Magic Isn't the Answer to Everything

- only to some things. In which Tony is deaged, the Avengers assemble to babysit, and magic may just trump science this one time.

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Author's Note:

This story is a sequel to This Ain't a Bar, but can be read as a standalone.

Written to fill the "deaging" square on my trope_bingo card. Many, many thanks go to the lovely obsessed_psyco for betaing. Any remaining mistakes are entirely on me.

The armour was...big. Tony stared at it, trying to wrap his mind around the fact the he fit into it - that he should fit into it. He wasn't even going to touch the part where he apparently built it.

"I'm a superhero?"

"Yes," Captain America — Captain America, who was here and alive and apparently Tony's friend! — replied.

Tony finally turned around. "Do I kill a lot of people then?"

"Um," Captain America said, plastering a smile on his face. It was fake. Tony would know; his dad was really good at faking smiles and they looked a lot more convincing than this one did. "Ah, I mean. You save a lot more than you kill."

"Okay," Tony said, and then, because he hated being ten years old and being an adult meant he could do a lot of things that he couldn't right now, added "So, there's a plan to turn me back, right?"

Captain America smiled again.

"Well, aside from the obvious, he's fine," Dr. Banner declared. He was frowning thoughtfully at Tony's chest. Tony squinted down at it, tilting his head. It looked fine to him.

"And the obvious?" Captain America asked.

"That's not really my area."

"Can I put my shirt back on?" Tony interrupted after he had determined that Dr. Banner was probably only frowning at him because he did not have chest hair. Adults were supposed to have chest hair. "Coz it's getting kinda cold." And it looked like they had forgotten about him, which should be impossible what with him being the topic of conversation.

"Oh, of course, Tony," Dr. Banner said. Tony pulled the oversized tee back over his head, then checked that the belt around his pants still held. No one had anything that fit him, and it hadn't occurred to anyone to simply buy something while Tony had been knocked out.

"Shield—" Captain America began, but Dr. Banner shook his head, and the captain grimaced and nodded.

"He might turn back on his own?"

"I don't want to rely on luck," Dr. Banner replied. His brows drew together. "I'm not saying that we shouldn't consider them if we can't find another solution, but I'm not handing a child over to them."

Okay, and that was enough; even if he was ten right now, that didn't mean they could just decide what to do with him.. "Hey!" Tony exclaimed. "I'm an adult. You said so!"

"Not right now you're not, Tony," Dr. Banner replied without even looking at Tony. "I suppose that Dr. Richards is our best option."

"I'll contact him — or let Natasha do it. She's the only one who actually saw what happened to Tony. Well her, and—" Captain America waved a hand, "your friend."

"Who's your friend?" Tony wanted to know, but he was ignored. Huffing, he jumped down from the table, hitting the cold floor with a light thud. There was a good deal of equipment in this lab; not engineering equipment, but it was better than nothing.

The microscope seemed a good a place to start as any. Tony stomped past Captain America and halted before the table, leaning forward to inspect the microscope closely. It was top of the line, which was unsurprising given that this lab was in a house — a tower — owned by a Stark. There was no slide underneath the lens at the moment, so Tony cast about, finally spotting a row of them in the top drawer. He was about to reach for a sample — blood by his guess — when a hand clamped down on his wrist.

"Not these, Tony," Dr. Banner said because, of course, he'd start paying attention the moment Tony found something interesting.

Dr. Banner shut the drawer, removing a keyring from his pocket and locking it. Tony resolved to have a go at the lock at the first opportunity.

"Here, you can look at these," Dr. Banner said, opening a different drawer and pulling out a second set of slides.

"Thanks, Dr. Banner," Tony said, determinedly not looking in the direction of the first set. Dr. Banner smiled at him.

"I'm sorry; I know you must be bored. And terribly confused. I promise we will resolve this as soon as possible."

Tony nodded. He wasn't confused because it wasn't like the situation was hard to understand. He'd been in a fight; someone had turned him into a child (by magic, according to Captain America, but Tony wasn't sure he believed that. The captain probably thought Tony wouldn't be able to understand the science behind it if he explained it. Or maybe he couldn't explain the science because he didn't understand it.) Anyway, it wasn't complicated; just irritating.

"Right," said Dr. Banner, running a hand through his hair. "You—"

"I'll be fine here, if you've got something to do," Tony interrupted him, but Dr. Banner shook his head.

"There are a few things I need to do. Might as well do them now."

Tony sighed in reply.

As it turned out, Tony didn't get the chance to break into the drawer before Dr. Banner dragged him to dinner despite Tony's protests that he wasn't a growing boy and he was in the middle of something here. Tony had moved from the microscope to the mass spectrometer — examining it only, because he didn't have a solid grasp on how it worked and what could be done with it.

On the plus side, Mr. Barton had decided that they were going to have pizza and he'd even ordered Tony's favourite.

Tony was just about to sit down at the kitchen table and reach for a slice when Dr. Banner grabbed his shoulder. "Wash your hands first."

"But it'll get cold!"

"You've been playing with biological samples. Wash your hands."

"I haven't been playing," Tony replied, throwing a glare at Dr. Banner before stomping off towards the bathroom he'd dressed in earlier that day.

When he came back, a red-headed woman had sat herself down next to Mr. Barton and Dr. Banner was busying himself with getting glasses for them all. "Lemonade?"

"Sure," Tony mumbled, plopping down on a chair and turning towards the woman. "Are you Miss Natasha?"

She smiled. "I am."

She had a pretty smile. It didn't look fake or stressed, and it gave her light crinkles around the eyes. Tony decided to tell her so.

"He really hasn't changed at all," Mr. Barton guffawed around a mouthful of pizza.

"I wouldn't say that," Miss Natasha replied and then nodded at Tony. "Thank you."

Tony grinned at her. "So, have you talked to this Dr. Richards? Captain America said you would." He finally reached for a slice of pizza. It was still warm, which was good.

"I have. He said you should come by tomorrow." She turned away from him and addressed Dr. Banner, who'd finally sat down at the table, too. "I talked to Pepper; she's arranging the car. Security is down to us."

Dr. Banner nodded. "Steve?"

"Yes, and me and you." She raised her hand. "He seems to trust you."

Tony swallowed the lump of pizza in his mouth, feeling it was time he spoke up. "I'm here, by the way. You can totally ask my opinion on this."

"Tony," Dr. Banner said solemnly. "Would you like Agent Romanoff, Captain America and me to go with you to Dr. Richards?"

"Sure," Tony said brightly, keeping back a snort because that was such a great amount of bullshit humouring that he couldn't decide if he was amused or insulted. "But only if we stop for donuts on the way."

"Deal."

Tony slept fine for all that he had to sleep on the couch in his own tower, because Dr. Banner had decreed that Tony's own bedroom was too full of potentially dangerous things. Because Tony — adult Tony, that was — apparently liked tinkering even in his bedroom, which was something that Tony totally got, only Tony was also sure that Dr. Banner wasn't being entirely truthful, especially because he'd been talking with Captain America and Captain America's ears had turned red during the conversation and Tony was now pretty sure that he — adult Tony — must have magazines in his bedroom and that Captain America knew about them, or suspected. Maybe adult Tony had shared them with him.

Tony didn't know how to feel about that.

In any case, he didn't get to go to his own room, but the couch was okay too. Breakfast was fairly quiet. Captain America and Miss Natasha were the only people who were awake when Tony and Dr. Banner entered the kitchen.

Tony didn't eat much for breakfast because he didn't want to be too full to eat all the donuts they could buy, and then some. He did eat one piece of toast because Captain America looked at him as if he were terribly disappointed that Tony preferred donuts to toast.

Then they had to leave, which brought about a new problem, namely the fact that Tony had no shoes that would fit him and was absolutely not, no way, no how, going to be carried to the car – even if he had to make do with a pair of sneakers belonging to Miss Natasha. They were too big, of course, and Tony had to be careful not to stumble as they all made their way to the elevator.

The mirror in the elevator confirmed what Tony had suspected: he looked like a bum. His dad would have a heart attack if he could see him, which reminded Tony that he didn't know where his parents were. He assumed they didn't all live in the tower because it certainly sounded like this was Tony's own place.

He frowned. On the one hand, he thought his parents might want to know what had happened to him. On the other, it wasn't like they could help. Well, his dad maybe because his dad was really, really smart, but this didn't seem like an engineering problem. Still. "Do my parents know?"

Captain America actually flinched, which confirmed Tony's suspicion that they did not. "Oh my god," Tony exclaimed. "You're keeping me a secret! From my own dad!"

"No!" Captain America shouted. "I mean—" He broke off, looking shifty-eyed.

"You are! But I won't tell on you, you know," Tony continued magnanimously. Captain America let out a strange noise, but it sounded like he might be grateful. Tony could understand that. His dad was … not exactly scary when he was angry, but he did always manage to make you feel really bad. The worst times were when Tony screwed up so much that he wouldn't even comment on what Tony had done. Or even look at Tony.

"That's very kind of you, Tony," Miss Natasha said, and Captain America let out another noise, but it was mostly drowned out by the dinging of the elevator. They proceeded to the car — a Mercedes, Tony noted absently — and set off towards Dr. Richards' place, And Dunkin' Donuts, where Tony was not allowed to buy the whole place or even just eat to his heart's content. In fact, Tony only got to eat one donut before they arrived at their actual destination because Dr. Banner said that Dr. Richards might have to run some tests and no one wanted Tony to throw up thirty donuts. He actually said thirty even though Tony assured him that he wouldn't eat more than eight or so. Actually, they had only bought six and Tony was sure that Captain America was eying his donuts with more than a little hunger.

"If you hold onto that box any tighter, you're going to crush the donuts," Dr. Banner said.

Tony glared.

"Leave them in the car, Tony. No one will steal your donuts."

"And besides," Miss Natasha continued, "even if there is a donut thief on the premises, we do have the means to buy you more."

"Mr. Hogan will watch them for you," Captain America added, and Mr. Hogan nodded. He looked sort of trustworthy, so Tony relented. "I'm taking one with me."

Dr. Banner rubbed at his temples. "Fine."

Dr. Richards was waiting for them at the door. He introduced himself to Tony, even going so far as to shake hands, which meant that Tony had to transfer the donut to his other hand, and then ushered them inside.

What followed was one of the most boring mornings Tony had ever had and that included his time stuck in a cabinet when he was trying to spy on one of his dad's projects. Sure, Dr. Richards was talking to him and was even explaining things in a way that meant he understood that Tony wasn't stupid, but most of the time Tony only had to stand very still and wait while readings were taken. And wait. And then wait some more while Dr. Richards bent over them and frowned a lot.

By noon Tony was ready to either break out or break out in hives from sheer boredom. And he wanted his donuts, because he was hungry.

"We'll have lunch," Dr. Banner said. "You can have a donut after that."

Tony gritted his teeth. "You are the most boringly normal person in existence."

"I wish," Dr. Banner muttered in reply.

"A break would do us all some good," Captain America said. "If that is fine with you, Dr. Richards?" At the man's nod, he put a hand on Tony's back and pushed him out of Dr. Richard's lab.

They had lunch. They returned to the lab. The minutes and hours continued to crawl by.

"I have decided to become religious," Tony announced at one point. The only one to reaction to that came from Miss Natasha, who raised an eyebrow. Tony took it as a sign to continue. "I'm going to worship God, the one from the Old Testament; because he blew things up and that sounds awesome right about now."

"God didn't blow things up, Tony," Captain America said.

"He destroyed a few towns by throwing fire at them. That's blowing things up in my book," Tony replied.

"He...yes, okay. He did do that, but God doesn't just destroy things to be less bored."

"Not this one, in any case," Dr. Banner interjected, and then he eyeballed Captain America.

"Which one does then?" Tony asked.

"None that you need to worry about."

It was evening by the time Dr. Richards declared himself satisfied, and then he threw them all out. Well, he didn't exactly throw them out; just politely requested to be left in peace, as Dr. Banner put it later when he told the other Avengers — there was a name for their team! — about their day at Dr. Richards.

"He's going over the data and will contact us in a few days."

"Awesome," Mr. Barton said. "So, I guess we need a rotary for babysitting."

Tony opened his mouth.

"Surely, young Tony is old enough not to need swaddling." That was the blond man, whose name Tony still hadn't learned. Tony instantly decided he liked him even if he was wearing a Halloween costume. Maybe that was his superhero outfit, though.

"Tony's safety is important," Captain America replied before Mr. Barton could say something else. "And we've made a lot of enemies."

The blond man nodded. "Indeed, you're right." He turned towards Tony, picking up a bag that lay near his feet. "The Lady Potts has bid me to give these to you."

Tony took the bag and looked inside. Clothes; clothes that looked like they fit, in fact. And a pair of sneakers in the right size. "How does she know my shoe size?" Tony asked, while wondering who Lady Potts was.

"I called her and gave a rough estimate," Dr. Banner said. "Since it seemed like you might be stuck like this for a while yet."

"A while," Tony repeated.

"A few days, we hope."

"You hope!" Tony exclaimed. "I thought Dr. Richards told you that he would be able to turn me back by then!"

"No, that's not what we said, Tony," Dr. Banner said, raising a hand and trying to speak in a soothing tone. Tony was having none of it.

"Call my mom and dad. They need to know." And his dad could probably do as much as Dr. Richards could. Or at least pay him to work faster.

The adults exchanged glances; all except the blond man who was frowning.

"Tony," Dr. Banner said gently. "We can't do that. Your..." He trailed off and looked at Tony sadly, and—

And Tony knew. He knew. Because Tony was quite aware that people just sometimes left others behind. He knew that.

"No," said Tony's mouth, though, and his head was shaking left to right. "No." Tony whirled around, dropping the bag, and just started running. He didn't know where he was going, but he couldn't stand to be another minute among people who did not bother to tell him that his parents were no longer there.

Someone, Captain America, shouted his name and someone else said something in reply, but by then Tony was too far away to make out the words. He flung himself into the elevator, pushing a random button somewhere near the bottom, and waited for the doors to close.

Then he cried.

When the door had dinged, Tony hadn't waited to see where he was. He had pushed the button right at the top, figuring it might open to the roof. It was night; hopefully there was no one there because he wanted to be alone right now.

So, of course, the stupid elevator opened to the floor he'd been on and Captain America entered. He hit a random button before pushing a red one, stopping the downwards motion. Then he sat on the floor and looked at Tony. Tony stared at the door.

"I'm sorry," he said. Tony bit his bottom lip and crossed his arms over his chest. Captain America sighed. "I know this will be hard to believe, but we were trying not to hurt you. If—," he swallowed, "if this would have passed faster, you needn't have learnt about it because your adult self already knows."

"You lied to me," Tony croaked and snarled at himself because his stupid voice sounded thick and watery and like he'd been crying.

"I did," Captain America said. "And I'm sorry."

"If you hadn't done that in the first place, you wouldn't need to apologize now," Tony said harshly, his dad's words echoing in his head. Their weight, their meaning.

And just like Tony, Captain America didn't know how to reply to that.

Despite not having done much of anything all day, Tony was so tired that he fell asleep before his head got anywhere close to his pillow and he slept for ten hours straight. Ten hours of bad sleep and awful dreams, but when he woke up he wished he could go to sleep again.

Because reality was worse.

Tony washed haphazardly, ran a hand through his hair then slouched into the kitchen-cum-breakfast room, not entirely surprised to find that he didn't get a moment's peace, though at least it was only the blond man who was waiting for him. Tony threw a glance at the package of toast before deciding that he wasn't hungry. His mouth was dry, though, so he got a glass from one of the cabinets and filled it with water from the tap before sitting down.

The man didn't say anything, which was good because Tony wasn't in the mood to talk, really. He drank his water.

"I was not granted the opportunity to introduce myself," the man suddenly said. Tony looked at him from the corner of his eye. "I am Thor." He held out a hand.

Tony sighed and put down his glass before reaching out to shake. The man's hand easily dwarfed his own and it wasn't just that Tony was a kid. The man was huge. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Thor."

Mr. Thor's lips twitched. "Just Thor."

Tony acknowledged this with a nod, then returned to nursing his glass of water. Another minute passed.

"It pained me greatly, when I was informed of my father's demise."

Tony's hand twitched. He let his breath out slowly.

"He had just exiled me to this realm," the man continued. "And I had been thinking unkind thoughts towards him and towards my brother because of our argument. To be told that I would never see him again, wouldn't be given the chance to make amends—"

"Stop," Tony said, and his fist hit the table. "Just. Stop." The tears were threatening again. Tony wiped at his eyes, but that only made things worse.

He stood up; took the glass that was still a quarter full and headed towards the sink, taking way longer than necessary to fill it up. When he had himself under control again, Tony turned around and sat back down at the kitchen table. He didn't want to leave because one person seeing him lose it was more than enough and he had no idea where the other adults were.

He clung to his glass. The silence was terribly awkward.

Something tickled at the back of Tony's mind and he went over what Thor had said. There had been something strange about it.

"Realm?" Tony finally asked, hitting upon the word that had confused him.

"Yes," Thor said. "I'm not from Midgard. From Earth."

Tony frowned at him. The man didn't seem to be pulling a prank on him, but still. "You're an alien?" he asked carefully.

"I am Aesir," Thor replied, which was interesting...probably. If Tony knew what that was at all. His confusion must have shown on his face because Thor went on, "I am a god."

This was not exactly in the realm of probability, but just in case the man was actually serious, it would probably be a good idea to humour him. Tony cast about for something suitable to say in reply. "So, do you make things explode?"

"I do not," Thor exclaimed. He stuck a hand underneath the table and then held up a hammer. "I use Mjölnir to vanquish my enemies."

Tony thought this over. Hammers weren't really made for large-scale destruction, which was an indication that Thor was not, in fact, a god.

"That's...cool," Tony finally said because he couldn't figure out what to say in reply. Thor seemed to be happy enough with the answer, going by his wide smile.

Which turned fond, before he spoke again. "My father gifted it to me."

Tony kept himself from flinching, barely. "What are you doing here if you're a god?" he said quickly.

"At first, I had come here to retrieve my brother, but I have stayed for the Lady Jane and to help my fellow warriors." He nodded at Tony, and Tony felt a little bit proud and happy that Thor remembered that he was a superhero, too. Adult him, that was. Tony himself didn't really feel like a superhero at all at the moment. He felt sad and lonely and just plain sick of it all.

"We have fought some truly remarkable battles."

Tony leaned forward, prepared to ask Thor to continue, — anything to forget about that sick feeling in his chest, and besides, he was interested in hearing more about these battles — but Thor didn't need any prompting.

"Hey kid."

Tony glared as Mr. Barton flopped down on the couch next to him. He'd been doodling on a piece of paper, trying to come up with a design for a robot before abandoning that plan — his adult self probably had already done that anyway — and settling down to watch TV.

"Oh, come on." The man grinned at him. "You're about half my size; that means I can call you kid."

"Does that mean Thor can call you kid, then?" Tony snapped. "Since he's a giant."

"Nah," Mr. Barton replied, "he could because he's a couple centuries older than I am, though. And he's not a giant."

Tony thought they were losing track of the real issue here. Also, centuries. Either Thor had convinced everyone else of his supposed god-ness. Or…Or he was actually a god.

"I'm usually taller, though."

"Not taller than me, you're not."

Unfortunately Tony had no way to tell if that was the truth, so he glowered at Mr. Barton. "I still don't need a babysitter," he said instead, and Mr. Barton pulled a face.

"You're still hung up on that. Okay, fine. Fine." He raised his hands as Tony continued to glower. "No babysitting. Just security." He turned towards the screen. "So, anything interesting on?"

Three days. Three whole days before Dr. Richards contacted them. Couldn't the man work faster? And when he finally did come by — he might as well not have.

Tony had just sat down to play a round of Snap with Miss Potts — Pepper, whose name was actually Virginia, but adult Tony had given her a nickname and she had liked it enough to introduce herself as Pepper. Anyway, Pepper was very nice and said she was his friend and also that she ran his company, so she was smart, too, probably. Tony didn't think he would hire an idiot or be friends with one, which was why Tony actually didn't have many friends. His adult self did, though, which was all kinds of neat. So, Tony had just sat down to play a game with Pepper when the automated voice that sounded suspiciously like their butler, Jarvis, but was not Jarvis, as Tony had been assured, announced that Dr. Richards was on the way up.

Pepper smiled at him. Tony smiled back hesitantly, but it didn't feel true. He was nervous; he wanted this to be over with, and it wasn't that he didn't like being himself since he didn't actually remember being an adult. It was just, well. Adult Tony was a superhero. Adult Tony could do whatever he wanted and adult Tony had not just learned that his parents were dead, and if he had ... adult Tony could deal with it. Tony didn't want to. He just wanted to forget the whole past week, except maybe for a few things, like the stories Thor told or all the donuts Tony had eaten, because he liked those and dad never bought him any.

Dad never would again.

"Tony?" Tony looked up. He hadn't even noticed Dr. Richards come into the room. Or Dr. Banner and Captain America, for that matter.

"Dr. Richards," he said, making to stand up, but Dr. Richards waved him off, choosing to sit down himself instead. His face was closed off; grave.

Pitying.

Tony sucked in a breath, the words 'you don't know how to fix this; how to fix me' lining up behind his tongue, but he couldn't speak them because that would make them real.

"Tony, I'm sorry. This might take longer than we thought."

"How much longer?" Pepper broke in.

Dr. Richards winced, eyes darting towards Tony, then back. Tony raised his chin. He wasn't going to cry; and he didn't want to be lied to.

"You have to understand that the magic that was used didn't simply shrink him." He paused. "It basically reversed time for him."

"And you don't know how to age him back up again?" Pepper asked, though it sounded more like a statement.

Dr. Richards shook his head. "I could age him. I mean, if that was the goal. But it would only work on his body. He'd still be ten, mentally."

"You said it would take time?" Captain America interrupted, and Tony was glad that he'd asked because Tony could hardly breathe, let alone form a thought and speak.

"I don't have the technology yet. In a few years, maybe. Two, if that's all I worked on and had the funding—"

"You'll get the funding," Pepper spoke up. "You don't need to worry about that. SI will fund it." She put an arm around Tony, but Tony's body was stiff and cold.

Dr. Richards glanced at Tony again. "I am sorry," he said, while his face became the only thing that Tony could see. Everything else was bright and blurry and drowned out by the sound of Tony's heartbeat in his ears. "I am."

Tony was on the couch, sleeping; only, of course, he wasn't. The living room was empty, Pepper having chased everyone out earlier, and dark because Tony had slept after Pepper had left, at least until he was woken because something heavy and crushing sat on his chest during a dream. Tony couldn't remember what it was about and didn't think he even wanted to. His throat was dry and he was thirsty again. It seemed like he spent half his time here drinking something, the other — the other thinking about things he didn't want to think about.

He sat up and threw off the blanket, reaching down for the pair of socks he'd been wearing earlier and putting them on. He was still wearing most of his clothes because he couldn't be bothered to take them off and Pepper hadn't pushed and Tony was still cold.

There was a light on in the kitchen when Tony came closer and he hesitated because he didn't really want to speak to anyone. Then there was the sound of something breaking and someone cursed colorfully in a way Tony had never heard before, which if Thor really was a god would make sense. Gods had to be cursing differently after all.

Tony entered the kitchen.

Thor was standing near the sink, frowning at his right hand. A few shards of glass surrounded him and his hand was bleeding slightly.

"Is everything alright?" Tony asked even though it very definitely wasn't.

Thor whipped his head around. "Oh, yes. No." He held up his bleeding hand. "There are shards stuck in my skin still."

Tony inched closer, taking care to step short off the piece of glass still lying around. "I think I saw some tweezers in the bathroom. I can help?"

Thor's face brightened into a smile. "I would be much obliged, my friend."

When Tony returned with the tweezers, he found Thor sitting at the kitchen table and a bloodied brush and dustpan lying in the kitchen sink. Tony ignored the dustpan and pulled out a chair to sit closer to Thor. He took the man's hand and angled it towards the light before seeking out the shards stuck in his palm.

Tony had been working for maybe a minute or two, when Thor began to fidget.

"A moment," Tony said, eerily reminded of his mother saying the exact same words whenever she was plucking shards out of Tony's hand or putting a band-aid around his finger after Tony had again managed to break something or blow it up. He liked those times; mom almost never really scolded him. She admonished him a little, of course, but mostly she just sighed and smiled and told him to keep still.

Tony ground his teeth together. This was stupid.

"I think that's all of them," he finally said, tilting his head and Thor's hand in all directions. It seemed like he'd gotten them all.

"Thank you," Thor rumbled at him, and Tony shrugged in reply. He got up to finally get a glass of water, then settled back down at the table. This time the silence wasn't awkward. Maybe, Tony thought, it's that way between friends. Thor was his friend, after all, and now that Tony knew him a bit better he could see why his adult self liked the guy. He knew a lot of really neat stories and he didn't treat Tony like a small kid — well, he probably wouldn't be treating adult Tony like a small kid anyway, but that was beside the point. Actually, maybe that was exactly the point. Compared to Thor, who, being a god, had to be thousands of years old if not more, Tony — no matter his age — had to seem like a child. So it probably didn't matter to him if Tony was six or sixty.

Tony wished it didn't matter to him, either.

They sat in silence for a while until Thor began to fidget again. He was frowning, too. Tony hoped he hadn't done anything to make Thor feel uncomfortable with him. He didn't think he had, but...Tony sighed. It was probably best to deal with this head on. "What's the matter?"

Thor opened his mouth, but didn't speak. He looked first at the door and then at the ceiling and then he looked back at Tony, pressed his lips together and shook his head. But then he frowned harder and stood up, looking at Tony expectantly.

Tony stood up as well.

Thor led him to an outside balcony and Tony shivered in the cool air. It was windy up here. Thor looked at him for another second, then took of his red cape and wrapped it around Tony.

"My brother," he said, "is a sorcerer of no small amount of talent."

"Okay," Tony replied when it seemed that some sort of answer was expected here. Thor nodded as if that meant that they were both on the same wavelength. Tony hoped they would synchronize soon. He was still cold despite the thick wool sheltering him from the worst of the cold breeze.

"And he owes you a favour."

"Oh," Tony said and, oh. Sorcerer, magic. Magic. If gods were real, magic might be as well, and Tony would probably have to apologize to Captain America for thinking badly of him and his explanation skills. "You mean," Tony said, hardly daring to hope, "you mean he might know how to fix me?"

"I am quite certain."

"Why didn't you say so right away?" Tony cried. He could have been turned back by now! Why had Thor kept this a secret?

Thor grimaced. "Loki is misguided at times. He has done a great many things that have upset a lot of people. Our brothers in arms did not react favourably when I suggested seeking his help." Thor's eyes flicked towards the door. "They would not approve if I were to take you to him."

Tony couldn't really care less about that. "Is he going to hurt me?"

"I would never allow that," Thor replied. "He may be my brother, but you are my friend."

That wasn't exactly reassuring, Tony thought, pursing his lips. It would figure there was a catch.

As if sensing Tony's misgivings, Thor spoke up again. "I do not believe that he would. Loki, despite his faults, does like children and will let no harm come to them — even those who are not children, in truth — and you and he have built a certain rapport."

That sounded better. Less Tony-might-get-turned-into-a-toad and more Tony-might-get-fixed-after-all. Tony bit his lip, then told himself to stop being a baby. He was a superhero; he was not going to be afraid. "Take me to him," Tony said.

"I do wonder what it is that makes you believe I desire your company," Thor's brother said when he finally opened the door. Thor had been hammering at it and shouting for at least five minutes before threatening to hit it with his hammer. Half a minute into the tirade, Tony had given up staring at the door and had begun looking at the decorations in the hallway they were in. Most of them were tapestries, whose colours were so bright and shining and real that Tony would swear the people and animals in them were moving. And maybe they were. After being teleported and crossing a bridge that simply hung in the air with no support structures to speak of, Tony wouldn't be surprised.

"Brother," Thor said, and Loki glared at him. "I have come to help you repay the debt you owe to Tony Stark."

Loki crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow. "Have you now."

"Indeed," Thor intoned and then took a step back and pointed at Tony. "Our friend has been cursed."

Loki turned towards Tony and stared at him for a few seconds. Then he bent over and began to shake. The laughter that rang out was louder than it should have been because it echoed up and down the hallway. Tony's eyes narrowed. He lifted up the cape, so he wouldn't trip over it as he had on the way here, then stomped towards the man until he was almost close enough to bump noses with him. "This is not funny," he said, staring directly into Loki's eyes. Which wasn't a good idea, really, because his own eyes were stinging and he could feel the tears building up.

But Loki did stop laughing. He took a long look at Tony's face and then said, "You're right, of course." Then he straightened up and turned towards Thor. "Very well. Take your cape with you when you go."

"I'm not leaving," Thor said and took a step towards Loki's room.

Loki blocked his way, an angry flush spreading over his face as he took in Thor's expression. "Yes, you are."

"Tony cannot defend himself."

Loki blinked and then chuckled, but it didn't sound very happy. "You think I would harm him? While repaying my debt?" Thor opened his mouth, but Loki spoke over him. "Think carefully before you answer."

"He is a ten year old boy," Thor said after a pause. "And you are a stranger to him."

Tony winced. He had been afraid — still was a little, to be honest — but he was also a superhero and Thor's teammate and he was not going to show any fear, especially after all the stories Thor told him about his bravery. "It's fine," Tony said. "I'm not scared at all."

"A true warrior," Loki murmured, and Tony couldn't tell if that was supposed to be sarcastic or not. "Will you impugn upon his honour by labelling him a coward?"

Thor scowled. "I will visit with mother and return in a little while." He held out his hand towards Tony. It took Tony a moment to remember that Loki wanted Thor to take his cape with him. Once he did, he unwrapped himself and handed it over. Thor nodded at him and strode away.

Tony took a deep breath and inched past him into Loki's room. It was…messy. There was no other word for it. There were books piled haphazardly upon every surface, including the floor. Plates of half-touched food, goblets, forks. All kinds of strange instruments, plus knives and daggers, and things Tony didn't even have words for. There was no order or system that Tony could discern, unless you counted utter chaos as a kind of governing principle of order.

"Doesn't your mother ever tell you to tidy up?" Tony asked, thinking back to Thor's comment about visiting their mother. This was the palace, after all. She must live here.

Loki made a sound and then stared at Tony as if he was seeing him for the first time. His face became less stern and he chuckled again, but this time he really did sound amused. "Not for the last six centuries or so," he finally replied, closing the door and stalking past Tony to pick up a goblet and sniff at it. He put it down on the only free space available – a desk that gave of the impression of being a worktable, though Tony had no clue why he thought this – and started to throw stuff into it, everything from berries to a feather. He never hesitated either, and Tony began to think that despite the chaos Loki knew exactly where everything was.

At last, the man poured some sort of brownish liquid into the goblet, before picking it back up and thrusting it towards Tony. "Drink up."

Tony decided it was time to get a few things straight before he ingested anything, let alone a feather. "Have you ever turned anyone into a toad?"

Loki blinked at him. "No," he said, then seemed to think this over. "At least, not as of yet."

That wasn't ominous at all.

"It will not turn you into a toad," Loki said when Tony made no move to take the goblet.

"Okay," Tony said. "But how does this work? How does a feather and some yellow stuff turn me back?"

"It won't," Loki replied. "This is simply a way make the magicks cast upon you visible." He leaned back against the workbench and waved a hand. A small stool slid out from underneath a pile of armour and came to a stop next to Tony. Tony took the hint and sat down. "The feather is for visual acuity. You know that some birds have excellent eyesight?" Tony nodded. "It's a … symbol. A representation of what I want to happen. As is everything but the honeyed wine. That's a conduit." He paused. "And it makes this taste much better than water would."

"So, the feather could have been something else?" Tony asked. "Like a lense or something?"

"I doubt you'd want to drink ground glass, but yes. It could have been."

That still didn't explain how magic worked. Tony rubbed at his nose and thought. The movement of the stool was probably down to a form of telekinesis. Psychic energy turned into kinetic energy, and if Loki made him glow or something that was radiant energy, maybe.

The need for a feather still didn't make much sense.

"I do have other obligations, child."

Tony huffed, then held out his hand for the goblet. He did want to get this over with, too, after all, and Loki probably wasn't going to turn him into a toad.

The god raised an eyebrow at him but did take a couple of steps forward and handed him the goblet. Tony squinted into it. He couldn't see anything but the yellow liquid, no hint of anything more solid.

It also tasted...not bad. Not good either, but it didn't make him gag or anything. Tony emptied the goblet and handed it back to Loki. A second later, a rush of warm washed over him and lines of light began to spread over his skin, unimpeded by his clothes. Loki hummed and started circling Tony.

"That is some excellent spellwork," he finally said, though Tony got the impression he was talking to himself.

"Does that mean you can't fix it?" Tony asked, past a lump in his throat.

"Please," Loki said. "Don't insult me."

He pursed his lips briefly, then turned towards a pile of books leaning precariously to the left and generally giving of the impression that the only reason it wasn't falling over was that the books were somehow held up by magic. Plain old physics didn't allow for it, Tony was sure. Loki crooked a finger and the third book from the bottom flew into his hand, while the book above that one continued to hover in place.

Loki began browsing the book for a minute or two before putting it down on the worktable. It was opened to a page that showed a complex drawing, almost a schematic, though Tony didn't think it was.

"Up," Loki said suddenly. This wasn't actually directed at him, Tony realised a moment later when nearly half of the mess on the floor floated towards the ceiling, clearing a roundish space. Loki reached for a piece of chalk, glanced at Tony for a moment, then knelt down and set to drawing on the floor.

Tony watched him for a while, trying to figure out what the lines and symbols represented, but he could make neither heads nor tails of them. Oh sure, there was a pattern, Tony could tell that much, but that was about all he could tell.

The whole thing quickly became boring. Tony frowned. As far as he could tell, Loki was simply copying the design from the book. From memory, admittedly, but still. He probably could be talked to without Tony having to fear being scolded for interrupting.

Tony decided to chance it. "If you're Thor's brother, you must be a god, too."

Loki paused in the middle of drawing a squiggly line. "Yes. I'm the god of lies and mischief."

Tony considered this. "Do you blow things up?"

"Frequently."

"Neat," Tony said. Then he brightened. "Oh! You're the god that Captain America talked about!"

Loki made a face at him. "Dare I ask what he said?"

"He didn't really say much," Tony replied. "I told him that I was going to become religious because God — the one from the Old Testament — blew things up, and then he said that that's the wrong god to worship when it comes to blowing things up out of boredom."

Loki put a hand over his mouth and made a strangled noise. When he spoke to Tony, his eyes sparkled brightly. "I wouldn't mind another worshipper, if you're still interested after turning back into your old self." He paused. "I promise you that I can always be counted upon to provide relief from boredom."

"Sure." Tony beamed at him.

Loki continued to draw for a while. When he was nearly done, he looked up and said, "Tony, go and fetch the bedspread."

"Why?" Tony asked as he moved to comply.

"Your clothes won't change with you. Take them off and wrap it around you." He pointed towards a door that Tony hadn't noticed before. Maybe it hadn't been there before.

When Tony returned, bedspread wrapped around him like a toga, Loki had positioned several candles around his drawing. "Take your place at the center. Be careful not to step on the lines."

As soon as Tony was in place, Loki began to move his hands and murmur under his breath. One after another, the candles began to light up on their own until only one was left.

Tony blacked out.

Tony groaned as his eyes fluttered open and he was greeted with the sight of Thor leaning over him and looking worried. "Tony, my friend, are you well?"

"Probably," Tony muttered. Except for the fact that he was lying on the floor in Loki's chambers, wearing nothing more than a sheet, he was peachy.

"I did say so, Thor." Loki was sitting in an armchair, reading a book. Or pretending to be reading a book, more like.

The floor really wasn't comfortable enough to keep lying on it. Tony moved to stand up, keeping one hand on the sheet while pushing up with the other. "Got anything I could wear?" he asked Thor, but it was Loki who answered.

"Not my problem, Stark." He lowered his book to smirk at Tony. "Unless you'd like to pray for divine assistance?"

Tony barely kept a rein on his expression. Jesus, fuck. Why couldn't he have been graced with retrograde amnesia?

"I shall find something," Thor interjected. "Wait but a moment."

"You're an asshole," Tony said to Loki when Thor was gone. Loki raised an eyebrow, and yeah, what else was new. "Though the whole being nice to children thing will probably get you laughed out of the villains' club," Tony finished and smirked at him.

"I'm not a monster, Stark," Loki replied, face solemn. Then he closed his eyes and snorted softly. He seemed to consider saying more for a moment, but decided against it in the end and turned back to his book.

Tony waited for a second but it looked like the conversation was over. Fine.

Thor returned a little while later and Tony changed into actual clothes; they were too big, which brought on a sense of deja vu. The shoes were a couple of sizes too big, too, and Tony absolutely refused to look even more like Beppo, the Clown. Barefoot it was.

Loki didn't look up from his book until Thor and Tony had left the room, which was just as well. Tony didn't want to be ribbed about things he said or did while he was ten-years-old. Unfortunately, Thor seemed to have different ideas.

"I shall not mention that you hath worn my brother's drapes, my friend," he said as they stopped before a tapestry. Thor pulled it aside and gestured for Tony to enter the narrow passage hidden behind it. His lips were twitching.

"It was the bedspread, actually," Tony replied; then winced because that didn't make it better – though it was more in line with what people expected of Tony Stark.

Thor's expression grew smug. "Indeed."

"Well, it certainly feels like I'm sneaking out after having a tryst," Tony said, watching Thor's expression turn from smug to shifty.

He mumbled something under his breath, then said more loudly, "Mortals aren't supposed to be in Asgard."

Tony stopped walking. "You're breaking the law."

"No, my friend. It is you who is breaking the law," Thor said, as he halted as well and looked back at Tony.

"You're aiding and abetting. That's also breaking the law where I'm from."

"I'm a prince of Asgard. It wouldn't do for me to break the law."

"Right," Tony said. "Just — that Heimdall guy saw us."

Thor pursed his lips and looked towards the ceiling. "Heimdall sees many things, but does not know all. And from afar no one can tell that you are mortal," Thor concluded, waving at a servant that was hurrying out of a side passage up ahead of them. "You didn't eat anything Loki offered you?" he asked suddenly.

"Ah, no?" He had drunk something. That wasn't eating. Tony hurried on. "I wasn't keen on the leftovers. Does your brother eat at all?"

"He does," Thor replied in an absent tone as they began walking again.

Tony sensed a story. "Oh?"

"When we were younger, my brother would spend all of his allowance on books. Then trick me out of my own to buy food from Elven merchants."

"Sweettooth?"

Thor shook his head. "Loki simply is not fond of boar or most Asgardian cuisine. He will eat at feasts, but left to his own devices his tastes run towards the unusual."

They left the palace via the same side door they had entered and turned left towards the gate and the floating bridge behind it. On the way across, Tony turned to take one last look at the golden city. After all, it was unlikely that he'd ever see it again.

Thor paused, waiting for Tony to tear his gaze away.

"So, I guess we're returning by Bifrost?" Tony said when they neared the end of the bridge. They had been picked up by the Einstein-Rosen Bridge a few hundred miles outside New York after Thor had flown them from the balcony of Tony's Tower. A wormhole opening up would have attracted the attention of their teammates after all.

Tony came to an abrupt halt once again. They'd have to return that way if they wanted to avoid detection, and the only way Thor was going to be able to carry Tony was if Tony was riding on his back.

Crap.