ezekiel rolls his shoulders and smiles. "Sorry. Guess I'm just getting scared. Without that kind of advantage, I don't know what's going to happen to me. But I think I'll be okay for now."

"I can talk to him," Pietro says. "Seriously."

Ezekiel hesitates. "No," he says. "No, thanks okay. I appreciate it and all, but I've heard enough about him to know I don't trust him or anyone else on that team with a mutant issue."

Pietro flushes. "They're not--they're not that bad," he says. But it feels like maybe they are, for a moment. And, okay, it's true that however good their intentions are, he's fucking well the only one on the team, in a whole bunch of ways. Which is not so great.

“I know," Ezekiel says. "You're right. I'm just jumpy. You hear so many horror stories, you know? Besides, it's not like Tony's arc reactor technology could really even do anything about my problem..."

"Even though it safely contains massive amounts of energy?" Pietro says. "I get where you’re coming from. Hey, you're not radioactive, are you? I'm not going to get cancer from hanging out with you, right?"

"Uh," Ezekiel says, looking panicked for a second. Then he settles. "No," he says. "No, I don't think so. I think they would have tried harder to find me if I were. God damn it. What a mess."

Pietro frowns. "Who is they?" he asks. "You said you didn't know what was happening to you. Why would somebody else?"

Ezekiel laughs bitterly. "Well, my ex knows. And my kids. And you can bet they told someone. And if the any of those mutant-hunters in the government got wind of it, I don't imagine I'd last long if they thought I sounded really dangerous."

"Guess not," Pietro says. He stands up. "Listen, if you're okay for now, I've gotta go, they'll ask where I've been and I--I'm kind of in trouble for last time? So I don't really want to have to explain. But, you can have my phone number, if you need...something." He fishes a pen out of his pocket and scribbles his number on the list of nearby restaurants laid out on the desk.

Ezekiel smiles. "Thanks. I might do that. Not in the middle of the night or anything, though. Listen, take care of yourself."

"Tell me something I haven't heard five times today," Pietro says. "Anyway. See ya." He smiles at the door, a little nervously, and then takes off.

Chapter 38: loki and tony consider fenrir

Summary:

"They deserve to be happy," Loki says, "but I don't deserve them to be."

Notes:

Chapter Warnings: ref to past rape/incest, child neglect, victim self-blaming?

It is eight in the morning in New York when Loki arrives at Tony's door.

"Jarvis," he says to the door, "be gentle. But I would like to go."

JARVIS is gentle, but Tony manages to make it out the door by ten past eight. He's not thrilled.

"You could have warned me," he says. He's still wearing last night's t-shirt. "I could have been busy. Sleeping."

"Sleeping, yes," Loki says, deadpan, but moving on too quickly for Tony to retaliate. "It's already one o'clock in Latveria. There's no time to waste time."

"How are we getting there?" Tony asks. "I mean, I have a jet, and there's the suit..." He feels weird about bringing the suit to Latveria, though. Doom can get so territorial.

"Am I not good enough for you?" Loki asks demurely. He is in a mood, and he is indulging it; he knows perfectly well that Stark will put up with his ego if it means having something to do beyond nursing Steve.

"If you insist," Tony says, smiling. "I could use a break from New York as fast as possible, anyway. It's too hot. Come on, let's go."

"Very good," Loki says. He grabs Tony's arm, and they go.

It's twenty degrees colder in Latveria, and especially chilly where Loki puts them, on the battlements of Doom's castle. The battlements have excellent visibility.

Tony shivers and wraps his arms around himself. "I should have brought a jacket. If you'd let me sleep another hour, I might have remembered to. Where's Doom?"

"Probably sniffing you out at this moment," Loki says. He puts his hands against a dip between the crenellations and leans out, looking over his piece of country.

"Yeah, he likes lurking around and--"

"I invite people to my home, and this is what I get," Doom says.

Tony spins around. "Ah," he says. "Right. There's a door there. You're very quiet, for a guy in a giant metal suit. But I guess I should know how that is. Hi."

Doom sighs. "It's a pity it had to be you."

"Victor, you make me revel in my choice," Loki says with a slightly unpleasant smile. "I was about to show Tony the land we will work with. We'll check the corners afterwards. Would you like to stay and grimace over your ill-considered generosity?" To Tony he says, "You would not think crying would soften the heart of Doctor Doom, but that is why you are engaged with Steve Rogers."

Tony laughs, surprised. "I--yeah, I guess so."

"I'm going to watch from up here," Doom tells them somewhat venomously. Tony thinks there's an edge of fondness to it, though.

Loki looks smug, turning back to the wall. "Here, Stark," he says, pointing to the boundaries. "It's nearly five thousand acres (I'm told, anyway, assuming Victor here hasn't invented the acre as a unit of measurement). That's as close as we'll come to a real hunting ground for Fenrir, which is better than he's had, and it will do nicely for Sleipnir."

He traces his finger along the border of the land as he describes it to Tony. It follows a fringe of trees, up to a thicker wood. The entire far half of the land is woods. The northern portion of the wood is interrupted by a wide, clear lake and a meadow surrounding it. Further west, closer to the castle, the land is mostly meadow, working its way uphill, long grey-green grasses punctuated by sharp grey rock. The whole parcel is cut east to west by a small river, which runs into the lake in the northwest corner and underground west of that.

Loki hopes Tony does not immediately notice the residences (not many) located perhaps slightly too close to the borders.

Tony frowns, studying it. "It's good," he says. "I think. I want to take a closer look, of course, but I think this is something we can work with." Privately, he doesn't trust Latveria as a hospitable climate for anything, but Loki knows his own business.

"The soil is more forgiving than you'd guess," Loki says. "Some clay, but mostly good earth. It'll take the hedge well and you'll be able to bury your fenceposts. The size is the problem, isn't it? We don't want to be plucking anything by hand this time around."

Tony nods. "Right, and it'll take a while to erect, too. If I can bring the suit here, I could do that faster." It can't possibly look too military if Loki invites him.

"I have robots of my own," Doom sneers. Tony can hear the sneer. "They can help you with your hedge."

"But it's no good if Stark can't, is it, Victor?" Loki says. "He'll faint away from the cold and we'll have to do everything ourselves. I don't wish to do everything myself."

"You're in a mood," Doom mutters, and suddenly Tony can imagine, completely and probably inaccurately, what their home life is like.

"I won't cause you trouble," he says cheerfully. "Not this time, anyway. I just want to get work done."

"Mm," Doom says. "Very well. This once."

"You're a prince among kings," Loki says, putting a surprisingly gentle hand against Doom's mask. "Come along, Stark," he says as he lets go. "We'll walk. I hope your heart can take a few hours' exertion."

That hurts, unexpectedly, but Tony shrugs it off. "Sure," he says. "No problem. Let's go." He waves to Doom, deciding that he's being more sensitive about Loki and Doom's adorable love life than Loki's sharp tongue. He wishes Steve were here.

Almost certainly to Victor's annoyance, Loki takes Tony through the castle to bring him outside. He rather hopes Tony enjoys what view he gets of it; it seems fair, since Loki traipses in and out of Stark's house with impunity. Loki halts them halfway down a staircase and ducks into a room, gesturing for Tony to stay behind. When he ducks out again, he's holding a dark blue coat--coat in the sense of something he might wear, rather than something Stark ever would.

"It might be large," Loki says, holding it out. "But it shouldn't hamper you as much as the cold would."

Tony takes it. "Wow. Uh, thanks. This is really nice. I'll try not to get, uh, Latverian mud on it." It's surprisingly warm.

He tries not to stare as they make their way out of the castle. It's like walking through the past, except that here and there, little bits of technology stick out incongruously. Tony would totally live here.

Loki leads them outside. The wind is markedly a wind today, and the sky is a deep, shocking blue, clouds chasing across it in streaks of white. Loki turns to Tony and says, "The whole perimeter is nearly thirty miles. Don't fear, Stark, I won't make either of us walk it all. But some earth under your feet ought to give you a better understanding of what you're building into, hmm? Let me know when you're tired; my leg is quite well."

Tony's a little surprised that Loki even mentions the leg. That seems healthy. "Great," he says. "I've been cooped up too much lately. I could use some walking." Much as when he looked at the map, he's surprised to see that Latveria isn't all mountains of ice or something. He can probably work with this.

"Good," Loki says. He seems to mean it. He sets off down the slope into the meadow that lies below the castle, skirting small pockets of half-melted snow, long yellow grass catching at his legs.

Tony jogs after him. "I can see why you like it here," he says. "I mean, apart from the stunningly good company, obviously."

Loki casts him an amused glance. "It's very good country," he says. "And there aren't so many people in it." The ones there are tend to avoid him.

"I was going to ask," Tony says, furrowing his brow. He scans the horizon, but he can't see anything. Not what he's looking for, anyway. "The citizens. Do they know you're moving a giant monster wolf into their country?"

"I doubt he'll eat them if I ask him not to," Loki says.

"Yeah, he seemed really amenable to suggestions," Tony mutters. But he'll drop it, for now. They have a lot of problems to solve before the wolf gets here. He refocuses, drawing up plans in his head for where to put fenceposts.

This, Loki decides, is a good time not to clarify whether he will tell Fenrir not to eat the natives. He suspects that after the first few, in any case, they will stop trying to cross over into Fenrir and Sleipnir's land.

"I want a twenty-five foot hedge," Loki says. "That won't take as long as it sounds to grow, but it will be an--effort. That is to say, it's my very good fortune that Victor is a witch as well. Growing it onto the fenceposts would be best, so that they weave to each other, as with the net. And beyond that..." He waves his arm across the arc of the sky. "A roof, if you can manage it. A roof they can't see. I know what he said about seeing his walls, Tony, but I cannot keep him safe without a roof, and I cannot keep him in the dark. I won't." He catches himself growing adamant, and smooths himself out. "It's also important, of course, that the wall is secure to the children, but lets prey through for Fenrir without too much trouble."

Tony nods, wheels turning. "I think I'd better do something with an energy field for this. Anything else will get in the way or be too flimsy." The wall is a bigger problem. "I could leave gaps," he says. "Small enough for rabbits and things, but not for giant wolves? I don't know, maybe the magic would help with that."

"It certainly will," says Loki. He sighs and rubs his forehead. "I've been going too slowly," he says. "He'll think I didn't mean it, soon, no matter how often I go back."

"Then I'll speed things up on my end," Tony says firmly. "I know what I need. And it's not like I'm doing anything else important." He's only partly being sarcastic. He's really let things slip with the team while he gets Steve all sorted out.

Loki regards him in a somewhat upsetting way. "How is the infant doing?" he asks, apropos of nothing. "I mean Pietro. Not Rogers."

Tony hesitates. "Natasha said to keep an eye on him. Because he's been having a rough time. He's been in and out, doing some missions with the team. I don't know, though. I'm starting to think keeping him together is kind of a tall order. Not that we can't, but. Well. Gonna take some work."

Loki raises an eyebrow. "And that's why you have so much time to spare on me," he says. "Pray never have children."

"No kidding," Tony says. "I know that already. But Natasha's looking out for him."

Loki nods, apparently satisfied over--something.

Tony looks at the landscape, focusing again. "I can see it," he says after a minute. "The shape of how it's going to look. Your kids should be really happy here." He can't imagine Fenrir being happy, but what does he know?

But Loki's expression does something terrible, something fragile and guilty and angry at its own hope.

"It's okay," Tony says quickly, uncomfortable. "It will be, you know. Not everything ends up--uh, ruined." It’s painful. The payoff to being Loki's friend seems to be the discovery that he doesn't wear his whole heart on his sleeve after all--just enough that it bleeds and looks convincing. It might be easier if he kept it that way for the people he likes.

"They deserve to be happy," Loki says, "but I don't deserve them to be. Did you see that Fenrir loves me? It's awful. I want to rip the flesh from myself, it's so despicable. I've done nothing for him, and now I am desperate, as thought I have any right. If I fail to rehabilitate him, I'll have earned the consequences, as he will not."

"Hey," Tony says, furious all over again with Odin and Asgard and all of it. "Listen, you weren't in any position to take care of him. You were just a kid yourself, and you had no kind of power. What were you supposed to do?"

"When he was new," Loki says, nearly whispering, "I tried anyway. I failed, but I tried." He meets Tony's eyes. "But I got power," he says. "I had it for an age before I fell. And I didn't try to save him. I didn't try to see him. All I wanted was to be king long enough to spite my brother."

"When you're living in that kind of hell, what else do you do?" Tony asks softly. "You do stupid, petty little things to show off your power. I know how that goes, and I had a hundred escape routes. You didn't."

Loki's hands clench on the cloth of his coat. "He should have been safe. I should have saved one of us." He waves his hand, a gesture Tony has seen when Loki's in a better frame of mind; it's awkward and abrupt when he does it now. "My mother couldn't save me. I let Odin do it again." He shivers. "Force a child into being as nothing but a weapon to wound its mother. A mother that forgets it, after all, so its suffering doesn't even serve its purpose. I should have died first."

Tony swallows hard. He has to clear this throat twice before he can say anything. "I still don't think it's your fault," he says, "but it doesn't matter now, because you're going to make it better. We're going to make it better. Okay?"

Loki looks away from him, towards the forest, fierce and tearless. "Yes," he says.

"A hug," Tony warns. Then he hugs Loki. It feels a lot more natural this time.

Loki gives a sort of an anxious whistling breath, and then the fight goes out of him. He clutches his own arms, and for a few seconds, he leans his head against Tony's shoulder. Tony can still feel the tension in his back.

"I apologize," Loki says. "I meant to keep you distracted, not drag you out to a field in a strange country and snarl my self-loathing down your throat."

"We all have those days," Tony says quietly, stroking Loki's back.

Loki is quiet and still for a few seconds more, and then he pulls back. "I'll bring you to the corners," he says. "Then breakfast, I think, and we can talk shop, and then I can bring you home again. Does that sound all right?"

"It sounds perfect," Tony says, relieved. Actually being Loki's friend is startling, and he thinks he likes it, despite the harrowing parts.

Loki smiles a little, and takes Tony's arm.

Chapter 39: loki has had friends before

Summary:

"What string of idiots have you torn yourself apart for this time?"

Notes:

Chapter Warnings: discussion of past forced consent/dubious consent/rape/incest, colonialism, trauma

Loki leaves Tony at his apartment door near sundown in Laveria, and at around lunch time in New York. He doesn't go home to Victor, though he may have implied to Tony that he would. Instead he goes to Norway.

"Heimdall," he says. It's snowing, and looking up toward Asgard gets water in his eyes. "Let me come up."

There's only a slight pause, no more than the length of three breaths, and the Bifrost sucks him into the sky.

"Loki," Heimdall says when he arrives, not looking at him.

Loki takes a breath to speak--a breezy command--but then he changes course. "I wish to go to Jotunheim," he says, not unkindly. "I will come back your way when I return."

If Heimdall is surprised, which is unlikely, he does not show it. "Polite of you to ask. Very well. I see no reason why not."

"Don't you?" Loki asks curiously, his face odd. "Never mind. Send me to Laufey, Heimdall, and I will call when I am ready for you again."

Heimdall nods, silent. He cannot speak to Loki as he would like to. Not just now. Instead, he simply opens the Bifrost and readies himself to watch closely. Loki may not be planning to take steps that would threaten Asgard's safety, but Loki's plans do not always go as he intends.

The cold in Jotunheim is a relief. It creeps into Loki's bones and cuts apart his restlessness, curls into a slender, solid, quiet feeling in the center of his chest. He is watched as he walks to Laufey's palace, but everyone knows the terms they are on now, and no one moves to stop him, or even speak.

Laufey is on the throne when Loki arrives.

"Loki," Laufey says, their voice a rumble that seems, as ever, to make the air quiver. "I hardly expected to see you back so soon."

They're pleased, though.

"Did you expect to see me at all?" Loki asks.

"Eventually," Laufey says. "You are too curious to stay away, child."

Loki nods, glancing around as he does. "Are you always surrounded, or only in your throne room? No, you wouldn't answer that; I might still be a spy."

"You say that as if I fear you," Laufey says. "I fear only your tongue, and I will not be led astray by that again. We can speak more privately if you would rather, little one."

Little one is unfair, but they don't mean it unkindly.

"It would seem better to the purpose," Loki answers.

Laufey nods and descends from the throne. They don't motion to their guards, but they aren't followed when they lead Loki out of the throne room.

"These are my private quarters," Laufey says. They look much the same as the throne room. Icy, severe, not very welcoming.

Loki, taking in everything he can observe, has a moment's odd notion of what it would have been like, to have this as his childhood. He wonders how much more beautiful Jotunheim would be if its power weren't trapped in Odin's armory.

"I can't think of any use for you," he says.

"You came to call me useless?" Laufey is amused.

"No," says Loki. "I was with a friend today. He is helping me to build Fenrir's hunting ground. Sleipnir's land too, but he doesn't need it so much. I told him something I did not intend to."

"Then you come to me as a child to its parent?" Laufey asks. "For counsel?"

"Not for counsel either," Loki says. He looks up, then, and catches Laufey's eye. "You are not to blame for me," he says. "I came to say that. And to say, I need no use for you to come to you. I am tired, Laufey. I do not want to play games to no purpose. We have been injured and we are half-strangers, and if we will know each other now it will not be for what clever, nasty use we can wrest out of one another."

Half of Laufey wants to believe this is another game. They would be a fool to discard that possibility to completely. But they would also be a fool to throw away a chance to have anything resembling a normal relationship with Loki.

"It sounds like an improbably good plan," Laufey says.

"I make very good plans," Loki says, without a hint of irony or self-deprecation.

Laufey smiles. It's a sharp smile, but not calculating. "Then I want what you want. If you are true to your word."

"I am," Loki says. He doesn't mind if Laufey can't trust him yet. "I have heard that no Jotun has left Jotunheim since its fall to Odin, except those Odin and I have brought to Asgard. Is that so?"

Laufey nods. "It is." They crush out the little spark of hope. Hope is for fools, and they are already being fool enough today.

Loki hisses something under his breath that Laufey can't hear. He says to them, "I won't make you promises yet. If Odin doesn't rule us, some of his politics still do. I would like...I had thought..." He swallows. "Do you think we're capable of speaking to one another without seeing every word as a trap?"

Laufey has had a lifetime of thinking in traps, both to be set and to be avoided. But Loki is their child. The only child who was worth caring for.

"If not now, then someday," they say.

Loki nods. "I had wondered," he says slowly," if there is anything...about me...that you wished to hear. I--think you can only have heard what could not please you."

Loki voices Laufey's thoughts effortlessly. It would be sweet, were it less painful. Laufey hates being reminded of what they and Loki could have had as parent and child.

"I would gladly hear anything to make me think you were happy," Laufey says. There, honesty is not so difficult between them after all.

"I--was," Loki says. "Sometimes. Before. And in the middle of it. There was Thor." He frowns. "It would be better if you remember he is as much Frigga's as Odin's. Though all his idiocy comes from our father."

"If Frigga vouches for him, I cannot entirely hate him," Laufey says. They saw little of Odin in him, at least. He has none of the All-Father's shrewdness, and as far as Laufey can tell, none of his more egregious flaws.

"He and I have been equal fools where Jotunheim is concerned," Loki says. He sits down on the floor and looks up at Laufey, his arms draped over his knees. "But he learned better. Faster than I did. He always does try. And he was always kind to me." He smiles. "He also got us both in constant trouble."

Laufey's heart aches. "Perhaps I should have stolen you both back to Jotunheim," they say.

Loki frowns. "Perhaps that's so. I would have said Thor was made for Asgard, except he won't go back now. He stays on Midgard with his mortal, being one of their heroes. I don't think he ever wants to be king. No more than I do, and I know from practice how poorly I suit."

Laufey laughs. Odin would have appreciated this joke. "The All-Father and I were both fools, then. We raised no princes, no kings, no rulers. Only good children."

"And two others," Loki says, which is cruel, but he doesn't catch himself in time to stop it.

"Yes," Laufey hisses. "And little wonder. Monsters beget monsters. But you will do better."

"I will try," he says, and it comes out as little more than a whisper. He meets Laufey's eyes, his own large and bright. He says, "I don't want to lose my children any more than you. I thought perhaps we'd all earned a chance not to, but I--" He shakes his head. "Fenrir blames me so little that I think if I failed him entirely he still wouldn't think it my fault. I hate it, it's a terrible power and I don't want it, only no one else will love him and I cannot leave him alone any longer."

"I will love him," Laufey says without thinking.

Loki says, "Oh, I see." He tugs at his hair. "What I want," he says, "is to wait. Until Fenrir is moved. And then I want you to come to us in Midgard." He looks at Laufey, uncertain and hopeful and terribly young. "I have a mortal, too," he says. "I think he saved my life."

"Then I am forever indebted to him," Laufey says fiercely. They didn't know they had anything fierce left in them that wasn't tempered by weariness. But for Loki, they have this. "Of course I will come."

"And then you'll be the first," Loki says, "in a thousand of their years."

"I will do my best to be gentler this time," Laufey says. It probably wouldn't be funny to a Midgardian.

It is to Loki. But he says, "Attacking them might only distress you. They kept stopping me. And now we are friends. It's very disorienting."

"Many things have changed, then," Laufey says. "I have been here in the dark too long. I would gladly see Midgard again."
"Would you like to--hear about it?" Loki asks.

"Yes," Laufey says. They find themselves hungry for knowledge in a way they have not been in far too long.

"Ah," says Loki. "Good." He settles back, and tells Laufey everything he thinks they'd want to know.

~

Loki leaves Jotunheim by the Bifrost, as he promised he would; when he arrives in Asgard, he places his feet carefully before he says, "You have wished to speak to me, Heimdall, have you not?" There is no one nearby to hear him, but he is quiet just the same.

Heimdall is silent for a long moment. Then he says, "I have. But I cannot ask you for what I would ask, if I dared."

"'Cannot' is not a weightless word with you, Heimdall," Loki says. "Is it the word you mean to use?"

Heimdall shuts his eyes for a second. "No," he says. He used it with purpose, for he feels as though it is forbidden as literally as going against the ruler of Asgard. "I mean, I have no right. So I will instead tell you how sorry I am and demand no reply."

"How sorry are you?" Loki asks. His voice is brisk. There is coldness in it.

"Sorry enough that I tried to speak against it," Heimdall says tightly. "But as you know, I could neither speak nor act against the All-Father. Sorry enough that it has plagued me for years. How much regret can you wring from me before it heals your wounds?"

"Oh, Heimdall, have I caused you pain?" Loki asks. "You haven't been able to bear looking at me since the day you told my father I'd been spying. Shall I apologize for inciting the punishment my father dealt us both? Shall I forget the age for which you tempered your guilt into disdain for me? You have hated me, Heimdall, because I ruined your life with mine. Let us not call it something sweeter than it is."

"Let us call it rape, then," Heimdall says steadily, painfully. "And shame. And agony, brought to us both for years. I am not pretending to be blameless. I am asking you if I can ask for forgiveness."

"There's nothing you can ask for that I must give you," Loki says, his voice too steady, his face white with anger.

Heimdall looks past Loki, into other worlds. "Loki," he says, "you know better than anyone what it is like to be utterly powerless, and to turn that feeling into rage against those you should hold dear. But I will not ask for forgiveness."

"Good," Loki says, although he would have heard it. "I can't."

"I know," Heimdall says. He looks back at Loki, and only at Loki. At every Loki. "You never do."

"Don't," Loki says adamantly. "Don't do that. Don't diminish me to a, a pattern of insoluble failures. Stop looking away from me. I don't know how you dare to even suggest you want forgiveness when you can't stay in this world for the length of time it takes not to ask." By the end it's a hiss, and Loki is not as whole as he was when he stepped out of Jotunheim.

Heimdall's gaze snaps back to him. "You fell," he says. His voice is ragged. "You fell from Asgard and into hope. But I remained. Can you not at least forget your hatred for someone who cannot fall?"

Loki chokes on all his answers (no, yes, I nearly died, how dare you be helpless) before he settles on a question that's almost not a question. "He knew you were my ally," he says ruthlessly. "That's why he had you hold me, to destroy that. But why else? Did he force you out of habit?"

Indeed it is habit that nearly makes Heimdall unable to answer the question. But his tongue is free now, at least on this matter. "He wanted me to know who was master," Heimdall says unsteadily. "And he wanted me utterly dependent on him. A loyal servant." It's not a whole answer.

It may as well be. Loki looks away. "When I was young you seemed so strong," he says, low. Then he turns, and he is as furious as Heimdall has ever seen him, in this world. "I could hate you more for it being a lie. For being so weak." His voice is sweet and cold, Loki’s rage at its most dangerous.

"I could not stop you." Heimdall's voice is impassive again, but deceptively so. It sounds more like defeat than anything.

"I cannot touch you," Loki says. His hands are knotted into fists, so tight they blanch. "I cannot forgive you, I cannot commiserate. I can only see that moment. It stains every moment before and after. Will you be like this, standing at attention for some other history any time I come by the Bifrost? Just a man doing his duty?"

"I have no choice!" Heimdall shouts. His hand is on his sword.

"I know," Loki says. He does. It's visible in his face, that he understands both sides of this injury perfectly well, and he sees no way to fix them. It's visible in his face, and he is shaking. "I know you haven't." Of course he knows. That's why he's so angry.

"You should stay away from me," Heimdall says roughly. "If I only bring you pain, you know you have other ways of moving between the realms."

"I should," Loki says. "I will." Heimdall is ruined for him. It’s no wonder he was so angry, when Loki was king and playing the part of his father. Loki doesn't move away.

"Please," Heimdall says. "I cannot bear this."

"We were friends," Loki blurts out. "You served my father but we were friends."

"Yes," Heimdall says. He is weeping now, tears welling up in his brilliantly orange eyes. "And he took that from both of us, little one."

Loki lets out a small moan. "Why?" he asks. "Why that? Was it the only thing he could see to do? Was I so unbearably bad?"

"That's the worst part," Heimdall says. "It was never about us. It was about Laufey."

Loki sobs, because it's true, and no one else has said so. No one else has known. "Whole realms at his feet," he says, "and he was nothing. He was my father. He was my father."

"I loved him, too," Heimdall says, when Loki stops crying. "I was loyal for reasons other than my oath, at the start." He reaches out and touches Loki's shoulder, careful, in case Loki pulls away--but he has no more words.

Loki does pull back, though Heimdall can see well enough that he is trying not to, and he hides in his hand. "You're making a child of me again," he says, wiping the tears off his face.

But of course, Loki thinks, it must be Heimdall. No one else knows. Everyone else only imagines, in terrible detail that's not nearly terrible enough.

Heimdall grasps Loki's shoulders, tears fresh on his cheeks. "If I cannot ask forgiveness, can I ask for a chance at repairing what friendship we had?"

Loki bats at the air, angry and overwhelmed. For a moment he is more like himself (fed-up and clever, full of temper and hot air) than he's been in Heimdall's presence in--centuries.

"Ask for either," Loki says. "I don't care. I don't care. I'm tired of being unmade by someone who should be dead."

"That will pass, in time," Heimdall says. He feels tired in ways he rarely does. "I would have you come to me on the Bifrost to speak as we used to, if you will come. Whenever you are willing."

Loki hesitates. He can still feel, in that moment of the light touch of Heimdall's hands, all of Heimdall's weight pressing him down. He doesn't think he will visit often. "I think it would be easier to forgive you, than to become friends again.” He checks to see how that registers. “I will try to forgive you first, and then I will try to forget my hate, and then we will see what is...left."

Heimdall shuts his eyes for a full twenty seconds. He didn't expect a weight to lift, because it's been too long and he's too tired, but he does feel lighter. He cannot make things as they were, but he can stop feeling so much like a monster.

"Thank you," he says. "If you can do that, it will be more than I deserve."

"What do we deserve?" Loki asks. "Asgard isn't home to gods."

"Midgard will be a home for Asgard's lost, though," Heimdall says. "I cannot read the future, and the past does not always repeat itself, but I can guess that." He smiles suddenly. "You should return. Your love is waiting for you."

Loki smiles tightly. "My errands always worry him," he says. "Goodbye, Heimdall."

Heimdall doesn't go for his sword to open the Bifrost. Loki will make his own way home. "Goodbye, Loki."

~

Heimdall is right--it's nearly eleven when Loki arrives back in Latveria, but Victor is sitting up in the library, staring at a book as though it's supposed to hold the answers to all his questions and does not.

"Victor," Loki says, hand against the doorframe.

Victor's head snaps upright. "You're home," he growls. He wants to shout at Loki, to ask if he has, yet again, dragged himself over rough ground for unnecessary hours before slinking back home, but Victor doesn't want to make things worse if Loki has been left fragile by whomever he's been speaking to now.

Loki smiles tiredly. "You know me too well by now," he says. He eyes the chair opposite Victor and weaves over to put himself in it. (It's his favorite anyway, slightly sagging and significantly scuffed by ill use from a man in a metal suit.)

"What string of idiots have you torn yourself apart for this time?" Victor asks, grabbing Loki's hand. "You look exhausted."

"A very short string," Loki says with a sigh. "Tony you know wasn't even asking for it. But I went to see Laufey after I left him in New York, and I saw Heimdall as a consequence."

Victor is tempted to ask why, but he knows why, so he simply says, "And were you satisfied?"

"With Laufey, yes," Loki says.

That surprises Victor. "Perhaps you have more in common than you thought," he says. "I didn't expect Laufey to be reasonable. And Heimdall?"

"Laufey and I have--made our peace already," Loki says. "I do not like that their people are left in the position they were put in by Odin. I do not think I'll let that lie forever." He looks away. "Likewise Heimdall."

Victor sighs and squeezes Loki's hand. "Only promise me you won't run yourself into the ground trying to repair Odin's wrongs."

"I promise," Loki says promptly.

Victor rolls his eyes. He's not wearing the mask, so Loki can see. "Oh, good. I'm relieved. Now, can I get you something to drink, or take you to bed?"

"Both, I think," says Loki.

Victor stands and draws Loki up into his arms. "Then you shall have both."

"And perhaps tomorrow I'll bring the little mutant to meet Sleipnir," Loki adds. "Would you like to come as well?"

"I insist," Victor says. "If you're going to keep running around and meeting people, I want to be there this time. Besides, I've been wanting to meet him."

"Which?" Loki asks.

Victor hesitates. "The mutant," he says. "But your children as well. I confess myself to be nervous, although perhaps not for the reasons most people would be." Victor knows better than to be afraid of beasts.

"Frightened that my baby won't like you?" Loki asks, a little mockingly. "No fear; you'll win them over." Eventually.

"I had better," Victor says. "I intend to keep both them and you."

"A doting stepfather," Loki says, but he looks away.

"Yes," Victor says, putting his hands on Loki's shoulders.

Loki's gaze wanders up to Victor's face. He reaches up and traces a scar, not with any intent, just from habit and comfort. "If I stop moving," he says, "nothing stays real. As long as there's a plan, it's all right."

"I know," Victor says. "I understand. But let me make the plans once in a while. I don't want to risk you slipping away again and coming back wounded." He shudders and closes his eyes and Loki's fingers sweep across his scars.

When Loki's hands stop moving, he opens his eyes. Loki says, "I won't tonight. I'll have a drink. And then we'll see."

Chapter 40: WHOOPS

Due to some writing out of order, I totally forgot to post a chapter ten chapters ago! Please see the new Chapter 29 for some Tyr/Bucky sex action following Tyr's visit to Fenrir's island. We'll be chronological again in the next update--please check back with Chapter 40 in a couple of days. /o\

-bluestalking

Chapter 41: loki takes victor and pietro on a fieldtrip

Summary:

"Run fast. Scare Asgardians."

Notes:

Chapter Warnings: discussion/ref to past rape/abuse, neglect, self-destructive behaviors, injury, parent death, Nazis, racism, dub-con, exciting gender identities, incest

Loki isn't supposed to know where Logan lives; no one is, actually, which is why it's annoying to Logan that people keep showing up, but Loki and goddamned Doctor Doom really take the cake. They ring the doorbell, too, and when Logan answers, Loki says, "I've come to take Pietro Maximoff to Asgard."

Logan stares at them. Then he says, "Like hell."

"He already knows," Loki says smoothly. "It's all settled. No one is getting kidnapped."

"Whatever the Avengers say about you, I haven't heard one nice word out of their mouths about Doctor Doom," Logan says, glowering at both of them. "I don't care if you are fucking."

"Silence, wretch," Doom says.

"Pietro is helping me with a project," Loki says. "This involves meeting a horse. Victor is only coming along to do the same. It's a very nice horse," he adds.

Logan really wasn't expecting that one. "Uh...Okay, look, I'm gonna see what he says and then--" He calls back into the house, "Pietro? Supervillains here for you."

"Is that a comment about my sex life?" Pietro yells back. "I don't like it!"

"It's Loki and Doom!" Logan snarls.

"OH," Pietro bellows back, sounding rather embarrassed. He pops up next to Logan a moment later, wearing a too-big t-shirt and jeans and no shoes. "Uh, hi."

"Come meet Sleipnir," Loki says. "Are you busy today? It doesn't matter. You'll like this better than anything else you have planned." He smirks at Logan. "Please take no offense."

"You should have warned me," Logan tells Pietro. But he knows Pietro needs distractions, and this one seems so likely to go wrong that it probably won't. Besides, Loki and Doom don't seem like the types to sleep with sad teenagers. "Okay, go," he says. "But you two, hands off."

Doom makes a noise of disgust. "What?"

Loki's face does something complicated. He hides it in a moment, but a moment is long enough for someone like Logan, and more than long enough for Pietro. Anyway, he's still pale when his composure is back in place, and both of them see it when he says, "What is a wolverine, exactly?"

"It's small and pissed off and--uh, sometimes doesn't think that hard about what it's saying," Logan finishes with a grumble. "Just bring him back in one piece, okay?"

"Naturally," Loki says, clipped. "Mr. Maximoff, I haven't heard whether you'd like to go."

"Yeah," says Pietro. "Sure." Because hell yes to Asgard, hell no to letting Logan's mommy instincts think they're actually his boss, and now he has this sadomasochistic need to know why Loki looked at him like that, and if he's gonna need to kick the crap out of him.

"Maybe shoes," Loki says. "And something warmer."

"Right," says Pietro, and gets on that.

"For the record," Logan says, "I've still got it in for you. Especially Doom."

"Good," Doom mutters. "When I'm doing being humiliatingly helpful, we can see to that."

"I don't know why you shouldn't like me," Loki says peevishly.

"I hear you're always trying to kill people," Logan says, shrugging. "As long as you stick to Iron Man, we don't have a problem."

"I was not in my right mind," Loki mutters. Balder doesn't count, and neither does Odin. Or most other things.

"Ready!" says Pietro. "So how do we get there?"

"Via New Mexico," says Loki. "Or Norway. I prefer Norway."

"Whichever," Pietro says.

"Lovely," says Loki. He grabs Pietro's arm and they all three vanish from the middle of Logan's kitchen.

~

Victor stumbles when they halt in Norway. "I don't think I like travelling like that," he says. The little one seems unperturbed, though a little wind-blown. Victor gives him a smile, only to remember he's wearing his mask.

"We'll see how you feel about the Bifrost," Loki counters, and looks up into the sky. "Heimdall," he calls. It's too soon to be going back, especially accompanied by other people. But there are other plans in motion and other spirits Loki feels more inclined to protect than Heimdall's.

When Heimdall brings them up, he looks as impassive as ever. "I see what you would do in Asgard, and I will let you pass," he says evenly.

Loki gives him a sideways look, but only says, "Thank you," and leads Victor and Pietro up the road into the city.

Victor follows, not asking Loki what he's thinking. "I look forward to meeting your children," he says. He glances at Pietro. "What do you think of Asgard, Maximoff?"

Pietro is staring at everything, in quick succession and all at once. The road glittering under his feet, the waves crashing between that, the skyful of nebulae shining above the golden city.

"It's good," he says vaguely, eyes wide.

"It is," Victor agrees. They're not here on urgent business this team, and he feels more able to notice Asgard's beauties. "Tell me about yourself as we walk."
Pietro looks at him sideways. "'Scuse me?" he says.

Victor doesn't like the boy's tone. "I thought perhaps we should get to know one another," he says. "As we're going to be taming horses together."

Loki laughs at him. "I wouldn't tell Sleipnir that taming him is your plan," he says.

Pietro says, "Okay, yeah, sure. You go first."

Victor snorts. "All right. I'm the ruler of Latveria. I'm a witch and a scientist, and I build robots. I live in a castle and don't respect fools. You may call me Victor if you like." Those seem, to him, the essential facts.

"Now you try, class," Pietro mutters, and Loki grins. Pietro says, "I already know you're the ruler of Latveria. You probably already know Magneto's my dad. I run fast and do stupid shit that makes Logan angry, so probably you won't like me very much."

Victor shrugs. "Anyone who makes Logan angry is all right with me, although I do question your taste. And I try not to hold people's parentage against them."

Pietro shrugs, looking out of sorts.

"He doesn't like any of my friends, either," Loki says.

"I don't like most people," Victor says. "Well, we don't have to like each other either, boy. I just thought I'd try."

"Don't call me that," Pietro says, scowling.

Victor swallows a retort and says, "All right. We don't have to like each other, Pietro. I can see we don't have much in common."

"Are you like Stark?" Loki asks. He’s frowning.

"What?" Pietro says, startled.

"Like Stark," Loki repeats. "You seem like a boy. Are you not a boy?"

"I, uh," says Pietro.

"Oh," Victor says, annoyed with himself. "I didn't think of that. Well?"

"I dunno," Pietro says, panicking a little, like he does any time (any of the few times) someone catches him. "Not--exactly. Notexactlymaybe? Sometimes I feel more like a girl?" He scowls. "Don't say it's cause I'm obsessed with my sister." A couple people have suggested that. Venom did. Castle, too.

"Wouldn’t dare. I've got no leg to stand on," Loki says cheerfully.

Victor laughs. "I'd say you're in pretty good company for not being judged, Pietro," he says.

"Why?" Pietro asks suspiciously. Loki looks at the road ahead of them; they're coming up to the end of the bridge, but no one is in earshot yet.

"Because," he says. "I change shapes all the time. And I fucked my brother."

"What," Pietro says.

"For years," Victor agrees. "I can't sympathize, but I also don't mind. And I could probably tell you a thing or two about not being able to let go of whatever charming female witch you happen to be related to.

"His mother," Loki says in friendly vengeance. "The Roma witch. He tried to go to hell for her and all he got was Reed Richards." He leaves off the scars, because he's not quite that mean at the moment.

"Your mom was what now?" Pietro asks Victor, fucking incest be damned.

Victor bristles. "Roma," he says. "And my father, too. And if the next thing out of your mouth involves a word against thieving gypsies, I'll kill you before we reach Sleipnir."

"What?" Pietro says. "Uh, no! That's not what I--I'm..."

"I won't let him kill you," Loki says.

"Mymotherwastoo," Pietro finishes quickly, and then wonders if he should repeat himself. He wishes he could tell how angry Victor's face is under his angry mask.

Victor pauses. "Oh," he says. "I didn't know that. All anyone talks about is your father." He smiles, then realizes Pietro can't see it. "I'm glad I know now," he says.

Pietro laughs in a raw kind of way. "Yup, that's me. Everything a Nazi ever dreamed of killing. Still not super-popular."

Victor makes an angry sound in the back of his throat. "There will always be people who want to kill you," he says. "Probably more who want to kill you than me, so perhaps I shouldn't give advice. But you have power and you have friends." He squeezes Pietro's shoulder quickly and roughly.

Pietro looks surprised and shy, and Loki has a precise and uncomfortable recollection of being Pietro's age (in essence, anyway), and knowing as completely as Pietro does that he wasn't safe, and that kindness was not to be depended on.

He should be much angrier at Tony Stark for getting this child anywhere near him.

"With that pleasant advice in mind, here is the city," Loki says, and gestures to the gleaming streets that open up in front of them. "As a general rule, I would ignore anyone who does not come at you with a sword."

It's true that one or two Asgardians have seen them coming, and are already giving them leery looks.

Victor squares his shoulders and almost wishes he could take his mask off so they could see him proud and angry and unafraid. "Peasants," he mutters.

"Most of them can fight," Loki says lightly. "Don't mind it, though. Look at your surroundings. You know the only Midgardians to visit Asgard since Odin's rule began are those I've brought? Of course they stare, but really you ought to do your races justice and stare back a bit."

"Yes, sir," Pietro murmurs, because disconcerting locals aside, Asgard is...amazing. “Er...ma’am or whatever.”

Victor makes a sound of frustration and does take his mask off. It's Asgard; the rules are different. And he needs to give them a reason to stare. "There," he mutters. "Now let them gawk at us."

Pietro glances over, and he does take a look. "Wondered why you wore that," he says. "I mean, there are rumors."

"I wear it to protect my pride more than my face," Victor says. "But I've found less need for it of late." He glances at Loki.

Loki looks almost shy. "I'm usually making enough of a distraction by throwing a tantrum that no one notices your face," he says neatly.

"How'd it happen?" Pietro asks.

Victor hesitates. It is not a story he usually tells. "Hellfire," he says shortly. "When I tried to go to hell for my mother, it was quite...literal. The price of being a witch, and not a very good one, at least when I was young."

"Better than my excuse," Pietro says. "Did you get her back?"

Loki is starting to like Pietro. He's such a bald-faced reckless baby that he'll ask Victor everything Loki won't. Victor doesn't even seem to mind. Victor, for his part, is enjoying Pietro. He's too young to be a threat of the kind Victor minds, and too honest as well.

"I didn't," he says. "I still haven't. But I'm a better witch now. And I have a witch of my own."

Loki says, "I'm touched." He points upward and to the left. "There's the palace. The stables are beyond."

"What about your parents?" Pietro asks him. "Share alike, y'know?"

"This is not the best place," Loki says drily.

"Maybe later," Victor says, although he's not sure Loki will want to talk then, either. "For now, we have a horse to meet." He squeezes Loki's arm.

"Such a good horse," Loki agrees. "If I'd told Wolverine it was my baby he might have made Pietro stay home after all."

"He might have tried," Pietro corrects.

"It's not terrible that he wants to protect you," Loki says. He watches the palace as they walk past, rather than the palace guards. It's not connected with home in his mind anymore, and Odin is only a shadow underlying the thought of Frigga on her throne.

"But it's good that you know how to stand up to him," Victor says. "We need you for this. You'll be useful in a way others might not. Loki is good at finding the perfect person for a task." And the perfect task for a person, especially one who needs something, Victor thinks.

"There are the stables," Loki says. "I apologize, Pietro, for the journey taking so long." Of course, it needn't have--but conversation is more useful sometimes than magicking people from one side of a city to the other, and Loki does not really regret making them speak to one another at the cost of walking slowly. Anyway, Pietro will have the chance to speed up soon.

"Do you have anything to feed your child?" Victor asks. "Apples, for instance?"

Loki looks bemused. "I'm sure Sleipnir is well-fed enough," he says. "If you'd like an apple for him, though, I'm sure we could manage that too."

"You're both really weird," Pietro says. "Just thought I'd say that now and have it out there."

Victor laughs. "Yes, lest we think ourselves ordinary," he says. "I'm sure we'll seem even weirder when you meet Loki's babies."

"Here we are," Loki says, consternated. The ostler looks up at his voice, and then nods. Loki leads the others past him into Sleipnir's barn.

"Here," he says to Victor, and hands him an apple. Sleipnir looks up from where he's snoozing in a pile of hay.

"There we are," says Loki. "Come, now, my dear, you have guests." Sleipnir huffs through his nose and clambers to his feet. All of his feet.

"Holy shit," says Pietro.

Victor thought he'd prepared himself, but Sleipnir still looks entirely unreal. Beautiful, though. "He's bigger than I expected," Victor says, reaching out to pat Sleipnir's nose.

Sleipnir draws back with a scoffing noise, and then darts his huge head out to steal the apple out of Victor's hand.

"Be polite," Loki says. "This is your stepfather, you know."

Sleipnir tosses his tail and crunches.

Victor truly wishes he had his mask, because now he's blushing. He clears his throat. "A good horse."

"A fucking giant eight-legged horse," Pietro says. "Holy shit."

"Are you all right?" Loki asks, not entirely kindly. Sleipnir snorts and starts nosing against Victor's arm for another apple.

"Here," Loki says, and hands one to Victor.

"There, an endless supply for your greedy baby," Victor says. "How convenient." He holds his palm flat to avoid being bitten and lets Sleipnir take the apple.

Sleipnir seems almost pleased.

"Pietro," Loki says. "Are you afraid of horses?"

"Not normally," Pietro says.

"Then come here," Loki says. He tosses an apple to Pietro as well, and says, "Go on and try. I doubt he'll bite unless you insult him while your hand is in the way of his teeth."

Victor steps aside to let Pietro feel Sleipnir. "How much does he understand?" he asks Loki.

"Do you talk to a dog?" Loki asks. Sleipnir's ear twitches. Loki smiles. "He is smarter than a dog," he says.

Pietro holds out his apple, looking a little queasy.

"Pietro is going to run with you," Loki tells the horse. The horse nibbles its soft, large lips against Pietro's palm. The apple disappears with a crunch, but Sleipnir noses across Pietro's shoulder and snorts into his hair.

"Oh my god," Pietro says, very still.

"You're all right?" Loki asks again.

"I told you," Pietro says. "Animals really don't like me. This is kind of freaking me out."

Loki gives Sleipnir a hard look. "I don't think Sleipnir dislikes you," he says. "Now, to the field. Someone needs to work off his treats."

Victor chuckles and grabs Loki's hand. "Let's see if you can keep up," he tells the horse.

There are more people in the exercise yard now than when Loki brought Tony, but they're no less interested in Sleipnir, and no less willing to move out of his way. They all respect Odin's mount, even if they no longer respect Odin, and they know he'll give them a vicious kick if they're in his way and there's no reason for him not to.

Loki says to Pietro and Sleipnir, "Don't leave the yard. I promise a better ground soon. And please don't forget, I can stop you."

"Only if you can spot us to catch us," Pietro says, even though he's not sure if it's true even then.

"I'll have a fine vantage point," says Loki. "Be good."

"A vantage point?" Victor asks. "What..."

"Never fear, Victor," Loki says. "I'll see if you're surrounded by a mob, as well." He moves, somehow, and it's not so fast Pietro can't see it, but he still can't read it, and when it's over, a large black and white bird is settling on Sleipnir's head.

"Is that...?" Pietro says.

Victor laughs. "Yes, that's him. Doing what he does." The pattern of the bird's feathers is already familiar, although he's seen this form more rarely than some.

"Doing what he does," says Loki scornfully. "Run fast. Scare Asgardians. Maybe stomp a mouse?"

"What?" Pietro says stupidly.

"To eat," the Loki bird says hopefully.

"What are you?" Pietro demands.

"Which?" Loki says.

"I know!" Pietro says. "I mean what bird!"

Loki ratchets in annoyance. "Magpie." He fluffs his feathers, and Sleipnir twitches an ear. "Going away. Run now."

He takes off abruptly, and makes a long circle in the sky above the exercise yard.

"Well, why the fuck not," Pietro says, watching.

Victor laughs. He can't see these two ever being friends, but he appreciates watching them interact.

Pietro eyes the horse and the horse breathes out through its nose, looking bored.

"You ready?" Pietro asks. Sleipnir stomps the ground with several hooves. Obviously. Pietro grins.

"I'll go when you go," he says. Sleipnir snorts and, without warning, takes off across the dirt, coat gleaming, mane whipping out behind his head. He's fast, and beautiful, and it takes Pietro a second to remember to catch up.

He does, momentarily, but he's actually moving and it feels good.

"Can you do better?" he yells to the horse, and speeds up enough that Sleipnir will probably see what he means.

Sleipnir does, because he pushes on faster and overtakes Pietro in a few seconds. Pietro laughs. Loki is a crazy asshole, but this is the best present anyone's given him in ages.

Victor watches, pleased. A fast horse and a faster young person. Loki's plan is both useful and kind. He glances up at the sky and sees Loki--at least he thinks it's still Loki--wheeling above them. His mask is forgotten in his hand. Everything is very peaceful, for a moment.

"HO THERE, we know you!" says a man's voice behind him, and that's the end of the peace. Victor knows the man, too--one of Thor's friends, whom he met, briefly, the last time he was in Asgard. It's easier to recognize him in a group, which is convenient, because the other two...gentlemen of his party are with him.

Victor makes to put his mask back on, but it's too late, and doing so would make him look worse, so he doesn't bother. "Thor's companions," he says with distaste.

"Yes!" the large one whose name Victor cannot recall half-shouts. "Volstagg, Fandral, and Hogun! And you're Loki's..."

"Grumpy bedfellow," Fandral finishes. "How are you, fellow? Still enjoying Loki's extremely pleasant company?"

Hogun grimaces.

"Yes," Victor says, glowering. "I'm here with him, seeing to his child." He indicates Sleipnir in the distance.

"His--? Ohh." Volstagg squints at the horse. "Not quite natural, that beast."

Fandral looks surprisingly uncomfortable for a moment, and then says, more forcibly bright than before, "Well, it's an odd family. Even the queen!" before realizing that perhaps it's not exactly what he wants to say.

Hogun watches the race as best he can. "There's someone with him?" he asks Victor.

"I wasn't aware you spoke," Victor says. "Yes, a mortal. A new friend of ours. He needed a run, too."

"Just a little speck of a thing," Volstagg says helpfully.

"Certainly keeps up with Sleipnir well enough," Fandral says. "I'm impressed. But tell me, since when does Loki want anything to do with Sleipnir?"

"Since Odin's fall, I would assume," Victor says nastily. "He finally has a chance to claim his children."

"Claim them?" Volstagg demands. "But why would--? And not Fenrir, surely?"

"Oh, I wouldn't think he'd want that," Fandral says. Hogun kicks the side of his foot to remind him that Loki is right here, and Fandral shouldn't think he knows everything.

"I didn't realize you were the resident expert on Loki," Victor says. "Don't you have your own affairs to mind? Where's your girlfriend?"

"She has given us the day off," Fandral says. "Today we are on our own."

Loki swoops over his head from behind and flutters to a stop on Victor's shoulder. His claws scrabble a little to get a grip on the cloth strong enough to counteract the slippery metal underneath.

"Given herself the day off from you," he says in his scratchy, gruff little bird voice. "What's the bother? Bullying Victor?"

Volstagg shouts in surprise. "Loki! You startled us!"

Victor reaches up to pat Loki's tiny bird head. "Mm. I can see you startle easily."

"Anyhow," Volstagg continues blithely, "we were just talking to your lover about why you're here bringing us mortal children and collecting your monstrous offspring."

"Latter," Loki grunts, "so they're not full of people like you."

"No need for nastiness," Volstagg says cheerfully.

"Can you get Sleipnir to trample them?" Victor mutters to Loki.

Loki fluffs his wings. "Rather Fenrir," he suggests. "Fandral’d be a nice one-two-snap, bit of indigestion. Full of people!"

"Really now!" Fandral says.

Hogun bites his lip and tries not to smile too obviously.

Loki, turning around pace by pace on Victor's shoulder says, "Hogun."

Hogun nods back.

"An all right one," Loki concedes.

Volstagg takes a deep breath, about to be full of objections, surely.

"Well?" Victor asks, his mouth twisting in a smile.

Fandral looks about ready to pout, but Hogun says, "Apologies." He smiles at Loki, who cocks his head and then flutters over to land on Hogun's.

"Your taste is annoying," he says. "Still." He takes a beakful of Hogun's topknot and gives it a mostly friendly yank.

"They do not change," Hogun agrees.

"I feel betrayed," Fandral says darkly.

"We are betrayed!" Volstagg bellows. He regards Hogun darkly. "I'm already having trouble enough with this matter of Loki perched on your head and swaying in the breeze. You have to make things even worse."

Hogun shrugs. Loki gives a ratcheting laugh, his long flat tail splaying out for balance.

"Doesn't mind if I bait you," he points out.

"No need to rub it in," Fandral tells him.

Loki looks up, abruptly still; a second later Sleipnir and Pietro pound to a halt beside them.

"He's fast," says Pietro happily.

Victor smiles. "So are you."

"WHAT'S THIS?" Volstagg says, as if Pietro can't hear him. "It's very small. Mortal, you said? CHILD, I am Volstagg!"

"Ohmygod," says Pietro. "Do we like these ones?"

"No," Loki says, stamping on Hogun's head. Hogun endures the insults placidly.

"Whatever it is, it's as rude as you are," Fandral tells Loki.

"These three clowns are Thor's friends," Victor tells Pietro.

"Clowns indeed!" Volstagg ruffles Pietro's hair. "Well, little thing, just watch your step. Loki's been known to lead people in trouble."

"Well, the worst thing he's led me to so far is you," says Pietro, pushing his hair back into place. Sleipnir snorts. Loki laughs, and flutters over to Sleipnir. He lands on Sleipnir's rump, and Sleipnir turns his head to nose at him.

"A happy family," Volstagg says doubtfully.

Victor steps closer to Loki and Sleipnir, hoping to make it clear that he's included in this. "Yes," he says.

"Oh, we don't mean any offense," says Fandral. "Nice to see Loki looking so...perky."

"Yes, much healthier than last time we saw you," Volstagg says. "Although it's a bit hard to tell." He eyes the bird.

"I'm in agony," the bird croaks grouchily.

"And look at you," Fandral says to Victor. "We haven't seen this side of you before! A family man! A man of scars! However did that happen?"

"In Hell," Pietro snaps, feeling more defensive than he expects to about his new...friends? Great friends. Logan will be so thrilled.

Fandral raises his eyebrows and looks to Victor.

"That's right," Victor says, lifting his chin. Since it's too late to hide it, he's damn well going to be proud of it.

"Hell?" Volstagg demands. "Well, how did you get there?"

"Quite!" Fandral says. "He's still alive. And it seems he came back! I'm very impressed...Victor, is it?"

"Doctor von Doom, to you," Victor says coldly. "Shall we go, Loki?"

"We shall," the bird croaks. He moves as though he's about to take off, and then does whatever it is he did last time. The Loki that reforms at Victor's side is contrarily female.

"Holy fucking shit," Pietro says. "That is so much cooler than I thought it would be. I think I hate you a little."

Fandral looks consternated.

"Always puts me off a bit," Volstagg mutters to his friends.

Victor, however, smiles at Pietro. "Amazing, isn't she? Her brand of witchcraft is somewhat beyond mine, in many ways."

"Truly, I am wondrous," Loki says. "Come on, we're going." She nods to Hogun as she passes by.

"Why does he suddenly like you so much?" Fandral asks, elbowing him.

"Mysterious," Hogun says, pushing Fandral's elbow away with the back of his arm.

Volstagg starts to shout more questions, but Victor follows Loki and they're quickly out of earshot.

"An unpleasant pack of fools," Victor says. "Did you enjoy your run, Pietro?"

"Yes," Pietro says emphatically, but then he steals a quick, worried glance at Victor. "Sorry. I shouldn't have answered about your face."

Victor waves a hand impatiently. "It's all right. I'm not angry. I only wish I'd thought to put my mask back on in the first place when we reached the field."

"Guess it would get old pretty fast," Pietro says. "People always ask about my hair." He shrugs. "At least all my scars are hidden, though."

Victor hesitates. "Let me guess: I shouldn't ask." Pietro is too young to have very many scars. In theory.

"You told me about you. I didn't pay you back," Pietro says, but he doesn't say any more immediately, because they reach the stable. He waits until they've brushed Sleipnir, fed and watered him, and said goodbye (with a final apple) before he says anything else about it. On the street again, he says, "Logan freaked out about you guys because I kind of have a thing for supervillains. And other...not so good people. They don't mind hurting somebody who's, uh. Trying to get hurt."

Victor winces. He hadn't expected that, even of this sharp, furious, frightening child. "Why?" he asks after a moment. There is no way in which the answer is not too personal, but he has to ask.

"Stupid reasons," Pietro says. "Got kicked out by my dad. Wanda stayed with him, even though he’s kind of a recent thing, and thetwoofus’ve never been apart our whole lives." He grins in the most painful way possible. "Everybody thinks I ran away, but I didn't."

"Oh," Victor says softly. "Then it's probably a good thing you ran to Wolverine. He likes looking after people. If you tire of him, you can stay with us." He looks to Loki, checking.

Loki gives a small nod.

"Not gonna send me back to the Avengers, or take advantage like Logan said you would?" Pietro asks, half-bitter and half-anxious.

Loki looks ahead, as they start down the bridge to Heimdall's post. "You can't know how profoundly the idea revolts me," she says. She doesn't explain which part, or why.

"Neither of us would ever hurt someone in that way," Victor says, against a building fury. His voice is calm, though. He'll be glad to be back on Earth.

"Huh," Pietro says. He's suddenly intimidated by them, both of them, for the first time since he's met them. Or maybe he just feels like he's having a near miss, and he's not sure if he wants to know what it would have been.

"I should come visit anyway, right?" he says. "To see Sleipnir."

"Yes," says Loki, after a moment. Her shoulders relax. "That would be good. I told you Sleipnir wouldn't fear you. And next time you run, you will have miles to do it in."

Victor puts a hand on Pietro's shoulder and one on Loki's waist. "I think you'll both enjoy that," he says, proud of how they're getting along.

Pietro fidgets under his hand and smiles. "This was more fun than I thought," he says. "Thanks. I guess you're really not evil. Oh!" He turns to Loki. "I beat Absorbing Man the other day! Guy you made into a supervillain? Kicked his ass with science!"

Loki grins, toothy and vicious. "Forgot about him," she says. "Glad to hear it."

Victor rolls his eyes. "That was you? How embarrassing. Well, I'm glad Pietro took care of it." He walks a few more paces down the bridge and says, "And you can tell Wolverine, Pietro, that we're not so menacing after all."

They reach Heimdall then.

"We're going back where we came from," Loki tells him.

"Your sword is awesome," Pietro says.

The corner of Heimdall's mouth turns up. "Mm," he says. "Thank you, little one." There's something reserved and troubled in his gaze, though.

Loki looks down at Pietro, and up at Heimdall through her lashes. "Heimdall guards the Bifrost," she tells Pietro. "And he sees all the nine realms."

"Wait, really?" Pietro says. "You can see everything?"

"Everything," Heimdall echoes. He still looks uneasy.

Loki gives Heimdall a hard look. "You haven't been looking at Pietro, have you?" she says. "I'd almost say you're a masochist after all."

"Hey!" says Pietro, not least because he has no idea what that means.

"I pay some heed to all Thor's friends," Heimdall says flatly. "You should go back to Midgard."

"I'm free to do as I like," Loki says casually, and carefully meets Heimdall's eyes. She isn't being cruel. She sees Pietro too, and Heimdall knows it.

"This is going to hurt," Heimdall says obliquely, and he opens the Bifrost.

They land in the snow, and Loki curses. "I look forward to the day we don't despise each other," she says. "Never mind. First to Latveria, and then I'll see you home, Pietro."

"That was unpleasant," Victor says. "I don't like it when he looks at people that way. Let's go."

Loki grabs both of them, and then they are in Latveria.

"That is so cool," Pietro says.

"I'm glad you think so," Loki says, catching her breath. "Victor, stay put and don't panic. I'll be back shortly. No side trips to Stark's lab, even." She carries herself and Pietro off to New York without waiting for a response.

She brings them to the door of the crumbly brownstone where Logan and Pietro live. Pietro orients himself and turns toward the front door, and Loki catches his shoulder.

"You did very well," she says.

"Thanks," says Pietro.

"If you try to make them hurt you," she says, startling him, "it's still their fault if they do. And it won't help with your father."

Pietro wants to retort, something, anything, angry or otherwise. But Loki leaves. He isn't sure, suddenly, how much he wants to see her again.

Only for a second. But he isn't sure. And it's a second for him.

When Loki reappears in Latveria, Victor has actually waited.

"Goodness," she says.

Victor laughs, but he's still uneasy. "How is he?"

"Who knows?" Loki says. She arches an eyebrow. "You seem ready to adopt him."

Victor covers his face with one hand, embarrassed. "I like him," he says. "I didn't expect that. And you've made me more than usually caring towards bright, wounded things."

"I'm sure hearing about his mother didn't hurt," Loki says, smirking.

Victor shrugs. "I rarely meet any of my people, especially in America. I'll admit it made me fond of him. It's not an easy position to be in."

"So he's half you and half me, is it?" Loki says with a sigh. "Wonderful. Did you not think, Victor, that I might already have enough children?"

"Never fear," Victor says, "I doubt we could pry him away from Wolverine. I hate that idiot, but I can't think of a better guardian."

"Thank goodness," Loki says, but she frowns. "Now I'll have to keep watching out for him, I suppose. He's sweet and self-destructive. The Avengers will never be able to keep him from getting killed. Let alone Wolverine."

"I don't like it," Victor says. "He's not stable at all. And I don't like what Heimdall said."

"About it hurting?" Loki says. "No. Neither do I."

"If he can see..." But Victor doesn't think Heimdall can give hints. If he could, his job would be much different.

"No good," Loki says. "We'll just have to keep a close watch."

"Then we shall," Victor says. "Other than that, this went well. I'm glad Sleipnir took to him." He puts his arm around Loki and gives her a kiss on the cheek.

She gives a pert smile. "I really have ruined you, haven't I?" she says. "You should be careful, or all your enemies will be at your door. They'll lose their fear once they know you've gone soft."

"I rather hope they do," Victor muses. "I enjoy reminding them."

"We chould give Reed Richards a call," Loki suggests.

Victor glowers. "I'm taking you home and to bed immediately," he says. "Then perhaps you'll be distracted long enough to never say such a thing again."

"It is probably worth a try," Loki agrees.

Chapter 42: loki and steve put it all on the table

Summary:

Steve swears under his breath.

Notes:

Chapter Warnings: references to parental abuse, depression, addiction, mental health problems.

Loki is slower to start the next morning than he means to be, but he leaves Victor in bed at the end and doesn't regret it. He tries to feel less smug by the time he arrives at Tony and Rogers's tidy Park Slope brownstone. Less smug, and less obvious; he dresses like a New Yorker and rings the bell to be buzzed in.

Tony comes to the door after a minute, shirtless and in sweatpants. He never leaves his shirt off when he answers the door, but he woke up tired and groggy, and he isn't thinking.

"Oh, uh, hey, Loki," he says.

"Tony," says Loki. "You're not awake at all. I'll come back. Is Rogers naked? I'll come back when you're clothed. I think by now I ought to see him or he'll think of me only as the ghoul that steals his lover and ruins his life."

"No, it's fine," Tony says, blushing and annoyed with himself. He grabs a sweatshirt from the pile on the chair. "He's dressed already. He's been awake for a while."

"Ah," Loki says. He stays on the stoop and waits to see if he'll be invited in.

"C'mon," Tony says, motioning. He scrubs a hand over his face, still annoyed at himself. He needs to wake up. "You want coffee?"

"Yes," Loki says. Coffee is not among the delicacies of Asgard. "Thank you."

Tony heads for the kitchen, where he left Steve. "Hey," he says. "So, Loki's here. I thought maybe coffee for everyone." He sets about making a large quantity of coffee with the darkest roast he has.

Loki pulls off his scarf (not actually necessary, but it looked right), and nods to Rogers, sitting at a very new-looking kitchen table.

"Rogers," he says.

Steve half gets to his feet, then sits again. He's not going to get up for Loki. "Loki," he says. "You didn't call. But I guess you don't have a--cell phone."

"Ah," Loki says. "Of course. I should have sent a message ahead. I apologize."

Steve grits his teeth, more anxious than anything else. He's been doing okay. They've been doing okay in their new place. He doesn't want that messed up. "Where are you taking Tony today?"

Loki still hovers near a chair, not quite sitting down. "Only to work," he says. "To finish the design for the fence posts and the dome. We'll construct them in Latveria tomorrow and the next day, barring objections. Then we plant the hedge--I don't think you'd need to be there for all of that," he says to Tony. "I thought you might like to."

"Of course I would," Tony says, turning around from fiddling with the coffeemaker. "If that's okay," he adds quickly, to Steve.

"It's fine," Steve says a little hollowly. "Whatever you need to do. I'll just be...here. Obviously."

"You could come too," Loki says. Soon everyone he knows will be in Latveria. Victor will throw a fit. "I don't mean to--" He isn't sure what he doesn't mean, only he knows perfectly well that Steve Rogers hates him and it's his fault that Steve Rogers is broken.

No part of Steve wants to go back to Latveria, but he also can't stand being constantly left behind. It only reminds him of how useless he is. "It's all right," he hears himself say. "It's good for Tony to have projects." He smiles at Tony. "But I don't think I'd be much help."

Loki frowns. He's managed Pietro well enough, but he hasn't thought of anything for Rogers to do. The loose ends don’t please him.

"It would have been a lot easier for you if I'd died," he says abruptly. "The first time, I mean." Instead of falling into Latveria.

Steve looks as shocked as he is. "Hey, now. Don't say that. Look, I'm not angry at you. I'm angry at myself for getting into that situation. But I wouldn't take it back. He would have killed you." He still doesn't like Loki, but there's a hell of a big difference between disliking someone and wanting them dead.

"Nevertheless," Loki says, not looking at him. He does look at Tony. "Your infant did well yesterday," he says. "I brought it to Asgard. Sleipnir was charmed. So was Victor."

"Doctor Doom seems less proud and majestic every minute," Tony says with a slightly forced laugh. "But hey, that's good. I'm glad your plans are coming together." He pours three mugs of coffee and reminds himself not to have any more today. Therapist said put it on a schedule. Gotta keep that going.

"Pietro isn't safe," Loki says. "Do you mind if I interfere?"

Tony knew Pietro wasn’t safe, but it's not like he could do anything about it. "Go for it," he says. "I know he's got kind of a lot of...stuff." Stuff Tony has no idea how to handle.

"Too much," Loki says. "But my kind?"

Tony nods. That seems true. "Great. Then maybe you can give him a hand. He's a nice guy, probably, but he's very..."

"Sharp," Steve says.

"All corners. I wouldn't use the word 'guy,'" Loki says.

"What?" Tony and Steve both say at once. Tony thinks, irrelevantly, that Loki wouldn’t use the word ‘guy’ on anybody.

"Doesn't like it," Loki says with a shrug. "Feels like everything. Not quite like you, Stark. But maybe it’s worth bearing in mind."

Steve doesn't get it, but he knows well enough to keep his mouth shut until he does.
Tony, though, takes a breath that's not quite a breath and says, "Ah. Got it. Thanks for the heads-up."

Loki looks at Tony with sympathy. "Pietro isn't as frightening as you think," he says. "He hasn't forgotten how to be happy. Or how to be kind. Don't chase the child away because you can’t think how to solve every problem."

That's...really good advice, actually. "So I'll just be nice," Tony says. "That shouldn't be too hard. Saying 'we want you here' once a while probably wouldn't hurt. I think Natasha's doing a lot in that department."

"Not surprising," Loki says. He ought to talk to her. He never does. He doesn’t think he’d like it. "Rogers," he says. "Do you talk to Pietro?"

"I did," Steve says. "Only once, though. I think it went--" He considers. "Well, it probably doesn't help that I pretty much cover all the bases in terms of being born lucky. But I think we did all right."

"You might try it again, if there's any time in Pietro's schedule," Loki says. "Everyone seems to have plans for the infant. Regardless--you've raised one before, haven't you? And he seems well enough now."

Steve opens his mouth to say that's different, but Tony says, "Ha, you know, he's right, Steve. You're kind of great with scary little people."

Steve sighs. "Yeah? I guess they're probably pretty great to begin with, too."

"This one is," Loki says promptly, surprising both of them. "I suggest you talk again. Your goal is to save a life? Correct?"

"Yeah," Steve says quietly. Loki clearly can't have any game or scheme in mind. He actually cares about Pietro. It's jarring. It's something that doesn't fit into Steve's worldview.

"Then give him everyone you can," Loki says. "There is nothing else."

"We will," Tony says with conviction. "We're going to take care of him, Loki. And so are you. We're not letting him grow up thinking everything's bad." He pours milk into his coffee cup, focusing on that, instead.

Loki snags one of the other cups and pulls it over. He says, carefully, "Pietro ran away from home?"

"Yeah," Tony says. "Well, who wouldn't, with Magneto for a dad?" He pushes the third coffee, black, toward Steve, who takes it gratefully.

Loki makes a face, pinching back something larger and uglier. "It's a lie," he says. "His father threw him out. Put him in the street and, I can only assume, told the twin sister that Pietro left under his own volition."

Steve swears under his breath.

"Oh," Tony says. "Shit. Well. That's news." And it changes things, although not much. It changes the way he should be thinking about what Pietro wants and needs.

"Do you think he wants to find a way to make his family take him back?" Steve asks.

"I think he would," Loki says, "if he didn't despair of it." He sips the coffee, black, and shuts his eyes to swallow. "He didn't leave his sister," he adds. "But she didn’t follow him. As far as he knows, she didn’t protest at all." That's far too much about him. He sips his coffee again and hopes no one thinks of it.

Tony does and wishes he hadn't. He makes a small, angry sound. Then he says, "Well, then we're going to make damn sure he has friends here."

"Of course he does," Steve says with surprising violence. "Everyone deserves a chance to prove himself, and from where I'm standing, he hasn't done anything wrong except be a little rude."

"I've met the people you surround yourself with," Loki says smoothly. "I would have thought you'd approve of a little rudeness."

"I like it," Steve says. "That doesn't mean I approve." He reaches over and squeezes Tony's hand impulsively.

Loki smiles at him like they've shared a joke.

"So, you two don't hate each other," Tony says, sounding surprised. "Listen, I'm gonna grab some real clothes, and then we can go work."

"Yes, please do," Loki says. Rudely.

Tony grins, ruffles Steve's hair, and heads down the hall, whistling.

Loki frowns at Steve and bites his lip. "Thank you," he says.

Steve colors. "For what?"

An uncomfortable expression flashes across his face. "For going to Asgard, if you like. I know it wasn't for me. I know you didn't save my life for me. Still. I could not thank you before, but I prefer not to go without doing so at all."

Steve shifts in his chair, uncomfortable with the thanks. "You don't need--Look, you're right. But I'm not sorry I did it. You may not be my cup of tea, but you deserve to be saved, and you didn't deserve anything that happened before. So that's pretty simple."

"I'm vexed that I can't fix it," Loki says. "But I doubt you'd want that anyway."

Steve doesn't know. "Since it's not an option, let's not worry about it," he says. "I'd like to focus on getting my life together and helping Pietro. He's a good--a good kid."

"He's fast," Loki says.

Steve grimaces. "Yeah. A little too fast for me to keep up with, probably."

"Perhaps he needs a steadying influence. Or several. He has Wolverine already."

Steve is tempted to say he isn't sure how steadying Wolverine is. Instead, he says, "Well, I don't know how well Tony and I can do at that, but we'll try." He tries not to make a face. "And you," he says.

"Don't hurt yourself, Rogers," Loki says.

Steve sighs. "I guess I'm just a little wary. You and Tony are--you're close. Friendly. And you've tried to hurt my friends before, including him. I don't want to see it happen again."

"With the baby?" Loki says. "No. I wouldn't hurt Pietro." He doesn't look safe as he says it, though.

Steve shifts uncomfortably. "Yeah. Well, I hope not. Just worry about bringing Tony home safe for now, okay?"

Loki says, a little nastily, "I’ll reassure you if you like, but you won't believe me whatever I say."

Steve bristles. "Look, everyone else may be comfortable with you, but I'm not about to forget the things you've tried to do. I don't hate you, but I'm not interested in being your friend. I don't feel like we'd do well."

"No, we wouldn't," Loki says. "But you could at least stop acting like a jealous boyfriend. You don't care that I'm evil, do you? I think you must care that Tony is happy when I'm around."

Now Steve hates Loki a little. "That isn't--" But it is. It wouldn't even matter if Steve weren't such a mess right now. If Tony stopped looking at Steve like was about to drop dead, it wouldn't matter how he looked at Loki.

"I guess I don't have an answer for that," he says after a second, still angry. "But no, I don't like it very much."

"Well, Captain," Loki says, "you might notice that the one he's presumably fucking is you. And he's certainly not prepared to leave his palace of technological wonders for me. I’d send him back anyway, because despite my longstanding reputation, I loathe the thought of anyone but Victor.”

"I--" Steve starts, flustered and upset and guilty, but Tony is coming back down the hall, his hair wet, dressed in clean clothes.

"Uh, hey," he says, looking bewildered. "What'd I miss?"

"I exerted my personality," Loki says.

"Oh," Tony says. "Uh oh."

"It's fine," Steve says. "I think I should go back to bed."

"That bad?" Tony asks Loki.

Loki shrugs.

Steve blinks at his coffee mug. "No. I was just being stupid. Can we drop it?" He knows being jealous is stupid. He knows as soon as he sees Tony that they're doing okay. It's just easy to forget in between.

"Sure," Tony says. "Dropped."

"We should go, Stark," Loki says. "The sooner I take you away, the less poor Rogers has to put up with, and the sooner you'll be back. Yes?"

"Yeah," Tony says, narrowing his eyes. "Is that--"

"Fine," Steve says. "It's fine. Good luck, all right? Both of you." He's seeing his therapist later today. That's lucky.

Loki nods, very well-behaved.

Tony leans over and gives Steve a quick kiss on the mouth, and a smile. "Got it," he says. "Come on, Loki." He claps Steve on the shoulder and heads out the door.

Chapter 43: pietro gives him what he wants

Summary:

"I just wanna feel something," Pietro says.

Notes:

Chapter Warnings: EXPLICIT DUBCON, extreme creepiness, emotional manipulation, horrible lying.

He is sitting on his bed in jeans and a t-shirt reading Finnegans Wake when the kid comes in.

"Well, hey," he says, putting his book down. He wasn't expecting this to happen again so soon.

"Hey," Pietro says. He looks upset, like he's trying to cover it but not too hard. His hand is flitting near his pocket. "So, uh, how are you doing?"

"Better than you, I guess." He swings his legs off the bed and looks at the kid. "Let me guess: rough day?" It seems like most of Pietro’s days are rough. It's almost like he's trying to be useful.

Pietro laughs, short and painful. "Wanda found out I'm with the Avengers," he says. "Sentaletter. Told me if I apologized maybe I could come back. I guess she really thinks our dad's the good guy, huh?"

Pietro seems to expect sympathy, so he shakes his head. "Wow. Well, I'm sorry about that. It's pretty easy to think your dad's right just because he's your dad. But you know better." Daddy issues. Everyone always has daddy issues.

"Uh, also my dad is a fucking crazy megalomaniac," Pietro says. "Don't think I don't know that just 'cause I want his approval."

"Yeah. But maybe your sister wants it so much that all of that doesn't matter. It's probably a good idea to write them both off." He puts his hand on the kid's shoulder. "I'm flattered that you came here."

"Yeah, well," the kid says. "It was you or someone nasty." There’s a look in his eyes that wasn't there before, not even when they fucked the first time.

"Glad you came to me." He has to force himself not to laugh. He does let himself smile, though. It's not like anything's going to keep poor little Pietro away at this point.

"I guess," Pietro says. His mouth is twisting hard down, and then he’s laughing. Hard to tell if he'll curl up into a ball or start smashing everything in the room. "Fucking been everywhere with her," he says. "She's my fucking second half, and she just...she doesn't even think he did anything wrong. She doesn't even care that I--"

"C'mere," he says. He grabs the kid and pulls him into a rough kiss. He's humming with energy and not in the mood for a sob story. It's not relevant or useful at this moment.

"Hmmph," Pietro says. He pulls back, breathless. "I shouldn't," he says. "I really shouldn't, I--"

"But if you need it, I'm here." The kid's half in his lap now, and not trying to get any further away. "You didn't want to go to your boyfriend with this, right?" It's a gamble, mentioning the boyfriend, but the kid is clearly here for a reason. He digs his nails into the kid's wrist. Just a reminder that he can be what Pietro needs.

Pietro whimpers. "Yeah, I mean, no, I didn't," he says. "I just, I. He won't push. I f-feel like I'm fucking dying. I need..."

Time to shut this up. He grabs hold of Pietro and rolls them both over so he's pinning the kid to the bed with his weight. He can feel his eyes becoming too blue with excess energy. He doesn't want to lose his form now, though. "What do you need?" he asks, nuzzling the kid's neck.

"I just wanna feel something," Pietro says.

"Oh, I'll give you something to feel." He gets his hands in the kid's hair and his teeth on the kid's jaw, and his dick is already getting hard against the kid's hip. Feel that.

Pietro moans, half-struggling and half-slack against him. "Yesyesyes," he says. His cheeks are pink.

He yanks Pietro's head back. "I’m going to get inside you," he says almost casually. He reaches down with his free hand to unzip Pietro's pants.

Pietro whines, both arms down, clawing into the mattress. He's easy, once you get him going. And he's even more predictable than Tony, who actually turned out not to be so predictable in the end, which was the whole problem.

"I've got you," he says. He drags his nails across Pietro's stomach and rolls his hips against him.

"Fuck," the kid groans. "Fuck, fuck, just a little more, more than last time, please."

He isn't here to mess around. And he's hungry for more energy, so he's not in the mood to hold back. He backhands Pietro across the face.

Pietro yelps, and there's a visible moment where he's afraid, and the next, where Pietro tells himself it's okay and he's in charge if he wants to be.

He sees it, but he doesn’t offer any apology. He's not playing that game anymore. He just pushes the kid's clothes out of the way, pants down and shirt up. He cups one of Pietro's pecs, squeezing roughly.

Pietro gasps, his legs thrashing, arms still pressed against the bed. He's trying to get out of his pants on his own, but they're caught at his ankles.

"I'm going to fuck you face-down." He rolls the kid over and manages to get his pants the rest of the way off. He smacks Pietro's ass a few times, hard. Doing this is satisfying, although not exactly what gets him off.

The kid groans into a pillow, still clearly audible, but muffled. If half of what Pietro said were useful, it wouldn't matter that he talks so much--but it’s not. Getting Tony to shut up or talk sense was about as hard. He's used to this bullshit, and he knows how to handle it. He bites Pietro's shoulder and bears down on him again, body pinning the kid to the mattress, and Pietro goes quiet.

It would be so much easier if he could just suck all the kid's speed right out of him. It might keep his fingertips from starting to fray into blue light at the wrong times. As it is, he's just going to have to suck everything else out of him, instead.

Pietro whimpers and pushes back against him. There are, he remembers, other people Pietro gives himself up to. Others, and Pietro knows exactly who they are. And the others are worse.

Useful or not, the kid's a little sick.

"You want me to put it in you?" His dick is rubbing against Pietro's ass. "You want me to fuck you in the ass till you come for me?" He grabs the kid's hips and pulls them up a little so his ass is in the air.

"Yesyesyes," Pietro says. "Fuck, fuck, fuck me." He's so small and restless. The only fight he's putting up is show, to make the grip on him feel tighter.

He steadies Pietro’s squirming. He squeezes Pietro's hip, and forces his dick in. "So fucking tight," he mutters. "How are you so...?" But he's always a little too big for people to take. Always has been.

Pietro doesn't try to answer, anyway. The kid's panting like a dog, whining and desperate.

He grabs Pietro's hair, tugging his head back and exposing his throat to wrap one huge hand around it. He doesn't squeeze too hard, just hard enough that the kid'll feel it.

Pietro sobs, but he forces out, "I can--take it. Icantakeit."

"Then take it." He squeezes Pietro's throat harder and fucks him, cock slamming in over and over.

Pietro yells, hoarse over the grip on his throat, unquestionably audible from the rooms around them.

He grimaces and fucks Pietro harder, hips thudding against the kid's ass. "Come on, you pretty little thing," he whispers, loudly enough that Pietro will definitely hear him. The kid moans, almost like he's in pain. Maybe he is. He writhes weakly, anyway, and begs to be touched without using his words.

He plans to let the kid come. He really does. But having Pietro under him, shaking and making those sounds, is just too much.

When he starts to come, he also starts to dematerialize.

He spends himself in Pietro, and by the time he's done, swearing and furious, he's almost entirely bright blue energy. He covers Pietro's body, trying to force himself solid again. Not now.

Pietro twists his head around to see what's happening, and lets out a sort of gulping whimper.

"Shit," he says. "Shit, I'm sorry, shit, whatcanIdo?"

He makes a strangled sound and manages to partially reform. "Energy," he gasps. "I need--Arc reactor, I need--please--"

This would be too fucking ideal, if he weren't so pissed off.

"I," says Pietro. "You want me to bring you there? I don't think I can--I don't know where Tony is, I'm not..."

He shakes his head and feels himself blur. "Don't think I can--Can you bring it--?"

"I, uh," Pietro says, clearly starting to panic. "I mean, it's stealing, what if they kick me off, I really can't--"

"I'M DYING!" he roars. "Do you want that? If that happens, it'll be your fault! You have to save my damn life!"

Pietro flinches, and says, pale, "Sorry, I'll, I'm sorry," and is gone.

When Pietro has gone, he manages, after a moment, to get himself solid enough that he can get his clothes back on, but he can tell his eyes are still too blue. It's getting progressively worse. He needs that reactor to hold himself together.

He smiles and lets himself drift into a little bit less solid a form. It'll be better, when the stupid kid gets back, if he looks like he needs help.

It takes Pietro a surprisingly long time to come back--or not so surprisingly, considering what he's stealing and where he's stealing it from. Still, it’s all right; 'long' in this case is ten minutes, and he's got one of Tony's miniaturized reactors in his hand.

"Igotit," he says. "What do you need, can I help, I don't know what--"

"Give it to me," he interrupts. The kid never shuts up. Just like Tony. He isn't sure exactly how to get what he wants out of it, except that he has to contain the energy somehow, and that this device might do it. Should, considering.

He takes the reactor and presses it against the center of his chest, willing himself less solid. It slides in, and he solidifies around it.

"Is that good?" Pietro says anxiously. "I could call Tony, maybe he could really help, maybe Logan could, he knows plenty about mutants, he's like a hundred and fifty, oh, fuck."

"No," he says, and even as he says it, the reactor starts to glow. He can feel it sucking all the energy in him down into one place, a stable core at the center of his chest. "It's actually working," he mutters. He looks up at Pietro. "Don't call anyone."

Pietro hums worriedly. "But they're gonna figure out it was me who took the reactor, and--"

"And what?" he snaps, fed up. "Just keep your mouth shut and they don't find out. If they do, just--" He stops and smiles, picturing Tony's face. "Just say you were helping a friend."

"I guess it wasn't locked up or anything," Pietro says uncertainly. "I guess maybe Tony could've just misplaced it or something. He's got a bunch of them, y'know, and everything's been kinda everywhere since the move."

"Misplaced it," he says under his breath. "Yeah, he's pretty careless, from what I understand. For all they know, he just kicked it under the workbench or burned through it with his broken heart." His whole body is humming with the contained energy, and he's not being careful.

"I guess," Pietro says shakily.

"Good. That's settled, then. Maybe you should get going, kid. It's late."

"Are you okay?" Pietro asks, hesitant. "I don't wanna--and listen, I'm not gonna be around for a couple days, either. I'm helping Tony and--I'm helping Tony with a project overseas. Not for very long. Just, in case you wanted to know."

That couldn't be more perfect. He needs some time to test out the extent of his new control over his energy-morphing, and he doesn't want the kid in the way. If Pietro cracks and mentions something to Tony, and Tony manages to put two and two together, it won't matter now.

"That's fine," he says. He smiles at the kid. "You probably saved my life."

Pietro relaxes a little, and smiles. "No prob, Ezekiel," he says. "I'm an Avenger now, in case you forgot or something. Great at, uh, at life-saving."

He grins. "You sure are. I'll see you later, okay?"

"Yeah," Pietro says. "Yeah, sure. Uh--be well." He still looks a little pink and tousled with sex.

"Oh, I will."

"Ah," Pietro says. "Yeah. Okay. Yeah. I'll see ya?" And then he finally leaves.

With Pietro gone, he settles carefully on the bed. He's staying solid. He can feel the energy lying dormant and controlled for the first time since he died.

Chapter 44: pietro has to go home sometime

Summary:

He's bracing himself against Logan's anger before he's even opened the door.

Notes:

Chapter Warnings: domestic dispute, self-destructive behavior, pietro is not super well

The endorphin rush is over by the time Pietro reaches the front door, and Pietro is shaking when he goes inside. Ezekiel almost died, fucking him. And he stole from the Avengers. And Wanda doesn't want him.

He's bracing himself against Logan's anger before he's even opened the door.

Logan can smell Pietro's anxiety before Pietro speaks. "What's up?" he asks immediately, instincts going haywire. Pietro was just supposed to be with the damn Avengers. What could have gone wrong?

"Nothing, sorry I'm late," Pietro says automatically, even though he isn't. Logan is going to smell Ezekiel on him (whatever that smells like) and it's not going to matter what Pietro says.

Logan stands up from the couch where he was sitting. "You smell," Logan says slowly, "like sex."

"Probably someone else's," Pietro says stupidly. "Went by a lot of sketchy neighborhoods today! Villainy everywhere, y'know."

"You think I'm stupid?" Logan demands. "You think I don't know what semen smells like? I'm guessing you didn't shower." He sniffs the air. "Something else, too. Cologne, maybe. So why don't you spin me a tale about that one?"

"Oh, fuck off," Pietro snarls. "You and everybody else. You already know, okay? I'm already a fuck-up, I'm not gonna get better, I'm not trying to get killed, so you can just drop this fucking pet project and I'll move into the fucking tower." Except it won't be long before they find out, too.

"You're not a project," Logan growls back. "You're my goddamn boyfriend, it's my business to care if you're going around fucking people who're bad for you. Was it the same guy again?"

"Why does it matter?" Pietro demands. "Why does it fucking well matter? They're all the fucking same, right?"

"Just wanted to know how dead I need to kill him," Logan says. It's easy to be pissed at Pietro, but it's way easier to be pissed at all the creeps who come around and give him what he shouldn't be looking for.

"None," Pietro says. "No dead. Sorry. I like that one."

Logan pauses. "Yeah? Gonna go live with him?"

"Sure," Pietro says. "Sure, yeah, why not. I don't think he's that interested. But I have a room at the tower, y'know, I have the key." He does. It's in his pocket. He takes it out and shows it to Logan. "So I can leave any fucking time you want."

"If I wanted that, I would've thrown you out the first time you cheated on me with an even bigger asshole," Logan snaps. "All I want is for you to come home when you say you will and stop getting yourself hurt."

"Wow, and I thought you'd gone and signed me up to be a superhero!" Pietro spits back. "Pretty sure going out and getting hurt is their job. I guess as long as it's on your terms."

He's not even fighting about anything, and he knows it, but he can't stop. He just wants to rip to shreds everything that he hasn't already ruined.

"You know the difference damn well!" Logan shouts. He promised himself--and pretty much promised Natasha--that he'd go easier on Pietro, but he's running out of things to do.

"Yeah," says Pietro, "but I don't care."

Logan throws his hands in the air in frustration. "Damn it, kid!" He hates the smell on Pietro. He hates feeling so helpless.

"I should just go," Pietro says. "Give you a little time to cool off." He feels a little crazy, more than a little, but by now he's practically enjoying the idea of running himself into the ground.

Logan doesn't trust Pietro to run off anywhere safe, but it's not like he can stop him. "Do what you want," he says. "I'd ask you to do what I want, but we both know that's stupid."

"Oh, good!" Pietro says. "I guess we're learning something after all." He turns toward the door. He doesn't go full-speed, not even a little fast. Logan might still stop him, fix him, get it all out and decide he's not too bad to bother with yet.

Logan doesn't move. He thinks Pietro will be back. He's almost certain. If Pietro doesn't come back, Logan can always go after him.

Pietro dawdles for a few more seconds, but Logan isn’t coming after him. He leaves. He has to.

He can't go to the tower--that was a fucking dirty lie. He can't go there, because he stole from them, and they'll figure it out with Tony's fucking clever machines, and they'll know he's just a no-good punk and kick him out.

But Doctor Doom and Loki are no-good punks, kind of, and they said he could go there. They said he could.

The worst thing that can happen, he thinks, is he gets halfway across the Atlantic and slows down enough to sink.

Chapter 45: loki et al hedge their bets

Summary:

Loki gives them both a horrified look. "You're not supposed to like each other," he says.

Notes:

Chapter Warning: a little bit of friendly cutting

The best thing about Tony Stark is that he is efficient. Once they have their design pulled together, it takes three days to produce the parts, install the fence posts and the hardware for the grid, and plant seedlings of holly, hemlock and foxglove around the whole of the perimeter. Tony and Victor's machines and Victor and Loki's magic all expedite the process, but it's still as much a surprise and a relief when, in early morning on the third day, the hedge is ready to grow.

Loki gets up from his nap and tells Victor and Tony to make themselves comfortable.

"Or go do whatever else it is you do," he says. "This will take awhile. I'll call you back if I need you." Both of them are prone to fretting, and it is not easy (Loki thinks) to force fifty years of growth out of thirty mile stretches of new plant life in a few hours' time. At least growing things have the natural tendency to grow, but that is the only advantage. They're both useful enough, but Loki would rather keep them out of the way as much as possible.

"Oh, sure," Tony says. "We can always make small talk." In fact, he's been talking Doom's ear off the entire time they've been working together. They could probably get somewhere discussing robotics.

But, "It's a big castle," Victor says with distaste.

Loki shrugs, and sits himself down facing the very endpoint of the boundary, from inside it. They planted last night, and filled the ground with fertilizer--growing the hedge would suck the ground dry and instantly kill it again, if they didn't. But that's all come to something; it barely takes anything to make the seedlings unfurl under Loki's magic, and soon he's infused them with the ideas of sun and rain and stretching branches, opening leaves and blossoms heavy with pollen. The plants stretch upwards and their roots paw into the soil, greedy and fresh. And as they grow (inconceivably quickly, an inch every half a minute), their excitement infects the seedlings beyond them. That's good. It's quick. It's going to take all day, but it will only take a day, at this rate.

Loki wonders, for a fleeting and half-attentive moment, whether Victor and Tony have actually left. He feels irked for the moment when he can't turn around to check, because they ought to want to see at least a little of this magic. He's fairly proud of it.

"It's working," Victor says quietly behind him, half questioning, and Loki smiles where they can't see it. "I can feel--something."

"I'm jealous," Tony says, but he's smiling too. He can't feel it, but he can feel that calm that always comes over him when Loki is doing a tidy, clean, useful bit of magic.

When the plants directly in front of Loki are as tall as he is, sitting, he adds a little more to the spell. It's walls and cradles and dams now, letting in the wild beasts without loosing the children, nesting them, rising with them, crowding out the world and holding in the shape of the whole sky. That's more difficult for the hedge to take, but it does, soaking up Loki's suggestions from the bud to the root.

"Yes," Victor says. His voice is hoarse.

Tony shivers and watches the plants grow. He almost wishes he could live here, penned in by this.

When the growth has become obvious along about ten feet of the hedge, Loki pushes up his sleeve, pulls his knife out of his belt, and slashes himself across his arm, wincing. He really doesn't care for pain. In this case, however, it's an acceptable sacrifice.

Victor makes a noise, but he doesn't move. When Tony looks at him, he says, "A good witch knows that a lot of magic requires blood."

"And a good boyfriend's still freaked out by it," Tony says.

"Could you come here for a moment?" Loki calls. "Both of you. Just a moment!"

They comply, Doom clanking a little.

"What's up?" Tony asks.

"The plants don't take to your technology," Loki says. "Nor the soil to me as its master. It's a problem."

After a second, Victor says, "Not as such. I'm sure they didn't take to you at first, either. But you seem to have encouraged them."

"Wait," Tony says.

Loki frowns at him guilelessly, still holding the knife. "You're a perfect mix of nature and your own machines, Stark," he says. "Didn't you tell me you're not squeamish?"

"It's too bad you have such a good memory," Tony sighs. "Okay, well, might as well do it. It's not like I haven't hurt myself worse to get projects done." He sticks his arm out almost cheerfully.

Loki smiles winningly. "A brave man," he says, with what might almost be confused with real fondness. He takes a firm hold of Tony's wrist, positions his arm over the dirt where the seedlings' roots are butting against the metal, and swipes the blade across the back of Tony's forearm.

Tony's blood wells up and drips into the dirt. Loki says, "Rogers is going to hate me even more, now."

Tony's laugh catches when he gasps in pain. "Probably. It'll be fine, though. I'll work on him."

Victor, meanwhile, has removed the vambrace from his forearm and rolled up the sleeve underneath. "My turn," he says.

Loki's smile is more shamelessly fond for Victor. "Let us hope the land feels as mastered as you feel master," he says, and makes a cut in Victor's skin.

He feels the roots take, firmer and fiercer and harder to dig out, as soon as the blood soaks into the soil.

"Yes," Victor says firmly. "That's working, isn't it?" He can't always--or even often--tell what Loki's magic is doing, but now he's being bound into this spell more tightly.

"It's working," Loki confirms.

"Great," Tony says, glancing between them. "So now we just wait?"

"Now you just wait," Loki corrects. "Elsewhere, preferably."

Victor laughs. "We'll get out from underfoot. Good luck, my love." He pauses, turns slightly toward Tony as if he's embarrassed, then shrugs and gives Loki's arm a squeeze.

Loki says, without looking up, "You might bring me something to drink once in a while."

"Wine and water both," Victor says blithely. "And food, even."

"You're a dear," Loki says briskly, and then settles into an unfeigned concentration that neither Victor nor Tony feel inclined to interrupt.

They walk back towards the castle, not too close to one another.

"Hey," Tony says. "Later when it's getting bigger, why don't we grab a Doom-mobile and take in the new scenery?"

"That's not what it's called," Victor says unpleasantly.

Tony grimaces. "It's kind of a big job, huh? I mean, even for Loki. Think we should keep an eye on him?" Then he realizes he said we. No matter how friendly he is with Loki, he doesn't plan on befriending Doom any time soon.

"Hold for now, Stark," Victor says, frowning under his mask. "Loki is capable. And will ask for our aid if he needs it."

Tony laughs awkwardly. "Yeah, Loki's surprisingly good with people for a...Loki. So, you guys are going strong, huh? When's the wedding?" What? he asks himself. He's not being helpful. But it's Doctor Doom. It doesn't matter how good his science is.

"I don't know what you mean," Victor says stiffly.

"I mean you're pretty serious," Tony says. "Actually, Latveria probably doesn't have gay marriage. Although you'd probably legalize it! Although Loki doesn't have to be...I can stop."

"Please do," Victor says. It's horrible enough to be questioned about his matrimonial intentions by a horrible Avenger, but Victor doubts whether Loki would have any interest even if Victor suggested it.

"Sorry," Tony says. It's not as though he can cast stones, anyway. Or ask intrusive questions. "So, you're really okay with Loki's kids crashing on your lands?"

"They are not crashing," Victor says with dignity. "They are invited." And if the wolf happens to keep the peasants docile, that's only for the better.

"Guess they're kind of your stepkids," Tony says. He shouldn't be pushing, but he's honestly curious.

"If Loki wants them as his children and they want her as their mother, then they are welcome here," Victor says, so ferociously proper that his back is starting to twinge.

"All right," Tony says. "Well. That's good, then."

~

Loki's active part in the hedge's magic takes all day. They do bring him something to eat and drink, every few hours (the wine is not a jest, but he sends most of it away). By dusk, a line of trees, bushes, and young, slim plants all two feet tall is visible from the castle, vanishing into the distance. Loki comes home in a familiar state of disrepair, pale and shaking and black-eyed with tiredness, looking resolute.

Victor gets to his feet immediately. "Sit down he says. "And then some food and rest."

"I won't argue," Loki says, and drops into a fat upholstered chair that is nearly his favorite. Tony is sitting in his favorite one. It's perversely pleasing, Loki finds, to see Tony Stark in the middle of Victor's coziest parlor. Loki is sure Victor isn't happy about it. More amusingly, he isn't sure Victor is unhappy.

"And you have mud on you," Tony points out. "Magic dirt mud. Uh. We're really been bonding, here."

"Apart from the fact that Stark talks too much, it's true," Victor says, with only a fraction of his customary annoyance.

Loki gives them both a horrified look. "You're not supposed to like each other," he says.

"We don't," Victor says.

"He doesn't," Tony agrees. "I, on the other hand, have realized he's quite sweet, under it all."

Loki laughs (too much, Victor thinks).

"Never make me spend time with him again," Victor says. "Now, stay put. I have to fetch you food and fresh clothes." He sweeps out.

"See what I mean?" Tony says cheerfully.

"I'm so pleased you've figured him out for me," Loki says. His words are slurred with tiredness, which undercuts their rudeness. "It's been such a trial, not knowing whether Victor is sweet."

"It's true, though," Tony says, ignoring Loki's tone. He's mostly just talking for the sake of it, tired out and a little worried about the million small things he has to deal with. "He's a huge sap when it comes to you."

Loki rests his head against the back of the chair. "I've really ruined him, haven't I? Bad of me. I hope that doesn't count against my character, to do mischief by making people nice."

"Well," Tony says, "you both have ruined reputations now. The only person who still has trouble with you is Steve." He thinks of Steve and reminds himself to take a day off when they're done getting Loki's kids settled in.

"I don't mind," Loki says. "My reputation never goes where I want it to. On that count, don't worry about Rogers, either."

"One reason to cross off the list, anyway," Tony says. He bites his lip. That was a little unfair. But he's been so worried about Steve lately.

He's been doing pretty well at dealing with it, though. He still hasn't had a drink.

"Let him know when you go home, will you, that I haven't been making advances or winning your affections," Loki says lazily.

Tony's laugh is stilted. "I will, trust me. He should know that, though."

Loki shrugs. "He hasn't got much else to do but worry, has he?"

It's not really his fault, that Rogers has fallen so hard off his high horse. Loki doesn't feel at fault. He's made all the apologies Rogers has coming, but he doesn't have the patience for much else.

"Yeah," Tony says, "that's right." He'll find the perfect mission for Steve. He'll get him back in the field. If Steve wants that.

Victor comes back in, with a bowl of soup and a pile of clothes. "Here," he says. "Eat something, before you do anything else."

"I'm not dying," Loki says with dignity.

"Regardless." Victor pushes the soup at Loki. "Everyone needs to eat."

Tony smiles. Weird, weird, weird. "I can go," he says. "Out of the room, anyway."

"An excellent idea," Loki says. "Which room are you going to put him in, Victor? A nice one."

"They're all nice," Victor says. "He can have the one at the top of the stairs."

"You're being put in the room at the top of the stairs," Loki tells Tony. "It's nice."

"Great," Tony says. "That's fantastic. Always wanted to spend the night here. Sleep tight!" He waves at them and then heads upstairs.

Victor shakes his head. "Now you can eat, bathe, and sleep," he says. "You've done a lot today."

"It's fine," Loki says. "Only a bit of hard work. For a good cause." He looks up at Victor and smiles. "Wait till you see it tomorrow," he says.

"Your magic never ceases to take my breath away," Victor says quietly.

Loki feels caught for a moment, like a thread on a nail. "I'm not hungry," he says.
"That's all right, too," Victor says. "Everything is all right."

Loki looks baleful. "Don't start gushing," he says. "Please don't. I'll eat. Sit down. Talk plans with me."

Victor laughs and settles next to him. "Gladly," he says.

Loki smiles, and bites his soup. "Now," he says. "Sleipnir first."

~

As soon and he's settled in the (frankly palatial) room, Tony flops down on the bed and gives Steve a call. He crosses his fingers, hoping Steve's having an okay time in the empty apartment.

Steve picks up almost right away.

"Tony!" he says. "Hey! They haven't kidnapped you or used you in any arcane rituals yet, have they?" He knows he sounds tired--but not bad, he thinks. He likes his therapist. He usually feels a little limp and shaken up afterwords, like clothes on a line, but clean, too.

"Uh," Tony says. "Well, just a little arcane." He examines his arm. "But I'm fine. It's going really well. You should see this room they've got me in. But trust me, I'd rather be home."

"I'd rather you be home too," Steve says. "But it's okay. Soon." He sighs. "I think I need to start doing things pretty soon. I mean, I think I could. I'm feeling more like...What do you think about college?"

"Oh," Tony says. That hadn't even occurred to him. He feels sheepish about that. "Uh, wow, for some reason I didn't--Would you want to? For what?"

"I'm--I don't know for sure. People take awhile to decide sometimes, right?" Steve says. "But, I mean, I never really had the chance to do that kind of thing, before."

"If you want to, we'll make it happen," Tony says. After all, why shouldn't Steve get the chance to have a normal life? "You wouldn't even have to leave New York to find a good school, either."

He feels about a million years old, but not exactly in a bad way.

"Or a school I'm actually smart enough to get into," Steve says.

"Hey," Tony says. "Don't say that. You're not stupid, Steve. I mean, this team's probably not a great baseline to judge from, because we collect science geniuses."

"I didn't say stupid," Steve says. "Uh, anyway. That was a thought. I talked about it with my therapist. Thought it might be a good idea."

"Are you kidding, it's a great idea," Tony says enthusiastically. "It's not an option I'd even thought of. I'm, you know. Proud."

Steve pauses, biting his lip. "Well," he says. "I haven't done anything yet." But he feels a little stir in his chest like he's waking up.

"Making plans counts," Tony tells him. "Trust me, it really does. And pretty soon I'll get to come home for a while and help with that. Once they move Loki's kids, I'll be back."

"Don't get eaten," Steve says. "By anything."

"I'll do my very best," Tony says. "Hey. Love you."

"Love you," Steve says back. "Please hurry home?"

"I want to be there. So badly. I should be back tomorrow, okay?" Tony swallows. "I'll call you."

"Okay," Steve says. "Good. Do good work. It's got to be pretty late there, right? Sleep well."

"You too," Tony says, and he shuts the phone before he can get choked up.

Chapter 46: loki and pietro go and fetch their horse

Summary:

"Have you met an angry juvenile wolf the size of a bull elephant?"

Notes:

Chapter Warnings: None?

Loki wakes up before either Victor or Tony, despite yesterday's exertions. He can't sleep when there are plans to finish, and besides, the plans won't be finished unless the fence is complete. Better to check early.

He can see from their bedroom window that the hedge has grown as it should have. That's pleasing. He goes downstairs, to snag himself something to eat, and then wanders outside to look at his work more closely.

Pietro is on the stoop.

"What are you doing out here?" Loki asks, startled.

"You said I could come here," Pietro tells him.

"Yes, I know," Loki says. "And we need you today, for Sleipnir. Your timing is peculiarly good."

"Had nowhere better to be," Pietro shrugs.

"I see," Loki says, but what he sees is left unexplored.

"Oh," says Pietro. "Hi, Tony. I guess you'd be here too, to...help."

"Hi," Tony says, a little distracted from Pietro by the giant hedge. He turns to Loki. "That was...fast. I mean, I saw what you did yesterday, but this is still--I'm impressed." He grins at both of them. Then he looks at Pietro more closely, he stops grinning. "You look tired."

"Came by foot," Pietro says. "Everything else feels too slow and costs a lot of money. Or, you know, you can sneak aboard, but that can go badly."

"Ha," Tony says, except Pietro probably isn't kidding, exactly. "Well, I'm glad you're here, even if you did run. You excited about this horse thing?" He's been trying to follow Natasha's "keep an eye on him" advice, but it's hard. Pietro's fast.

Pietro's face lights up. "Yeah," he says. "You met him, right? He's great."

"For a horse, he's great," Tony agrees. "And a little easier to deal with than his brother."

"Hardly his fault," Loki interjects.

"Well, no," Tony says. "True. Just saying, it's a good thing Pietro is a horse person." He imagines Fenrir talking to Pietro and shudders.

"Assuming you have any wind left in you?" Loki addresses Pietro.

" 'Course," Pietro says. "Me'n him can run away from Fenrir all day long."

"Good," says Loki.

Tony shifts uncomfortably. Pietro sounds even younger than usual today. "This is going to be okay, right?" he asks. "I mean, not more than the usual amount of danger in the life of a superhero?"

"Tyr will be with us," Loki says. "And Victor's robots will be watching."

"Good," Tony says slowly, once he's decided that it is. "Well! Tyr, really? Didn't Fenrir...?"

"They understand each other," Loki says. "Victor! Good morning. It worked."

"So I see," Victor says, angling his mask toward the hedge. "I take it you slept about as much as usual, my love. Hello, Pietro." Pietro waves.

"So, Stark!" says Loki. "It looks as though my part of the project is working just fine. Assuming it holds. Your dome, please? If you don't want breakfast, that is."

"I could use a cup of--well, later." Tony waves his hand. He's trying to cut back on coffee. "Just give me a minute and I'll have it up and running."

"Lovely," Loki says, as Tony gets up. "Pietro, would you like something to eat? You have actually exerted yourself."

"You must have run here," Victor says, realizing. "Come inside. You at least deserve a glass of water."

"Oh," says Pietro. He’d forgotten he was thirsty halfway here. "Yeah. Thanks!" He follows Victor inside.

Loki remains seated on the steps outside, watching Tony fiddle at the box planted up against the castle wall. After a couple of minutes, there's a great crack of sound, and electricity surges to meet itself in a high dome above most of the visible sky, before it crackles back in a purplish grid and smoothes away to near-invisibility. The entire park is enclosed. The roots of the hedge meet underneath.

"That's very pretty," Loki murmurs as Tony hikes back up to him.

Tony ducks his head. "Well, it works, anyway," he says. He knows his stuff is good, but he doesn't ever expect anyone to react to it like that.

"That's all I ask," Loki says, which isn't strictly true, but Tony's work hasn't once yet failed to pass muster. "Now would you like some breakfast?"

"God, yes," Tony says. "And coffee, if you've got it."

~

Loki is a decent host for about ten minutes before he starts to get impatient.

"I told Tyr when to expect us," Loki is saying with forceful laziness.

"Should we go?" Pietro asks hesitantly. He’s almost sarcastic about it, and he sympathizes with anybody who feels that things are too slow, but he can’t drag the sarcasm out of himself. If he admits it, he’s afraid that failing to toe the line in any way just now will mean he has nowhere in the world to go.

"Is Doom coming with you?" Tony asks over his coffee cup. "Do I get to hang out in his house alone?"

Loki eyes Victor. "Does he get to hang out in our house alone?" he asks. "Or do you get to be alone with him again?"

Victor doesn't say anything, which probably means he's making a face. Then he says, "In this instance, I'll do whatever you think would work best for your plans. Do you think it would be easier on your children if I were here, or there?"

"Here," Loki says. "Sleipnir won't take much work, and Fenrir has his team all ready."

Victor inclines his head. "Then I will gladly get along with Stark if I must. I'll show him some of my robots."

Tony almost says he's seen them, mostly when he's shot them down and taken them apart, but he bites his tongue. He could learn something, if he pays attention.

"Very good," Loki says. "Pietro?"

"Yeah, ready," Pietro says, hopping up. Being cheerful. Ready to work.

Loki takes his arm without further comment, and then they're gone. Victor and Tony are alone in the room together again.

~

They go via the Bifrost, in case Heimdall doesn't know what's coming. Heimdall bows his head when they arrive, watching Loki with bright eyes. Loki passes a lazy gaze over him, and when his eyes reach Pietro, he seems to have dismissed Heimdall entirely.

Loki says, "All right, Pietro. Sleipnir first, and then I’ll send the both of you back. I hope you're bracing yourself for Fenrir after." Pietro is small and edgy, and Loki doesn’t know if that will make Fenrir friendly or hungry. That, of course, is assuming Fenrir doesn’t remember anything he shouldn't know at all, and try in vengeance to swallow Heimdall whole.

"Is Fenrir as bad as Tony kept making out?" Pietro asks. "I mean, Tony looked really freaked out."

"He's not bad," Loki says sharply. "He's a good boy." He tilts his head. "An angry one, though. Have you met an angry juvenile wolf the size of a bull elephant?"

Pietro's eyes get a little big. Then he says, "Nope. But I'll bet I'd like to." He wants to tell Loki that he'd like to be a wolf that size, but he's too wired and unhappy to explain.

"Maybe," Loki says. "Not yet. Come on." He nods to Heimdall, and leads Pietro back Sleipnir's stable.

"Hi," Pietro says to the horse, hoping he's quiet enough not to disturb Sleipnir or startle him.

"No fear," Loki says. "He's accustomed to my father, who's not quiet--except at present. And he's accustomed to battle, which is more worrying than you'll ever be, I hope." Sleipnir rouses himself from a nap, and leans his head over the gate. Loki holds his hand out to be sniffed.

"He can tell you're his mom, right?" Pietro asks, instead of asking more about Loki's dad. He's not some kind of jerk, even if he is curious, and he knows the difference between bait you’re supposed to go for and bait that’s just there to hurt the person putting it out.

"Oh, yes," Loki says. He had worried about that for a long time, in fact. And then he’d emphatically stopped worrying about it for even longer. Now it matters, and he's sure, even though he doesn't know as surely what the bond is worth.

He reaches for Sleipnir's saddle and hands it down to Pietro.

"Might come in handy," he says. "You never know."

He slides Sleipnir's bridle over his head and buckles it, and then opens the door to his stall. "Finest of all creatures," he murmurs. Sleipnir agrees with a nicker.

"Good horse," Pietro mutters. "Good, good horse." It makes him feel better, anyway. Just a little.

Sleipnir snorts, blowing hot, damp air into Pietro's hair.

"My hair," Pietro complains, but happily. His whole heart eases with Sleipnir’s friendliness. He walks with Sleipnir out of the stall, feeling pleased and helpful.

"Very good," says Loki. "Give him this?" He hands Pietro an apple.

Pietro blinks at it before offering it, open-palmed, to Sleipnir. "What's that about, anyway?" he asks. "You really like making apples."

Loki laughs, startled. "I don't think anyone's ever noticed," he says. "I like apples. They're useful. They're delicious. I learned a spell just for summoning perfect apples when I was about half your...size. Growth. In any case, it drove me wild because I couldn't get it right. So I used it all the time. By the time they were really perfect apples, I had formed a habit. Also it's very reassuring, don't you think, to have one or two things that you never get wrong?"

Pietro smiles. "I like that," he says, even though he doesn’t know, because gets everything wrong. "Can I have one?"

Loki tosses one to him, and holds the other out for Sleipnir to crunch. People are watching them as they wander onto the bridge, but it's hard to be bothered, today. Loki suspects (and has not told his friends) that later, when the rest of Asgard but his mother and his brother realize that he’s taken the equine prize of the realm into Midgard, everyone will be at Frigga’s door and howling about it. He enjoys the prospect too much to prevent it.

"It is perfect," Pietro agrees, after a few bites of the apple. "Thanks. Hey, does Sleipnir mind the Bifrost? If I were a horse, I don't think I'd like travelling that way."

"I don't know if he likes it," Loki says. "He doesn't mind. He may mind where we land, of course."

"Don't worry," Pietro tells Sleipnir. "I checked it out, and it looks okay. Lots of grass and stuff. Lots of space. Our planet’s not too bad."

Sleipnir bumps his nose against Pietro's face. Maybe he thinks it’s as much of a lie as Pietro does.

"I think we are ready," Loki says, as they meet Heimdall. "Back to Midgard, please. Make a good choice?"

"Of course," Heimdall says. "Good luck, Sleipnir." He half smiles, then opens the Bifrost for them.
When they land, Loki sees that Heimdall has brought them to New Mexico, which is a little harder on Loki and a little softer on Pietro. Interesting. Not unworrying. Loki has Pietro's shoulder under one hand and Sleipnir's bridle in the other.

"Hold on," he says, and this time when they land, the ground is rocky and grass-tufted, and the hedge hugs the earth for miles in every direction.

"Whoa," Pietro says. "That's faster than me." He turns to Sleipnir. "So, here it is." He wonders if Sleipnir can tell he's not in Asgard anymore.

Sleipnir's nostrils flare, and he stamps several feet, ears pivoting and eyes rolling as he takes in his new surroundings.

"Not going to panic, are you?" Loki says. "What, brave Sleipnir cannot take such a turn in stride?"

But it looks as though he can; Sleipnir tosses his head and stamps in place, and only a twitch of his hide indicates any nerves.

"He's curious," Loki says. He looks satisfied.

Pietro nods. "He's good. But I'll bet he wants to run soon." Pietro hopes so. He wants to run, too. He actually wants to run and never stop, but maybe he can distract himself with this for now.

"I'll trust you know how to manage that," Loki says, and drops Sleipnir's reins. "Call if he breaks free or you can't hold him. He will smell when his brother arrives. Don't let him engage."

Pietro nods, frowning. "I'll take care of him," he says. Gonna get one thing right. He pats Sleipnir's nose. "You could probably kick his ass, anyway," he tells the horse.

Sleipnir snorts in a way that probably means laughing, prances, and then takes off.

"Catch up," Loki advises usefully.

Pietro laughs, surprised into it. "Already gone," he says. And then he is.

Loki sends himself back to Victor and Stark, who are monitoring the hedge from the castle.

"Pietro is with Sleipnir," he says. "I'm going for Fenrir now. Keep watching. We might need you."

Victor nods and squeezes Loki's arm. "Good luck. I'll be ready if you need anything."

"Really, Victor," Loki says. "You make me feel as though I'm likely to fail. Nothing will go wrong!"

"To be fair," Tony says, "Fenrir seemed a little...tense. Intense. Both."

"He's fine," Loki says. "Tyr and I will be there."

He leaves, before anyone can argue.

Chapter 47: fenrir is free of the chains of asgard

Summary:

"We came to get you," he says, as evenly as he can. "We're here to bring you home."

Notes:

Chapter Warnings: wolf eats cow, self-loathing

Fenrir twists and paces on his small patch of island, pulled back only by the limits of his chains. He lets them bite hard into his skin before wheeling about and pacing the other way. He is angry and starving. He's given up on the idea of his mother ever coming back. He has practically forgotten. He is alone here and he will always be alone here. Everyone else are shadows.

But he smells something. Food. He sniffs the air, hungry and furious. If it comes near enough, he'll snap it up. Something tugs at his mind, some kind of recognition, but he'd rather just smell whatever's coming close as prey. Soon, for a while, he won’t be hungry.

The source of the smell come to Fenrir's island by means of a small boat with a single square sail, coming around from the far side to catch the wind. They can see Fenrir pacing violently long before they land, and they see when he looks up, stiff and still, ears pricked forward. One of them clenches his teeth and doesn't say anything.

They're sending me bigger prey now, Fenrir thinks. He doesn't speak. For a moment he can't remember how, and then he doesn't care. He snaps his jaws at the air in anticipation.

"Fenrir," Loki calls. He doesn't look at Tyr. He knows Tyr is going to notice and say something. He wonders whether this will be how Tyr loses his other hand.

Fenrir growls, deep in his throat. This is, he realizes uncomfortably, someone he knows. Mother. He understands that. Beyond that, nothing.

"He looks angry," Tyr says flatly.

Loki doesn't answer, and they don't land. After a few agonizing seconds, Loki calls again, "Fenrir. We came to move you, as I promised. I am with your Uncle Tyr, as you asked."

Fenrir smells enemy, but he doesn't think that's quite right. He's too hungry to think. Maybe it's important to let Loki know that.

"Hungry," he says.

"We know," Loki says. "We brought something to tide you over." It's only a cow, and a dead one, but it has to be enough.

Fenrir eyes it. He hadn't even noticed it under the smell of fresh meat. It will help a little, but only a little.

"Mine," he agrees.

"Yours," Loki agrees cautiously. He glances up at Tyr, trying not to meet his eyes. "We'll throw it over."

Tyr's jaw is set. Only someone who knows him as well as Loki could tell that he is afraid. He helps Loki with the cow, and when they toss it, Fenrir catches its neck in his mouth. When he drops it to the ground and buries his teeth in it, Tyr looks away.

Loki waits until Fenrir has consumed half the carcass, and says, "Do you remember what I said about leaving the island?"

Fenrir's head snaps up. His jaws are red. "You lied," he says tentatively, almost a question. "Still here."

Loki shakes his head. "We came to get you," he says, as evenly as he can. "We're here to bring you home."

“Home," Fenrir mutters. "Home, don't have home." He snaps his teeth, embarrassed. "I don't have that."

"You will," Tyr says shortly. He smells like fear. Good.

"We brought your brother there this morning," Loki says, which, as he says it, he realizes might be a terrible thing to reveal just now. He doesn't know what he should say, though; Fenrir hasn't, on any of Loki's recent visits, been this hostile and terse. Loki isn't sure how to make him less dangerous.

"I'll call a good meal home, then," Fenrir says, catching hold of his words but not of the right sensibilities. He grinds his giant teeth in frustration. He's supposed to be doing something here.

"No," Loki says. "You made a deal. Do you remember?"

"No!" Fenrir snarls. He pauses. "Yes. But it's--it's hard." He wants the chains off off off. "Mother," he says, nettled and still hungry. He doesn't say anything else.

Loki swallows. "I won't let you go hungry," he says. "Not ever again. But don't you think on Sleipnir as a meal. Don’t you forget that his blood is as good as yours and he has enough hard hooves for every notch of your pride.”

The former means little to Fenrir, but the latter gives him pause. After a moment, he laughs, fiercely pleased. "Then I will meet my brother," he says.

Tyr lets out a breath. Fenrir can still smell distrust on him, but everything fits into place a little better.

"Of course you will," says Loki again. "That's why we're here."

Fenrir wants to nuzzle Loki, but he's not close enough, and he doesn't trust himself. "Then let me out," he says.

"May we land, or will you eat us?" Loki asks bluntly.

Fenrir doesn't think I don't know is a good answer, so he thinks very hard, tears free another bite of cow, and says, "I won't eat you."

"Not even in part," Loki specifies.

Fenrir looks straight at Tyr. Then he says, "I promise."

"Then let us waste no more time," Tyr says, his tone clipped.

"Brave," Fenrir mutters, shoulder twitching. "A good wolf."

They bring the boat up onto the rocks, and Loki climbs down gingerly, keeping an eye out for sudden swipes and lunges. Fenrir backs up a little, taking care not to hurt them unintentionally. He settles in a half crouch, his chains wound around him and his fur bristling.

Loki checks Tyr, and then places himself near Fenrir's head. "Speak with Tyr," he says. "I must undo the magic on your chains before he can break them." He tries to emphasize how important it is that Fenrir be careful. "If you hurt him," Loki says, "I'll never be able to free you."

He almost says he wouldn't forgive him, either, but that isn't true.

Fenrir bumps his nose against Loki, then pulls back. He has to explain this right. "I don't want to hurt him," he says with painstaking care.

"Hold onto that," Loki says briskly, and nods to Tyr to take his place.

Tyr steps to Fenrir's head without hesitation. "You seem tense, nephew."

Fenrir chuckles. "I haven't known freedom since I was little more a pup," he says. "I don't know what it will taste like."

"Not familial, I hope," Loki mutters. The magic on Fenrir's chains is, as he'd supposed from his previous visits, nowhere near as strong as it was. It hardly takes anything for him to find the first lock and snap it, first on one chain, and then on the next. He begins working his way around.

Fenrir can hear the sound of the locks as they go, and it takes all of his power not to try to tear the chains from himself. "I don't want," he says slowly and carefully once more.

"I know," Tyr says.

"Sorry," Loki says. "I won't tease. Hold on, dear." He cuts the magic free from several more chains, working around past Fenrir's twitching tail. Fenrir's tail thumps when Loki goes near it. It's nothing like wagging. He is suddenly unsure what he'll do once he's free. He could just—

"Want to swallow everything," he says.

"I won't let you," Tyr says. He watches Fenrir steadily. "You have my word."

Loki steps over Fenrir's tail, which bashes against his shin unintentionally.

"Halfway through my part," he says, and bends down to work.

"Bound up too long, don't know how to be free," Fenrir continues mercilessly, eyes still locked on Tyr. He thinks if his mother weren't here, he might bite someone. But he feels Loki's magic working, and he feels a little calmer.

"You'll learn," Loki murmurs. All of their family's survivors have. Not Balder, but everyone else.

Fenrir wants to learn. Wants to be good without being tame. He hopes that's allowed, but right now he's still too hungry to tell.

"Make yourself ready," Tyr tells him. "Loki's almost done."

"And then the chains," Loki says, "and then we go." He resists the urge to put his hand on Fenrir's shoulder as he cracks the last bit of magic. "Done," he says. "Now you, uncle. Put that brute strength to work."

Tyr laughs grimly and raises his false hand, only it's not a hand: it's a mace. Fenrir has no time to react before Tyr brings it crashing down on the chains, splintering them at their weak points. Metal flies off in every direction as Try works.

Fenrir feels the chains slither off him and fall, impossibly heavy, to the ground. He sits in a half crouch, frozen.

When the last of the chains has splintered and fallen, Tyr stands back. "So you're free," he says, his voice unreadable.

Fenrir shivers and doesn't move.

"Fenrir," Loki says. He puts one hand beneath Fenrir's jaw. "Child. Pup." He puts his other hand on Fenrir's dry nose and tries not to smell anxious.

Fenrir whimpers. He doesn't know how to move if he's not restrained. Very slowly, with Loki's hands on him, he stands to his full height. Then he shakes his fur out in a flurry of sound and motion. His legs shake under him.

Loki steps back quickly, and laughs (one short burst of sound) before he bites his lip and watches, hands upraised.
Fenrir takes a careful step, and then another, until he's moving beyond the limits of his chains. He stretches his aching limbs, and he can feel his back crackle as his spine lengthens. "Free," he says, and it sounds foreign in his mouth. He's not sure which language he's using.

Loki glances quickly at Tyr, then back at Fenrir. Tyr is watching Fenrir, his whole body tensed. To his credit, he doesn't go for a weapon, not even the one at the end of his arm. "Do you feel well?" Loki asks.

"Well enough," Fenrir says. "Like I could run across worlds, though. Is that all right, mother?"

"It's not surprising," Loki says. "Are you in control?"

Fenrir reminds himself he must still be careful. For Loki, if for no other reason. "Mostly," he answers.

"That's well enough," Loki says. "May we touch you?"

"You may," Fenrir says. He inclines his giant head toward Tyr. "If things are bad, Uncle Tyr may." He hopes Tyr knows he means that as a compliment.

"Would it frighten you to be somewhere larger?" Loki asks. He hates to be so aggravatingly ginger, but he really can't tell at all if everything is going to go wrong without his ever seeing the misstep. He doesn’t dare risk missing it.

"Frighten?" Fenrir is about to scoff, but he thinks of this tiny island and what he remembers of Asgard's city and he cannot breathe. "Not so much that I would stay here," he says finally.

"You could test your legs on the island a few minutes longer, if you needed it," Loki says.

"No," Fenrir says, suddenly ill with the whole idea of the place, "I want to go. Now, now, I want to go now." He snaps his jaws and Tyr makes a sudden movement that comes to nothing.

"Then we must both touch you," Loki says swiftly. He knots the fur of Fenrir's great ruff around his hand and gestures for Tyr to do the same.

Tyr comes close enough to touch, winding his hand roughly in Fenrir's fur.

Fenrir grits his teeth and shuts his eyes. He's often wished to never see this island again, and now he can manage that.

There's a sudden awful, rushing change in how things are, like moving and like being empty and everywhere, like moving slowly so fast that light can't catch up.

When the feeling stops and shudders into solidity, Fenrir is between his mother and his uncle in a place that's nothing like his island. It keeps going. It is green and white and blue, and the light doesn’t burn with old hunger like it does in Asgard. The air is cold—it whispers through his fur like fingers. He itches from head to tail.

Fenrir makes a little growling, discontented sound. He doesn't know what smell to focus on first, and almost all of them are new. He settles into a crouch. "Run, can I run?" he demands.

"Don't panic, pup," Loki says, but he doesn't think that's going to help. He glances at Tyr, to let him know his strength might be needed if Fenrir seems ready to harm anyone (himself included). Tyr nods shortly.

"Don't remember how it feels to stretch legs," Fenrir tries. "Just--Tell me where I can. Tell me the right place and I'll run there. Have to run!"

Loki feels jarred and awful suddenly, and it comes out in his voice. "You'll know from the hedge when you can't go anymore," he says sharply. "It won't let you pass."

"Good," Fenrir snarls gratefully. "Back soon. Back to you. Promise." And then he's gone, bounding across the strange new landscape.

 

Loki relaxes with a small gasp as soon as Fenrir is gone. "Will he stop, do you think?" he asks Tyr. He's angry. He needs to stop.

"I don't know," Tyr says carefully. "I wouldn't."

Loki curses and flings his hand towards the ground. A small spark of light explodes against the dirt, not particularly dangerous, but still vehement.

Tyr watches him. "It wasn't you," he says. "It was us. Father, mostly. And me. But you didn't want him chained, and no one would have been happy if you'd loosed him, let alone him, in the end."

"You're as forgiving as he is," Loki spits. "It's revolting." He doesn't want Fenrir to be delicate. He doesn't want a child.

"So listen to us," Tyr snaps. "Fenrir is a beast, and if a wild, angry beast can forgive you, you can forgive yourself, surely."

"I'm not drowning in guilt," Loki shoots back. "That isn't the problem!"

Tyr inclines his head slightly: an apology. "Then what?" He's never been the best at understanding Loki, and unlike Thor, he won't try. He'll just ask until Loki explains himself.

"I did not think he would still be a child," Loki says sharply, biting off the end of each syllable.

Tyr has always had trouble thinking of Fenrir as a child. "An adolescent, yes," he says. In many ways, probably still a child. "Not ready to be a parent?"

And why should Loki be? He never asked for children.

"He thinks I can be," says Loki aggrievedly.

Tyr is silent for a moment, thinking it over. "There's always Doom," he says. "If Fenrir needs direction."

"Yes," Loki says. "But--" He knows exactly what's bothering him now, and he doesn't want to say it. Not for any reason.

"But?" Tyr prompts. He looks away from Loki, taking in the Latverian landscape. The breeze is cool on his face. He can be patient.

"But I know what I could do to him," Loki says shortly.

"Ah," Tyr says under his breath. He turns and looks at Loki. "But you won't."

"I could," Loki says furiously. "I can feel it. He loves me and it's repulsive. He wants me to know what he should do, he trusts me--who is stupid enough to do that? to lead him and one day it will make me hate him, and I'll destroy him, Tyr. I can feel it in my blood. I'll rip him to pieces for wanting me to be gentle. I want to even now."

It will pass, but it will come back. Over and over. He won't be any better than Odin, whatever Tyr thinks.

"You won't," Tyr says steadily. "Loki, once you must have dreamed you would fear or destroy everyone who ever loved you, and look at you now. You have a--practically a husband. You allow Thor to love you as much as he does. You have me here beside you as your brother. You can learn to be gentle to your child." He laughs and adds, almost as an afterthought, "I trust you."

"But you're all of you grown," Loki says. "And you don't need me to be gentle."

"Thor does," Tyr says. "And you learned, with him. If you have trouble with Fenrir, you can be elsewhere while you remind yourself, or while your family reminds you. You're even gentle with the mortals. That's better than most of us."

Loki makes a small noise of distress. "I'm afraid of being too cruel, and you tell me I've gone soft instead. I must be a bitter disappointment of every expectation."

"Big brother," Tyr says, "I'm nothing but proud of you."

Then he turns, because Fenrir is back, galloping across the grass to them. He skids to a halt in front of Loki, his tongue hanging out.

"I smelled everything and I came back," he says.

Loki swallows. "Yes?" he says. "Well done. How was it?"

"Good," Fenrir says. "So good. I want to eat someone." He growls, shivering, and then pauses for too long before he says, "Something."

"Gentle," Tyr mutters. He gives Loki a small, fierce smile.

Loki pauses. "Did you find your brother?" he asks.

"Smelled him," Fenrir says. "Didn't see him. Want to eat him. Didn't want to stop. Promised not to. Promised I'd come back." He's catching his breath now.

"Good. Good of you not to stop to eat his friend, either," Loki says, raising an eyebrow. “You mustn’t eat his friend.”

Fenrir's ears prick up. "Friend?" he asks. "I didn't smell a friend." He swallows back is it tasty?

"What?" Loki says sharply. "Not a mortal?"

Fenrir hesitates, pawing at the ground. "There was one, close to the castle. Smelled like metal and fire."

"Victor," Loki says. "But--"

"Smelled like worry, too," Fenrir says. “Like prey.”

Fenrir’s words are not good, and if something were not terribly wrong, Loki would not dare leave him. But something is terribly wrong. Loki says, "Fenrir, stay your stomach, stay with Tyr," and he vanishes before either of them can respond.

Chapter 48: ezekiel proves to have more than one name

Summary:

"When I came to the door and we had our little chat, what did you call me?"

Notes:

Chapter Warnings: the biggest creep on earth, offensive language (gender/sexuality/mutants are a metaphor), implied torture/violence, death threats, extra evil gender policing

After Loki leaves, Tony and Victor communicate awkwardly for a little while, talking about everything but what's worrying them. Tony tries not to watch the horizon for Pietro and Sleipnir, and Victor tries not to watch thin air for Loki.

They're just getting into a fairly interesting discussion of robotics when Tony's phone goes off.

"Hold on," he says, "this might be important." It doesn't come up as a familiar number, though. "Or not," he says, frowning. "Hello?"

"Hi," says a man's voice, not one Tony recognizes. "Um, this might seem a little awkward, but, is this Tony Stark?"

"Yeah," Tony says, still frowning. His life may be wildly public, but he's generally pretty careful about his phone numbers, at least his cell.

"Oh, good," the man says. "Okay. I, uh--I'm actually looking for Pietro."

"Great," Tony mutters. "Well, he's with me, but he's working. What do you need him for?" Nine out of ten people who could be looking for Pietro are bad news.

"He's a friend," the guy says. "He's been helping me out with my--Sorry, I know this is awkward, I didn't even want to take your number when he offered it, I just really have to talk to him. He's been helping me with my mutation. It's kind of a personal emergency."

"Oh," Tony says. "Yeah, okay, that's different." If it's a mutant thing, it's probably none of Tony's damn business, anyway. "Hold on, let me text him. What's your name?"

Ezekiel," says the guy, sounding grateful.

"Okay, I'll tell him. Just hang on a sec." Tony takes the phone away from his ear, gives Doom an apologetic grimace, and sends Pietro a text saying, Can you come here a sec? Your friend Ezekiel's on the phone. Urgent.

It doesn't take long for Pietro to come zooming up.

"On the phone?" he says. "Your phone? That's--" But he takes it from Tony before he reveals what that is. "Ezekiel?" he says.

"Hey, kid," says Ezekiel.

"Are you okay?" Pietro asks.

"I'm great," Ezekiel says. "I'm in Steve Rogers' adorable little apartment."

Pietro half-laughs. That's not right. That's--there's something wrong in Ezekiel's voice, he shouldn't have had Tony's number.

"Yeah, sure," he starts, but Ezekiel doesn't laugh with him. Pietro's heart is already pounding.

"Thanks for telling me about it," Ezekiel says instead. "Weird, that the papers didn't pick up the story of crippled Captain America beating a retreat to a cozy Brooklyn flat to live as a happy little fag with Tony Stark. Tony must've paid 'em off. But that's okay. You told me everything I needed to know." Pietro makes a small quizzical noise.

"Your friend Steve didn't want to let me in, of course," Ezekiel says relentlessly. "But he's so weak these days, and now that I've got the arc reactor, Pietro, I can do pretty much...anything I want."

Pietro feels himself go cold. He's shaking, and he doesn't know why. He doesn't understand what's going on. He thinks, How fucking ironic would it be if your one good deed was a supervillain? but that feels so laughable that he forgets it in half a second. It's laughable. It can't happen.

"What are you--" he starts, smiling, trying to put the conversation back on a track that makes sense.

"He barely fought back," Ezekiel continues, and Pietro is silenced. Oh, he thinks. Supervillains aren't a nuisance or a joke or somebody he can fuck without getting anyone else in trouble.

"And now he's just lying here," Ezekiel says. "He's just lying here and looking at me. Can't say I like his expression, but I'm not sure he can change it. I'll have to do it for him."

"Wh-wait," Pietro says. His mouth hasn't caught up to his brain yet. He killed Captain America. He feels like throwing up. "I don't, whatareyou, Idon'tget--"

"You're a pretty little slut, kiddo," Ezekiel says. "But you've got a couple flaws. One, you're a whiner. Whine, whine, whine, everything that happens to you is someone else's damn fault, everything's the end of the world. The other problem is, Pietro, you're just not very bright."

Pietro makes a small noise and bites it back. He knows he's being watched and he can't look up.

"I knew it right away," Ezekiel says. "I thought so when I read about you, but the second I met you, I knew for sure. I knew I could get you to open up and give me everything I'd need to tear Tony Stark's heart out of his chest." He laughs. "I'm sorry. I should explain. None of this was about you. I'm not even a mutant."

"Idon'tknowwhatyou'retalkingabout," Pietro says, so fast and breathless that Ezekiel can't possibly understand.

“All I had to do,” Ezekiel says, “is act a little dopey and listen to a few sob stories about how no one wants a pathetic little psychopath like you. God, your poor sister. Does she know how hard you get for her? And all that bullshit about your gender. You’re not a girl, princess; you're just sick with wishing you could get your fingers in your sister’s cunt.”

Pietro whimpers. He feels like he’s been stabbed in the gut.

“Pietro?” Victor says.

"Just as a thank you gift, Pietro," says Ezekiel kindly, "I'm gonna tell you to run. Because Tony took you in against his better judgment, and you just handed his worst enemy everything he loves. And I'm going to tear it apart in inches, Pietro. I'm going to destroy it all. I hate Tony Stark more than anything else in the world. You think I was rough on you? Just imagine what I'm still going to do to that little bitch's boyfriend. Just imagine when Tony finds him, Pietro. What’s left of him. Pieces of him. Imagine what Tony's gonna do to a traitorous little shit like you."

Pietro is moaning, and he won’t look at Victor or Tony.

“Pietro,” Victor says again.

Tony says, “Hey! What’s wrong?”

"Give Tony the phone, Pietro," Ezekiel says.

"But," says Pietro, voice cracking.

"Give him the fucking phone, you little freak," says Ezekiel, "and then run for your fucking life. If he doesn't kill you, I will."

Pietro shoves the phone out at Tony, says, "Wantstotalktoyou," so fast he barely understands himself. Tony, baffled and worried, takes the phone.

"Uh," he says into it. "Yeah?" And then Pietro takes off. Tony has never seen him run away so fast.

“Hey!” he shouts, but it’s reflex; Pietro is long gone.

"Did he leave?" Ezekiel asks.

"Yeah," Tony says, irritated. "What the hell is going on?" Whatever this guy said to Pietro, it wasn't good.

"Oh, shoot," Ezekiel says. "I guess Pietro really is afraid of what you'll do. I didn't realize you had him so cowed."

"What I'll do?" Tony asks. "Excuse me?"

"When you find out what he's done," Ezekiel explains. "You see, Pietro and I have a little deal. I do him the favor of giving him a good hard fuck, and in turn, he gives me some help with my problems. It's really tough to keep it together when you're made entirely out of energy, y'know? I mean literally. But since he got me that arc reactor, I've been really stable. Really great. And now I can make use of all the information I squeezed out of that little whore of yours."

Tony goes quiet. Damn it. He's been out of the Tower too much, away from his workshop, and he didn't even notice one was gone.

"What are you?" he asks. That's not the important part; the important part is Pietro, but tips on kicking this guy's ass might come in handy.

"What I am is angry," Ezekiel says conversationally. "I'm really angry, Tony. But luckily, I know exactly how to make myself feel better. And little Pietro told me where you live."

Tony goes cold. First it's Ezekiel's tone, then, when Tony's brain catches up, it's the words.

"Steve," he says. "Oh, God. I swear, whatever you are, if you hurt him--"

"Too late for that, Tony," says Ezekiel. "He's not looking so good. Went down even easier than you did. Even answered the door for me. Oh, he’s not dead yet. I think he can still tell you something, if he puts his mind to it. Would you like that?"

Tony's shaking. "Put him on," he manages. He'd normally be halfway through a rescue plan by now, but he can't think.

"Let's ask him a question, okay?" says Ezekiel. "Captain Rogers. Steve. When I came to the door and we had our little chat, what did you call me?"

A few seconds later, Tony can hear Steve's voice, rough and slurred and not loud enough.

"A--sick son of a bitch."

Ezekiel laughs. "No, no. The other thing," he says from a distance.

Tony can hear Steve sob. And for a few seconds he won't answer. Then he pulls in a breath and says, like it's being dragged out of him, "Obadiah."

Tony makes a small sound. In about five seconds, he goes from that's not possible to shoving the phone in his pocket, saying, "I gotta go, Doom," and going for his suit. He won't be fast enough, but he has to try.

Chapter 49: logan and the latverians look after pietro

Summary:

"Can you smell Pietro or can't you?"

Notes:

Chapter Warnings: acute mental distress, suicidal ideation, murder/death talk, refs to seduction/dubcon

Loki arrives very close to where he left Tony and Victor. Only Victor is standing there now.

"Where are they?" Loki demands. “They weren’t supposed to leave halfway through.”

"Something's gone wrong," Victor says immediately. "Very wrong. Stark went to deal with it, and I don't know where Pietro's gone. He ran away."

"What?" Loki says. "Why? How did anything go wrong here?"

"Mobile technology," Victor says, irritated because he's worried. "Someone called Stark. He wanted to talk to Pietro, and whatever he said drove Pietro off. Whoever he is, I think he's attacked Rogers."

"Then they're in New York," Loki says. "Fine. The Avengers can deal with it. And Tony can handle himself." He turns away and starts scanning the horizon.

"I haven't seen Sleipnir since he and Pietro went running," Victor says. "Is the wolf here?"

"Yes, the wolf is here," Loki says moodily. "He'll probably bite off Tyr's other hand in a minute or two. He is not in a good temper. Why would Pietro run away if Rogers was attacked?"

"The man who called—Pietro knew him," Victor says. "He called him Ezekiel. Whatever this Ezekiel said, it was nasty. Pietro was talking so fast by the end that I couldn't follow him."

"So either Pietro thinks the attack is his fault, or it is, in fact, his fault," Loki says. He thinks he might be getting a headache.

"Either way, I think we need to find him," Victor says uncomfortably. "He shouldn't be alone. He isn't...safe when he's alone."

"I know," Loki says snappishly. "Where is that damned horse?"

"I last saw him headed that way," Victor says, pointing, "but that was some time ago. If you whistle, I imagine he'll come."

Loki curses, not in a language Victor knows, and says, "You can whistle, can you?"

Victor doesn't answer. He takes his mask off, turns to the fields that stretch away from the castle, and whistles, loud and long and piercing.

"Fine, good, thank you," Loki says rudely.

Sleipnir is audible before he is visible, his hooves pounding against the ground so hard that it reverberates through the air. He comes up to a neat stop beside them, and snorts his inquiry.

"We have to go visit a wolverine," Loki says, rather unpleasantly. "I hope you were still planning to work for a living."

Sleipnir (wisely, Victor thinks) responds to Loki’s meanness by treading gently on Loki's foot. Loki jumps, and then sighs. Victor watches him put himself in a slightly better temper.

"Your friend is in danger," Loki explains more evenly. "His friend Logan can help us find him. Shall we go fetch him?"

Sleipnir acquiesces with a toss of his mane, and drops to his front knees so Loki can get on.

"Apologies, Victor. You’ll have to play host. Please help my brother if you hear Fenrir eating him."

Victor doesn't laugh, and he isn’t sure he’s meant to. "I'll find them and make sure nothing goes awry," he says. "Good luck."

Loki makes an animal noise, and he and Sleipnir vanish. Victor thinks he’ll be exhausted and ill-tempered no matter what happens.

~

Logan is feeling like shit about how he left things with Pietro, but it's not like the kid's easy to find when he doesn't want to be found. He paces around the house, playing with his useless cell phone, which isn't gonna ring, anyway.

He hears something.

Then he smells something.

He frowns and goes over to the door. "The hell is--"

But when he opens the door, he doesn't have anything else to say. Loki is sitting there, on a giant horse with more legs than a horse is supposed to have.

"You!" Loki barks from atop the horse. "Do you have your infant of a lover in there somewhere?"

That's just what Logan wants to hear.

"What the fuck?" he demands. "No. I don't. Why, what do you want now?"

"What I want now," Loki growls, "is to find him and sort out whatever idiotic calamity is underway so I can go home and stop playing nanny."

"Welcome to my life," Logan grumbles. But he's really worried now. "Why, what idiotic thing? When did you last see him?"

"Last I saw him he was frolicking happily with this very horse," Loki says. "But you can see he's not doing that now. Last I heard, he’d run off in a state of distress. Do you know anything about someone called Ezekiel?"

"Jesus Christ." Logan eyes the horse, angry and upset. "Okay. I know he's been sleeping with some guy. Not a supervillain this time, though. He claims." Shit.

"So, no," Loki says. "Well, never mind. Can you find Pietro, at least? Perhaps you’ll have noticed that he's a menace to his own health. You can’t think he will survive being responsible for Steve Rogers' death?"

“What?”

“Whomever it is has connections to Stark,” Loki says. “I believe Captain Rogers is being assaulted as we speak. I don’t think Pietro could live with that, do you?”

"No!" Logan barks. "Listen, kid, all I've done for the past however long is try to keep Pietro alive. I can call him, but you can bet your ass he won't answer." He opens his cell phone and dials Pietro's number, holding it up so Loki can see.

"And you're so utterly without personal resource," Loki snaps back. "Can you smell Pietro or can't you?"

"...Yeah," Logan says. "Yeah, I can. But I have to be closer than six countries away. He could be anywhere." He rubs his chin. "Guess I could try tracking him with one of his shirts or something. Haven't done something like that in a while."

"He left from a very specific point on our lawn not ten minutes ago," Loki says. "Is that good enough?"

Logan grins, not really a happy expression, but close enough. "Yes."

"Come here, please, then," Loki says briskly.

Logan hesitates. He hates horses. But fuck it, Pietro's in trouble, and so are the Avengers—so he kind of has to.

Loki gets down and the horse kneels for Logan (although Logan could swear it's giving him an ugly look).

"Don't worry," Loki says. "He's carried worse beasts than you."

Logan wouldn't get far in life being offended by things like that. "As long as he doesn't bite me," he says. "Let's do this. I want to find my--my Pietro."

Loki's ill-tempered expression breaks for a moment, and he says, more quietly, "Yes, well, let's find him, then." Then he takes Sleipnir's mane, and Logan feels a sensation that, as far as he knows, he's never felt before.

When they stop moving, Logan swears for about thirty seconds straight. Then he half tumbles off the horse's back. It's cold, and he can smell both Pietro and something else. An animal, dangerous, but not close.

"Yeah," Logan says, "he was here."

"Yes," Loki says, not offering to help him up. "You can follow him? Sleipnir will quickly catch him up, if he stops."

Logan nods. "Yeah. I've got the scent. He may go fast, but he leaves just as much of a trail as anyone else." He doesn't want to think about what they might find at the end of the trail.

"Like lightning," says Loki. “Good.” He puts his hand on Sleipnir's nose. "You'll listen to him for me, won't you, my dear?" The horse twitches its back, but it doesn't seem to protest.

Logan breathes in the smell of Pietro (distinct, but soft in the way it always is) and nods to the horse. "Okay. Got it. That way. We'll go straight and stop regularly so I can make sure we're still going the right way."

"Excellent," says Loki, and turns himself into a bird.

Logan swears again. "Okay," he tells the horse, "this is clearly only gonna get weirder." He gets onto Sleipnir's back, sniffs the wind, and looks up. "Okay, let's go."

Loki chatters to Sleipnir, and he bursts forward. He doesn't stop running even while Loki transports them to the far side of the hedge.

~

Sleipnir is fast, but it's still slow going. Logan doesn't want to lose time by getting too far off track, so he stops them fairly often to catch Pietro's scent again. It's always there, smelling a little like baby powder. Pietro smells upset, but he usually smells a little like that.

Logan gets better at getting off and on the horse.

Loki swoops behind them and bounces along the ground with his long, flat tail sticking out like a pot handle behind him. He chatters with the horse every time they stop and every time they start. Occasionally he deigns to croak something out at Logan, as well, but he's hard to hear over the wind.

Before too long, Logan leans forward and says to Sleipnir, "Hey. I think we can speed up. Judging by the direction we're headed, we just need to go one, uh, one country over. I can pick up the trail once we get where we're going." He waves up at Loki. "He's going home," he says.

Loki dips a little in the air, and then beats his wings hard to keep up to Sleipnir's speed. He lands on Logan’s shoulder and digs his claws in unrepentantly just before the horse accelerates to breath-takingly fast.

Logan directs Sleipnir from Latveria to Transia, a process that's made a lot faster, Logan guesses, by Sleipnir's extra legs. Once they pass over the border, Logan takes them to Mount Wundagore. He thinks he's right. He hopes so. He tugs Sleipnir's reins to slow him down.

"Okay," he says, hopping off, "let's see if I can smell him."

Loki flutters to a landing on Sleipnir's head. "Anything?" he croaks.

Logan sniffs. "Mm. No, but—hold on. Yeah. Got it." He ducks his head and he can smell it on the wind, faint, but here. Thank Christ. "This way," he says, motioning to Sleipnir. They're close enough now that he doesn't need to ride.

He leads the horse and the bird around the outskirts of the town, to the rocky outcroppings at the edges of the mountain itself. There are old, foot-worn paths here, between pale grass and sharp stones.

"He's close," Logan says. He doesn't smell blood, so he's crossing his fingers. Then again, there's a chance the trail just leads right off the edge of a cliff.

But it doesn't. It follows one of the foot paths for several hundred feet, and then veers off among grassy, overgrown bulges in the rock.

They hear Pietro before they find him, nestled against the mountain with his legs curled underneath him, crying into a patch of moss.

"Kid!" Logan runs across the grass to Pietro and drops to his knees next to him. "Jesus Christ, I wasn't sure if you were—You okay? What happened?"

Pietro looks up with a start to find Logan and Sleipnir and Loki (the bird again) all looking down at him. "Shit," he says tearfully. "Shit, shit, you weren't supposed to find me." He’s shaking so hard.

"I know," Logan says, laying a hand on the kid's head, "but I always do, don't I? You scared me."

Pietro never cries. Logan has watched for it, but Pietro never cries. The tears are spilling off his face now like they're making up for lost time.

“Are you gonna kill me?” Pietro asks.

“What the fuck?” Logan says furiously. “What do you think? Why would you say that?”

"I killed Cap," Pietro says. "You can't come find me. Tony’s gonna kill me. I fucked up. I killed Cap. It’s allmyfault, I killed Cap, hesaidyou’d—"

Logan hisses out a breath and grabs Pietro, tugging him close. "C'mere, kid. I got you. I got you. Shh. We’re gonna work this out."

“But you’re mad at me,” Pietro sobs. “We can’t fix it. I fucked up. I fucked up. You didn’t come after me and Wanda doesn’t w-want me and Cap is dead and it’smyfault. Everything’s fucked up, you can’t fix it. I’m gonna die.”

Logan says, “No, sweetheart, no.” He glances at the bird. This is bad.

Loki shakes all his feathers out until she's a woman instead of a bird. "Who is Ezekiel, Pietro?" she says briskly.

Pietro looks at her, blinking as though he can't figure out what she's asking.

"This guy I was helping," he says finally. "He found me. I thought--he said he was a mutant. I, I stole an arc reactor for him, because he was coming apart. He’s made of energy."

"You did what?" Logan demands. "That fucking asshole. Wait, what do you mean he said he was a mutant?" He can feel his claws itching to come out.

"He said he was, but he was lying," Pietro says, crying. "He was really coming apart, though, he was this weird blue energy and he couldn't stay in one piece. He said he was gonna die, he said he had to have it or he’d die, so I took it, but he’s hurting Steve, he said he hurt him."

"I'm gonna kill him," Logan says in a rush. This freak, whoever he is, used Pietro, fucked him, and now he's— "Why Cap, though?" Logan asks. "How's that fit?"

"He’s in their house," Pietro says numbly, like he can’t get at the answer Logan wants. "He said Cap wasn’t m-moving."

"Damn it." Logan hugs Pietro fiercely. "Listen, whatever happens--and we're gonna try to help--whatever happens, it's not your fault. You didn't know this guy was such an asshole."

"He said he hates Tony more than anything in the world," Pietro says, barely more than a whisper. "I d-didn't know."

"Why does he hate Tony, Pietro?" Loki asks. Logan keeps glaring at her, but she's not inclined to waste time cosseting. Logan can do that.

"I don't know," Pietro whispers. "He said they were worst enemies."

Logan frowns. "Don't know what enemies he's got left, except Hammer, and he's in prison. 'Ezekiel' doesn't ring a bell." He rubs Pietro's back.

"I, I don't think he used to be like this," Pietro says. "I mean, with the energy and stuff. He couldn't control it at all. He was falling apart for real. Maybe he used to be somebody else?"

"Shit," Logan says. "Maybe--Ezekiel’s pretty Biblical. What if it's Stane?"

"Who?" Loki asks, frowning.

"The guy who messed Tony up," Logan says, shrugging uncomfortably. "Obadiah Stane. His dad's business partner, then his. Tried to kill him a few years back. Fell into an arc reactor and died, in theory anyway."

Loki's expression goes cool in a way Logan actually finds a little disconcerting.

"Take your time," she says. "When you decide to move, have Sleipnir bring you both back to Latveria. Victor will make you a nice cup of tea."

That's...not quite what Logan expected, but Loki is the least of his worries right now.

"Thanks," he says. "I mean it. I never would've found him without you two." He turns back to Pietro. "This isn't your fault," he says again.

Behind him, Loki scoffs and steps out of sight. Pietro says, "It is my fault, it is my fault, you kept saying don't do it and I keptgoingback and I gave him everything he wanted and Capisdead and Tony's gonna kill me cause I'm a traitor and a f-freak like Ezekiel s-said."

Logan growls. "No," he snaps. "No, he's the traitor. He's a fucking bastard, and I'm gonna kill him for you, kid. He used you because you were nice to him. That's all. Nice to him and all upset, and look what he fucking did with it. I'll rip him apart." He can't remember the last time he was so angry.

"I don't think so," Pietro says with a little hiccup. "I think she just went to do it." He nods after Loki.

"Oh," Logan says. "Uh. Yeah, okay, I think you're right." He squeezes Pietro's hand. "Then I don't need to worry about it and I can bring you home, sweetheart."

"Can we go to their house?" Pietro asks. "Like Loki said? Then she'll know where to come say if--"

If Cap is dead. If Tony is dead. If Pietro has just killed them because he wanted a complete stranger to fuck him until it hurt.

He thinks of Avengers Tower getting sold off for offices, and all the newspapers that are going to call Pietro a murderer, and he thinks, I'm never gonna talk to Natasha again, and if they do talk, it’ll be so Natasha can blame him. It hurts so much his eyes well up.

"Yeah," Logan says gruffly, getting to his feet and helping Pietro up. This is still bad, and it's gonna get a hell of a lot worse if Tony doesn't get to New York in time, or if he does and can't handle it. But he can take Pietro where he wants to go. "Hop on the horse," he says. "I'll ride behind you."

"Okay," Pietro says, voice breaking, and he climbs onto Sleipnir's back, Logan behind him. He buries his face in Sleipnir's mane the whole way back to Latveria.

Chapter 50: obie's plot comes to a head

Summary:

Obie waves his hands. "You live in a world of freaks, Tony."

Notes:

Chapter warnings: EVERYTHING. Cissexism, seduction/dubcon/manipulation, attempted murder, torture, violence, head-related death, eating people, mental health ableism.

Steve is lying immobile on the living room floor. The device Obadiah had held up in the doorway is nearly within arm’s reach, but it might as well be across the Atlantic. Steve hadn't known what it was, until he fell to the ground in a boneless heap.

Obie had shut the door and dragged him down the hall, and he couldn’t fight at all. He’d only been able to look up and feel the horror and rage swelling up in his chest, as Obie talked and Steve realized. By now the paralysis has turned to pins and needles in his fingers and his legs, punctuated whenever Obie hurts him. Steve can’t make more than the smallest noise. He’s almost grateful for that; none of their neighbors have called the police.

He is afraid. Even when he crashed that plane into the ice, Steve hadn’t wanted so badly to stop what was happening. He hadn’t wanted so badly to be rescued. But as much as he wants this to end, more than anything in the world, Steve wants Tony not to come home. He has been imagining it since he realized who Obie is, and he knows it would be worse.

Obadiah has been gloating since he hung up the phone, but he's growing restless now. He is working out his impatience by hurting Steve. Steve feels colder and colder, because if his plan is to hurt Tony, he'll get everything he wants.

"Are you afraid, Captain?" Obadiah asks. He wipes a smear in the trickle of blood under Steve's eye. "You can be. That’s okay. It's perfectly normal. Like death."

"You," Steve spits.

"Didn't die," Obadiah finishes. "Oh, but I did. And it hurt like hell. Do you know what that means, really? To hurt like hell?"

His voice is a long, smug drawl. Steve feels as though he’ll die of anger. All he wants to do is reach up and choke the life out of this monster. All he needs is one arm free and he could get what he needs. So close.

“You don’t,” Obie answers for him. “And you won’t. But I’m sure we can get close.”

~

Tony mutters to himself the whole time he's flying back from Latveria. The suit is fast, as fast as aircraft go, but it's not as fast as he needs it to be. He isn't going to be in time, and Steve's going to wind up dead because Tony didn't pay enough attention.

He doesn't want to think about what Obie did to Pietro. Any of the possible things.

When he gets to their apartment, he doesn't waste time. He slams the door open and goes inside, helmet on and hand raised.

A man is kneeling on the floor, built on Obie's scale. His face isn't the same, but Tony recognizes his expression when he smiles. So it’s true. He can feel his heart in his throat, pounding so hard he’s nearly choking.

When this new, awful Obie stands, Tony can see Steve splayed out on the floor behind him. Steve is bleeding, and he moans when he sees Tony, with a bare shake of his head.

"Well, hello, stranger," the stranger who is Obie says, showing his teeth, and the last trace of Tony’s doubt slips away.

"I'm not gonna ask how," Tony says. His voice doesn't shake, but his heart is racing. "Although I have to admit, I'm curious." He doesn't put his hand down.

Obie waves his hands. "You live in a world of freaks, Tony. You dropped me in a goddamned reactor. You thought it would just end like that?"

"Well, yeah," Tony says numbly. "It blew up. There wasn't a body. The cover story was easy." He laughs miserably. "I'm an idiot." He glances at Steve. "Looks like you managed to hurt my friends pretty badly without actually killing anyone."

"Don't be pathetic," Obie says. "I don't need to kill anyone to destroy you. Doesn't mean I won't." He puts his foot down carefully on Steve's hand and bears down. Steve makes a small sound. Obie watches Tony, his eyes burning blue.

Tony tells himself it's stupid to attack Obie without knowing how much power he has, or what kind, but he doesn't care. He punches Obie, his metal-clad fist connecting with Obie's jaw before he remembers he could have blasted him with the suit.

Obie's head snaps back, and then his whole body crackles into blue sparks, and he reforms in half a second behind Tony's shoulder.

"You're a genius, kiddo," Obie says. "But you were never very smart." Before Tony can react, a burst of energy sends him flying over the coffee table, crashing to the ground.

The visor of Tony's helmet opens, like it almost always does when he least needs it to. He'll have to work on that.

He gets up, awkward in the suit, and faces Obie again. "Shut up," he says. "I killed you. And I'll do it again if I have to." He glances at Steve and realizes he's got to find the thing that's paralyzing him. It can't be far. He'd better not take the helmet the rest of the way off.

"I don't think so," Obadiah says.

Steve thinks, Oh, I do. He wishes Tony were calling the rest of the team, but he can tell even from here that Tony is too far out on the precipice to think of things like that. It's no wonder, and Steve doesn't blame him, but damn, could they use the backup.

Tony squares up and looks Obie in the eye. It's a little easier, since his face has changed, but he's still a hell of a lot taller than Tony. That counts for a lot.

"You're not going to hurt anyone else like you hurt me," Tony says calmly.

Obadiah laughs, and Steve shivers, because he’s already learned that Obie loves a monologue, and Steve knows what comes next.

"You're still naive," Obadiah says. "Naive and egotistical. You think you're something special? You think there aren't a thousand messed up freaks exactly like you just on the island of Manhattan? Well there are, kiddo, and you hired one of them to be on your team."

"Oh, fuck you," Tony snaps. "Whatever you did to Pietro, you're going to pay." Tony can guess what he did, though. Pretended to be his friend. That's always a good start.

"What I did to Pietro," Obie repeats sarcastically, and Steve just wants to beat him bloody. "Why learn new tricks when the old ones work just fine?" He laughs. "He was perfect, Tony. It's like you laid him out in front of me for my own convenience."

Oh god, Tony thinks, I practically did.

"He was even easier than you," Obie continues. "Gave himself up without a second thought. Guess this one came primed, if you know what I mean. All I had to do was tell him he's a good little girl."

Tony gasps, a short, sharp, horrified breath. "You--" But he has nothing to follow it up with.

"Oh, come on," Obie says. "You knew I could do that. Didn't I always say what a good boy you were when I was playing with your tits? Didn't you believe me? Or, hang on, maybe you didn't know little Pietro is special?"

"Go to hell," Tony chokes out. For some reason, it still hadn't really occurred to him that Obie was lying all along about how he felt about that, too. He takes a shaky breath. "Loki said something about that. Kind of. Didn't know you were having sex with Pietro and using it." He hadn't known it was that much of a real thing, that's for sure, and maybe that makes him the careless idiot who should have talked to Pietro more when he had the chance.

Obadiah shakes his head, and Steve, blood boiling, imagines popping it off his neck. "Oh, Tony, Tony. Of course I used it," Obie says. "Why wouldn't I? Here comes along this convenient little tool—it can get me you, your boyfriend, your arc reactor, and the first regular fuck I've had in two years—and best of all, it’s one big pile of self-loathing because its body's all wrong. Of course I used it. Don't be stupid." He smiles. "And whatever he says about his body, it felt just fine when I got my cock inside him."

"You're sick," Tony says uselessly. He can feel himself getting dizzy with panic. All he can think of is tiny, wide-eyed Pietro looking at Obie and trusting him. Thinking he was needed. All because Tony didn't pay attention. And because he spent over half his life giving Obie the tools he needed to take Pietro apart.

He hopes to god they can find him, before—

"Well, yes," Obie admits. "That is something of a problem. That's what I needed the arc reactor for, you see—I haven’t been doing so well with containing my power. For all I knew, without it I could have leveled a city, completely by accident. So I had to get a reactor, Tony, just for now, just until I can take over your company and send you somewhere nice and out of the way--rehab? A loony bin? We'll see what way the cookie crumbles, shall we? And then, of course, I can dedicate a team in R and D to building me new working parts.

“In the meantime, I thought I'd just torture the man you love. We’re going to see if it makes you any crazier than you already are."

Steve has enough time to contemplate how much he doesn't want Obadiah's attention back on him. Then Obie turns around, and a bright blue electric jolt floods out of his hand and into Steve's chest. Steve can't fight, but he can still scream, small, jolting, strangled noises.

Tony unsticks. His ears are roaring and he feels sick, but he isn't going to just stand there frozen while Obie hurts Steve. He blasts Obie with a bolt of energy from his palm, wondering too late if maybe that's a mistake.

Obie is hardly swayed by the blast; he returns it with one of his own, larger and more ferocious. Tony stumbles backwards, too dazed to pay much attention to the damage reports his suit is spitting out. His suit is powered by an arc reactor. He's an idiot. He steadies himself and leans forward.

"I swear," he spits, "I'm going to survive this, and so is Steve. And then I'm going to go find Pietro and make sure he does, too. By the way, I haven't had a drink in so long I've lost count of the weeks. Have fun knowing you're going to lose."

Obie laughs.

"Yeah, Tony," he says. "You're a great leader." He throws another cannonball of energy, fast and blinding.

Tony freezes for just a second too long, and he'e knocked backwards against the wall. Our stuff, he thinks vaguely. His face is bleeding. One whole side of it throbs.

"It's true, I could just kill you," Obie says. "I'd like to just kill you. Both of you. The roof could collapse. It would be a terrible tragedy. I guess your arc reactor wasn't safe after all. That’ll haunt your legacy. But I’m sure my team can pioneer new, safer technology. We’ll be heroes."

Tony clumsily forces himself to his feet. If he can't do anything else, he has to help Steve. He looks around the room for Obie's device so he can smash it to bits.

"You're right," he says shakily. "The reactor’s not safe. You're not going to be able to handle it. Wouldn't that be funny, if you manipulated some poor kid into handing over your own death sentence?" Wishing thinking, but you never know.

"By the time that becomes an issue, I'll have built something new," Obie says. "Don't worry, my team is all in place. I’ve had years to plan. We'll begin the takeover of your company next week. I'd say tomorrow, but that's a little unfeeling, don't you think, in light of your tragic death?"

He's doing it again, Tony thinks. That thing he always does. Saying all this horrible shit in a calm, reasonable voice until it almost sounds okay. Tony feels sick wondering how much stuff he let Obie say to him without realizing it. He doubles over, pretty sure he's going to be sick, but then he sees it.

Obie's stupid little device is just sitting on the corner table, quiet and unobtrusive. Still bent halfway over, Tony laughs.

"Halfway to the loony bin already," Obie says, starting toward him.

That's always been Obie's problem. He starts believing all the vile stuff he makes people think about themselves.

Tony spins and grabs the device, crushing in his metal glove. "Not quite," he says.

Steve gasps, and half-sits up before he sinks to the floor again. He gets as far as the couch on the second try, though, which is a pretty good step.

"Well done," Obie says carelessly, "though I'm not sure what Captain Rogers is going to do to me in his condition. Come on, Tony. Stop trying to be brave. I don't mind if you cry a little." He raises his hand.

"Not for you," Tony says, but he's getting worried. All of his weapons are, at best, useless.

Obie opens his mouth to speak, and the room shrinks to half its size.

No, Steve realizes. The room isn't small. It’s the occupants.

Half the room is filled with something monstrous, something that wasn’t there a moment ago. It takes Steve a second glance to register it: a huge, snapping, ill-tempered wolf, flattened in startlement. A giant wolf. And, standing at its head, gripping its ruff and its jaw with tight-fisted might, there is a woman, teeth bared and seething. She is long-limbed and flint-eyed. Her hair is in wild disarray, and there’s a bloody tear in her sleeve.

“—down,” she snaps. Steve thinks she’s talking to the wolf. It gives her a look and rises slowly to its full height. Watching it is like a punch to the diaphragm.

Obie half-laughs. “What?” he says. “What is this?”

"Oh, god," says Tony, and now he's crying, just a little. This doesn't feel real.

“That’s Fenrir,” Steve croaks, realizing. He sinks to his hands and knees beside the couch. He feels almost hopeful.

Fenrir growls, long and deep. “Hungry,” he snarls. “Monster.” Obie laughs, disbelieving. He’s an opportunist, and he isn’t a coward. He raises his hand.

“I’m feeling pretty good,” Obie says. “I don’t think any overgrown puppy is going to match me like this. I’m directly linked to the most powerful energy technology on Earth. Hell, I am it.”

Enough of you, Steve thinks, jaw clenched. His shield has been stuck under the couch since they moved in; it was one place he didn't have to look for anything unless he really wanted to. Now Obadiah isn’t watching him. He snatches the shield out from its hiding place, rises onto his knees, and hurls the shield with all his might. It ricochets off the door and collides with the reactor planted against Obadiah’s chest. Obie hits the ground hard, and the reactor bounces off across the carpet.

For a brief moment, Tony and Loki and Obadiah all look startled, and then, "Stark!" Loki barks. But Fenrir rears forward before Tony even understands the question. Obadiah, scrambling to his feet, sends a ball of energy hurtling towards the wolf. Fenrir bats it away, sneezing and snarling. "That stung, little fool," he says snappishly. "I’m hungry. You hurt my elder brother's companion. I'm going to eat you now." The words descend into a growl.

He's not less frightening, Tony thinks, for being so eloquent.

"That won't go so well," Obadiah says, shimmering blue.

"My mother is a god," Fenrir says loftily. "I can do as I please. She promised I could eat you."

“Stark,” Loki says again.

“Yes,” Tony says, before he can regret it. Fenrir, grinning and snarling, takes a step forward.

Obadiah’s glittering face goes tight with anger. Fenrir rears back onto his hind legs for a moment, and then he comes down with a great roar, and bites off Obie’s head. Tony makes a small, awful noise.

"Better get it all," says Loki, as Obadiah’s body, glowing, begins to expand.

Steve sinks back on the couch, only because his legs give out, and looks between Loki and her child the wolf. This is, honestly, more like what he'd expect from myths. Steve looks at Obie's headless body, and he thinks, Good.

Fenrir lunges down and snaps up everything, and the sizzling light goes out behind a snap of his jaws. He tilts his head back, gulping. When he licks his lips, his fangs gleam. "Not hungry anymore," he says.

Tony can't breath right. He's so grateful and so disgusted and so guilty that he doesn't know what to feel first. He manages to get to Steve, though, and grab his hand.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I'm so sorry, Steve. This is my fault."

Steve tugs him down onto the couch and kisses him, hard.

"I thought I was going to die," he says. "I thought I was going to die and that bastard would find you. It's not your fault."

Tony clings to him, really crying now. "Oh, God. Tell me you're okay. We, we have to find Pietro. We have to make sure he's--she's--we have to find the poor kid. Oh, god."

"I'm," Steve says, and he expects okay to be a horrible lie, something self-sabotaging in the long run. But it doesn't feel like a lie. "I think I'm okay. A little shaky. I'll let you know again later, all right?"

Tony shuts his eyes. "Okay. Thanks. Okay." He opens them again and kisses Steve's forehead. "We're okay, then." He turns to Loki and Fenrir. He can’t decide if he wants to savor the sight of Fenrir gulping Obie into nothing, or never think about it again. "So, hey. You saved our lives. Thank you."

Loki turns to them, her hand on Fenrir's nose. "We found Pietro. I sent them to Victor," she says. "We should go now."

Tony finds he can breathe again. "You're a good, good person,” he says. “Steve, do you want to come?"

"Of course," Steve says, although he's not sure how he's going to stand up and stay standing.

But Loki is giving him a critical look. "Fenrir," she says. "How many can you carry?"

"All," Fenrir says placidly. The meal seems to have done him good. He's not shifting his shoulders and growling like he was when Tony first met him.

"Sweet pup," Loki says. "Come on, Rogers. It was well done, with the shield. Come along, Stark." She herds them aboard. "We'll do something about the bleeding on the other end." She looks them over, and if she remembers her arm is bloody, too, it doesn’t appear she plans to dignify it. She puts her hand behind Fenrir's ear, and they go.

Chapter 51: loki puts everyone in their place

Summary:

"Everyone's okay, kid. Even you."

Notes:

Chapter Warnings: ref to rape/dubcon, mental health issues, injury

They arrive in Latveria at the castle door, and Tony gets off Fenrir's back as quickly as he can. He definitely prefers riding in machines.

"Thanks," he tells Fenrir again.

Fenrir shrugs his shoulders. "Just good at eating people."

Tony heard the things Fenrir said. It's not just that. But he just says, "Okay. Where's Pietro?"

Fenrir drops his shoulder so that Steve can get down, which Steve does with some trouble; he stumbles, and Tony has to tuck himself under Steve’s arm when he reaches the ground. Pietro is the first order of business, but they’ve got to do something about Steve next. First Pietro, then Steve, then they can worry about everything—else.

"We'll try the kitchen," Loki says, glancing to see if they’ll faint on the doorstep before she can get them anywhere. "I told Wolverine that Victor would make tea."

“Right,” Tony says anxiously. Loki strides past them, and they follow her in, Fenrir panting and looming down the halls behind them.

When Loki pushes open the kitchen door, she relaxes by a tiny margin. Her brother, Victor, Logan and Pietro are sitting around the kitchen table, huddled awkwardly over cups of tea. They look variously miserable and uncomfortable. Tyr looks dubious and a little belligerent when he sees Fenrir behind Loki. But they are all present and safe, which is success enough.

"Pietro," Loki says. Pietro's head jerks up. He looks at Loki in the doorway, his eyes huge and hopeless. Loki steps into the room and nods backwards, to point out her companions.

"We were not too late," she tells him. “And they’re not going to kill you.”

"Pietro," Tony says, dropping Steve somewhat gracelessly into a chair. "Oh, thank god. God, I'm so sorry. I should have known something was going on. I should have paid attention. I—Are you okay?"

Pietro is staring at him, his eyes getting bigger and bigger as Tony speaks. Tony takes a few steps forward. He wants to look away from Pietro's expression, but he can't.

"I know,” Tony says. “I know what kind of person he is. I know what he does. He did it to me. And it's my fucking fault he did it to you. If we'd made you feel safe with the Avengers, he might have had a harder time getting to you."

Logan makes a noise of agreement, but Pietro is shaking his head, sharp and jittery.

"Pietro?” Victor says.

“You tried really hard,” Pietro says, still shaking his head, “it’s not your fault, I fucked up, I’m just—fucked up, I could’ve—I knew it was a stupid idea, the whole hero thing, I’m s-stupid and—Idon’twannagotojail, I just won’t come back, okay? I’ll, I’ll keep out of your way.”

"Huh?" Tony says, watching Pietro shiver at him with his huge, wounded eyes. "Wait, no, we don't want that!"

"You don't?" Logan says, sounding surprised.

"No!" Tony snaps. "The poor kid's had a horrible, traumatic experience because of one of my enemies, he’s been taken advantage of, and now you think we're kicking him out? And jail? Was that jail? Pietro, we're not kicking you out. Not if you want to stay."

Pietro shakes his head. "But I don't," he starts. "Why would you--? Look what I did to Cap!" It sounds more like a sob.

“I’m all right,” Steve says. "And you didn't do it."

“No,” Pietro says.

“Tyr will patch him up,” Loki says. “In a moment.” Pietro bites his lip.

"You didn't hurt anyone. If nothing else," Steve says slowly, but he really is in pain so he has to be careful placing his words. "If nothing else—you just helped us feed one of the only people in the world I really hate to Loki's wolf."

Pietro checks. Loki and Fenrir and Victor all look pleased.

"I did what?" says Pietro.

Tony smiles and puts his hand on the back of Pietro’s neck. "He's gone. For good, this time." He squeezes Pietro's shoulder. "I call that good avenging."

"And Fenrir is full," Loki says. "Which seems to have put him in a better temper. And I don't owe Rogers my life anymore, and he seems fit enough to carry a shield—or will be, in a few days—and the only person who died already did it years ago. So all in all I count this a win. Yes?" She raises her eyebrows. Pietro blinks at her, and she smiles very slightly.

"You're perfect," Victor says, sounding a little stunned.

"Pietro's perfect," Logan says. He dislodges Tony's hand and replaces it with his own. "Everyone's okay, kid. Even you."

The look Pietro gives Logan does not mean that he's okay. He tries not to let anyone else see, which is difficult in a room full of nosy people, but he feels like something has broken in him that he didn't know was left to break. Maybe he can patch it up, but he doesn’t think he can do it without breaking down first. He can't do that like this.

"I'm fucking stupid," he says thickly, to his own surprise. "I let him fuck me. I thought he was the only one who liked me."

"I'm glad I ate him," Fenrir snarls. He licks Pietro's cheek. "I like you, little one. And so does everyone else here." He looks around as if daring them to disagree.

Pietro turns in his chair and sniffs. "Okay," he says.

Fenrir makes a noise like wuff and lies down on Pietro's feet.

"Oh," Pietro says, and looks up helplessly. Loki shrugs.

"We are not your relations, child," she says. "Isn’t that comforting?”

"We're here," Tony says. "For whatever you want. To be a team, or talk, to just leave you alone with your angry boyfriend." He does want to talk to Pietro, but not now.

"That!" Pietro says loudly. "I mean, god, I'm sorry, I think I just--"

"Would you like to go home?" Loki asks.

"Yes," Pietro says. “I mean, if you’re not—yeah.” He means, if you’re not going to arrest me or kill me or hate me for being so selfish, but he can tell they’ll all just—make it more awful if he says any of that stuff.

"Very well," Loki says. "I suppose everyone who wants to stay can do so. I suppose everyone else who wants a lift can bear to wait a few minutes. Tyr, please do see to Captain Rogers." Tyr nods. Loki seizes Pietro and Logan (to his outrage) by the backs of their shirts, and she takes them home.

~

Loki delivers Steve and Tony to the Tower, leads Fenrir outside to his pasture with firm words about Sleipnir, and sees Tyr off home. By the time she's through she is dead on her feet. At some point she lost track of exactly how many times today she's traveled by magic, how far and with how many passengers. She dismisses her one brief thought of trying to count it up, and just leans in the doorway and blinks sleepily at Victor.

"Any other chores for me?" she asks. "I think I've done everyone else's."

Victor laughs, low and appreciative. "My Loki," he says. "No, I think you've saved everyone. Come here and let me hold you."

She leans and lets momentum carry her to him. She sighs when he catches her elbows. "Friends are a horrible nuisance. I didn't realize. I am going to sleep for days."

"I don't doubt it," Victor says, holding her up. "I'll be sure to keep watch over you." He's mostly joking, as he knows she'll try to stay awake off and on if he does that.

"No," he decides instead, "I'll spend some time in my lab. I don't know the last time I did that. You've had me so busy taking care of the Avengers that I haven't done any real work in ages. You'll destroy my reputation."

"Not immediately," Loki mutters.

"With time," Victor laughs. "It's your secret plan, I know, my love."

"I wouldn't dare," Loki says contritely. "Leave work until tomorrow, Victor. It isn't going anywhere. Come to bed with me instead. I deserve something to make up for having been so horribly good all day."

Victor stoops and lifts her off her feet and into his arms. It's hard, because she's tall, but he manages. He hopes this episode has taught everyone else what he already knows: that Loki is clever and competent and good.

"You are a wonder," he tells her. "I'll give you whatever you want."

She smiles at him, swift and satisfied and barely fierce at all. She leans her head against his shoulder all the way up the stairs.

Chapter 52: tony and steve go the fuck to sleep

Summary:

"We're going to sleep on this one night at a time," he says.

Notes:

Chapter Warnings: post-trauma, references to violence/torture, and there's one line about protecting kids which I normally wouldn't warn for.

Tony asks Loki to drop them at his rooms in the Tower instead of their apartment, for obvious reasons. They’re practically empty, but it’s okay for now. They’re together, in case Steve needs to feel taken care of. And god, who wouldn't, after all that?

Tony makes them both tea and settles on the couch next to Steve, mug in hand.

"So," he says, smiling weakly. It's been less than an hour since Steve knocked the reactor off of Obadiah's chest, and the momentum and adrenaline have just about worn off and left them both shaky and horrified.

"I guess the new apartment wasn't such a good idea after all," Steve says, and gets caught somewhere between laughing and crying, because it felt so good to do something, and now everything he's been slowly building is going to be scrapped for something new again. All because of some rotten bastard who should have been dead.

"Hey," Tony says, catching Steve's hand in his. "We're okay. We survived it. I'm--I'm not even going to have a drink." Right now he just can't get past his relief that Steve is alive.

"I think I need a minute to be horrified," Steve says. "That okay?"

"Have as many minutes as you want," Tony says. He thinks he might cry, pretty soon. Or throw up. Or just sleep.

"Thank you. Okay," Steve says, and then grabs Tony into a tight, enormous bear hug. "Jesus Christ." He pulls back after a few seconds and looks at Tony. "That was a nightmare."

"Yeah," Tony agrees shakily. "Yeah--Steve, I thought I wouldn't get there in time. I thought--Oh, God."

Steve holds him fiercely. "I--all right, I don't think I've ever been that scared in my life. But I mean, literally a nightmare. Of mine. I’ve dreamed enough times of that man hurting you again."

Tony buries his face in Steve. "Me too," he admits. "And I froze up like an idiot. I can handle anything but him."

"I think you froze up like a completely normal person," Steve says gently. "And you kept fighting anyway."

"I had to." Tony squeezes his eyes shut. "He was hurting you. And he hurt Pietro." He's still so furious and ill over that when he tries to think about it. A child Tony was protecting, and Obie snuck right past and got his hands all over him.

Steve rubs his face with his hands.

"I know all of us had--varying degrees of bad news to deal with. At his age, I mean. But it's worse that it's fresh, isn't it? That we’re the grown-ups who let this happen. We should know how to stop this kind of thing happening to kids."

Tony nods. "I want to talk to him," he says. "Once all this has calmed down a little and he feels up to coming back to work. I want to let him know there's someone who at least gets parts of it."

"There’s someone. Loki and Doom have practically adopted him," Steve points out, but he agrees. "You should talk to him. Because you know Stane, and because Pietro's on your team, and because this catastrophe isn't exactly going to fix anything that was wrong before. Our biggest problem as a team is still how badly that kid is hurt. We're going to have to watch him like--a hawk, pardon the expression."

Tony nods emphatically, too exhausted for anything else. "We're going to help," he says. "We are." If he can't be the leader Nick Fury imagined, he can at least do that.

"I wish his troubles weren't all tied up with Magneto," Steve says. "But things are what they are." He swallows. "Did this--happen? Today?"

"Unfortunately," Tony says.

"Tony," Steve says expressionlessly. "Obadiah Stane came back to life as an energy monster and got eaten by a giant wolf."

Tony thinks about it. Then he starts laughing. "I--I probably had a few fantasies like that. Once or twice." Loki and Loki's family have turned out to be such a good thing.

Steve is quiet for a minute. He says softly, "I don't know if this'll stick. But I feel--should I feel worse, now, knowing being normal can make me that powerless?"

Tony leans his head against Steve's. "No. I mean, not necessarily. You're normal, and you still kicked his ass in the end. Ask Clint. Ask me, any time I'm away from my suit. You can do what you want, Steve, and if that's being a superhero, great. If it's going to college, that's great, too. Or even both."

"Well, great," Steve says. "Because I feel sort of...all right. That's strange, right? To get paralyzed and tortured and land one stupid blow and end up feeling better?"

"Not everyone would," Tony says. He clears his throat, stupidly choked up. "That's why you're, you know. The person you are."

"Huh," says Steve. "Well. Not tonight. None of this tonight. I--Hell. Tomorrow we'll start coping with everything, deal?"

"Deal," Tony says, smiling. He fits himself tightly back into Steve's arms and shuts his eyes.

"I was so scared you'd come home to find me and we wouldn't be able to stop him," Steve whispers into Tony's hair. "I thought of him touching you at all and I wanted to throw up. I'm glad I helped kill him, but I wished I'd done worse."

Tony tries to ignore the sick lurch in his stomach when he thinks of all the ways it could have gone and didn't. "I know," he says. "But I'm glad you didn't have to."

Steve tugs on Tony's hair, tilts his face up to kiss him. "We're going to sleep on this one night at a time," he says. "Until it's okay. Until you and I both believe he's really dead."

"I'm going to freak out," Tony warns him. "Over and over, for the next few weeks. I can tell I am. Is that okay?"

Steve hesitates. He thinks it might be longer than weeks. "Can I, too?" he asks. He doesn't have as much reason and he already feels guilty, like he'd be competing with Tony's much more legitimate suffering. But even though he feels better--he feels like he could start training again, could call the Avengers his again...he can hear Obie dripping poison in his ear, can feel the blood trickling over his face, can feel Obie’s breath on his skin. If Tony hadn’t come, it never would have stopped.

"Absolutely," Tony says, huffing out an irrational laugh. "Oh, god, we can both freak out as much as we need to. We're safe now. Okay?"

"Okay," says Steve. He stands up abruptly, and winces in regret. “Not quite a superhealer,” he observes. He grabs Tony's hands and helps him to his feet. "You're coming to bed with me, right? So we can both watch out for spooks, and dead guys, and cranky aliens?"

"Yes," Tony says emphatically. "I plan on sleeping pretty much attached to your side for a while." He knows it's not his fault for leaving to help Loki, he knows Obie would have found his moment no matter what Tony did, but that doesn't matter. He's sticking close to home. No fresh mistakes.

Steve smiles, brief and brilliant, but it settles into something else. He pushes Tony's hair back and puts his hand on his cheek. "I'm really proud of you," he says. "I don't think I've said--this whole time. For not drinking since the day I asked you to stop. For taking in Pietro even though he scared the hell out of you. For doing everything you can to help Loki, whether I like him or not. For not giving up on me since I fell apart. I'm really goddamned proud of you."

"Oh," Tony says. He shivers. He has to check a few times to see if he should be feeling guilty for wanting to drink, or like Steve's crazy to think Tony's worth being proud of. But no.

"Thanks," Tony says quietly. "I couldn't exactly let you down when it mattered that much. Especially when you kept your promises to me." Steve's been taking care of himself so well that Tony would be a fool not to follow suit.

Steve pets him distractedly. "I've been so mixed up I haven't even asked," he says. "I've just been letting you deal with it all on your own. I'm--even if I don't feel better, and this whole thing really messes us up, I'm going to be better about that. We can both have problems. There’s no excuse for me ignoring yours.”

"I am so fucking lucky," Tony mutters. "I really don't--I'm pretty good at handling things on my own, even when it's the worst plan in the world. I'll try to fix that. I mean, I’ll try to let you help." It's been half luck that he hasn't fallen off the wagon, and he doesn't want to slip up. Certainly not now. "For what it's worth," he says, "I really, really want a drink right now."

"You're not the only one," says Steve. He leans down and kisses Tony's forehead. "Want some juice? Do you have juice? Actually, is there--is there anything in this fridge?"

"Not really," Tony says. "I cleaned it out when I moved. I think there's some bottled water, though. And there’s probably something in the big kitchen?"

"I'm fine with tap water," Steve starts, and then laughs. "No cups?"

"Uh. We could cup our hands?" Tony shakes his head, off-balance and scared and pleased. "I didn't think I'd be coming back here much."

"Bottled water," Steve says, "is fine."

“We could get takeout?” Tony suggests.

“Sure. Maybe in a bit?”

Tony nods. He goes to the fridge and fetches it, grinning worriedly at Steve. "I am so fucking tired," he says.

Steve smiles back, in a way that highlights the cut under his eye and the bruise that's forming around it. "Me too," he says. "Although I think it's about eight o'clock."

"Thank God," Tony says. "I thought it was earlier. Take me to bed."

"Take you to bed. Don't let go. Sleep for days. Maybe takeout later. That about right?"

"Perfect," Tony says.

Chapter 53: the hapless queer avengers fucking assemble

Summary:

"We should at least make it clear that we are...here," Thor says.

Notes:

Chapter Warnings: some reference to trauma

Natasha is the first to find out what happened. Thor hears second (more or less, from Loki). But Clint and his mysterious powers of gossip are the ones who spread it around. A week after, Pietro is nowhere to be seen and Tony and Steve have moved, without comment, back into the tower. Half the team is dying to pester them.

The first time Clint suggests he might, Bruce says, "Say a word and I'll let Hulk toss you right out a window."

"Why are people always saying that to me?" Clint asks.

"Because you deserve it," Natasha says moodily. Everything about this makes her very unhappy. She wonders how much longer she should wait before swooping down and checking in on Pietro.

"What would we ask?" Thor says from beside Bruce. "I have no desire to pry into these affairs."

"Um, I dunno," Clint says. "We could try hey, how’s your trauma going? In case you hadn't noticed, half our team are hermits now. And we're their best friends, right? We should be talking to them. Right? Who else is Cap's friend?"

"Besides Bucky," Thor says uncomfortably. He doesn't like thinking about Bucky right now.

"I don't trust anyone to be tactful," Natasha says, watching Clint in particular, which she knows is unfair. He's not being awful so far.

"Well, cool, let's definitely just let them wallow in horrible events alone until we figure out which of us is polite," Clint says. Jan starts to protest, and Hank says, "I'm extremely polite,” and Bruce says, "No, Clint's right."

"You're fucking with me," Clint says, staring at him.

Natasha laughs. Sometimes her brand of directness is the most helpful, but often, as she is prone to forgetting, Clint's more down-to-earth version works better.

"We should at least make it clear that we are...here," Thor says.

"Instead of tiptoeing," Natasha agrees.

"Yeah," Clint says. "That is kind of what I was going for. I mean I guess they can talk to Doom and Loki and have a wild time in the whirlpool of shitty life events. But I feel like we might be a better choice. You know, a healthy addition,” he has to add, because Loki has been by a few times for archery lessons, and Clint is adjusting to that more quickly than he’d expected. He already knew from Nornheim that Loki has balls of steel (well...sometimes), but he's a good student, too, and kind of funny. Still...not exactly equipped to gauge normalcy.

"How exactly do you want to talk to them?" Bruce says dubiously. "Send in teams?"

Natasha smiles at him. She likes that plan. It's familiar. "I think yes," she says. "Perhaps teams of one, depending on what they need. Just to be present."

"We need not speak to them of their trouble, either," Thor says. "I could take Steve for...coffee. Then I could ask him about his battle if need be, but only if it seems useful."

"You should talk to Pietro," Bruce tells Natasha. "Get the kid to talk to Tony, if that hasn't happened."

"Yes," she says emphatically. "Pietro needs that. They probably both need that. Fools."

Bruce's mouth thins. "I can talk to Tony," he says. "Unless Clint wants to do it."

"Let's go together," says Clint, and Bruce stops himself to think about it long enough that he doesn't say no.

"That might work," he says.

"And Jan can stop worrying so much about everyone," Natasha says gently.

"Ugh! Don't say it like that," Jan says. "It's not like I've been helping this whole time. I'm useless."

"Go talk to Loki, then," Clint says. "He likes you."

"You do like animals, don't you?" Bruce asks.

"You like wolves," Natasha says, with a dark little smile at Jan.

"I guess I could do that," Jan says. "I don't think I've ever made a very good impression on Loki's boyfriend, though."

"Has any of us?" Thor asks. "I know that I have failed repeatedly. But Loki would appreciate a visitor, especially one with an interest in...the children." He still isn't sure how to feel about that, but Loki is happy and Tyr doesn't mind, so it is well enough.

"So cool," Clint says. "We've got our targets. Let's hit 'em."

Natasha shoves Clint's arm gently and nods to Jan. "I'd like to check in on Pietro, anyway. Logan may mean well, but he can't always tell what is useful."

"I feel like a hypocrite in this situation," Bruce says. “I usually prefer to be left alone.”

"But look how well living alone in the wilderness worked for you," Hank points out.

"Thanks," Bruce says.

"I promise we'll always come and bother you, too," Thor says happily. "Of course, I hope you will never need it." He's troubled by this whole situation, and by poor Pietro, but he silently admits to being glad that neither his Bruce nor his Loki has been badly hurt by it.

"So in the meantime, we just look for a good moment to butt our heads in our teammates' business," Bruce says.

"I'm so glad you're into this plan," says Clint. "Avengers fucking Assemble."

"I don't think it goes quite like that," says Hank.

“Oh, Hank,” Jan says happily. “Of course it does.”

Chapter 54: tony and steve and the power of friendship

Summary:

At least some of the others know how to help.

Notes:

Chapter Warnings: references to rape/torture, misgendering?, dealing with trauma

After a few days of not really talking to anyone but Steve, Tony makes himself go to his lab and look over his projects, although he still ignores his messages. He's been too tense to spend much time alone, or to think very hard about anything.

He puts on some loud music and gets to work on a pet protect that's only tangentially connected to the Avengers. It's complicated and frustrating and takes all his concentration. It's exactly what he needs.

He works for an hour and a half before being interrupted.

JARVIS says, "Sir, Hawkeye and Doctor Banner are--" and then Clint says, "Tony! We found you! We thought you might be dead in a pile of takeout boxes or something."

It takes a second for Tony to see that Clint has Bruce in tow. Bruce's smile is a lot more reassuring than Clint's...anything.

"No," Tony says jerkily, still half in his head with his designs, "no takeout. I mean, no deadness. What's up?" If he's missed a major crisis, he's going to feel awful.

"We're visiting," Bruce says. "Because you and Steve and Pietro have all gone MIA."

"We know why," Clint says helpfully. Bruce frowns.

Tony flinches. "Oh," he says. Then, "Well, I guess I haven't been the best team leader lately. Sorry. It was kind of a weird thing. You know, sort of on the line between Avengers crisis and personal crisis."

"There's not usually much of a line," Bruce says.

"Yeah," Tony says. "Oof. Yeah. Good point! Anyway, I'm sorry. We've all kind of needed...a second. But we're okay. We're all alive and in one piece."

Because that's what matters, right?

"We miss you," Clint says.

"We've been worried," says Bruce, which is a little more bluntly to the point.

Tony pauses. "Maybe fair," he says. "I mean, I'll be honest, we're not doing fantastically. We will be! Soon! But right now we're just--it was bad." He laughs, because that's his default reaction.

"So, I know there's like this special club for sexual trauma and surprise visits by the recently undead," says Clint. "But we are your team. We can, like...talk to you. You know. Guard you extra. Be on the lookout. Not leave you alone with your thoughts for weeks at a time."

Tony is still terrible at gratitude. He doesn't know what to do with it. It gets too huge and feels like it’s going to blow him up.

"Ah," he says.

"Want some lunch?" Bruce asks. "We're going for lunch. Clint's bringing his pocket bow."

"My what?" Clint says.

"I'm bringing my Hulk," Bruce finishes.

Tony beams at Bruce. "Thank you," he says. "I'd love to." He feels like he's being forgiven for getting drunk in Bruce’s lab, something he still hasn't forgotten. He feels like he's going to be okay. Maybe even soon.

"Good," Bruce says, nodding.

"Fantastic," says Clint.

~

Steve has been keeping himself fairly busy since Obadiah, but this afternoon he's curled up in a chair by the window in Tony's apartment, reading.

When Thor comes to Tony's apartment, he remembers to knock. He smiles when Steve opens the door. "May I come in?" he asks. "Unless, of course, you'd like to come out."

"Oh," says Steve. His thumb is still holding the place in his book. "That is, yes, come in."

Thor does so. "We've missed you," he says. "You and Tony. I just wanted to come and say hello. To see that you are well."

Steve pushes the door shut behind them.

"Good of you," he says. "Would you like something to drink?"

"Not at the moment," Thor says. He sits on the couch and smiles encouragingly at Steve. "Are you well?"

Steve settles down across from him.

"That's a--hard question to answer," Steve says. Thor nods. He can't even begin to imagine how he'd handle something like this.

"I'm glad you defeated him," he says after a moment.

Steve smiles, somewhat bitterly, Thor thinks. "I think your sib and his kids get the credit for that," he says. "I don’t know what you’ve heard, but I mostly lay on the floor."

Thor tries to picture how it would feel to lose all of his power and then be rendered even more helpless by a nightmarish enemy. He already knows how the first part feels.

"But you and Tony are both alive and unharmed," he says. "As is Pietro."

"More or less," Steve says. "They're not--well, to be honest, I'm a little shaken too, but I think it'll be awhile before Tony and Pietro are really all right."

Thor winces. More people he loves being hurt in ways he can do nothing to repair. At least some of the others know how to help.

He looks at Steve. "What can I do?"

Steve looks a little startled, and then laughs. "I'm kind of ashamed to say I don't really know what you can do about Tony," he says. "Except maybe not let him hide too much. Pietro, though--the kid needs to know he's worth something to people. I don't think bringing him back after Ezekiel chased him off is enough to convince him."

Thor considers this. He thinks, all things considers, that the right people are on the job. "But what of you?" he asks.

"I," says Steve. "I don't know." He looks unnervingly as though the thought hasn't ever occurred to him, and he's wishing it wasn't occurring to him now.

"Tony and Pietro have a great deal of trouble in their lives," Thor says. "As does Loki. I understand. But you were tortured in your own home, my friend. This cannot be easy for you to recover from." He doesn't mention Steve's lost powers.

Steve looks at him numbly. "I'm mostly angry," he says at last. "I wasn't smart enough or fast enough, and he said all this shit to me about Tony and I couldn't do a thing. I wanted to kill him. If the wolf hadn't done it I would have killed him."

"I wouldn't have blamed you," Thor says, frowning. He knows exactly how that feels. He still wants to take Odin and Balder apart. "But the most important thing is that Tony is safe now. With you. And you're safe with him."

"Are we?" Steve says.

Thor doesn't know, truly. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt properly unsafe in his life. "I hope so," he says quietly. Though Obadiah probably won't come back, someone else could. Someone from Tony's past, or one of Steve's old enemies. Thor can't promise him anything.

"The weird thing is," Steve says, "I think this is going to push me back into the uniform. I could have killed him, and I did disable him. I can still feel angry and--and righteous about things. I want to go outside and help people, not hide under the covers because I might not be good enough."

Thor smiles. He had feared for Steve, after their confrontation with Odin. "They have classes, I hear," he says. "To teach you how to be a better warrior without any special powers. And you were a soldier for years."

"I was," Steve says. He sighs. "I haven't been avoiding all this--I mean the team. I haven't been avoiding the team for the last few days because I think normal people can't do the job. Clint, ah...talked me out of that one. Fast. I've just been stuck in a rut. Feels bad, but I haven't been able to get out." He snorts, an uncomfortable sound. "Really I'm just as shaken up as you’d think I’d be. But sitting still makes me feel sick."

"Then keep moving until you forget to feel sick," Thor says. "And remember your team is here." It sounds simple, but he doesn't know if he could do it.

"That's the plan," Steve agrees. "More or less." He thinks that plan, more or less, is what Tony has always done, and he doesn't think it's worked. "Even if I didn't want to come back, I think I'd have a hard time forgetting about the team. Here you are!"

"Yes," Thor says, troubled. "We're not here because you expect you to continue as if nothing's happened, though. We're here because we think you need time to--well, be unwell. We wish to support you."

Steve hesitates, because he doesn't want to be unkind. "I've had time since the day I stepped between Loki and Odin," he says. "I'll always appreciate your support, and I mean that. But I'm getting tired of being an invalid. And I think at this point, I’ve got a choice about it."

"Whatever helps," Thor says, meaning it. "If that's carrying on as normal, you're probably better at it than some."

No offense to Tony or Loki.

"Not exactly," Steve says. "I want to start over as normal. As middling. I haven't really been that before. This--the Ezekiel thing, that may not be normal, but it's also not me. It's something that happened, and no one on this team hasn't had some things that have happened, and they have all had to get up and walk away from them."

"I think," Thor says, "that the others were overly concerned for you." Steve seems to know how things work, or at least how he himself works.

"I may have given them reason to worry," Steve says. He frowns. "If that man ever comes back to life for a third round and even opens his mouth to say he cured me, doing what he did, I'm gonna punch him so hard he takes a trip to Asgard, no Bifrost necessary."

Thor laughs. "I often feel that there is little in any realm that could stand up to you when you're angry," he says.

Steve grins, half-sheepish and still a little bruise-eyed. "Maybe that's what I have in common with Loki," he says. At Thor's look, he explains, "Everyone on the team except Hank, maybe, seems to get along with him somehow, and I just don't relate. I don't really like him. No offense."

"If I were offended by everyone who disliked Loki..." Thor begins. He can hardly fault them, sometimes. Loki has always been purposely difficult. "But you're right. It's what I admire most about both of you. The fact that I'd be terrified to be anywhere but on your side when you're furious."

"Yes, well," Steve says, pink. It's a sort of an odd compliment. Steve looks down at his hands and sees his book, and finally remembers to put it down. "Listen, I know you said we all made it, but have you heard anything about Pietro since then? I thought maybe since Loki and Dr. Doom have been acting parental, they might..."

Thor tries to wipe the expression of horror off his face. They probably won’t be terrible parents. Loki has practice, after all. "Er," he says, clearly his throat. "I think he's staying with Wolverine. Natasha said she'd go and speak with him."

Steve nods. "Okay. I'll hope that's as good a thing as it sounds. Listen, do you think sometime you could--ah. Help me get to Asgard? I'd like to talk to Bucky without waiting for him to risk another visit to New York and my temper."

"Of course," Thor says. Then he considers where Bucky will probably be and wishes he'd thought twice. Oh well, he can probably send Steve to Bucky without coming along and accidentally walking in on...anything.

Steve catches the look and laughs. "Believe me, it's not much better if Bucky used to be your sidekick," he says. "Even if your relationship was...complicated."

"Worse, I would think," Thor says. "But they do seem happy."

"They suit each other," Steve agrees. There's a long silence where they run out of things to say. "Do you think you and Bruce would like to come have dinner with Tony and me?" Steve asks. "It doesn't have to be tonight. It would be like sitting across from a mirror!"

"Gladly!" Thor says, getting to his feet. "I'll have to ask Bruce, but I think he would agree to that."

"I admit I'm never sure," Steve says. "But Tony says Bruce likes everyone on the team well enough."

"He does," Thor says fondly. "It might sometimes be hard to tell." It used to be hard for him to tell.

"Then it's a date," Steve says. He smiles crookedly at Thor.

Thor reaches out to squeeze Steve's shoulder. "I'm glad, my friend."

Chapter 55: the hapless queer avengers keep moving on

Summary:

"See you soon, Quicksilver."

Notes:

Chapter Warnings: gender stuff, references to rape/abuse/suicidal ideation/self harm/cissexism/misogyny/incest, family problems, mental health/self-esteem, trauma, alcoholism

It's a full week after the attack when Pietro comes back to the Tower. He finds Tony in his lab, assiduously keeping busy.

"Um, hey," Pietro says, awkwardly in time with JARVIS's alert.

Tony looks up, startled. "Oh, hey, kid!" Pietro looks even skinnier than usual, tired but...perky. That’s a relief--Tony was starting to think Pietro wasn't coming back. He sets down his screwdriver and even turns his music down. "How's it going?"

"Okay, I guess," Pietro says, wandering between Tony's projects. "Natasha came and talked to me. A few days ago. She thought I should talk to you. I, uh. I guess I wasn't up for it until now?"

Tony can hardly blame Pietro. He hasn’t been up for much except playing in the lab.

"You can definitely talk to me," he says. He wishes he'd said that before, over and over until it stuck. Then maybe neither of them would be tucked away hiding from people.

Pietro nods, and leans against a table. He doesn't sit down. After a few seconds, he says, "So, Ezekiel--the guy he really was."

Tony shivers involuntarily. It's embarrassing. "Obadiah," he says. "Yeah. He was my best friend. I mean, I thought he was. But he was really just...that. The whole time."

"Not a very creative guy, huh?" Pietro says. "Playing the same trick over and over? Couldn't even build his own tech. Couldn't even steal it himself." He picks up a screw and turns it between his fingers for a second before he puts it down again. "Feels pretty shitty to get screwed over this bad by a loser like that."

"But he's smart," Tony says bitterly. He can't even look at Pietro head-on without feeling awful. "He's really smart and he already knew all your weaknesses, because they happened to be my weaknesses."

Pietro's expression wavers. "D'you know what he said?" he asks. "Did he tell you?"

Tony bites his lip and makes himself look at Pietro. "Some of it. Not everything."

Pietro makes a little anxious sound. "I wish everyone didn't say that stuff about me and my sister," he says. "I never do. But he got it from somewhere."

Tony shifts uncomfortably. "People are assholes," he offers. "They'll twist anything nice into something else. Look, I'm sorry if we--I'm sorry."

Pietro shrugs. "It's okay. You didn't know me. And you didn't keep doing it." He picks at his sleeve. "And you weren't being mean on purpose, like--he was."

"He gets under people's skin," Tony says. "And it's worse, because he says it like he's helping. I thought that for my entire life. I thought all the bad stuff I believed about myself was coming from me. And that he was making it better. And I had years to figure out I was wrong, and I still didn't. So if you're feeling stupid, don't."

"I was a little stupid," Pietro says. He looks miserable now. "I shouldn't have stolen from you. I should have known to tell you about him by then. I just--"

"It's okay," Tony says. "Hey, kid--" He puts his hand on Pietro's shoulder. "I'm not mad. You're my teammate. You're my friend. Some creep took advantage of you, that's it. It's not your fault." He feels sick and terrible.

"I got a letter from Wanda," Pietro says. "Right before."

"Shit," Tony says. "What'd she say?"

"Said it’s--great I found someplace to go," Pietro says. His voice is even, but barely. "She thinks I—she thinks I abandoned her," he says, and he’s suddenly anguished. "Just like everybody else. She thinks I’d leave her over some stupid fight with Magneto, he told her that and she totally fucking bought it." He shrugs helplessly. “She’s—we—there’s never been anybody else, y’know? It’s always just us. I—she thought I’d do this to her, and I don’t—” He folds his arms and hugs himself.

Tony takes a deep breath and lets it out. He can't imagine. "It's not over," he says softly. "I mean, we could probably still get her out of that. Try to fix whatever brainwashing he's done. She's probably just being stupid because she's upset."

"Y'think it's brainwashing?" Pietro says, perking up a little like a dog that's spotted a potentially delicious bird. "I mean, maybe she doesn't really wanna be there. But she didn't come with me, y'know? She's not mad at him for--for sending me away. So maybe she's not--"

"Easy," Tony says. "We can't know anything yet, but if you want to make sure, we can." Even as he says it, he wishes he hadn't. They can't exactly involve themselves in mutant business, no matter how important.

But Pietro knows that. "Whatever," he says. "Messing with Magneto will just get you in a whole ton of shit. I'll...I'll figure it out. That's not what I came to talk to you about anyway."

Tony nods. "Yeah. I didn't figure. How are you doing? Just in general."

"Pretty good," Pietro says. "I mean, I've--this isn't the worst thing that's happened to me, y'know? Or, there's been other shit. I just needed to...can we talk about, like, trans stuff? Sometime? I tried talking to Logan, I think he gets it, but he's not really...I don't think I get it enough to explain it."

"Oh, yeah, of course," Tony says. "I, uh--I kind of forgot, with everything else that's been going on." No one's ever asked him for advice about this. Ever.

Pietro grimaces. "You and everybody else." He grabs his elbow and looks somewhere else. "IdunnohowIfeel, anyway. About it. That's what Ezekiel, um. Obadiah. That's what he said about Wanda. That I just wanted to be a girl so I could always get my f--get my hands on, um." He looks up apologetically. "Kinda makes me doubt myself, y'know?"

Tony's suddenly so furious he wants to smash everything within reach. "That prick," he says. "Listen, whatever bullshit he said, it doesn't mean anything. He wanted to hit you where you were vulnerable."

"Yeah," Pietro nods, but he keeps nodding past when it's reasonable. "Yeah, I know that. Hah. I bet, I bet Loki would say it didn't matter if that was the reason."

Tony smiles. "You could talk to Loki about this, too, you know. You know he's not exactly--well, he's got gender stuff. But you're right. It doesn't matter. What matters is how you feel about you. It sounds stupid, but it's true."

Pietro nods, and they're quiet for a few seconds (a long time, Pietro speed) before Pietro says, "Can I still live here?"

"Of course," Tony says, surprised. "You're as welcome as anyone else on the team. Is Logan not...?"

"Logan's fine," Pietro says. "I mean, to me. But I kind of don't--want anything for awhile."

"Oh, god, trust me, I get that," Tony says. "I don't blame you. I think that's a hell of a lot smarter than most people are." Smarter than he was.

Pietro nods. "I haven't exactly told him yet," he says. "You think he's gonna be really sad?" He laughs. "I mean I'm not that great a catch or anything."

"That's not true, actually," Tony says. But he recognizes that kind of self-loathing. It's going to take more than a few nice words to get rid of it. "I think he'll be okay anyway. He's old. He's tough."

"Maybe not a great long-term choice?" Pietro asks, scrunching his eyebrows. "I mean, he's been really great to me. And I've been shit. To me and everybody else. But I don't want to be somebody's project my whole life, y'know?"

"I know," Tony says with feeling. It's why he and Pepper didn't quite... "Look, I think it's a great move. And you know you can talk to me more about all of this stuff. I'll be around. You'll be around. You can keep coming to me."

"Not moving back to Brooklyn?" Pietro asks.

"I'm not sure, actually," Tony says. They haven't really talked about it yet. "I think we're going to wait and see how we feel. Maybe take a vacation. But in any case, we'll be available."

Pietro nods. "I don't think it would be bad if you didn't go back to the apartment," he says. "Or if you did. I mean. You can afford it either way, right?"

Tony laughs. "Yeah. I can. I guess I'm going to see what Steve needs. I mean, I'm doing okay. No big deal." He smiles in what he hopes is a cavalier manner.

"Don't be like that," Pietro says after a second, looking more disappointed than anything else.

Tony's mouth twists. "Sorry," he says. "I guess what I meant to say is that the guy who raped me for years came back to life and nearly killed you and my boyfriend and now all I can think about is how badly I want a drink, but everyone's alive, so I'm not complaining. Better?"

Pietro nods, small and quiet.

"I agree," Tony says, even though he feels a little sick. "Being honest is usually better."

"When I said worse things have happened to me," Pietro says, "I didn't mean he didn't, like--nearly make me kill myself." He fidgets. "I've just never had the guts to do it myself."

Tony puts his hand on Pietro's shoulder. "For what it's worth, I'm glad."

"Me too, I think," Pietro says. "Today." He hesitates, and then grabs Tony's hand before Tony can move it.

Tony squeezes Pietro's shoulder hard to show him it's okay. "I've got you," he says. "We've all got you. You're an awesome kid."

Pietro makes a sudden, jarred face like Tony has hurt him. "I don't," he starts, but he stalls out.

"Hey," Tony says. "Hey, easy. Talk to me."

"I didn't think you'd think that," Pietro says quickly.

"You were wrong," Tony says. They were wrong. "You try harder than almost anyone. You've just had shitty luck. I think you're great."

Pietro swallows. "You too," he says. "I mean. Probably you know."

"Today I do," Tony says, half smiling. He ruffles Pietro's hair and says, "Hey, listen, what about pronouns? Do you want anything different? Just so we don't make you feel lousy by accident."

Pietro smiles a little and hugs himself and shrugs. "I'll think about it?" he says. "I don't know what...I don't know. But I'll tell you if I figure something out, I guess."

"Perfect," Tony says. He smiles encouragingly. "Yeah, you're good. You're great. I can't wait to see you back at work."

"Can I move in tomorrow?" Pietro asks.

Tony laughs. "You bet."

Pietro bites his lip and looks at Tony really hard.

Tony shifts uncomfortably. "Uh, what's up?"

"I don't really do hugs," Pietro says. "I mean, I don't start."

"Oh, that's the part I'm good at," Tony says, and he leans over to hug Pietro tight.

Pietro is little and pointy and it takes him a minute to hug back, but when he does he's good at it. He holds on tight, and tucks his face into Tony's shoulder, and he's warm.

"Y'know it's not your fault," Pietro says. "That Ez--whatever, that he got to me? It's not your fault. And Cap'll be okay. And I think Fenrir ate him for real. I think he's just a--" He starts laughing.

"What?" Tony asks, too relieved to really care. Pietro feels solid and tiny in his arms.

"A piece of shit," Pietro says happily.

Tony laughs. "Oh, god. Yeah. Fucking right." He gives Pietro another quick squeeze.

Pietro steps back. “I should probably--I’ll be around though. Tomorrow!”

"Yeah?” says Tony. “Good. I’m glad you came by."

Pietro scratches his wrist. "Me too," he says. "We're gonna be good, right? We're all gonna be good."

Tony nods. "I promise. See you soon, Quicksilver."

Pietro gives him an anxious little grin. "See ya, Iron Man." He's gone almost before Tony knows it.

 

END.

Notes:

That is the end of HAPLESS QUEER AVENGERS AND THE BLUE-EYED MONSTER! I don't know how any of you are even around still, but we are very grateful for all of you. COMMENTERS: WE LOVE YOU. LURKERS: WE LOVE YOU THOUGH WE KNOW YOU NOT. We do have one more big story for the runners of a thousand word-marathons, which we will start posting pretty soon, after a leeeeetle more advance editing. Thank you for all your kudos and nice words this time around. They make us HAPPY EVERY DAY. You are the best. <3

Series this work belongs to:

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