Tech Support

by DarkWaterFalls

Summary:

Tony's guilty pleasure is helping out anonymously on the Stark technical support forums.
He comes into contact with an exiled Loki when he starts having trouble with his new laptop.

Notes:

• Translation into Français available: Tech Support by Nordremo

Tony often gets asked what he does in those quiet, in-between times, the times when he’s not in the public eye at some event or flying around in his suit. It depends on who is asking, but his common answer is to relax in the shop with Jarvis and his bots. They invent stuff, tune up his cars, and generally relax.

 

What he doesn’t say is that sometimes - when there is no inventing to be done, when the bots are connected up to their charging ports and the cars are sublimely tuned and polished to a fine shine – he has another pastime. It is a bit of a guilty pleasure and partly made up of his curiosity with his products. He goes on to the internet support forums as an official moderator and troubleshoots software problems. No one, not even the other mods, know who he is. Under the screen name “Tetsujin” he has perfect anonymity; he’s masquerading as a Stark employee.

 

His little job is unofficial, hours unfixed, and his few posts and responses cannot be connected together and are unsearchable within the forum. He doesn’t draw attention to himself. The queries on the forum are the ones that cannot be solved by a simple phone call to Stark Tech Support, the really juicy problems. He mainly trawls for software update ideas and tweaks for existing systems; he only intervenes if there is a particularly vexing puzzle on the hands of the support staff. They’re well trained and don’t tend to need his help, but on the rare occasions they do... it’s because something spectacular is happening.

 

Tony has started developing blocking systems that stop background telepathic signals from interfering with the computer software; not direct blocking, it’s not that strong, but the little unintended signals. One family in particular has been helping him out with that. After some investigation into the family (tech had all been taken back in, tested and returned with the report that it was in perfect working order. Interference peaked when everyone was in the house and when people were getting restless, hungry or annoyed.) Tony called them and their personal tablets and computers to the main Stark HQ. What he didn’t tell them was that they’d be meeting him, and that a representative of Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters was going to be there too. It turned out that the two kids – five and eight – and the dad were all latent telepaths. The father was quite weak, but the kids showed signs of becoming relatively strong with proper training. What had been interfering with their systems was just the background, uncontrolled outbursts from frustrated young minds. With the prospect of a good school as the kids grew older and the extra income that testing the new systems brought in, the family were more than happy to help.

 

Now, Tony is getting bored between projects again, so he was trawling the forums for ideas. Soon enough up popped a query on the software/OS boards from someone with the username LewisNYC. Scanning through the problem and cross-referencing the device data with his software issue testing protocol, he was drawing a blank. It was similar to the telepathic interference case, but the computer had already been looked over by the same team and they’d reported back with having found none of the telepathic markers usually present on the system. There had been no physical damage to the systems, just data corruption. There had been two forum techs already troubleshooting the problem, but Tony wanted to have a go himself. He called up the software data and got started on identifying the damage points.

 

As he worked he typed a quick private message to Lewis, introducing himself and asking a couple of questions about how much he used his laptop and when the outages had most frequently occurred. He didn’t expect much information, especially since the same questions had already been asked in the initial investigation.

 

What he didn’t expect was a quick and detailed response his queries, detailing when the episodes had happened, precise durations of effect and exactly how long it had taken the laptop to patch the corruption afterwards. As for what Lewis had been doing at the time? He was writing a book. The message was signed off with the words: ‘all the best, Lewis.’

 

Tony smiles at the screen, the message was a bit stiff and formal, but Tony gets the impression that the person on the other side is bright and intelligent. Perfect.

 

So, how much do you know about programming? – T

 

I’ll confess, not a lot. I’m really quite analogue. I’ve used computers before, but this is the first one I’ve ever owned myself. – L

 

How are you finding it? – T

 

Frustrating. – L

 

Well, d’you want me to fill you in on what I’m planning to do? – T

 

I suppose that it wouldn’t hurt. Try to not destroy it please. – L

 

Hah, nah, I’d need a hammer and you a little closer to me to do that. You bought a sturdy model in that one. No, I’m planning to write you a bit of code, a patch to add on to your system, it should work against the damage as it happens and allow you to keep writing. – T

 

Really? You can do that? – L

 

I should hope so, I helped create this machine. – T

 

And this will cost me nothing? – L

 

Nope, this is just tech support. We’re all inclusive. -  T

 

Tony decides to adapt the program model that was used for the psychic shield program, the patch is a small section of code that protects the program from external interference and repairs data corruption as it happens. It has its limitations, it takes up a fair amount of processor space when in use and Lewis probably won’t be able to use multiple programs as he works. He writes the last few lines of code and runs over it to check it for any obvious errors. He stretches his arms out and asks, “Hey, Jarvis! Can you run this on a small system to ensure compatibility and double check for any bugs please?”

 

“Of course.” Jarvis answered. Tony spent a few minutes in silence by going over the messages and typing a response before a green light signalled the end of the test one of his monitors. “Testing complete, no errors found in the patch and the patch has been shown to be compatible with the target system.”

 

Tony murmurs his thanks and with a couple of clicks the file is attached.

 

All done, you just need to download it and run it. It’ll install and start working as you work. You might not be able to use multiple programs while it’s running, but it’ll mean that you should be able to work for longer periods of time. – T

 

As simple as that? Do you think that it’ll work? It took the last team a week to assess my laptop and returned it with no explanation, yet you made me something in half an hour. Was it really that easy? – L

 

Tony pauses, fingers on the keyboard and grimace on his face.  Ah, how to answer that one?

 

I’m gonna try and not be too disparaging of my workmates, but I’m good at my job and they’re a large team with a heavy workload and are not as specialised as I am in this area. It’s because of my specialisation that this was passed on to me, they delegate to others when they can’t solve something themselves. I also can’t claim that this is going to work; we’ll probably have to revisit this later if it doesn’t work out. – T

 

That is diplomatic of you, and honest. – L

 

Let me know how things go. It’s my job, I enjoy it. This is my e-mail if you need anything else. Hope your writing goes well. – T

 

Thank you. – L

 

***

 

Loki digs the heels of his hands into his eyes, rubbing hard. For the third night in a row the headache has appeared, settling behind his eyeballs and blurring his thought processes. He’d only been working for an hour, but it is distracting enough that he wasn’t going to be able to write any more that evening.

 

He saves the document, stands up and steps away from the desk towards the sink, attempting to ignore the lurch of nausea. He pours a glass of water from the jug and drinks before resting the glass against his forehead, running a hand through his still-unfamiliar short hair. The pain always lessened when he was away from the laptop, but was it the device or the restrictions that had been placed on him and his magic that was causing the constricting feeling?

 

The binding of his magic was not supposed to be complete, only partial, and it should not affect his knowledge. He had been told that he was allowed to continue his magical studies when banished from Asgard, but that was a moot point as there was no way for him to access the level of magical resources available on Asgard while he was trapped on Midgard.  So he’d decided to start writing.

 

He had reams of notes, but it was taking up so much space and was so difficult to organise in his rented space of a home, so he’d decided to get a laptop to try and keep his notes more compact. His workmates had also been on at him to become more social online and had already made him create a Facebook page – which he’d gathered was some kind of networking website – one afternoon at work, so a laptop seemed like a logical purchase.

 

He’d been exiled with some luxury really, been given enough funds to last a good few years without needing to work, and had skimmed some mortal minds before the implementation of his sentence. He’d gained enough information to blend in to the mass of people in New York, navigate the currency and banking systems, social security, how to use public transport (though he preferred to walk) and do troublesome things like laundry, making phone calls, buying groceries and using the internet. He used the excuse of English not being his first language if he ever got caught out by anyone. His passport said he was Norwegian, so he’d made sure that one of the last spells he’d cast on himself was one providing fluency in several Scandinavian languages, Spanish and English. He couldn’t rely on Allspeak to stay with him.

 

His fluency spell had assisted him in more ways than one; it had been the thing that had got him his job. He was assisting in a project at the University library that was working on the translation of Norwegian works into English to be used as reference materials for students. The idea being that multiple language sources would make for better projects and degree work in the students. Loki’s fabricated degree in literature and classical poetry had clinched his position; they’d hired him on the spot.

 

So here he is: majority of his magic bound, slightly above minimum wage library job, shitty room in a shitty apartment block, with a harridan landlady and a laptop that is going to cause his brain to melt out of his eyes. Things could be much worse; he might still be in that cell in Asgard.

 

Loki gulps down more water, he feels much better. It must be the laptop that is causing his problems. He supposed that he might e-mail T again. They’d been nice and helpful, created something at short notice that had fixed the problem that Loki had presented them with. They’d even made Loki chuckle when they had responded chidingly to Loki’s comments. They were intelligent and an unknown factor, it couldn’t hurt to try again.

 

Though he decides that he is going to draft his e-mail on paper before he touches his laptop again.

 

He sits down, pen in hand and writes the first sentence. He then pauses. How should he put it? ‘This stupid contraption gives me more pain than I am willing to put up with, can you take that promised hammer to it now?’ No, keep it simple and safe.

 

Dear T,

I was hoping to take you up on your offer of assistance again; the laptop has been working well since the patch was added. It’s running a little slower as a result, but I took your advice to not run too many programs on it at once.

My problem stems from the fact that I can’t seem to use it for writing for any longer than an hour or so without it causing me to develop a persistent headache that makes it impossible to work. This has not happened before; would it be related to your work on the laptop?

I know it isn’t exactly your field of expertise, but I was hoping you may have some idea as to what I can do about it. It seems pointless for me to have this if I can’t use it for anything other than as an expensive paperweight.

I hope I find you well,

L

 

 

***

 

“Sir, you might want to wake up.”

 

Blearily, Tony looks up from his pillow; he’d been in Japan for the last three days and had just got back that morning. Collapsing straight into bed hadn’t been the best idea, but it was the only one his jetlagged brain was willing to contemplate. He threw a glance at the alarm clock on his bedside table. Seven hours sleep; it’s time to get up before he completely reverses his sleep cycle. He rubs his hand over his face and asks tiredly, “What’s happening Jarv?”

 

“You’ve had an e-mail.” Jarvis answers. “It’s on the account that you’d asked me to alert you about if there was any activity on.”

 

Tony couldn’t think. “What account?” he says.

 

“The one you set up last week, Sir, regarding the Technical Support forum.”

 

Tony pulls himself up, this is important. Unexplained program interference, with query psychic mutant owner.  A snippy, intelligent and ridiculously formal owner that Tony had promised to help with computer problems. He groans into his hand as he rubs his eyes and says, “Jarvis get the coffee on please. I’m going to need to be able to think before I read this one.” 

 

***

 

Tony stares at the screen, taking another gulp from his mug and then almost chokes as he laughs at the last sentence. Lewis was a funny guy under all that bluff. He is a bit buggered with things to do with this one. Hardware and software issues are easy to fix, but this is a little different. Ask any gossip magazine, he was notorious in his inability to deal with human beings. They were still reeling from the fact that he and Pepper could still have a professional relationship when their personal one crumbled under superhero pressure. He sets the mug down and gets ready to start typing, first things first, he needs that laptop before anything else happens to it.

 

Right, I’m very sorry about this, but I’m gonna need you to get that laptop to me. I can give you a replacement to use in the meantime. I’d recommend that you back up everything before you hand it over too, I can’t guarantee that an accident won’t happen, but I’ll try my hardest. – T

 

I’ll back it up later, and I don’t need a replacement. How shall I get it to you? I sent it by courier last time; they came and picked it up from my work. At this rate I’d easily forgive an accident, I’m getting frustrated with this contraption. – L

 

Tony snorted; he has to be able to get his hands on Lewis if he needs to, so he wasn’t getting away with that one. As for getting his hands on the laptop, he needs to find out where Lewis is in New York.

 

I’m giving you a tablet, don’t argue. I could have your laptop for quite a while. I may need to ask you questions, so I need to be able to contact you. Are you anywhere near downtown NY? If so, you could just drop it off at Stark Tower and I can arrange for it to be sent on from there. – T

 

That is agreeable; I walk past the building on my way to work each morning. Where should I hand it in? Should I also say anything specific when I do so? – L

 

Main reception, tell them to put it in box 616, it’s my department’s internal mail number. I’ll leave a tablet in there too.  - T

 

Many thanks again. It’ll be in there tomorrow. – L

 

Tony breathes a sigh of relief, things are slotting into place very nicely. He glances at the clock; it’s earlier than he thought, just after 8pm. He fiddles with the handle to his coffee cup and puts a call into the assistant that is assigned to him this evening.

 

“Hello, Mr Stark. What can I do for you?” says a male voice on the end of the call.

 

“Hey, sorry for the late call, but could you do me a favour?” he asks.

 

“Anything you need Sir.” The assistant answers.

 

“There is a laptop that is going to be handed into the tower for me tomorrow. It’s going to go into box 616 and it is not, I repeat not, to be tampered with. No security scanning, nothing. I need it in its original state.” Tony explains.

 

“But sir, that is against the security guidelines that SHIELD drew up for the tower.” The assistant says hesitantly.

 

Tony rolls his eyes, but keeps the exasperation from his voice. “I’m aware, I had to sign off on them, but it’s what has to happen.”

 

More hesitance from the assistant, before he gives a response. “Yes sir, it’s on the schedule.”

 

Tony claps his hands together and says, “Wonderful! Can you also get your hands on a new tablet please, it’ll go in the slot and it is to be given to the man handing the laptop in. We’re doing a trade.”

 

“Of course Mr Stark, any particular grade of tablet? And any greeting to go with it?”

 

“Eh, personal use, decent grading, good data plan, and make sure it’s new.” Tony said and then tilted his head to the side before continuing, “No greeting, none at all. And make sure that there is no mention that this laptop is coming directly to me. Understand?”

 

“Yes, perfectly understood. I’ll get that done for you Mr Stark, have a good evening.”

 

***

 

Loki considers the imposing structure of Stark Tower as he approaches. The repairs have been impressive, completely remodelling the upper sections of the tower and removing any signage that had been present before. No one needed to be reminded of who owned the place.

 

He wondered if he was doing something immensely stupid in walking in the front door, laptop in a bag under his arm. They have facial recognition systems, so Loki had grabbed his hat that morning and pulled it as far down on his head as was socially acceptable. He’d also cast a minor facial glamour, just enough to square off his face and make his chin less prominent. He prayed it is enough; he doesn’t want to be pulled into a shadowy SHIELD van before his day has even started.

 

He reaches the crossing and waits with the host of bankers and brokers as they wait to cross. As he stands there he starts mentally counting the number of steps to the front door, estimating the amount of time he’d have to stay in the building, longing for his escape from the oppressive air the tower was casting over him.

 

He breathes deeply as he approaches the door, holding it in as he steps over the threshold. No alarms go off. Loki slowly exhales, trying to imagine his tension leaving him along with the expelled air. As he approaches the reception desk, he hopes he isn’t making a spectacle of himself, that his mild panic isn’t making him appear obtrusive in the bright atrium. Smile Loki, he tells himself, smile before they lock you up.

 

The receptionist smiles and asks as he approached, “Good morning sir, welcome to Stark Tower. How can I help?”

 

“Good morning.” Loki murmurs. He fumbles with the bag under his arm, placing it on the counter in between them and continues, “I have this to hand into box 616, and I’m told that there should be something in there for me to collect.”

 

The receptionist nods and says, “Of course sir, give me a moment.” She steps around her chair and into a doorway behind her, returning with a slender box under her arm and reading a piece of paper.

 

She places the box on the counter and hands him a pen and the paper she’d been carrying. “This is a form regarding the transfer of property; I just need a name, address and signature before I take the laptop in.” She explains.

 

Loki nods and takes the pen, filling in the information and signing and printing at the bottom. The receptionist hands him the thin box which he places in his bag, takes back the paper and folds it before taping it to the bag containing the laptop. “All finished, thank you very much.”

 

Loki nods and mumbles his thanks, before turning and walking as fast as possible towards the exit. As he makes his exit so quickly, he doesn’t notice the receptionist make her way to the elevator and scan her handprint to allow her access to the upper levels.

 

***

 

Tony stares at the name on the paper. Lewis Lokken. That surname was a bit uncommon, even for New York standards. He also has an address now, but he is unsure what he can do with it. Tony taps his finger against the swirled ink of the signature and considers how he is going to approach the questions he needs to ask.

 

There were certain areas of the world that had been found to have higher concentrations of mutations within the local population. Lewis could be from one of those areas, it could also just be random mutation. Either way, he needs to approach this carefully. After some rocky times, the US was moving towards a more inclusive investment of time and money into education and information about mutation. But not everyone was from the US, and that name suggested something similar.

 

Tony glances over the paragraph he had typed, it’d do. Not perfect, but hopefully not causing any offence either.

 

Hey, I need to know a couple of thing about you now. History and family stuff mainly. Where did you grow up? Have you ever had any problems like this before? Anything at all that has happened, small or large. – T

 

Tony leans forward, flips the laptop over and pops the case open, letting out the smell of previously-hot and slightly burnt metal and plastic. Tony wrinkles his nose and says, “Jarv, get the fans on please!” As the extraction fans pulsed into life he sees movement out of the corner of his eye and quickly waves a finger, saying to the corner of the room, “NO! Don’t you dare DUM-E! This isn’t my property, it belongs to Lewis and it’s not to be destroyed.”

 

DUM-E makes its way towards Tony, giving a small, sad bleep of apology. Tony pats its head and consoles the robot, “Yeah, I know it’s your duty, but this is really important. That and nothing was actually on fire, you’re still being a bit too enthusiastic.” Tony suddenly hears a bleep from his e-mail and clicks the message open.

 

I don’t see how it’s really relevant, but I’m from Norway. I moved here about six months ago. As for things like this, the only thing I can think of is that I have never had a watch that I was able to wear for more than a few weeks at a time. They either shorted out if they were digital, or the mechanisms stopped if they were analogue. Before you even consider asking about family, I don’t know my real parents, I was adopted as a baby and I have had no contact with them. – L

 

Oh, that was faster than I expected. You got that tablet figured out then? – T

 

No, I have not even opened it yet, I’m on this thing you call a cell phone. Maybe you’ve heard of it? I’m on my lunch break at the moment. People are staring because I don’t tend to use my phone in front of others a lot. – L

 

Tony laughs outright and shakes his head. The sarcastic fucker, though Tony thinks that he might deserve that rebuke.

 

I believe that I owe you an apology; I’m probably responsible for your headaches. There is also damage to the internal parts of the laptop that wasn’t reported to me initially; I can only presume that it’s because of my patch. – T

 

Your apology, though unnecessary, is appreciated and accepted. Unless you are actually trying to do me damage through my technology. - L

 

I’ll try my hardest not to, it’s my tech too. Have you ever had any problems with your phone due to proximity? – T

 

I couldn’t say, I don’t keep it in my pocket and place it on the table when I get home, so I have no idea whether it would be subject to the same problems. (I am also not willing to experiment.)– L

 

***

 

What, never fallen asleep talking to someone? – T

 

Loki stares at the phone, slightly exasperated. His workmates are badgering him over his preoccupation with messaging today, he isn’t usually like this. He tends to avoid talking as often as possible, so they want to know who has caught his attention.

 

“It’s just someone I met online, being a bit persistent.” The half-truth slips out easily, but instead of settling the people at his table down it has the opposite effect. He stares, wide-eyed, at the two women debating the type of person who he could be messaging. Looking back at his phone, he begins to type a response.

 

Can’t say I have, no. No one is that important. Plus, my familial relationships leave a lot to be desired. – L

 

Oh, okay. I’m sorry for asking, it was an idea. I was just wondering how you handled with other things, if I don’t ask I don’t know. – T

 

“So, Lew, what’s his name then?” One of the women, Sue, asks.

 

Loki flusters a moment, grasping for an answer, and ends up going with honesty. “I don’t know. I don’t even know if they’re actually male.”

 

So, wrist watches fucking up and no known family history of psychic powers or magic then? – T

 

I didn’t say that. – L

 

Why not? – T

 

You didn’t ask. – L

 

So, what’ll it be, psychic or magic powers? – T

 

Loki stares at his phone, a cold tendril of fear dripping down his spine. Someone can’t have found out so soon, could they? He’d been so careful whenever he did infrequently spellcast, he was sure he couldn’t have been identified.

 

“Lewis!” Loki looked up at Sue. “You look surprised. Is it not a guy?” she asked.

 

“Um, no. I’m still not sure.”

 

“Well, find out!”

 

I never said that either. I’m not sure, I’ve had no contact, but there may have been something hinted at. – L

 

Okay, so query previous family history and previous destruction of objects held close to you. This gives me something to go on. – T

 

Loki frowned at his phone, if he was going to give out information he’d like to receive some in return.

 

Since I’m being so forthcoming with information, would you mind giving me your real name? You already know mine. – L

 

It’s Tony. – T

 

Pleased to meet you Tony. - L

 

***

 

Tony smiles as he went over the messages they’d sent between them over the past few days. They’d traded childhood stories as he’d worked and discussed current affairs while he was stuck in meetings. Lewis became a real person in his mind, fleshing out as they talked. Tony had eventually got Lewis’s cell phone number, programming it into his systems so he could access it from any of his devices. They discussed literature due to the book Lewis was writing, a cultural comparison between the messages in American texts compared to those found in traditional Scandinavian works.

 

Tony had claimed that this was unfair, that he should use a wider pool and expand it to the English speaking world. The US didn’t have the scope of works that other countries had due to the age of the country, so Tony had argued that it had put them at a disadvantage. They had played the back and forth argument for a while, until Tony had ended up recommending Lewis texts he’d read in school or plays he seen over the past few years. He would never admit that he was proud of some of the things he suggested.

 

I have just started reading The Crucible and I am ashamed to admit that I did not know it existed before now. – L

 

I think I saw that when I was a teenager, they put it on at MIT. – T

 

Just as Tony sent the message he panics. That is too much information. MIT as a teenager? Improbable and implausible. Any internet search could out him with that information. Quick, distraction and divert any questions. Heart in his throat, Tony sends a question he’d been meaning to ask, but not precisely in this form.

 

I think it might be playing soon, would you like to come with me? – T

 

***

 

Well that was unexpected, Loki thinks, and then realises that he is mistaken. They’d been bantering all week as Tony had worked, quick witted and welcoming to Loki’s suggestion of an information exchange.  He’d received just as much as he’d given to the man and they had both flirted shamelessly on the evening that Tony had gone out for work drinks. Asking for a meeting was a logical next step, and this was tentative, it was in the future and easy for Loki to politely refuse if he wasn’t interested.

 

The problem is... Loki is pretty sure that he is interested, and that in itself presented a whole new range of issues.

 

I’m sorry to say that I’ve been in New York all this time and I have yet to go see a play or anything on Broadway, so yes. I would love to. – L

 

***

 

“There is a production running in one of the downtown theatres in two months time, Sir.” Jarvis answered.

 

Tony exhales slowly. That was far too close for comfort, and it had turned out better than he’d expected overall. He grins, runs his hand over his face and asks, “Can you get us some good tickets Jarv? I think I may need to impress on this one, which means I probably should read The Crucible again soon.”

 

I’ll get us tickets. – T

 

Thanks and goodnight. – L

 

***

 

Tony rubs his hands with a rag to get them clean. He’d just closed the back of Lewis’s laptop after ten days of modification. If he is honest, it barely resembles the laptop that had been sent to him initially. The only thing he’d kept was the hard drive, and even then he’d been tempted to upgrade it to something larger.

 

He had manufactured new components, hardier and more resistant to heat and energy overloads and rewrote the drivers and basic programs. For good measure he had installed dictation software on the laptop and was going to send it back with a pair of headphones and a microphone to match. Logic being that if he increased the distance between Lewis and the laptop, the laptop would come out of this unscathed.

 

He picks up his phone and starts to type a message, speaking to the laptop all the while. “Try and break this one, you shiny psychic magician.”

 

We’re all done. Try and not be too surprised when you pick it up, there have been some big changes. – T

 

Big changes! What did you do to my baby? - L

 

Knock it off, I know for a fact that you’re enjoying that tablet much more than you liked this laptop. – T

 

That is the undeniable truth. So, what did you do? When can I see it? – L

 

Overhauled everything. Added a couple of bits that might be useful for you. Either way, you can pick it up from the tower tomorrow morning. You’ll need to let me know how you get on with it; I want to know if it’s okay. – T

 

I get the feeling that this thing is much more your baby than it ever would be mine. Do you want the tablet back then too?  – L

 

Tony pats the laptop as he slips it into the carry sleeve and then into a bag, adding the headphones and microphone on top.

 

Nah, keep it. I’m just a mechanic baby, just a simple little guy. – T

 

I don’t think I could ever believe that about you. – L

 

***

 

Tony is reviewing a report for Pepper regarding his recent trip to Japan, the words he’s already typed aren’t holding very well in his memory and he’s had to re-read this section already. He can’t convince himself that he isn’t waiting. Jarvis has suggested that he leave the report until later if he has other pressing concerns, making Tony snort in the process. Pressing concerns.

 

He’s waiting for someone to walk into his life, obviously. More accurately he wants to be able to fit a face to an imagined lover, to make them tangible. Tony knows that Lewis is going to pick up the laptop after work; he didn’t want to risk carrying it all day. Tony knows that it’s only 4pm and Lewis doesn’t finish until 5pm, it’ll be at least 5.30 before he’s at the tower.

 

It doesn’t mean that Tony isn’t waiting, that he doesn’t already have the security feed for the front desk playing on a side monitor. He’s checking whenever anyone approaches the desk, even if it’s just the security guard attempting to hit on the receptionists again.

 

He gives the Japan report up as a lost cause, saving and closing the document and telling Jarvis to remind him to finish it later. Setting an alarm for 5.20pm, he brews some coffee and picks up his copy of The Crucible. It’s easier to concentrate on this than the report; his lips twitch as he reads, as if he wants to start reading aloud, as if he is reading to someone else.

 

When the alarm goes off Tony is deeply immersed, it startles him out of his reverie. He promptly marks his place, puts the book aside and slides his chair over to his monitors. Tony’s fingers flicker across the keyboard and different camera angles appear on each screen. He pulls his knees up and wraps his arms around them as he waits.

 

There are a few possibilities on his screen over the next few minutes, but Tony discounts each one as they interact with the receptionists. Finally a tall man appears, hat on and wrapped up against the cold, pulling mittens off his hands. He rubs the wool against his cheeks as he approaches the desk, trying to warm his face and stops behind another person in the queue. Tony’s interest is piqued as he tries to focus on the man’s face, but he has no control over the cameras. The man ducks his head as his glasses start to fog up, pulling them off and wiping them with a cloth from his pocket.

 

As he straightens up and puts the glasses on, Tony has a split second’s worth of triumph. He scribbles the camera and time signature down just as the man tucks his chin down into the collar of his jacket, obscuring his face again.

 

Tony watches as he picks up the correct bag from the receptionist and whoops in triumph, grabbing for his phone.

 

You picked up the laptop yet? – T

 

He watches as the figure, Lewis, steps aside so the receptionist can serve someone else. Lewis pulls the laptop out of the bag and places it in his backpack, examining the other boxes quickly. He shoulders his backpack, places the headphones and microphone back in the bag they came in and then pulls out his phone. If he needed any more convincing, Tony’s phone buzzes a moment later.

 

I just picked them up. Why have you given me more presents? – L

 

Because you’re obviously worth it, darling! – T

 

The figure on the screen smiles softly, Tony notes another timestamp.

 

I’ll e-mail you later, I gave you them for a reason. Get home safe. –T

 

I’ll take your word for it, you get home safe too. – L

 

Tony isolates two images from the footage, saving them quietly to his phone.

 

***

 

Loki had been surprised at the effect the messaging had had on him. He’d confirmed to Sue and his workmates that Tony was male and they’d increasingly teased him about acting like a lovesick fool when he wasn’t working.

 

He looked forward to the messages, the early morning greetings and the late night wonderings. He asked Tony about things he didn’t understand about New York and Tony answered to the best of his ability. They discussed science and mechanics along with Loki’s art and literature and Loki’s character of Lewis grew with each passing day. Loki began to feel more comfortable in his own skin; comfortable with the idea of touching others and he grew less worried about being discovered. Tony made him feel like a real person, not like someone masquerading under a mask.

 

Loki finished recording the first section of his written notes and stopped as he considered the options open to him. He had most of the book ready; he just needed to dictate it and then proofread it. The dictation software didn’t seem to handle Asgardian very well, but it was getting better. He had to commend Tony though, it was very responsive. He had just needed to correct a few errors before the software began to correctly interpret his vocal input.

 

He told Tony so and could almost hear him preening in the text of the next message.

 

Loki stares at the phone, wondering how to make the next transition. He didn’t want to lose Tony, so did he have to meet him? Couldn’t they stay like this? He had already agreed to the theatre trip in just less than six weeks time, it would probably be better if they met before then. He types the question, reads over it again and then sends it before he can lose his nerve.

 

I know this nice diner near my work; would you like to come have dinner with me one evening?  - L

 

He lies down in bed, phone resting on his chest, one hand behind his head, and lets his imagination take control. He’d arrive early, find a nice table and wait. He’d probably watch the people passing in the window and try and guess at who Tony could be. He imagined being surprised, pleasantly so, when he finds out what he looks like. They spend hours at the diner, laughing, talking, eating dessert and having coffee. They leave before closing time, waving goodbye to the staff, and Loki would offer his arm to Tony as they start to head home. Loki unerringly follows him through his apartment doorway and Tony pulls him down for a kiss just as he kicks the door closed.

 

Loki’s hand has crept downwards, cupping himself in his jeans. His eyes slide closed and he sighs into the pressure as he imagines the kiss. Maybe he’d stay the night too. His hand flips open the top button and pulls the zip down before sliding into his underwear to grip himself. He starts to stroke as he imagines the slide of smooth skin against his and someone scraping teeth down his neck.

 

He moans just as his phone buzzes on his chest. Almost as if electrified, his hand is out of his underwear and he is flushing guiltily at no one.

 

Fantastic, is Friday okay? I can do other days, but I can’t guarantee I’ll be completely free until Friday evening. –T

 

Loki smiles at the phrasing. Tony will be completely free, all his. That might not be what he means, but Loki would like to hope.

 

Friday is perfect, I’ll see you then. – L

 

***

 

As the week slips by for Tony it does so in an inconsistent fashion, meetings go slowly and evenings don’t seem long enough. He packs in as many messages as he can, but with Lewis working during the day his messages can be sparse. Tony longs for the time every evening, the time he gets to have Lewis all to himself. Albeit electronically.

 

He’s not counting down the days, he’s not.

 

On Thursday the day’s distraction comes in the form of an Avengers/SHIELD update meeting. Tony mentally dubs them SHIELD’s attempts to get Tony to give them more funding, he can’t think of any other reason he needs to sit through the numerous reports, files and figures each month. Banner isn’t even here this time to distract him; he’s sending his apologies from Indonesia.

 

At the end of Natasha’s agenda of issues comes the any other business section of the meeting. Tony is clock-watching and obviously not paying attention, Lewis will be out of work in the next half hour and Tony is waiting for a text. Someone says his name and he lifts his head up from his phone.

 

“Tony, this is important, I may need your help.” Steve says, scanning over his minutes.

 

Tony sets the phone aside and asks, “What do you need Cap?”

 

Steve leans back in his chair and rolls his pen between his hands, thinking about something. “This is going to sound fanciful, but I think I saw Loki this week. He was in Brooklyn.”

 

Tony notices that his are the only eyebrows that rise in the small room. He casts a glance at Natasha and Clint and says, “That is serious, and I would doubt it if it weren’t for the lack of reaction from our secret agent friends present.”

 

Clint fidgets and smiles swiftly at Natasha, a small and broken thing, quick and gone in an instance. Natasha just tilts her head slightly forward. Clint just smiles wider and says, “We know he’s on earth, SHIELD got information from Asgard that he’d been exiled.”

 

Tony lets out a low whistle. That was big news, very big. World-changing if it got out, no wonder it wasn’t public.

 

Steve made a low noise, almost a growl, before saying shortly, “You think it’s him, don’t you?”

 

Natasha shrugs, the most expressive she’s been on the subject, before answering. “We’re suspicious, to put it lightly. Leave it with us.”

 

The meeting closes, grim looks on everyone’s faces leading to a sombre Tony making his way back up to the penthouse and his workshop. His phone buzzes when he’s in the lift, and thoughts of Loki are shifted to the side in his brain. His heart jumps at the message.

 

What are you wearing? – L

 

He knows Lewis is just out of work, he knows Lewis is somewhere public, he knows that he didn’t mean the question in the manner that Tony read it.

 

Could be nothing right now, know someone who might be interested? - T

 

I’m sure that would be a sight to behold, I could probably put myself up to the task. – L

 

(Sorry, I just aspirated a bit of my apple while standing on a street corner.) – L

 

I’m guessing you mean tomorrow? (I’ll try and not kill you before I’ve met you, that’s bad form even for me.) – T

 

Indeed. I’ll have a blue shirt on, a black leather jacket and glasses. I’ll try and grab a table at the window. – L

 

What, no trousers? – T

 

Debatable, I don’t know if I would have much use of them tomorrow night. Lack of them would be useful for speed, but it might distract some of the students in the library during the day. (Black, standard formal.) – L

 

I think they’d probably look pretty good on you, but I’m looking forward to the aftermath of everything on my bedroom floor. – T

 

What, no suitable surfaces available before then? I’d much rather be free of them sooner rather than later, I was thinking more of the kitchen table. – L

 

Whatever you want, whatever we end up doing, I get the feeling you’re going to attempt to ruin me. – T

 

Less about attempting, I’m going to succeed. – L

 

 

***

 

Loki, as he planned it, arrives before Tony. He gives the waitress a wave as he pulls his hat off and she points him towards the window booth she’d arranged to be kept free for him. Loki and his workmates end up here on a regular basis, dinner when they’re wanting to continue a conversation and late breakfasts when the Saturday morning shift finishes. They are regulars and this is their haunt.

 

Mary sidles up with a cup of coffee for him, sets it down without a word, then picks up the reservation sign and says, “Earlier than I was expecting Lew, enthusiastic much?”

 

Loki smiles and squirms a little, there is a bubbling knot of excitement and trepidation in his stomach as he answers, “I didn’t see the point in waiting, I’d just get worse at work if I did.”

 

Mary rolls her eyes, “Oh, young love. To be that age again...” She grips his shoulder in a good luck gesture and walks away.

 

Loki sips at his coffee and watches the traffic. The street is a grey and wet washout; it’s difficult to see due to the heavy rain. The cars are stacking as people try to get home, other people rushing through the streets to the subway or stations. He pulls out his book from his bag and opens his jacket as he starts to warm through and dry up. He gulps his coffee as he tries to concentrate on the text, marking his place as he is convinced that he’ll need to go back and go over it again later.

 

He closes his book, rubs his eyes and glances up as the door opens again. His first thought is that this customer could be the one he’s waiting for, broad shouldered and stocky, shorter than him. Warmth starts to floor his stomach as he imagines leaning down to kiss him again.

 

The warmth turns quickly to ice as the new arrival pulls off his hat. It’s definitely a Tony, but it can’t be his Tony. His Tony hasn’t met him before and his Tony reacts happily to his advances, this one doesn’t.

 

Can the Avengers have found him already? Are they going to attempt to capture him as he’s suspected they would? Has Stark been sent as the forward guard? He squints, as if he can see it, they send in the one that is all soft skin and sharp words to stall him as they clear out the customers.

 

But Stark turns his way and the look on his face dispels Loki’s thoughts of capture and imprisonment again. It’s a look of pure excitement, happiness and anticipation. Oh, Loki thinks, it is his Tony. They’re one and the same.

 

The panic returns, redoubling in its intensity, twisting at his stomach. He pulls out a small bill and sets it under his half-finished coffee. He needs to get out of here, out of here before everything he has worked for is destroyed. Losing Tony is the price he has to pay for his continued existence.

 

He presses his fingers to the window. Does he have enough energy to phase through the wall and out onto the street beyond? Loki looks outside, there is no point in considering it, there are too many people in the diner and outside on the street. Given his current luck he’d probably emerge half-phased into a NYC police officer.

 

Subterfuge it is then. He pulls his collar up, an unseen twist of magic turning his shirt black and his jacket brown. He pulls his flat cap down again, as far as it will go, and pushes his glasses – a simple prop - up his nose.

 

He looks up and realises his luck, Tony has stopped at one of the other booths and is saying hello to a young boy there. He takes a deep breath, it’s now or never.

 

***

 

Tony leans down towards the boy, one hand on the table, listening avidly to the story of the boy seeing Steve a few weeks ago. He asks if Tony would have a photo with him and Tony readily agrees, already giddy with happiness even before he stepped into the diner. The boy moves along the bench and Tony sits beside him, putting his arm around his shoulder, the boy’s dad instructs all to smile and takes the photo. Tony says goodbye as the father mentions that Tony Stark might have somewhere to be and Tony shakes both their hands before he gets up.

 

As he slides out of the booth and straightens up someone rushes past him, almost colliding with him, a hand brushing his upper arm and a muttered “sorry” comes from the other person. He turns his head, waves them off and smiles, but they’re already out the door.

 

He starts walking along the booths in the diner, glancing at the occupants already sitting and sees no one. He does another pass, waving at the boy again as he walks along. He stops at the only free booth, where the staff haven’t cleaned up the previous person’s coffee yet, and sits down. Lewis is probably running late, he’ll send him a text. As he takes out his phone, it gives a soft beep.

 

I’m sorry Tony. I didn’t intend on leaving, but I didn’t know what else to do when I saw you come in. I still don’t know what else I can do or say that will help what I’ve just done; I never meant to hurt you. Forgive me. – L

 

Tony remembers the person leaving as he got up from the boy’s table, the hand on his arm and the soft apology. He lays his phone down on the table, staring at the message, and props his head up on his hand. Aware of the reality of his situation, the publicity that he brings to every aspect of his life, he really doesn’t know what else he expected. He picks up the phone again and scrolls up and down the messages until he rests at the bottom one again. He was a fool for thinking that this would turn out well.

 

A lovely older waitress comes up to the table, smiling softly. He barely hears her as she offers to get him anything. He asks for coffee to take away as he stares at the mug and money already on the table. It must have been Lewis’s before he left. “No food,” he says, “my friend can’t make it.” The waitress pauses, an odd expression on her face, and then nods as she clears away the mug as she leaves.

 

***

 

Loki stands outside, under a ledge over the next shop along from the diner. He has minute protection from the rain, but he can still see Tony, so it’s worth the drips of water down the back of his neck. Tony is still staring sadly at his phone, he’s spoken to Mary and he wonders what she’s told him. He takes out his phone and begins to type again, fingers cold against the screen.

 

It would have been lovely to meet you after all this time, I really am sorry about this. I have enjoyed talking to you over the last few weeks; it’s meant a lot to me as a stranger in a new city. You’ve made me feel so welcomed, but I guess everyone needs to hide some things. Be safe, please be safe. Goodbye.  – L

 

Loki watches as Tony reads the message and his face contorts with pain. His eyebrows draw down, his mouth thins, and he slides the hand he’s leaning on up to place it over his mouth. Loki feels a stab of remorse, from what he can see from Tony’s reaction their interactions were completely genuine. There was only a small chance, but they may have been happy.

 

Loki watches as Tony pulls on his hat, hands over some money to Mary for the coffee she brings him and readies to leave. As he stands from the table Loki realises Tony will be walking right by where he is standing. He glances at the set line of Tony’s lips as the raises his collar against the rain and then turns to head home, feeling much colder than the inclement weather could be blamed for.

 

***

 

Tony slings his jacket onto the back of his workshop chair. This is easier, so much easier, he tells himself. “What we got Jarv?” Tony asks.

 

“I’ll admit Sir, not much. You cleared most of your current projects over the last few days.”

 

The screen springs to life in front of him, showing Lewis’s messages right at the top.

 

Tony grimaces. “Yeah, we’re gonna need to change that.”

 

***

 

Loki wakes early on Saturday morning; he stretches and then turns on his side. It’s quiet, so quiet, he thinks. He runs a finger down his sternum, feeling the weight sitting behind there. The silence in his mind extends onwards as the city wakes, he feels the roar in his bones as the city springs to life. He spreads his hand flat on his chest; he has not felt this alone in years.

 

He sits up and sets his feet on the cold floor. He needs breakfast, he needs to do laundry and he needs to go grocery shopping. He has things to do, he needs to move onwards. As he stands the weight starts to ache, but he promises to himself that he can bear it, he’s endured worse before.

 

***

 

His workmates on Monday pick up that something had happened, but realise that he doesn’t want to talk about it. Sue gave him a hug before leaving him be, telling him that she was there if he needed it. Loki just nodded mutely.

 

At lunch he runs a finger down the front of his book once he’s finished eating, he thinks of theatre promises and excited plans aborted. He leans back in his chair and runs a hand through his hair. He needs to deal with these thoughts, and quickly.

 

He’s using a folded scrap of paper as a bookmark; he takes it out of the book and pulls a pen from his pocket. Dear Tony, he begins.

 

***

 

Dear Tony,

 

I’ve completed more than half your suggested book list now. I’d been looking forward to discussing some of your favourite works from that list, if only to see if I could have made you squirm. I think I would have succeeded.

 

I wanted to read poetry to you, as silly as it sounds. I wanted to know how your voice would respond to me; how I had hoped that you’d repay me in kind.

 

***

 

Dear Tony,

 

The laptop is running fine; I’ve almost completed dictating the notes for my book. I thank you for such a sensitive microphone. It’s meant that I don’t disturb anyone else as I can end up working late into the night, though it does pick up on the couple upstairs from me in bed far too often.

 

I bought an MP3 player and have hijacked the headphones to use with it, they’re fantastic quality and I’ve enjoyed using them. I try not to read into my attempts to block out the rest of the world too much nowadays.

 

***

 

Dear Tony,

 

I’ve been reading over your messages again, I’m trying to rationalise what you’ve done for me, I’m trying to become okay with the thought of you.

 

It makes it difficult that you’re on the news every other second.

 

I used to imagine what it’d be like to touch you, run my hands up your sides and feel the smoothness of your skin. I now realise I already know. I remember what the feel of your skin was, how your pulse quickened beneath my fingers.

 

It isn’t helping.

 

***

 

Dear Tony,

 

I walk past the Avengers monument each day, twice daily, to and from work. I didn’t tend to give it much thought. I had paid my respects when I came to the city, but then I have disregarded it ever since.

 

I’ve been lingering at it the past few evenings, thinking on the sacrifices made and the lengths you all were forced to go to in an attempt to stop me. I don’t think I realise how lucky I was until I considered that.

 

***

 

Dear Tony,

 

Going to sleep with the memory of you, bittersweet though it is, is better than anything else. My workmates tried to convince me to take someone else home when we were out at a bar tonight. I know they’re trying to help. I know it won’t.

 

***

 

Dear Tony,

 

I like to think that you were sincere in your affections; I like to think that you would be kind. I believe that you honestly wanted me; I believe you would have been willing to be my lover and would have given me all that you had offered without judgement.

 

It’s unlikely now, but I had hoped.

 

Even if you were just pretending, I think I would prefer to just make believe that you were not.

 

***

 

Loki has kept each letter he’s written to Tony, the number varies from day to day. Sometimes he can come home with his pockets lined with letters, written on scrap paper and post-it notes, other days he has a single sheet. A single sheet of writing paper, written by him with perfect formality. To Loki those ones are the worst. Those are the days when he fights with writing, tries to suppress the urge and tries to convince himself to move on. The letters that follow are usually stormy in their tone, lingering in his mind until he gives in and jots the words down.

 

Once he’s written a letter he doesn’t read it again. He gathers them together when he reaches home and wedges them under the heavy lamp on his desk. He runs a finger along the edge of the stack occasionally, running a thumb up the pile to flip through them like the pages of a book. He catches snatches of words and sees Tony’s name far too often.

 

Today there are three letters to add and it’s only eleven in the morning on a Sunday. This doesn’t bode well for the day, Tony weighing heavily on his mind. Weekends were always bad; he had little to distract him. The guilt doesn’t seem to dissipate any further with each passing day and Loki still doesn’t know whether writing the letters is doing him any good. He doesn’t know if he wants this to stop. Does he want this to stop? Is he just clinging on harder because he feels that he needs someone in his life? Oh, he doesn’t want to be alone.

 

The day is clear and cool, bright sunshine breaks through the wisps of cloud and make promises of spring to come. Loki can almost taste the new beginning on his tongue. He packs his laptop in his bag with the intention of finding a quiet spot for lunch and editing, plugs Tony’s headphones into his MP3 player and pulls his jacket on before heading out the door.

 

***

 

Loki isn’t surprised that he’s ended up here again. Avengers monument. It’s set in a small green patch that had been turned into a community garden in the last few years. There is a list of those who died and an account of the events of the day and the days leading up to the attack. Loki had initially been surprised at the depth of detail, especially those regarding his blood soaked travels across Midgard.

 

He knows someone is behind him as he raises his fingers to trace the word “Stuttgart”. He has his suspicions.

 

“I told them everything, you know?”

 

Loki closes his eyes and drops his hand to his side. Being right isn’t always enjoyable. “Good afternoon Agent Barton.”

 

He turns to look at Clint, standing open-postured and casually dressed behind him. Well recovered and stable. Loki envies him, but shoves the feeling down. “What can I do for you?” he asks softly.

 

“Willing to come in for some questions?” Clint asks, gesturing towards the van pulled up behind him.

 

Loki stares at Clint, attempting to dissect his motivation. Loki has the right to be here, there was agreement between the World Security Council, Fury and Odin regarding his banishment. They would be quite able to imprison him, weakened as he is, but Loki knows he has Odin’s touch on the back of his neck. It conveys Loki’s whereabouts, his magic use and even his emotional state if examined close enough. Loki had prayed it hadn’t been examined much in the last few weeks. He was able to send a distress call through the bond, so he knew he was safe. He stepped towards the van.

 

***

 

He knows in his stomach that they have entered Stark Tower; he can practically smell the proximity to the portal, a weakened rip in the fabric of the atmosphere. He doesn’t know how Tony can sleep at night, nestled under the patch of sky that had almost sounded his death knell.

 

Stop thinking about Tony.

 

He’s in what appears to be a large waiting room, its underground and filled with a dozen uncomfortable chairs lining the walls and one desk with four chairs. There is a wall of mirrors; Loki recognises an interrogation room when he sees it. He pulls two chairs out from under the desk, sits on one and raises his feet onto another.

 

He has nothing on him other than the clothes on his back, having willingly surrendered his backpack back in the van. They’ll be rifling through his things right about now. He wished he’d asked to keep his book, or at least his notepad. Silence has never helped his brain function well. Thankfully he didn’t have anything work related or anything that has his home address in the bag, not that it would really take that long for them to find that information out.

 

Loki worries about how long SHIELD has been watching him, do they actually need his home address, or have they got his building bugged already? He feels himself flush red with shame. Have they witnessed his instability over the last few weeks at home? He felt safe in his room, curled up on his bed, safe enough to let himself weep over everything that had passed. While they hold him here are they sending someone to his home? Is that person finding his letters to Tony?

 

He shoves down the slight nausea at that thought. If they have, there is nothing he can do. He will just have to use a small amount of his allowed magic to sweep the room for surveillance devices once he is free of here.

 

He gathers a small spark of magic, little more than enough to light a bulb and uses it to extend his senses. There are three people in the next room, Barton, Romanoff is most likely and someone else. Loki prays it isn’t Tony, he prays that he’s away.

 

He stretches out on his chairs, does some neck exercises in an attempt to release some of his gathered tension and settles down to wait.

 

***

 

“Hey, Tony, are you okay?” Steve asks, with a concerned tone in his voice as he enters the elevator.

 

Tony waves him away, gulping down some coffee and hair still slightly damp from the shower. “It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.” He answers, hoping Steve will back down. Of course Steve won’t, he’s the only person in New York who enquires after his well being now.

 

“You look like you haven’t slept in days.” Steve says.

 

Tony swirls the remaining coffee in his mug, before answering tightly. “That’ll be because I haven’t. I haven’t really been sleeping the last few weeks if I’m honest.”

 

“Tony...”

 

Tony holds up a hand. “Please, just don’t. Can you tell me why I’ve been dragged out of my lab?”

 

Steve’s mouth sets into a stiff line as he says, “We’ve got Loki.”

 

***

 

Tony is staring through the glass, into the spacious room beyond. He hadn’t realised how thin Loki was. Large hands with straight fingers, and long legs that seemed to make up most of his body. The armour he’d previously worn had bulked up his silhouette, made his height appear as strength. Under the bright lights of the room he looked spread thin, pulled lengthways until he could not be pulled any further. He looked tired, resigned, and more than a little sad.

 

Tony snorted. “Got Loki.” He says. “Not mentioning the fact that he agreed to come in with you.”

 

Steve frowns and says. “It doesn’t matter; we need to find out information regarding him, if he’ll tell us this whole ordeal will be a lot easier.”

 

Tony leans back against the wall and eyes Steve. “He wouldn’t be here if he didn’t have some way to get out or some surety against imprisonment.”

 

***

 

Loki turns in his seat as the door opens. He knows he’s been left alone for a reason, left alone to stew as they would call it. What they don’t know is that Loki has been using the time to draft a letter to Tony in his head. He almost smiles when he titles it “A review of my recent stay at Stark Tower”.

 

Clint enters the room, open backpack in hand. He sits at the table, across from Loki and starts to unpack Loki’s bag. Keys, wallet, water bottle, pens, pad of paper, two paperback books, his MP3 player and headphones, his phone and then finally his laptop and charger. Clint stares expectantly; Loki recognises a waiting game and settles in for the first question.

 

Clint gestures to the things on the table. “Where did you get these?”

 

“I bought them.” Loki answers.

 

“With what?”

 

“With money.”

 

“From where?”

 

“From my bank account.”

 

“I meant where you got the money for this stuff.”

 

“From my job.”

 

“You have a job?”

 

“Yes, I’m quite good at it. They pay me money for my skills, standard job stuff.”

 

“Where is your job?”

 

“At my place of work.”

 

“Which is... ?”

 

“None of your business.”

 

Clint points at the headphones. “What about these?”

 

“I got given them.”

 

“By whom?”

 

“By the person who repaired my laptop.”

 

“And who was that?”

 

“None of your business.”

 

Clint’s expression was pleasant, but fixed. He was getting nowhere fast and Loki was not helping. “This will go a lot quicker if you answered the questions.”

 

“I am answering the questions; you just don’t like my answers.”

 

“You have no idea what I could do to you over this.”

 

Loki rolled his eyes at the threat, steeling himself before replying. “I don’t know what you’re trying to achieve here. You know that my exile to Midgard has been sanctioned by all parties. My finances, job and possessions are neither relevant nor required information for you. You are not my keeper nor my jailer and I do not have to answer to you.” He leans across the table to look Clint in the eye and says, “I am only here out of good faith. I could call and be gone from this place in an instant, leaving only the wrath of Asgard behind for you to contend with.”

 

Clint smirks. “Threats won’t get you anywhere.”

 

Loki smiles back. “The threats are not mine; they are part and parcel of the All Father’s deal.”

 

Clint gathers Loki’s things together, sweeps them haphazardly into Loki’s bag, tucks the laptop under his arm and exits without a word.

 

Charming, Loki thinks.

 

***

 

Tony is running his fingers along the laptop again. He wasn’t expecting to see this piece of hardware again, let alone be able to touch it. A cursory inspection revealed it to be well-maintained and in good condition. His brain is buzzing and he is trying to keep his expression clear. How could he have missed this, was he really that blind or was Loki that good?

 

“Stark, how did he get his hands on a custom laptop?” Clint demands, frustration evident in his tone.

 

“He must have bought it somewhere.” Tony mutters.

 

“Stark, these are individually machined components, the casing is custom-made and the innards of this thing are able to partially block the scanners.” Clint says, before pausing and bursting out, “I want to know what’s in it!”

 

Tony shakes his head, mapping the information he has and feeling a swoop of excitement in his stomach. “As he said, it’s none of your business.”

 

Steve raises a placating hand at Clint as he opens his mouth to snipe back at Tony, saying softly, “You never said that Loki had leave to stay.”

 

“It isn’t relevant.” Clint says shortly.

 

Steve hums and shakes his head in disagreement. “I don’t think that you’re right about that.”

 

Tony looks up from the laptop, “I’d agree with Steve. He’s probably on a very tight leash to have been set free from prison, I wouldn’t imagine they’d let him get away with anything right now.”

 

Clint’s mouth sets in a tight line and his hand fists in the material of the bag in his hand. Steve extends his hand for the bag from Clint and the laptop from Tony. He tucks them both under his arm and moves towards the door. With his hand on the door knob, Steve turns and says, “I’ll speak to him, see what I can do. We’ll give him his stuff back and let him leave; we have no reason to keep him here.”

 

***

 

Loki was expecting Clint Barton to come back in the room, so he is surprised when Steve Rogers enters instead. He must have been the other person in the room with the Agents. His possessions are under Steve’s arm and there is a small smile on his face.

 

Steve sits down opposite him and slides Loki’s things across the table. Loki rests his fingers against the laptop and fiddles with the zip on the bag. “What do you mean by this? Am I free to go?”

 

Steve nods, and then says, “In a minute. I have a request, if you would be so kind.”

 

Loki starts to rearrange his scattered belongings, placing them in their correct pockets and places. He nods and says, “Go ahead.”

 

Steve casts around for a starting point, he settles on honesty. “I hope you understand what I mean when I say I was worried to see you on my street a few weeks ago.”

 

Loki shrugs. “Naturally, it’s a good reaction to have towards a convicted mass murderer going for lunch in a local coffee shop.” He throws a small smile at Steve and continues in a soft and mocking tone, “Stop the presses!”

 

Steve smiles softly and says, “I fought with telling anyone for days, I didn’t know if I was being too... paranoid.” He presses his lips into a small line, debating something. “Would you be willing to tell me the terms of you being here?”

 

Loki reaches for the strap of his bag, fiddling with the buckle and tightening and loosening the fabric of the strap. He stills his hands when he realises he’s fidgeting, leans back in his chair and says, “Total exile. No chance of redemption. My magic is partly bound, reduced in strength for the most part and totally blocked out in others. I can do no harm.”

 

Steve nods and asks, “What happens if you break your terms?”

 

Loki’s jaw tightens. “I die.” He says shortly.

 

“No trial?” Steve states.

 

“None at all. I already had my chance, this is the last straw.”

 

“Thanks for telling me.” Steve fidgets in his uncomfortable chair. “I know it’s a bit of a strange request, but would you be willing to meet up with me occasionally?” Steve asks, “It’d put my mind at rest a bit, since you live in my neighbourhood.”

 

Loki zips up the bag and then places it on the floor beside him. He runs a hand through his short hair and then places both of his palms flat on the table before answering. “I have certain conditions. Once a month, the first Saturday. We meet at the coffee house you spied me at previously.” Loki says, shooting Steve a small, mischievous smile. “We’ll meet at 10am, but I can make no guarantees that I will be able to stay for long.”

 

Steve nods as he answers, “That’s generous of you. Shall we meet in three weeks time then?”

 

“Yes, I will see you then.” Loki stands and slings his bag on to his back and asks, “Would you show me out of here please? I have things to attend to.”

 

***

 

Tony is so giddy he feels nauseous. He had dragged himself down to the base of the tower to bear witness to a matter ‘of national security’ as Clint had put it. Also known as: ‘we have Loki so come and have a gawk.’ Tony had roused himself from his stupor in the lab, showered and changed for it, and was hoping to grab a couple of hours of restless sleep after the main event. The nightmares had returned after a year of relative silence, but this time they had been different. No caves, no black abyss, just corridor upon corridor and an endless feeling of loneliness and worthlessness.

 

When he’d awoken before he’d had Pepper there to comfort him, to chase away the horrors, this time when he woke up with a feeling of aching solitude in his chest... all he discovered was that he was completely alone. He hadn’t slept properly in weeks; he’d forgotten how damaging it was to do so.

 

So when he’d exited the lift, resigned and tired, he hadn’t been expecting all of his wants and desires to fall into his lap so easily.

 

The first hint was the headphones on the table, an expensive brand and fairly new. Tony felt his stomach clench, the same brand as he’d given Lewis. God, he was stupid, he berated himself. He was a stupid, sentimental little man.

 

Clint started detailing Loki’s new identity, and the bottom fell out of Tony’s world very swiftly.

 

***

 

Tony barrelled into the lab, mind spitting off ideas, both practical and impractical, all touches of tiredness pushed to the side. A large number of his ideas were a shade too heavy on the stalker tendencies for Tony’s liking, but his mind raked through them anyway. He needed something practical. He had the greatest desire to look for Lewis on Facebook to confirm the face he wore was Loki’s, to hack the Norwegian government database to see how he got his passport.

 

He settled on his computer chair and regarded his lab bench where he’d done most of the laptop repairs. Lewis was Loki, Loki was Lewis. He’d spend weeks building a relationship with a convicted criminal, had agonised over the end of their interaction. He laughed bitterly at his rejection in that diner, it may have had everything to do with Tony, but Loki was as much at fault as he was. ‘It’s not you, it’s me.’ He snorted at the thought. Had Loki been playing him?

 

What did he want?

 

He remembered the excitement that had swept through his stomach upon seeing the laptop. Had Loki been lying when he’d been interacting with Tony as Lewis? He didn’t know. But would Loki have let it go as far as he had if he had known it was Tony at the end of the phone? Going by his reaction in the diner, he probably wouldn’t have.

 

What did he want? Tony didn’t know really. Answers? He could start with answers, and see how much was salvageable from there.

 

He shoved the other ideas aside and tapped a keyboard into life; he already had more than enough data, he just needed to see this clearly. He hadn’t done this before out of respect for Lewis’s decision to leave, but he felt pushed to try again now. “Jarv, throw up all the details we have on Lewis Lokken. Places he’s mentioned, directions he says he travels, where he gets coffee.”

 

A list showed itself on the screen, strongest data at the top, weakest at the bottom. Strong data was Lewis’s home address and his workplace; weak data included a picture Lewis had sent of a coffee cup with his misspelled name on it. Tony selected plausible data with a finger and said, “Jarv, map selected data over a map of the city and connect by shortest walking route. Mark file as Lewis’s journey to work.”

 

Blue projected lines glowed around Tony, detailing streets and landmarks. Possible routes between the two points were highlighted in green. “Avoid all public transport routes. Remove all routes that do not go past Stark Tower and the memorial. Add in a visit to the coffee shop on the corner here.” He point at where Loki had sent his photo from. Gradually more than half the routes blinked out, finally leaving two possibilities. Recognising the streets, Tony said softly, “remove the route that doesn’t go past the diner.”

 

A single green line stayed overlaid on the map. Tony wanted to extend his hand to touch it. He needed to see with his own eyes if Lewis/Loki was a viable idea, but he wouldn’t be able to do so until tomorrow. Turning up outside his building with a boom box wasn’t an option, especially since Tony now knows that Loki/Lewis probably wouldn’t get the reference. “Jarvis, transfer shown route to my phone and delete the current file completely.”

 

“Yes Sir. Anything else?”

 

He selected the route on his phone, scrolling through the details. For the first time in weeks something warm was settling in his stomach. He just wanted clarification for his unceremonious ditching. And that was all he was looking for, really. Not that he was able to convince himself of that. If he did see Loki and Loki said no... Tony would accept that. “No thanks. I need to go get some rest, I have plans for tomorrow.”

 

***

 

How does that song go again? It was by an English-speaking band, catchy tag line and slightly morbid subject matter. I Don’t Like Mondays. He’ll need to look it up later. He grabs his usual coffee on his way to work, squashing down the squirm of sadness that wells up unbidden under his skin.

 

He didn’t sleep well, he had to magically sweep his room and then purify the space afterwards, lest the residual magic attract any unwanted attention. It was early morning before he was finished; he ate some fruit, showered and then collapsed into bed.

 

He had dreamt of Tony. It had been a wonderfully detailed dream, horrendous in its accuracy and simple in its execution. He had been curled around a Tony in sleep, his knees tucked behind the bend of Tony’s and his face pressed against Tony’s upper back. Even hours after awakening to the sound of his alarm, he could still remember the sensation of warmth beneath his cheek and the smell of sleep-warmed skin in his nostrils.

 

It was an atrocious morning; he had wanted to destroy his alarm clock and his own brain was determined to mock him. Work would help he thought, he prayed that work would help. Thoroughly distracted by his own thoughts and weaving through commuter foot traffic, he didn’t notice the figure tailing him.

 

***

 

Tony couldn’t help but notice that Loki looked much worse this morning as he followed him to work. He was paler, his skin having a slightly more pinched look. He looked bad enough that Tony wondered if he had been made mortal as well as exiled as punishment. He might not have wanted to mention it, hiding weaknesses from enemies and all that.

 

Then again, he might just not be a morning person.

 

He watched as someone bumped into Loki’s elbow, sending his coffee arm moving at a wayward angle as he was about to take a drink. He ended up slopping half the cup down his front, thankfully missing anyone else around him. Tony caught Loki’s expression; it was one of misery totally disproportionate to the situation. Loki fixed the lid back on the cup and moved towards the buildings on the street and away from the crowds. His coat had absorbed most of the spillage, so he stripped it off and rolling it into a ball before placing it in his bag. He picked up his coffee and moved off again, looking cold and still slightly miserable.

 

***

 

Loki was still in a sour mood by the time he had left work; his coat had dried over a radiator but was beginning to smell because of the milk. He’d need to get it dry cleaned sooner rather than later; he’d just have to wear extra layers on the walk in as his leather jacket wasn’t warm enough for the time of year.

 

He’d waved away the invitation of a pizza dinner in favour of getting some more rest. He wondered if he could sleep for the rest of the month, just to wake to a new morning where he didn’t feel like he was desperately playing a game that he was destined to lose.

 

He hadn’t crossed the street, damn it. He’s started to remind himself to, so he could avoid this point. He can see the lights of the diner’s sign ahead. He could double back, he supposed, or go ahead. Someone bumps into his arm and he realises he’s stopped on the sidewalk. He takes a deep breath and continues onwards, the feeling of loss weighing down his chest. His breath catches and his eyes begin to sting as he glances across to the booth he sat in a few weeks before.

 

He sniffles a bit on his next inhale and tells himself it’s just a reaction to the cold. It’s nothing else. It’s not a well examined and well-worn feeling of loneliness, it’s not. It’s not.

 

***

 

Well, fuck Tony sideways with a feather. If he’d really had any doubts before this, he would have had all of them allayed by this moment. He’s standing in the diner, sipping on a takeout coffee and waiting for Loki to pass. He feels the now familiar rush of pleasure at seeing Loki taking Tony’s predicted route to and from work.

 

He watches as Loki approaches, slowing slightly and his figure becoming more distinct in the light streaming from the windows. He moves closer to the window as he approaches, and stares at one of the booths as he passes. Then he’s moving onward and Tony’s scrambling out of the door behind him. That had been the booth that Tony had been sitting in the last time he’d been here, and Loki looked distinctly like he was on the edge of tears as he’d walked past.

 

It could still be a coincidence, Tony reminded himself as he sets off down the street after Loki, but he’s convinced that it doesn’t feel like one.

 

He’s glad he learnt the route before he set off on his wild goose chase this morning; Loki’s long legs carry him faster than Tony so he loses sight of Loki quite quickly. A sense of panic sets in, so Tony sets off running, following the route in his mind and trying to catch up.

 

He almost misses Loki; he is so intent on catching up to him again. He’s stopped on the paved area in front of the memorial and is staring intently at something carved into the marble. He raises a hand, tracing something, and then pulls it back as if he was burned.

 

Tony is still breathing heavily as he approaches Loki, intent on seeing, intent on touching. He’s reconciled the characters of Loki and Lewis in his head and wants to cement the image of Loki in his mind. He wants Loki.

 

There is a flood of excitement in his stomach as he makes the decision. He has a face now, a body, to substitute for the fantasies of Lewis and he’s thrilled. He wants to touch, he wants to know. He wants to learn how Loki laughs, is it how he had imagined? He wants to know how he sleeps, whether he’s ticklish and how his skin feels when it’s heated under his hands. He wants to know what Loki looks like when he’s exhausted, flustered and post-orgasm. He wants to a degree that he hasn’t experienced in years.

 

Loki turns to the sound of him approaching, initially stony faced against the intrusion into his personal space. He sees Tony and the expression morphs quickly into one of shock.

 

Then Tony’s reaching up, gripping Loki’s coat collar and pulling him down to press his lips against Loki’s. Loki’s nose is cold against his cheek, but his lips are soft. There is a pause from Loki as Tony ambushes him, before he gives a small, soft groan at the back of his throat and starts to respond to the pressure of Tony’s lips.

 

Tony’s hand loosens from Loki’s collar and moves up to cup his face. He steps closer, almost between Loki’s feet and slides a hand between the folds of his coat in search of warm skin. His hand is under a wool jumper and shirt swiftly, and he runs a thumb along Loki’s hip as he moves the hand over the skin of Loki’s side. Loki has wrapped his arms around Tony, one hand on Tony’s lower back pressing him closer to Loki. The other has clenched in the fabric of Tony’s coat, gripping as tightly as he is able.

 

Tony releases Loki’s lower lip with a soft popping sensation, leaving it red and swollen. Loki leans in and runs his tongue over Tony’s lip in turn, begging for entrance with a soft hum of his throat. Tony gladly gives him it. The sensation is wonderful, magnified by the relief of many weeks worth of anticipation. The demands of Loki’s tongue are skilful, and he tastes like warmth and peace to Tony. He wants. He still wants. He wants to know if he is allowed to keep now.

 

He pulls back and nuzzles into Loki’s neck, breathing in his crisp, clear smell. Loki rests his head on Tony’s and pulls him as close to his chest as possible. He laughs into the skin of Loki’s neck and murmurs, “Since you stood me up last time, I think you owe me dinner.”

 

Loki just laughs.

 

***

 

Loki can’t believe how his fortunes have changed; he’d listened to the heavy breathing of someone approaching and was expecting to have to act to discourage an attempted mugging. He didn’t expect Tony. He didn’t expect Tony, excitement in his eyes, reaching for him and pulling him into a kiss.

 

It took a second before Loki’s mind caught up; the second thought (after the first suggestion of kissing back) was to attempt to hold on. To grip him close and to prevent Tony from ever moving away. He couldn’t let him go again, he’d done it once already and he knew he wouldn’t be strong enough to do it again.

 

Tony buries his face in Loki’s neck, his face cool against Loki’s heated skin. Loki pulls him as close as is possible, burying his nose in Tony’s hair. Loki can feel Tony’s lips moving and hear soft kisses of words again his skin, something about owing him dinner.

 

Loki laughs, the absurdity of the situation and the magnitude of his luck clear to him and says, “So what is this then, second time’s the charm?”

 

Tony pulls back and smiles at Loki. “I’m willing to try again if you are.”

 

***

 

So here he is, traipsing the streets of New York with Tony, trying to find somewhere to have dinner. Loki’s budget is – unsurprisingly - smaller than Tony’s, so he vetoes some of Tony’s suggestions straight away.

 

Tony shrugs and says, “It doesn’t matter, I’ll pay.”

 

Loki snorts his amusement. “So much for your suggestion that I owe you dinner.”

 

Tony leans over to bump his shoulder against Loki before replying, “Yeah, well, if you were really looking for something lower budget you would have gone with my pizza suggestion.”

 

Loki’s mouth tightens as he attempts not to smile. Tony’s first suggestion was to order some nice pizza, get a bottle of wine and set themselves up on Loki’s floor to have dinner. Loki blushed again as he remembered the look in Tony’s eyes when he suggested it. “As I’ve already said, I have work tomorrow and would like to be able to get up unmolested in the morning.”

 

Tony gives a little smirk, “I can do that!”

 

Loki squeezes their entangled fingers slightly and leans over to press a kiss on Tony’s cheek. “Another time, perhaps.” He whispers into Tony’s ear. He gestures with his free hand, “How about here then?”

 

***

 

He ends up sitting across from Tony in a chain sushi bar, still trying to reconcile the day’s events. He could barely remember the misery now; it was a slight memory against the pleasure of Tony tangling his legs with his under the table as they read the menu. Or at least tried to read the menu, Loki could see that Tony had another question itching under his skin.

 

Loki reached across the table and tangled his fingers with Tony’s. Safe subject first. “I suggest we order some kind of platter, I’m starving and can’t stare at the menu any longer.”

 

Tony squeezes his hand lightly. “Okay.”

 

“What is it?” Loki asks quietly, “What’s wrong?”

 

Tony blushes slightly before answering, “I’m just worried that you’re going to leave again.”

 

“I won’t,” Loki assures, he opens Tony’s palm and lifts it to his face to place a kiss in it. “Trust me; I don’t know if I will ever have the strength to do that again.”

 

Tony smiles down at the table, fears assuaged and a rush of pleasure coming over him. The waiter comes and Loki orders for them, his fingers still twined with Tony’s. Tony still wants to ask questions, wants information, wants Loki to open up and talk to him freely. Tony wants to do the same in kind, but doesn’t know where to start.

 

The slight pressure of Loki’s fingers has Tony looking up again. Loki is regarding him softly, posture relaxed, from the other side of the table. “I didn’t imagine you’d be so quiet. What are you thinking about?”

 

Tony takes a deep breath, “I’m trying to figure out which questions I want to ask first, and which ones will cause the least offence.” he answers honestly.

 

“I can’t promise anything, but I hope you know me well enough now to have some background knowledge of how I’d react to things. I’m not going to somehow decide to punish you just because you are curious.” Loki said, he leans forward and continues in a lower tone, “I chose you too, you know?”

 

Tony nods, before asking, slightly hesitantly, “So, everything you told me...?”

 

“It was all true.” Loki tilts his head to the side, before continuing, “Maybe not contextually true, due to understandable reasons, but true in spirit.”

 

“Is it easier to be honest when you’re pretending to be someone else?” Tony asks.

 

Loki smiles, soft and honest. “I think that this is the closest I’ve been to being myself in years.”

Notes:

Many thanks to Fel (fel-as-in-tumbld.tumblr.com) who played beta for this, the largest piece of fic that I've ever written.
Let me know what you think, either here or on tumblr!