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Frostiron Drabble Collection

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Tony wasn't known for making rational decisions. His fascination with the land and its people was considered irrational, but he didn't care. Human, Æsir, Vanir, Jötun - he loved to watch the dry people. One in particular; an Æsir Prince with a devilish grin and a wicked sense of humor.

Loki. He beguiled Tony, called to him as though he were the siren and Tony the hapless ship. Every day Tony came by, hoping for a glimpse of his slim figure. Soon, he wouldn't have to rely on glimpses. The spell would give him legs, and he would meet his Prince.

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"Oh, god..."

"So they say."

"Oh, shut up."

He doesn't know if Loki decides to listen to him for once or if he becomes too distracted to make any sort of reply, but he does fall silent, save for the heavy breathing and muted groans. Which, fair enough, Tony is making plenty of those himself.

"You know... I've done some reading," Tony's mouth runs on without much input from his brain. "What are the odds I'll get pregnant from this?"



"Very slim." A dagger smile in the dark makes Tony shiver. "Worth the risk?"

Tony grins. "Oh yes."

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"I want to make myself perfectly clear."

Tony doubted that, but there was only so far he was willing to argue the point. Even he had his limits. Being trapped in a corner, a Jötun Prince staring at him with... something heated, was definitely a limit.

"This is not to be taken as an overture of affection."

"Not affection," Tony repeated, staring at Loki's mouth.

"Nothing of the kind." The growl made Tony shiver, the press of Loki's body shorted out all thoughts.

"Right," is all he can manage before being caught up in passion completely devoid of affection.


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There were certain advantages to having a partner who was, quite literally, cold blooded.

"Anthony, is there a reason you're being so very... clingy?"

"What? Can't we show affection through nonsexual physical contact? Are we too emotionally repressed for that now?"

"Not as such, no. But it gives one cause to wonder when events leading to said displays gave no indication-"

"Aren't you lucky, then? Hooked up with such a spontaneous, romantic fellow?"

"You've spent all afternoon in that grease dungeon, and I can't help but note your elevated temperature."


"You're using me as an icepack again, aren't you?"

"... maybe."

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Tony was proud to say that he had more or less adjusted to the weird new reality where he had two adoptive children who could change shape at will and one who was, for all intents and purposes, half dead. Despite that, he was still caught flatfooted.


"You were aware that I am Jötunar, and not truly Asgardian, were you not?"

"Well, yes. I assumed that was where you got your size. Overall and below the belt."


"But blue? No, not expecting that."

"... disappointed?"

"I wouldn't say that. It's interesting... the swirls are a little suggestive, maybe..."


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"Tell me again why we're here of all places."

"Because, darling dearest, you lost a bet."

"Perhaps I should have phrased it better. How are we here?"

"Oh, hush. Stop being such a sore loser and try to enjoy yourself."

"Again, I ask how..."


"Fine. So this is a reenactment of Midgard's past?"

"Part of it, sure. Kinda. This is a faire, so it's mostly for fun."

"A celebration?"

"Probably the best way to think of it."

"That would explain the excessive drinking. Barton should probably be restrained."

"Is that his archery stuff?"

"So it would seem."

"Aw, crap..."

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'Well thought out' wasn't the usual way Tony went about things. His modus operandi was wild impulsivity, a balance to how hyper focused he became on projects. Still, this latest move probably should have had more thought put into it.

"Anthony. Are those what I think they are?"

"Well, if you're thinking 'rings,' then yes. Made them myself."

"I can see that. Why?"

"Well, we've been... together, I guess, for three years and it just felt like there should be something to mark the time. It, uh. It doesn't have to mean-"


"... Yeah?"


Through the kiss, Tony smiled.

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Being slammed up against a wall doesn't come as a surprise when one is in a life or death battle. His iron man suits were stylish, but he wore them with the expectation of being thrown around like a stubborn piñata.

What was a surprise was his face plate being ripped off, his arms pinned with magic at his sides, and the gentle swipe of a thumb over his lower lip.

Loki's lips were also a surprise. The fact that they were touching him at all, and for how soft they were.

It was effective as an attack, he supposed.

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Tony wouldn't have pegged him for the cuddling type. Of course, first impressions being what they were, he wouldn't have pegged him for a lot of things. A slow and thorough lover, for example, who could narrow his focus to an almost frightening degree.

Even knowing that, he wouldn't have guessed that Loki enjoyed cuddling, but it was a rare morning he woke without long limbs wrapped possessively around him, like Tony was his personal teddy bear.

Not that he minded. He rather liked being held, being wanted, even in someone's sleep.

Tony smiled, and snuggled deeper into Loki's embrace.

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"I don't care what you think, Thor, Tony is mine."

"How can you say so? He fashions weapons, brother, which clearly makes him one of mine."

"Fashions them, not wields them."

"He's a blacksmith. His tool of trade is a hammer, my very symbol. How can you claim him as your own with my symbol in his hand?"

"Which he uses to create, and also using my symbol - the fire of the forge. It heats his metal and sparks his imagination. He is more my creature than he will ever be yours."

"... You just like him, don't you?"

"Shut up."

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Before, the nightmares had consisted of small places. Claustrophobic caves, gunfire off of stone walls, the breathless punch of shrapnel tearing into his heart...

Until the wormhole, and the Void.

Now the dreams were an emptiness so vast and hungry it pulled at his soul, plucking it to pieces to fill the darkness with something, anything.

He flailed out of those dreams, clawing in the dark to bring back those lost shreds of himself.

There was always someone there to meet him, someone who had also been pulled apart in that darkness. In the dark, they held each other together.

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"Tony. Tony! Would you please stop, we need to talk about this-"

"What's there to talk about, Pep? I already ducked out of one debriefing, I don't really feel like doing it again-"

"Too bad. You need to tell me what the hell that was I and the rest of the world just saw!"

"Why, weren't the cameras zoomed in enough to make it out?"


"Saved the day? Again?"

"By kissing Loki?"

"It worked, didn't it?"

"Yes, but- You have to think what this will do-"

"I don't really think before I act, Pep. It's part of my charm."

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Getting drunk while already in a maudlin sort of mood was probably a bad idea. Or at least Not Clever. Tony consoled himself that at least no one was witnessing it.

Except for the hallucinatory Loki that had popped in at some point.

"Hey, Reindeer Games."

"Are you well, Stark?"

Definitely a hallucination. "Not re-eally. I can't admit it, y'know, but I actually do need help."

An eyebrow arched. "You just admitted it to me."

"That doesn't count. You aren't real."

Hallucination Loki huffed, and next thing Tony knew, he was in bed, trying to remember how he got there.

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"Well, this is different."

"Yes, that was the entire purpose of the transformation, Anthony."

"I get that, but... why, exactly?"

Loki looked down at himself - or rather, herself. And that was rather the whole point, wasn't it? Tony hadn't asked any questions when his slippery Asgardian lover had starting acting even shiftier than usual. He was starting to wonder if he shouldn't have at least been a little curious.

"Do you disapprove of the transformation?"

"No-o, I wouldn't say that, exactly..." He eyed the changes speculatively.

Loki noted the look and gave a slow, familiar grin. "Then call this variety."

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"Loki, I don't think anyone would go so far as to call me unimaginative. I'm not really what would be called standard issue, yes? But would you mind explaining my recent wardrobe change?"

"Well, you seemed to enjoy it so much when it was my 'wardrobe' that was altered."

"That's a bit different, don't you think? You're more accustomed to these sorts of... transitions. What the hell will everyone else say if they see me like this?"

"I will be keeping you far too busy for anyone to notice."

"Ah. Well. I, uh, suppose I could put up with it..."

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He didn't look up. He remained frozen in place, his hand hovering an inch away from Tony, his eyes locked on the space between. They had just progressed to the 'remove clothing' part of their evening, the first time they had gotten so far, and Tony had been looking forward to Loki's clever hands on his skin.

Hands now stalled just sort of that longed for touch.

"What is it?"

He finally raised his eyes, eyes which flickered red for an instant, a wash of blue racing across his skin and then gone.

"I don't wish to hurt you."

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Tony came home to an Asgardian draped over his couch.

It was a surprise, but not unwelcome. He'd been trying to come up with with some way to get the younger Odinson spread across his furniture for awhile now. It was almost anticlimactic that he was there with no effort on Tony's part. Not that he was complaining.

"Hey there, handsome."

Loki turned his head and flashed Tony a grin, wider and brighter than Tony had yet seen. "Greetings, Stark."

"I see you helped yourself to the scotch."

"It was owed." He raised a brow. "Join me?"

"You know it."

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It wasn't that he had a particular... fetish... for the old Midgardian habit of thinking of the Æsir as gods. They had been a primitive people, and Loki had never taken advantage of their ignorance as some others had. He'd never developed a taste for being worshipped.

"Loki, my god..."

Of course, he'd never had Anthony doing the worshipping before.

"Yes, Anthony. My Anthony."

His beautiful worshipper shivered, the trembles racing across his skin and onto Loki's. No, he'd never been one for being treated like a god before, but with Anthony on his knees, Loki could appreciate its charms.

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"So, I, uh. I heard you'd been married at one time?"

Loki looked up from his book, eyebrow raised. "More than once. I might still be, but I'm fairly certain the lady has divorced me by now."

"You might still be married...? You mean this whole time I've known you, you might have been married?"

Both brows went up now, a smile trying to curl his lips. "I was not aware you had any particular objection to such a situation. We could be married if it would make you feel any better."

"... that is the worst proposal I've ever heard."

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"I want to touch you."

A simple enough desire, a simple enough request, coming from a man who was anything but.

Green eyes held him, pulled him apart as they slowly travelled his body from top to bottom. A wave of heat followed the gaze, just as though the request had been followed up with the reality of touch.

Tony shivered, his own eyes falling to Loki's lean hands and slender fingers. He knew them to be strong, capable of destruction and pain, but also of such precision, such subtlety.

How would they feel on his skin?

"Then touch me."

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They said he would betray him, that he would betray them all. It was a part of his nature, to twist and destroy what he came into contact with.

Tony didn't care what any of them said, paid no heed to their warnings. What could they know of Loki? They knew him only as a would be conquerer, a mind controlled puppet. They couldn't know him as Tony did.

And they didn't know him. To assume that Loki would betray him was to assume that Tony wouldn't want the same things.

Betraying them all wasn't the same as betraying him.

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Tony wasn't an atheist, it was just that the god he followed was likely to raise a few eyebrows. More than a traditional god. If you wanted to get technical, his was more traditional than a lot of others. Just not typical.

What other god could he possibly choose? A god of cleverness, of chaos, of lies and truths, a problem solver and a walking disaster, a prankster and a destroyer. Patron God of Not Giving a Shit. How could he resist?

And when his faith was proven in flesh, who was he to deny the call of a deity?

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The arc reactor fascinated Loki. In the quiet hours Tony would sometimes catch him staring at it, tracing his long fingers over its subtle patterns. Where fingertips brushed his skin gooseflesh was sure to follow, but the Asgardian seemed not too care at all what effect his attention might have on Tony.

Tony was amused, then flattered. For a being who knew so much about science and magic to show such interest in something he made was a huge ego stroke.

But then he saw blue reflected in green eyes, cruel memories returned, and Tony would draw his attention away.

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"Loki! Loki, you son of a bitch, answer me!"

There is no answer. The skies do not magically part to deliver some response to his screams. Tony is left alone as the world falls apart.

It's no metaphor. The world is ending, seas boiling and mountains falling. There are too many to save, there is nowhere to go, and so he screams to the skies turned red.

"Loki, you promised. You promised you wouldn't do this! Was it a lie, all of it? Were we a lie?"

Silence is his only answer.

Worldbreaker, he thinks. He's broken everything. Including me.

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It was unwise to grow attached to someone whose lifespan was so much shorter than your own. Loki knew that, knew that by coming to hold a mortal like Anthony Stark dear, he was only setting himself up for future hurt.

Yet he couldn't seem to resist the pull of the inventor, the Iron Avenger. There was a fire in him that burned hot, bright and barely controlled, a flame which could consume a man whole. Yet it didn't. Anthony could control his fire.

It fascinated him, made him wonder if the mortal could tame the fire of a god.

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He wasn't sure why he was so surprised by the number of scars across Loki's body. He wasn't under any illusions what sort of life he'd led before dropping into Tony's. He was pretty sure he'd given him one or two of those scars (he tried not to feel guilty about that).

Loki's body was a mosaic, his skin a tapestry of old battles. No inch spared, tiny scars even haloed his lips.

Tony traced them with his fingers, his mouth, mapping every one into his memory, taking in Loki's past so he might remain a part of his future.

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"I don't understand why you feel the need to wear these contraptions."

"Because if I didn't I would constantly feel as though I were at the bottom of a valley."

Loki canted an eye at his Midgardian lover, amusement making his lips twitch. "You are hardly short, Anthony, certainly not enough to justify these..."

"Lifts," Anthony supplied, his tone speaking annoyance. "And I know I'm not short, but relatively..."

"I remind you that I'm considered abnormally small for my kind."

"You're over six foot."

"All relative, dear. Besides," he lifted Anthony, who squeaked indignantly. "I think you're the perfect size."

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"You know," Loki said languidly, as though there weren't two palm repulsors aimed at his head, "not so long ago, your people worshipped mine as gods."

"Yeah, I don't know if you noticed, Bambi, but times have changed. Humans aren't likely to worship the likes of you anymore, especially not after New York."

"Oh, humans haven't changed so much. But you miss my point. Prayer amounts to little more than focused thought, which we can hear when it is focused on us." His eyes glittered at Tony. "And we can hear what is thought."

Tony felt his face heat guiltily.

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It was an arrangement which served them both. Loki got a place to hide and regain his strength - a sanctuary from the many who searched for and wanted a piece of him, including Tony's teammates.

In return Tony got knowledge, the basics of magic. He was a man of science, but knowledge, especially of something so powerful, was always valuable.

And both of them got sexual satisfaction, a fulfillment of a promise. The arrangement made it possible. They could take what they wanted with no fear of attachment.

What to do, then, when attachment began to form despite their arrangement?

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"Loki... lie to me." Pain wracked through him, chest aflame around the arc reactor.

The cracked reactor.

Loki hovered above him, his expression all the confirmation Tony needs. It's as bad as it feels, and it feels awful. It feels like an end.

Around them a battle raged, but they were separate, in their own reality. They always had been.

"Lie to me."

Loki swallowed. "You're fine. I can fix all of this."

"You always could fix my heart."

Loki's face shuttered. "I love you."

Lie, truth? A truth wrapped in a lie? It didn't matter, he would take it.

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"This is how you fall, hero of Midgard. Not in battle, not in glory, not by your own hubris or as some sort of martyr. No, you will fall to me, because I ask you to. Because you wish to fall - if it is to me."

Tony shuddered, hating the words, hating the way they pricked his skin like the crawling of insects. He hated the man who said them, and he hated that they were true.

Long fingers clasped the back of his neck, Loki's breath tickling his ear. "And you'll love every moment, won't you dear boy?"

"... yes."

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"Dearest, far be it from me to suggest that I know more, out of the two of us, about child rearing. But..."


"I just think it would be best if we kept the kids under more careful watch while we're here. Any watch, really."

"Feeling protective today, Anthony?"

"Yes. Although it's a toss up whether it's for them or the bystanders."

"Calm yourself. The children are fine. They're enjoying themselves, and won't endanger future outings by misbehaving."

"If you think so..."

"I do. Now, let's concentrate on own recreation while we have the opportunity."

"Sitters. Sitters, next time, babe."

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"What's the matter, Stark? I was under the impression that you enjoyed the thrill of flight."

"This is true. It's just there's usually more between me and the ground than air. Like the floor of a jet. Or repulsors."

"And so there is. You have me."

"Don't think I don't appreciate you hanging on to me, by the way. Awkward as this is I prefer it to the alternatives."

"I should imagine so."

"At least this is better than the first time you demonstrated personal flight to me."

"And when was that?"

"When you threw me out a window."


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"You'll be the death of me."

"Hm. I would have thought that complaint reserved for myself."

Tony slapped the bare shoulder under his hand. "They ought to have nicknamed you Honeytongue instead of Silver. You know better than to think the honor of 'death dealer' all mine, though."

"Do I?" Loki tilted his head, green eyes sparkling with amusement and affection, long expanse of throat decorated with a necklace of deep purple marks.

"Indeed you do," he said, stroking a particularly livid mark. "But I don't think I'll mind if death ever finds me like this."

Loki smiled. "Nor I."

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Anthony stared into the flames of his forge, orange tongues licking upwards, hungry for the metal he would beat into shape and sharpness. His entire body was hot, also heated by the forge, as though he were another rod of metal, unshaped and purposeless, awaiting hammer and anvil.

Anthony scowled. He needed no direction, he knew who he was and what he was meant to do. He needed nothing - no one to direct him.

And he needed no gods. Loki might be flame, but he was the forge. Loki might be heat, but it was Anthony who held the hammer.

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Tony wasn't sure how he'd gotten so pinned down - which was probably part of the 'how,' really. Not paying attention to what he should, the enemies just piled up until they were literally piling on him.

He was just seriously beginning to consider calling for backup when an entire swath of them were swept away in a wave of green light.

Another flank disappeared, leaving Tony free to finish the rest. Once they were gone, he turned in time to see Loki land beside him.

He looked about the carnage with a sneer. "Do not touch my things."

Tony smirked.

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Tony was doing his best, he really was, not to laugh. It was hard, though, when his oh so very elegant Asgardian lover was scarfing down cereal like any typical seven year old kid.

He wondered if Jane had this sort of trouble when Thor got a craving for Pop Tarts. Did she have to bite her lip to preserve an illusion of dignity when the big guy crammed pastries down? He ought to see if she had any tips on the subject. They were practically in-laws, they ought to stick together in the care and feeding of their aliens.

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“Do you think he’ll give up any time soon?”

“You’ve met my brother, have you not? Thor will not desist until he has mastered this challenge.”

“I was hoping you’d say that. You know, if I’d known when studying mythology in high school I’d be seeing the biggest Viking badass get road burn while learning to ride a bike, I would have paid more attention.”

“It is very entertaining. Perhaps even more so than when he was training his goats.”

“… that a euphemism?”

“Anthony. Not every comment is an invitation for you- oof.”

“Owch… that’s going to leave a mark.”

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The beads in Tony’s hand were smooth and cool, warming slowly in his grip as he stroked his thumb over them one at a time, reciting the familiar words that went along with each. It was unobtrusive, just long enough for nine beads, small enough to fit in his pocket.

The incense burned away, the little glass of mead awaited him, that portion for his god already poured out onto the ground, as it should be.

In the back of his mind, he could feel the presence of his god, his lord of mischief, and could feel when He smiled.

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He didn’t notice the scars around Loki’s lips at first. Despite how often his eyes were drawn to the man’s mouth, he was often distracted by the brightness of his smile or imagining what those lips could be doing.

When Tony asked him about the scars around his lips, they stretched into a smile. “A memento, a reminder to mind what words I use and to whom I use them.”

What exactly that meant, what sort of injury those small puncture scars hinted at, took a moment to register. “They sewed your lips together?”

“An effective method of silencing one.”

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“Understand. I do not seek to change you. That is not the purpose of any offer.”

Anthony’s eyes remain fixed on the golden apple, fixed so there is no doubt he understands what it is. “Is that right? What is it, then?”

Loki’s gut clenches. It could all go so wrong. He licks his lips. “Selfishness,” he admits. “I would not change you, but I would have more of you. I was alone before, and I have no desire to return to such a state.”

Anthony meets his eyes, and the smile he offers melts his heart. “Nor have I.”

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Tony stopped on the threshold of the kitchen, witness to a disaster.

“Honey… what’re you doing?”

Loki spun around, managing to give the most sheepish expression Tony had even seen on him. It was also the first time he’d ever seen Loki in an apron, or covered in flour.

He pulled himself up to his full - and impressive - height. The effect was marred by the smear of flour on one cheek and the whisk in his hand.

“I am attempting to make cookies.”

Tony choked back a laugh, managing only to smile. “Well, I guess neither of us can cook.”

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Tony could never get enough of Loki. His smiles, at turns mischievous and scheming or so bright they blinded, the green eyes, the ridiculous hair, the clever fingers, the sway of his walk.

It was more than just the parts that made him, though. It was Loki. His breath and pulse, his humor and sharp wit, his deep wells of rage and spite, love and tenderness; every bit adding up to Loki, who could never be duplicated even if all the ingredients were mixed again.

Tony would never get enough. Thankfully Loki seemed very willing to give all he could.

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It had been a quiet morning, lazy and warm, on the cusp of drowsing that wasn’t quite sleep. Until Thor came busting in.

“Friend Stark! I am sorry to disturb you so early but--“

Tony groaned and burrowed deeper into the blankets. It was too early for this.

After a few minutes of rambling, there was a shift in the bed beside him and Thor stuttered to a stop.

“O-oh. Ah. I didn’t realize that… What I wished to discuss will wait.”

Tony looked up after the door closed and looked into Loki’s smirking, sleep tousled face. “That’s very effective.”

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Loki stared at the object in his hand, completely nonplussed. Tony fidgeted slightly, wondering if some sort of magical hurricane was about to manifest in his Tower. He wouldn’t be shocked if there were. He was already mentally running through the evacuation procedures.

Face still blank, Loki finally spoke. “What. Is this?”

“It’s, uh… It’s a toy. A kind of doll. A plush. Very popular with children.” And some adults.

“And why does this… poppet resemble me?”

“Well, it seems that certain companies wanted to make toys in the images of the Avengers team, and--“


“Yeah, I thought not.”

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Gaps between worlds, Loki called them. Places where one could get from one Realm to another without the need of some interdimensional travel ray under the control of a guy with a big sword.

Tony wondered if, when Loki had told him stories of his exploits when using them, he’d thought Tony would find a way to track them down, given a good enough reason.

He wondered if that was why he’d told him, so Tony would have a way of finding him, wherever he went.

He grinned up at his lover, seated on the throne of Asgard. “Hey, Lokes.”

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Tony stared, not quite sure how he was meant to react.

“Okay. I like, but what is it?”

Rather than answer, Loki did a slow spin, arms raised to best show his costume. It was a little like a harem outfit as imagined by a hormonal teenager, done up in bright blues, greens and yellows, highlighted with glittering gold. Tony swallowed at the low cut of the waistband, the long slits along each leg, the way the vest barely covered his nipples.

“Something I picked up on Sakaar. Do you approve?”

Loki grinned at the nonverbal, enthusiastic reply he received.

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“Lie to me.”

Tony gasped, arching into and away from the old aches flaring to life. Bruises, scratch marks, muscles too long abused and not enough rested, all exquisitely aflame under Loki’s care.

“Lie to me.”

The weight pressed into him, trapping him, pinning him in a cage of limbs and glittering green eyes. A smirking mouth which held its words captive even as Tony was.

He struggled, a useless gesture, baring his teeth.

“Loki. Lie to me.”

Hot breath against his skin, Tony shivered as he was at last whispered sweet falsehoods.

“This is sustainable. I will never leave.”

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“How dare you. How dare you.”

Tony’s breath caught, words lost somewhere at the back of his tongue. Fingers at his throat, lips and teeth at his collarbone, narrow hips rolling into his… His brain sparked, fired and died.

“How… dare I?”

A growl answered him, the base vibration settling straight into the pit of his stomach. “How dare you… be…”

“Be what?”

Malachite eyes stared into his, the color of envy, of wildness, of chaos.

Be. Be bright, intelligent, indomitable. Be kind, compassionate, irreverent, beautiful. How dare you be… you.”

“I never did know what was good for me.”