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Loki sometimes thought of taking the boys away.
It would be easy, now that he’d settled in the Tower. The others were used to his presence, his habits. His … idiosyncrasies.
Tony, with his guard down. Thor, forever with his guard down. Fool.
When he had these thoughts, though--these thoughts of taking and hiding--they were almost always dispelled … by the way Fray reached for Tony’s hand on their way out the door. By hearing the Widow speak quietly to the boys in Russian, a slight smile on her face. By seeing the Captain hold Fray upside-down, both ankles in one huge hand as the boy laughed and squirmed.
By the knowledge that his sons were protected--not just by their parents, but by a collection of the realm’s mightiest heroes.
He scoffed at the word, but, for now, this situation suited him, even as he looked for new reasons to draw away, to remove his sons from these influences.
From their father’s influence.
Most of the time, Loki was … unimpressed by Tony’s influence. After all, Tony Stark would never see things as Loki saw them. It was a limitation. One limitation--one of many of whatever they had. Understanding it was difficult, yes, but expressing it, impossible. Tony saw differently, thought differently--and was stubborn enough to refuse Loki’s persuasions, his threats--just on principle.
For example:
Tony played a strange game, to the amusement of his teammates. He liked to lay wager to which of the Avengers, when accompanying toddler Fray or tiny Colin, generated the most excitement--the pop of artificial lights--among the … vermin that lurked outside the Tower. Loki would watch them from a lower-floor window, eyes narrowed: two-legged vermin with craning necks and black metal lenses instead of snouts.
Loki didn’t see the point--would rather have disposed of the vermin with a simple displacement spell, but Tony insisted, laughing off Loki’s concerns. Ergo, the list went something like this, from least magnetic to most:
6. Nanny: Her low ranking was understandable--it was your usual celebrity-offspring outing, a harried woman with distracted children in tow.
5. Hawkeye or Widow: Unfair, in Tony’s estimation, but of course they were “just” human. The Widow’s ranking also was mixed with a layer of gender bias, he said--she was female, so her appearance with an infant or toddler was expected … as ridiculous as that cliche was when applied to that particular woman.
4. Captain America: The general consensus was “huge gorgeous man plus tiny child equals estrogen gold,” and it would sell lots of People magazines.
3. Thor: Ditto. The “huge gorgeous alien man” gave him a slight edge over Steve--but only slight.
(“No offense, Cap,” Tony had offered. “Never took ‘too human’ as an insult, Tony,” he replied.)
2. Bruce Banner--no, not the Hulk, but that was the whole point. Us magazine particularly enjoyed the juxtaposition of Bruce with an infant in his arms and the inevitable inset thumbnail of a raging Hulk--and could they be blamed?
“Why expose our children to that?” Loki asked, disgusted, after Tony had suggested Bruce walk Fray to Gymboree class.
“They have to get used to it, babe,” was the answer. “Might as well do it when they’re safe. Besides, according to the board,” he pointed, “anyone is going to draw less attention than I will.”
Because, occupying the number-one slot? Tony Himself. (This was written verbatim on a board in the kitchen, followed by several exclamation points.) Not only was a shot of Iron Man with one of his children invaluable, but it was necessary for the article after article--after article--that speculated on the mother of said offspring.
The articles left little doubt: Tony would have been demoted to second place had their situation been slightly different, had they been more forthcoming about their family situation.
For Tony and Loki had decided, with unsolicited input from Nick Fury, Maria Hill, the council’s giant heads, and all the Avengers (save Thor), that Loki’s return to Midgard and subsequent impregnation with two Avenger babies would be kept, in Fury’s adamant declaration, “on the down low.” Tony had simply appeared one day with a newborn in his arms, a name announcement (“Stark”--not “Starkson”--for the public), and scant details, which he delivered with a wink and for-once genuine smile.
The birth certificate backed him up.
The media--the public--went insane, and Tony did not emerge from the Tower with Fray without every step, every expression, every interaction documented.
Two years later: A second announcement, a second name delivered with a half-lie, a second prideful smile and teasing wink. A second beautiful son held carefully in his arms. Neither child particularly resembled Tony when introduced, but, really, do newborns look like anything other than angry old men? As Fray grew, he looked enough like Tony (bright brown eyes; same mouth, same smile) to clearly be his, but enough like Other (tall, slender build; fine, ink-dark hair) to generate endless--endless--speculation.
(Thor bit his tongue and struggled not to talk to anyone who would listen about his nephews--made it perfectly, and repeatedly, clear that he didn’t enjoy this secrecy, even if he understood its reasons. Thor was offended on his behalf, Loki knew, and, while he didn’t want the help, it muted some--some--of Loki’s harsher words for his brother.)
So Tony’s name headlined grotesque, speculative articles on surrogate mothers, contracts, postpartum remorse. He’d tuned most of it out, yet he preened for the press when walking through Washington Square with a dawdling Fray, grabbing ice cream cones for two from a street cart, or taking Colin to his four-month well-check. (He shot a “thumbs-up” at the vermin as he’d emerged from the medical complex.)
Loki witnessed it in two ways--one that Tony knew about, and one he did not. Tony made sure Loki saw the magazine photos, TV interviews, and online video clips. But what Tony didn’t know is that Loki saw so much more. In invisible, silent outings, he watched over his children and his--whatever Tony was with crystalline focus. He would tuck himself into doorways, behind windows, hands clenched at his sides and near-quivering with tension until the three were back at the Tower.
“What did you do today?” Tony would ask, setting the infant carrier inside the front door.
Loki hummed noncommittally. “Studied. Your realm’s history. More of your customs.”
He knew that answer made Tony content, which led to fewer questions. Tony never spotted him, and, always, Loki remained unseen to the vermin, to the masses. He was a parent to the boys when he could be: inside the Tower, in SHIELD (when absolutely necessary), and in empty places to which he secreted them for brief explorations. He preferred frigid lakes in early spring, dense woodlands in fall, the occasional night sojourn into a valley of stone spires under a starry sky. Colin wrapped in a blanket, held on one shoulder, cooing, hiccupping quietly. Fray tucked under the other arm, already chatty, incisive like his (other) father, stubbornly committed like … like both.
Both his night-and-day, light-and-dark parents.
Tony never went with them. Loki didn’t ask him to.
Tony was New York, crowds, skyscrapers, people. Loki was silence--the in-between moments, the moss-bedded woods. Tony was Father--offering fun, challenge, noise. Loki was, he’d admit only to himself, Mother--quiet instruction, understanding, fierce protection.
It worked. It worked for them. Tony would never see things the way Loki saw them. But, for a time, it didn’t matter.
Until one day, it did.
The day that Fray was taken.
***
In retrospect, they had given the nanny too much latitude to accompany the children alone outside of the Tower. She’d been recommended without hesitation by SHIELD--a former agent herself with a nursing background and desire to transition out of agency work. Still, she was an easy target for run-of-the-mill monsters who had a grudge against the Avengers or just wanted an enormous ransom.
Either. Both.
Whatever--she was dead anyway, and her fate was not of remote concern to Loki right now.
Tony would not be dissuaded from the rescue mission by Nick Fury, Steve, or any of the others he almost never listened to anyway when their “advice” went against his own instincts. This wasn’t, after all, an Avengers scenario. This was a “Tony ‘Fucking’ Stark Scenario,” he insisted, and he knew these kind of bullshit kidnappings.
He was finally persuaded, though, that it was also a Hawkeye/Natasha scenario, with Black Widow as first response. Hawkeye would go as long-range backup in case anyone--anything--made a move toward Fray in the chaos. The blunt weapons--Thor, Bruce, and their barely harnessed berserker rage--would be harnessed unless …
Unless.
Loki was an afterthought. When he stood from his place in the corner, took a step after Tony at the end of the team debrief, Tony pointed at him and commanded, “No. You stay.”
Simple. As if it were simple.
Loki gaped. “I will not.” Each word was infused with the furious poison he hadn’t directed at the other since he’d lifted him by the neck years before.
Tony shook his head. It had been only an hour since the nanny’s late arrival had set off alarms, but Tony looked like he hadn’t slept in days. He looked like Loki felt.
“Yes, you will,” Tony said with false calm, a laughable attempt to soothe. “Until we know what we’re dealing with. Let Widow do her thing. I’m gonna let Widow do her thing, okay? I don’t want that whole fucking building blowing up if it turns out somehow that these fuckers are magic or demons or … or both. If we send you in, and these guys are … something worse than human, I--we--don’t want Fray getting caught in it. And if they’re just asshole humans, we can deal with them.”
Worse than human. Loki seethed under his nonresponse, finally nodding once at Tony. Too much time was passing, after all. They didn’t have time to argue.
And, after all, he could track Tony without being seen. He’d gotten very good at it.
***
It wasn’t a warehouse.
It wasn’t a cave.
It was … a house. In the suburbs. Bridgewater, New Jersey. Of all the goddamned places, Tony thought.
Natasha had conveyed the details to him after she’d scoped it out. A SHIELD scan, and then a second, more thorough one from JARVIS, showed three men--human in appearance--usually clustered together in the open-plan living room/kitchen. Fray was being kept quiet--sedated?--on the sofa, his black hair and a limp arm barely visible from where Widow was reporting in. The boy’s few movements were slow--involuntary--so he was probably drugged. JARVIS had confirmed, to Tony’s quivering relief, that the boy had normal vital signs and seemed otherwise unharmed.
Widow transferred photos to SHIELD, and, within moments, the men were IDed: low-level thugs for a criminal syndicate that was in way--way--over its head. Some of their dealings had interfaced, to resounding defeat, with Avengers activities, and their boss had held a grudge.
That’s about all he held. His three underlings were capable of overpowering a former SHIELD agent-turned-nanny on a quiet library outing. He hadn’t, apparently, considered the full implications of a team of superheroes backed by a quasi-governmental security agency.
Still, any scenario that had three thugs in possession of a child had to be handled with as little fallout as possible.
That the men stayed in a group was a strategy Widow knew intimately--”safety in numbers” was the thinking, but it just made it that much easier to take them out with minimal motion spared. She’d conveyed all this to Tony, and he’d finally accepted her insistence that she go in first.
Tony thought he and Widow were alone, in a quiet alcove in the house. To all appearances, they were alone. Hawkeye had settled into the house next door while the occupants were at work--and school?--and he at times had a direct aim to at least one of the kidnappers.
Taking them down was simple.
***
Taking them down … was simple.
Natasha had waited until she saw an entry point between the men and Fray--one in the bathroom, two hunched over a computer in the corner of the room next to the fireplace. On the first man’s return, she rolled into the room, took him out by pulling his legs from under him and smashing his head, hard, into the floor. His body was instantly limp. The other two were trapped with a tossed snare, one with an enhancement that tasered them upon contact as it bound them together, wedged between the desk and the mantel.
Tony stomped into the room seconds later on Widow’s all-clear, prying off his helmet, eyes immediately focused on Fray. He knelt by the sofa, touched the boy’s face, squeezed his shoulder so gently with a gauntleted hand. Alive. Drugged, yes, and sleeping, but alive. Tony looked up at Natasha, intent on announcing their departure as he carried Fray to the closest SHIELD medical facility, confirming that she would ensure the men were put into custody, but Widow’s eyes were across the room.
He followed her stare, knowing from her stillness--from a tiny glimmer of uncertainty--what he would see.
Loki.
***
Loki saw it all in a moment.
It was that sight--his son’s midnight hair, the exhausted body, the limp arm … Tony, helmet off, kneeling by the boy--covered in a sick film of sweat. When Tony saw him--when Tony looked at him--Loki turned away immediately.
At that moment, as Tony ensured Fray’s safety, Loki only had eyes for the thieves. The ones who had stolen--who had dared to touch--the child. One was unconscious, still, prone on the floor next to Black Widow. The other two were standing on her other side, bound together by some type of wire that held them near-immobile. A shaking rage grew from the pit of his stomach, no longer muted by fear.
One of them looked at Loki--frowned, just slightly. A glint of recognition ...
Loki felt it outside of his own broken control: magic gathering in his fingers, the back of his throat. An array of words, images spun through his mind--only stoked the power growing within. Fray, handled, terrified, and then drugged into a stupor. Tony, sweat-slick with fear. These monsters--for that’s what they were. These monsters ...
No one spoke.
The room went white. Then the color itself took shape, a storm manifesting from a spell Loki had learned once--learned, and never used. Never needed to, until ...
Feelings, words: intent.
Loki’s eyes were closed, but behind his eyelids he saw what Tony would witness. A thick wave of air, pulsing through the room, shaking pictures off the walls and rattling furniture along the floor. The force of an earthquake, an electromagnetic pulse, but directed into a single corner of the room. In a moment, it hit the men staged around Widow--their skin rippling, bodies stiffening in shock, the two conscious captives finally screaming behind their gags.
Power. So much power.
And then--
In a sick, wet rush--with unforgettable watery pops--their flesh burst, exploded, and melted off them in bloody fragments, leaving white bones that slid together, fell apart, and crumpled onto the floor. Feelings, words, intent--and the men were no more than unrecognizable remains of once-human form.
Widow standing, blank, among the charnel ruin--raised eyebrows the only sign she had registered what had happened inches from where she stood.
And, the only thing that mattered: Stark and Starkson, untouched, unharmed.
Of course.
Tony had had moved quickly, thrown his body over Fray when he felt the change in air pressure, when Loki’s intent had become clear, but he’d kept his head up--seen. Seen everything. He stared at the … remains in the corner, at Widow--and then turned back to Loki.
Loki didn’t meet his eyes. He glanced briefly at Black Widow, and her expression was still frozen--she’d always fall back on her training, waiting for more information before reacting. Waiting to know exactly what she was facing. If Loki would be a further threat.
It was Tony who spoke first, voice breaking. “What--” He paused. “What the fuck--did you do to them?”
Loki realized he was shaking, his hands trembling as he open and clenched them repeately, dispelling the remnants of power. He finally looked at Tony--his lover, the father of his sons--and he saw what he knew he would see, what he knew he would eventually see on that man’s face: disbelief, shock, fear.
Tony was holding Fray closer. Protecting him, still. Protecting the boy from Loki.
Worse than human, Loki remembered. Tony had asked a question, but there was no answer that would satisfy.
Without a word, Loki vanished.
***
Loki had sometimes thought of taking his sons away … but he’d never planned on leaving without them. While he no longer had a place in the Tower, he wouldn’t be kept from his children. He waited until night, especially nights when Tony and his teammates were away, and he would go to them. Pull Fray into an embrace, listen to his stories, and, later, whisper his own stories to Colin. To ensure the infant knew the sound of his voice.
Loki was dark, silence: the in-between.
It said something that JARVIS didn’t address him, didn’t sound an alarm when Loki had slipped through shadow into the building. Loki had expected it the first time, and, when it didn’t happen, he thought--hoped--that this was one small mercy Tony was showing him, allowing him unrestricted access to the children.
Perhaps Tony didn’t want to fight with a monster, in a battle neither could win.
He wouldn’t deny that he’d given thought to taking the boys, finally, bidding farewell to this godsforsaken world and finding a home--anywhere--somewhere safe, where he could be both Mother and Father and raise them to be exactly what he wanted. Away from Tony’s peculiar influence, his own brother’s gleaming eyes, the constant watchfulness of the others …
But …
The risks outweighed whatever pleasure he’d get from his sons’ constant companionship. Having them sequestered in the center of a phalanx of supermen was as safe as they could be, right now. And he wouldn’t deprive them of--
He wouldn’t deprive Tony of--
He missed it. He missed the noise, the challenge, the … the daylight. Seeing the children interacting with the others, with their father.
But he would be … content with what he had. He had to be.
***
He was comfortable in a chair in the corner of Colin’s room--2:23 a.m., the clock read. The infant was asleep in his arms.
“Put him down, please.” Tony had stepped silently into the doorway, was now leaning against it, watching.
His heart suddenly pounding, Loki pulled the baby closer. “Why--”
Tony moved into the room, hands in front of him. “No--no, Loki, look. I want to talk to you.” Tony smiled a little ruefully. “Oh, God, don’t look at me like that. Put him down just for right now. So I can talk to you. Not forever. Christ.”
Loki hesitated, looked at the baby for a moment, but finally just kissed his smooth forehead. He rose, and placed Colin carefully on his back in the crib, tugging at and smoothing the folds of cloth in the sleeper pajamas.
When he turned back to face Tony, the other man was surprisingly close. He’d been asleep--his old t-shirt and pajama pants rumped, hair askew. Loki reconsidered his belief that JARVIS hadn’t sounded an alarm.
Tony reached out, touched Loki’s wrist. “Come with me so we can talk. Let’s not wake him, okay?”
He silently followed Tony to the main bedroom, down the hall from Colin’s and Fray’s rooms.
The rooms lights were on, but low, and an active tablet on the bedside table confirmed that Tony had probably been awake since his arrival, debating over whether this was the night to approach. Loki didn’t hide his surprise when Tony climbed in the bed they had shared until two weeks prior, when he patted the empty place next to him. “What? It’s bedtime … and I’m not ready for you to leave. Again. Not until we talk.” He settled himself into sitting against the headboard.
Loki moved awkwardly onto the half of the bed that had become his by habit, its linens still neatly tucked into the mattress. He didn’t bother removing his shoes or loosening his apparel. It wouldn’t do to get comfortable.
Tony, however, didn’t seem share that outlook. In a hesitant series of movements, he rolled over and rested his head on Loki’s shoulder, laid one hand in the crook of his elbow. In this position, Loki couldn’t see his face, and, despite the unnecessary proximity, it brought him some relief. “So. Tell me why you left.”
Loki snorted; he’d known the peace would be temporary. “You know why.”
“No, not that easy, babe. You need to tell me.”
Something had loosened in Loki’s chest upon hearing the endearment. He took a moment to breathe. “You saw what I am. What I can do--what I still can do.” He paused. “What I still will do.”
“I did. I saw … everything.” He moved up a little onto one elbow, now forcing eye contact. The look on his face was perfect disbelief. “And, why--God, Loki--why did you think that would make me want you to leave?”
“You know why. How could you--?” Fool--suddenly the game was clear; he would force Loki to confess. “They were mortal, they were already captured … and I destroyed them anyway.” He hissed, “Don’t lie to me--I saw your face--”
“'Lie to you?' Christ, for being the god of lies, you are a shitty lie detector. What you saw … What you think you saw … “ He sighed. “Shock, sure … I mean, Christ. You fucking liquefied three guys right in front of me--right next to Natasha--and I was still a little out of it from our son being fucking kidnapped.
“I was out of it, babe, but … I’m his father. Do you think--do you really think I wouldn’t have done the same thing?” His voice shook slightly; the words, cold. “Do you think I wouldn’t do the same. Goddamned. Thing.”
“But … you didn’t--”
“No, I didn’t,” Tony hissed, and, with a sudden movement, he rolled, shoving Loki down and straddling him. Before the god could react, Tony had caught both of his wrists, pushing them up next to his shoulders, a hard grip in the soft bedcovers. It was a hold Loki could--easily--break, but instead he watched, and he listened.
“I didn’t," Tony continued. "Because Natasha was there. Because Clint was there. Because I couldn’t. Because I couldn’t, and still be who they need me to be. But, if I had been alone, Loki. If they had hurt him … “ Tony’s face was flushed, maddened.
The hero. The father.
Glorious.
Loki had to catch his breath. “What do you--” But he couldn't finish.
Tony shook his head, offered a bitter smile. “I wanted you to do it. Do you understand me?” A harsh growl came from the man’s throat. “And when you did it, I. Laughed.” A smirk, then, and familiar Tony was returned. “Natasha gave me the craziest look, but … Okay, you had fucking disappeared, and it might have been more of the ‘they’re coming to take me away, ha-ha’ variety, but I laughed. And I waited--waited for you to come home. To me--to them. I thought you would come home.”
"But I thought--your face--”
“And your face--that's what I saw. You were terrified--”
Not taking his eyes from Tony's, Loki shook his head weakly.
“Babe, I wasn’t scared of you; I was scared for you. Christ, I’m going to make this as clear as possible--and I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t quote me to Fury or, God forbid, Steve. You are bugfuck insane. Capital-I Insane. And I think you've been in recovery, but I’m not a huge fan of the twelve steps.
"So you have my approval--you have my blessing … You have my goddamned command, babe. To go off the wagon. If anything happens again to either of the boys … ” Tony’s look was suddenly hard. “Destroy them, Loki. Anyone who hurts them. I. Don’t. Care. I want you to destroy them all.”
And here was the fierce protector, Loki knew: Tony, Mother, as much as Loki was Father. There were no neat lines and never had been.
Loki trembled a little, tried to cover it. Laughed, finally, darkly. “When it comes to my children, Stark, I don’t need your permission.” He used his haughtiest tone, but he suspected Tony saw through it. He could feel Tony’s thumb stroking into his left palm, and it was … comforting.
“It’s one of the things I like about you: Your moral compass is a goddamned corkscrew,” Tony said, adding “babe” as a slow afterthought. He lowered himself, settling his weight on Loki. “But neither one of us points true north.” He released Loki’s wrists, moving his hands to frame Loki’s face, to run fingertips through the hair at his temple. Loki was silent, only closing his eyes briefly at the gentle touch.
Tony regarded him, expression settling into something calmer, more thoughtful. “The more I think about it, the more I think it’s been a mistake. To keep you hidden.”
It wasn’t what Loki expected to hear, and he kept his expression neutral.
Unsurprisingly, Tony saw through that, too. “Okay, don’t jump in yet,” he teased. “I’m just thinking. What happened to those assholes in Jersey--SHIELD buried it so deep that there’s no record of those fuckers’ births, much less their deaths. Good riddance, kumbaya, yippee-ki-yay, motherfuckers. And, as far as the world is concerned, Fray and Colin are still living in the Tower with a half-dozen superheroes.” A beat. “It might not be a bad idea if they also knew that the boys were protected--that they were watched--by their own amoral, witchcraft-practicing mother--”
“Father.”
“Parent … who has an uncanny ability to watch them without being seen--”
Loki glared. “... You knew?”
A satisfied little smile. “I suspected. You have never given that much of a crap about our customs.” His smile broadened as he conceded, “Fray has seen you, I think. I thought he was imagining you at first, or playing, but … he was very specific. About what you were wearing, where you were standing. And he said you didn’t want us to look at you. So, we didn’t.”
“Smart boy.”
“Yes, he takes after his father.”
“Yes,” Loki replied, mouth twitching.
“Anyway, our family has plenty of .. for lack of a better word, good cops. Half a dozen of them. We’re all good cops. What we need is one bad cop. One really bad cop.” At Loki’s puzzled look, he sighed. “ … You would get that reference, by the way, if you had spent half the time studying our ‘customs’ as you claimed.”
Loki chuckled. “I cannot help it. You’re all so … boring.”
“If you really thought so, we wouldn’t be in this position, would we?” He insinuated his knees further between Loki’s, as if he needed to clarify his point. “Ah, that’s nice. I missed that.” His fingers gave Loki’s hair a final brush, moved to graze along his cheekbone. The familiar seduction had begun, and Loki's body already was warming to it, but Tony had a few more surprises: “So, I’m thinking we visit SHIELD tomorrow, get Pepper on the line, and strategize how we come out.”
“‘Come out.’”
“Yes. Only with less of the expected fabulousness and more of the low-key--ha! Get it?--low-key, yet still terrifying ‘keep your hands off my children’ menace.”
“I suppose,” Loki began, feeling Tony’s feet against his and suddenly wishing he’d actually taken his shoes off, “I can see the merit in your plan.”
“Okay?” Tony seemed surprised by the ready agreement. “Okay. … Okay! Well, except--”
“Except.”
“There is one condition.”
Of course, Loki thought, and his smile dimmed. “What is it?”
“This … is your home.” He pointed a finger toward the ceiling, circled it vaguely into the air. “The Tower. Or wherever we are. I’m not going to be the idiot who gets dumped by a god--again--and no more leaving now that Fray’s old enough to miss you.” He emphasized the demand with a soft nip to Loki's jaw.
He would have retorted that Fray had seen him enough, but he suddenly realized that wasn’t the point--that perhaps Tony was slightly more concerned about the other piece. “Fine. I accept your condition.”
“Good.” Tony nodded to himself, then shifted his frame far enough up the other to kiss him once, gently, and then again, longer and deeper. A reward for compliance, no doubt, and one that worked better than it probably should. But Tony pulled back just as Loki was getting … interested. “I’m glad we see some things eye to eye, then.”
Loki wondered how many secrets he really managed to keep, anymore. He circled his arms around Tony’s lower back. “Yes, apparently we do.”