A/N: I haven't written in awhile, so I'm a little rusty. If I suck, I am truly sorry. Lately I have been addicted to frostiron, so that's what you're getting.

Take Anything Else, Take Everything Else

Chapter 1: Surprise!

Tony takes a hesitant step forward, right hand slowly making its way towards Loki's belly. It comes to rest gently on the man's stomach, pressing protectively into the god's warmth. "You're really...?" He whispers, lips chapped and mouth dry.

Loki nods, his eyes are hollow, searching. "Yes." He answers. Voice clear and calm and daring for a confrontation.

Tony just nods. "And it's – you're sure it's...?" He mumbles, voice thick with disbelief wrapped in a blanket of poorly restrained wonder.

Loki's lips twitch then, not quite a smile, but it's the least threatening Tony has seen the god since he appeared in his lab, unannounced and uninvited. "Yes." He repeats. "The child is yours. She is yours." He whispers, his voice growing deeper, protective.

"How is that..."

"Possible?" The trickster sighs. "I am a god Stark, even your feeble mind must be able to comprehend by now that I am not built as simply as you weak Midgardians."

The engineer cocks an eyebrow at that, refusing to remove his hand. "Weak, are we? Well, I remember things a little differently." Tony challenges playfully.

Loki allows a dark chuckle to flow gracefully from his mouth. "Yes, well..." He clears his throat roughly, "those were entirely differentcircumstances."

Tony nods, allowing his hand to fall numbly back to his side. His chest aches horribly at the loss of contact. He grimaces.

Loki's intense gaze falls on Tony's face, searching the lines of his skin, ripping it asunder and devouring his insides. Taking him apart and putting him back together, piece by agonizing piece. Unconsciously, Tony shudders.

"Would," Loki begins, closing his mouth just as rapidly as he opened it. Tony's brow furrows. He has never seen Loki hesitate like that. Tony watches as Loki clenches and unclenches his fists, wrapping them slightly against his stomach. "Would you like to...be a part of her life?" The green clad villain is staring Tony down now, eyes a storm of black and green, galaxies and lifetimes trapped within twin irises, like a genie in a bottle, infinity confined in a blip of time.

Tony can't stop staring at them, can't drag his eyes away. He doesn't even remember the question. All he can do is look into Loki's eyes. They should frighten him, they are so damn old, so broken, and yet all Tony can do is stare. Fascinated, utterly and completely.

"Yes." He says finally, the word tearing past the cage his lips form before he can think better of it. "I would like that very much." Would he?

Loki notices Tony's hesitation. He knows humans better than they give him credit for. Or, maybe he just knows Tony. He knows the way the man lies to everyone, even himself. He knows how terrified the man always is, except of the things he should be afraid of, except of him.

If Loki were honest with himself, he would admit that this was probably why he was so taken with Stark. The man was just not afraid of him, at least not openly. That was nice, a nice change of pace. To look at someone, look into their eyes, and see anything but fear. Hatred, certainly. Confusion, without a doubt. But fear – never. Stark held his own and for some strange, twisted reason, Loki was proud of him for that. Loki could understand, on some basic level, what Stark was after. Control. Control of himself.

"Okay," he nods, "then I shall visit again soon."

Before Tony can say another word, the god has vanished and he is left wondering if maybe he just had a very vivid dream.

It's been months and Tony has heard nothing from the Norse god. Tony knows that he is a very impatient man and guess what, Loki isn't helping!

The man sits on a brown leather couch, a glass of scotch in one hand...a bottle in the other. He has told no one of his conversation with Loki, or what had, ahem, proceeded that conversation.

The Avengers have fought a slew of evil super villains over the past weeks and, thankfully, none have been Loki. Tony would not have his daughter put in danger. At least Loki was doing something right. But, if mythology was to be believed, this wasn't Loki's first time being a...mother? It was no wonder the god knew to stay away from violence.

Tony forced himself to take a deep, calming breath. He had to trust Loki. A scary thought, he was aware, but necessary nonetheless. This was Loki's child as well, he would not endanger her.

Just as the thought crossed Tony's mind, there was a sudden, loud crash behind him, and the engineer stood up as quickly as his unbalanced legs will allow, running into the open kitchen and hurriedly placing his glass and bottle down.

On the floor, collapsed, is a pale, lean figure, wearing a thin black sweater and a pair of midnight black pants. They seem damp, and the vibrant, offensive red of blood is smeared against the chalk white of his skin. Tony knows then that blood is what has dampened the sweater, the sea of red hiding in the black fabric.

Loki's eyes are closed tightly, wincing in pain. It's then that Tony sees Loki's arms, they're clutching desperately at his large belly, nimble fingers curling protectively against himself.

Tony gasps then. Rushing forward, falling to his knees next to the fallen god. "Loki. Loki!" He growls, "You stay awake, okay? Stay awake for me. Stay away for her!" Words tumble from his mouth in a rush. Hurried. Violent. Frightened.

Loki's eyes flitter open for a brief second, entrancing Tony with the beauty and exquisite pain shimmering in their depths, before they fall closed once again leaving Tony alone, surrounded by silence.