Loki finds his body locked in place, with ice freezing in his chest even while his blood still sears. The sheer force of the dichotomy makes him shudder. It only takes half a moment to pull himself together—although it feels like hours could have passed—and he shoves the man back roughly. His breaths come heavy and painful as his heart pounds behind the reactor's hollow ache and he stares wild-eyed in Stark's direction.

What just–? How–? No.

The anger doesn't leave. The flames lick up like a grease fire onto which water has been poured, the influx of emotion and surge of terror only bewildering him and bringing the chaos to a peak.

This shouldn't be happening.

How dare the mortal–

"Loki," Stark begins, but he cuts him off by finishing the motion he'd started earlier and sending the man reeling.

He escapes to his bedroom as quickly as possible, although the movement makes him grimace as it tugs at his stitches, and slams the door behind him.

Loki doesn't know what to do; the action was too unexpected to have prepared for, and sends his mind into overdrive as he tries to cope. To process what's happened. He needs more space than the cramped room can provide but doesn't want to leave, either, because to do so would mean passing by the man again. The realization only serves to make him feel trapped, which in turn increases the stress until it's all he can do not to scream.

Understanding people has always been both his strongest point and his weakest, and now he can't make sense out of the storm in his thoughts. He wants to hide, to escape from everything—Stark, this realm, and time itself.

*.*.*

"Hey Bruce?"

The man jumps, turning toward the bed he's sprawled out on. "Holy crap! How long have you been there?"

He shrugs. "Couple minutes?"

"Is there a reason you're in my room at two in the morning? Because I'm pretty sure last time I checked, this," Bruce points between them, "was platonic. Unless something's changed, in which case I must have been out, and didn't hear the news."

"Is it that late? Wow, had no idea. You got time for a little therapy session, or what? Because something insane as fuck just happened."

"How many times do I have to tell you that I'm not that sort of doctor?"

"Oh, come on, you're a great therapist. Except for the falling asleep bit, but it's a work in progress. I can get you a book, maybe—Pretending to be a Therapist for Dummies. I mean, not a therapist for dummies, considering I'm kind of a genius, it's a theoretical book for dummies. Not saying you're a dummy either, though. That spot's reserved for a certain bot who likes to spill shit everywhere." He's rambling now, and he knows it. "How about a science-bro-to-science-bro thing?"

Bruce sighs, tossing his glasses onto the dresser and running a hand through his hair. "Okay, fine, what happened?"

"I think I just kissed Loki." Tony blurts out.

There's a pause.

"Wait, you mean you hadn't already?'

"What?"

Bruce raises an eyebrow. "Considering the way you two act, I thought you were already together."

"Why does everyone keep saying that?"

"It's not exactly hard to see."

"Wait a sec, so you thought that and didn't say anything? You just went with it?"

"Well, yeah."

"Even after New York?'

"I don't like him, and you know that, but he seems to get the fact that if he steps out of line I can and will beat him into the pavement. I think he realizes by now that he shouldn't mess with me."

"Oh, right. Holy fuck, though, man, You've gotta ask Loki about quantum theory. And I don't mean, like, chat about harmonic oscillators or the role of the observer, I'm talking final theory here. The guy understands the mechanics, like understands understands. He tried to show me what an apparent 'over-simplification' of it is, and I had a headache for a week. Apparently you can't explain it in English, I don't know, but it's crazy shit."

"Huh." Bruce nods thoughtfully.

"Did I mention that I kissed him? Well, briefly. And it wasn't a really hardcore one, I mean, no tongue or anything, but I'm pretty sure I kissed him. Sort of. Holy fuck, I'm insane."

"I'm not exactly the best guy to ask about this sort of stuff, Tony. The last relationship I was in ended with her dad chasing me around the world with half the US Armed Forces."

"Oh come on, I'm having a crisis here!"

"Okay, okay. I'll try. Did he kiss you back?"

Tony laughs uncomfortably. "Um, no, he kind of shoved me away, slapped me, and stormed off. I think my jaw is bruised."

"Did you follow him?"

"Hell no, do you think I have a deathwish? Besides, I'm still trying to process the fact that I kissed Loki!"

"How long have you had feelings for him? Or was this one of your one-night-stand things?"

"What do you think I am, come on! I gave up the playboy thing when I was with Pepper."

"Well, yeah, but she broke up with you a while ago."

"How do you know about that?"

"She calls me occasionally when she doesn't know how to handle you. I'm not sure I'm much of a help."

"That sneaky little– I'll get her back for that. But I've been kind of busy ever since that, I haven't really had time for the party scene… dealing with a blind chaos god doesn't exactly lend itself to that shit."

"Which brings me back to the original question."

Tony sighs. "I don't know, okay? Pepper knew something was going on pretty much since she found out he was here, hence the breakup, but it's not like I really know what's going on. I didn't even mean to kiss him, there was just a lot of shouting and being pissed at each other and then suddenly we were locking lips!"

"Did you ever think that maybe an argument wasn't the best time to start something?"

"I wasn't thinking! Shit just happened!"

"I don't know what to tell you, Tony. Maybe give him some time to cool off and then talk to him tomorrow?"

He runs a hand through his hair, still stuck on the way Loki'd looked at him. "Yeah, I guess, okay."

"Can I have my bed back, now?"

"Yeah, yeah… I'm going…"

Loki doesn't show for lunch the next day or answer when Tony raps lightly on his door, so he peeks into the room to find the god curled around a pillow fast asleep.

Typical.

Thor never sleeps in like this, but then again, Thor's principals are pretty damn different. He tries to help others; Loki's focus is on helping himself. Both are fair, he supposes.

As it turns out, Loki doesn't appear for the rest of the week. Bruce gets slightly annoyed, seeing as his unpaid staff (Tony's not sure that volunteer is the right word) decided to take a few days off without warning, but Tony starts to feel more guilty than anything. It had been a pretty stupid, reckless thing to do, all things considered. Loki's the sort of person who'll sit silently through god only knows how much torture and not bat an eye, but anything vaguely emotional turns the guy into a time bomb.

Yeah.

Tony's an idiot.

An accidental idiot, but definitely still an idiot.

Light footsteps are what finally alert him to Loki's presence, sometime Tuesday evening when the sun is throwing a spectrum of glowing pinks and oranges into the darkening sky and Tony is sprawled out on the couch working on a patch for a security glitch in Jarvis' remote software for his suits that he really doesn't want someone like Doom to take advantage of. He stands, setting his tablet down on the coffee table, and turns toward the door to find Loki stalking toward him, expression near-unreadable in the dimming light.

"Look, …That was stupid, I wasn't thinking. Sorry if I misread shit, I didn't mean to screw things u–"

Loki shoves him backwards, resolve flashing slightly terrifyingly in his clouded eyes as Tony falls heavily backwards onto the cushions, having not seen the movement until it's too late to catch himself. The apparent anger from last week still seems to smoulder, but in possibly the most unpredictable thing that's happened in the past few months (which is really saying something) Loki slings a leg over his lap and catches his lips in a bruising kiss.

There's nothing gentle about it, almost none of the restraint he's so used to the god using around him. The confusion of the week before is gone entirely and replaced by chaos that is Loki to the bone. It's like kissing a thunderstorm or a wildfire—a force of nature he can only sit and endure until he can't take it anymore and has to push the god away to pull in gasping breaths.

"Holy fuck."

Loki's demeanor is feral, something akin to the madness that had taken hold when he'd joined forces with Hydra and fought tooth and nail against SHIELD. It's terrifying as fuck, and should not be as riveting as it is.

"Tell me why."

"Wha–?"

"Last week. Tell me why."

It takes an embarrassingly long few moments to get his mind off the threatening snarl and find an answer to the question he's been asking himself ever since it happened. He still doesn't know entirely why he did it, but Loki's disconcerting proximity throws at least part of it into stunning clarity.

"Because you scare the hell out of me," he breathes, staring up at the god. "Because you're a hurricane; you've torn my world down around me since the day we met and there's nothing I can do but watch. Because you're beautiful and dangerous, as likely to save me as you are to kill me, and the only person who's ever looked me in the eye and told me the ugly truth without sugarcoating shit. Because we're both fucking trainwrecks and I love every second of it. Everyone else might see destruction, but I've never gotten along well with peace and I'm starting to find chaos incarnate way more attractive than I should."

Loki stares, hands bracketing Tony's head and body keeping him trapped in place. "Don't lie to me. I'll tear you limb from limb and tear your still-beating heart from your ribs."

"I'm not lying; I mean every word. You're impossible, and insane, and the first person I've spent any amount of time with and not gotten bored by." Once he starts talking, starts trying to explain the utter ridiculousness of his actions, the words take on a life of their own and sprint down the same pattern as his racing thoughts. He's never been great at the whole brain-to-mouth filter thing, but apparently it's gone altogether now as realization sinks in and he's forced to come to terms with what he's been avoiding the past few months.. "I've got Bruce for science, and Rhodey for harassing, and Pepper for work, but you I've got for trust. And if that's not the most backwards, screwed-up shit I've ever said then I don't know what is, but I do."

"What do you want from me?" the god cries in bewildered anger.

Tony decides that, fuck it, there's really no going back now.

"What are you willing to give?"

*.*.*

The question is enough to make the flames of rage stutter, if only because he honestly doesn't have an answer. He's courted, and married, and done any number of forbidden things which Asgard would condemn him for. He's known love, and friendship, and hatred, and loathing… but never has anyone asked what he wants to give to another.

"I–… I don't know," he admits, and sits back. Stark's outburst had stunned him, and he can't find a response. The fool mortal actually managed to put him at a loss for words.

"You're beautiful."

"Flattery will earn you nothing; I am no doubt scarred beyond recognition," Loki spits.

"I'm serious. I mean, yeah, you've got scars…" Fingers brush his cheek and it's all he can do not to flinch away. "But come on. You really are. And that's not me trying to coerce you into anything, for the record—I'm just kind of having an emotional crisis here and words are happening. That's what happens; I get freaked and start saying whatever comes to mind. I'm guessing you've realized that by now."

"I have. Now tell me why you kissed me, and stop trying to be poetic because it doesn't suit you."

"Ouch, Donder."

"Just do it!"

"Alright, alright, chill. It wasn't like I planned it, okay? Hence the somewhat also confused Tony. But you were there, and I was pissed, and you were pissed, and I have no fucking idea why but I did it without thinking."

The embers flare up, but he keeps his voice calm and apathetic."So it was idiocy in the heat of the moment, nothing with meaning."

"Well, I'm not going to deny the idiocy part, but if I absolutely have to admit it then yeah, I kind of realized around the time you stormed off that holy fuck I liked it. Not that I'm not cool with just staying friends or anything," Stark quickly amends, "I don't want to make it weird, but, y'know… I don't know. I might not actually mind taking you to dinner or something, if you're into that."

The mortal sounds rather flustered, surprisingly, and it's enough to calm him a bit. He still doesn't know how to answer the question, and trying to process the best response is giving him a killer headache.

It's not entirely accurate to say that he hasn't a clue, but… there are things he keeps to himself—nearly hides from himself—and what he truly wishes for is one of them. Instead, he lets the venom return to his voice.

"And what makes you think I am to feel anything? You speak as though you could ever see me acting toward you with passion. You think me capable of that?" Loki scoffs.

"You're pissed right now, aren't you?"

"What a brilliant observation; did you work that out for yourself?"

Stark sighs and rests a hand on his shoulder. Loki is fairly sure he never gave permission for such a gesture. "No, you're missing the point. You act like you can't do it, but you can't be angry like that without passion. Otherwise you'd just be apathetic."

He snarls, having no other reaction at hand.

"Oh, come on. You kissed me, so it can't be that mine was so bad the first time if you decided you wanted to do it again."

"I needed to gauge your reaction," Loki says with an edge of malice.

"You're impossible."

"You keep repeating that. I'm blind, not stupid; I understood you the first time."

Stark drums his fingers against Loki's shoulder and hums thoughtfully. "So… dinner?"

He cries out in frustration and shoves the insufferable man back against the cushions.

"Aww, does someone need a hug?"

"I will saw off your limbs with an exacto knife to keep them in my lair, and I will enjoy every second of it."

"Fine. Turn around then."

"Excuse me?"

"Around. Turn. I thought you said you were smart?"

Stark gives no further explanation, instead poking his arm repeatedly until he's annoyed enough to follow instructions just to stop the insolent fool.

"Relax, Loki," the man says more calmly than he'd expected as he runs a hand up Loki's back. "I'm not going to make you do something you don't want to, and let's face it—I couldn't even if I wanted to. You'd just kick my ass into an alternate dimension where everyone's zombies or something."

"Quite possibly."

Try as he might to avoid it, the tension slowly drains from his body. He can't help it, really—this isn't something many have ever taken the time to do for him without being ordered, and the hand that runs through his hair has become synonymous with safety. It's cheating, really, but still effective.

"You have three options," he eventually says when the raging fire has dwindled again without anything to stoke it with.

"Yeah?"

"We can walk away now, agreeing upon the fact that it never happened and returning to the way things were," he starts, only to be interrupted.

"I don't really like that one."

"I'm not finished," he says with a scowl. "Or you kiss me again, I drag you to your bedroom, and take you apart piece by piece beneath me until you know naught but my name and what it is to be the offering to a god."

"Now that's sounding a bit more like it. A little scary, but not entirely against that option."

"Your choice?"

"Wait, you said there were three—don't skimp on me now, buddy."

Loki tenses just the slightest amount. Not enough for a mortal to notice, but he himself can. "The third option is that we court."

"Okay, see, that one I did not see coming from you. Although seriously, it's twenty-forteen, we say date now. When are you from, the seventeen hundreds?"

"I don't mean date," he says scornfully, "I mean court. I am a prince—or I was—and I'll not be treated as a mortal. I'll accept no less than the proper way of Asgard."

"Someone's up on their high horse today."

"I loathe you."

"No you don't. Can I kiss you now without you freaking out on me? Because I have a bizarre and kind of overwhelming desire to kiss you. Which is weird as fuck. This entire thing is weird as fuck, to be honest."

"So you choose the second option."

"Well, which do you want?"

"I am fine with any of them—I'd not have offered were I not."

It's a lie, but he needs to know Stark's answer. Needs to know his intentions.

"…can we combine two and three? Because I still want to get dinner, but fuck, I should not be so turned on by the idea of you above me. That's supposed to be my job. Hell, I don't even know for sure if I'm bi; you're just really fucking incredible and I officially give up on understanding the past few days. I'm just rolling with this shit because I don't know what else to do. I confuse myself."

He shakes his head. "No. The two are mutually exclusive."

"Dammit." Arms wrap around his waist from behind, pulling him back against the mortal's chest. He knows their body temperatures aren't that different—his own is normally just a hair warmer than room temperature, although it fluctuates slightly with the environment like his body is trying to compensate—but the mortal's hands feel as though he has been warming them by the fire for a while too long. "Okay, fine. Dinner it is, if that's good enough for Your Majesty."

That's… unexpected. His assumption was that Stark would live up to his reputation as a rather promiscuous man, and while Loki has no real desire to bed the man, he would do it if only to appease him and return things to as normal as they could ever be afterwards.

The idea of any relationship beyond haphazard friendship scares him—none have ever ended happily. This one cannot, either.

"So… can I maybe still kiss you, though?"

He gives a resigned nod. "If you must."

"That's not exactly the most convincing answer, you know."

Loki turns back around, still in the mortal's embrace, to straddle his lap again (although with a different intention than when he'd stormed into the room). "No, I–…" He sighs and reaches out, only to grasp at air. This damned emptiness never ceases to curse him. His second try he catches Stark's jaw, and runs a thumb along his cheek before resting their foreheads together. "I want to. It's just…"

"C'mon, just tell me what's the matter."

He's tempted to lie, but Stark's concern is genuine and it feels wrong.

"I know where this will lead. And… I'm frightened."

"Like I said, we don't have to do anything you don't want to, but it'll be alright."

Perhaps it's foolish, but the words are enough to put him at ease. Stark equates to safety, whether or not he can actually do anything, considering what they've been through together..

He tilts the man's chin up slightly and leans forward so their noses touch. Stark's breath hitches, just slightly—without asgardian hearing he wouldn't have picked it up—but the man doesn't move. Like he thinks he'll spook him if he does.

Granted, it might.

"I trust you, Tony," Loki whispers honestly as their lips brush, and kisses him gently.

There's nothing expected, nothing asked for, just… kindness. Acceptance. He smiles slightly, and fingers run through his hair in such a familiar gesture that he relaxes and just allows himself a moment of peace.

It's hard to say who pulls away first, but it doesn't really matter. The mortal's hand comes to rest against his neck and he can't help the tiniest hint of a smile that tugs at his lips as he leans into it without meaning to. It's surreal, and will no doubt bring him discomfort when it's sunk in, but he can't bring himself to care at the moment.

"I could get used to that," Stark admits.

"What is it that has you so fascinated by my lips?"

"No fucking idea, man. Shit just kind of happens."

"Perhaps you're going insane. Assuming you are not already, which is strongly debateable."

"You're insufferable," the mortal laughs, lightly cupping Loki's face in his hands. "…may I?"

He hesitates, then nods.

Lips catch his again as he bends his head to make up for the height difference—he swears there must be halfling blood in the man—and this time is no more demanding than the first. Things feel a little more alright, like the looming threat has been lifted for a moment or two, and the feeling of calm persists even when he leans slightly back again to rest their foreheads together.

"Yeah, I definitely like that," Stark tells him decisively.

Banner is not around and he's accepted the fact that Stark has seen facets of him he'd normally not share, so Loki lets out a breath and shifts to wrap his arms around the mortal and rest his head on his shoulder. He can feel Stark smile against his neck.

"So, does this mean you're not planning to start burning buildings for the next few minutes, at least?"

"Don't overestimate yourself, idiot mortal."

When he pulls his boots off a little while later and curls up in bed, he sleeps dreamlessly through the night.

Tony sleeps peacefully that night too.