A Kind Of Magic

Chapter 4

"Damn this!" Thor snarled, shredding Stark's computer from its unstable perch on the desktop. The billionaire cringed and rubbed his eye with the palm of his hand, wearily watching the Thunderer storm around his workshop.

"Cussing and destroying my property isn't going to change the facts, Barbie," the genius shrugged, sitting down heavily on the spinney chair beside the mini-fridge. "No form of science is going to solve your 'little problem'; you're going to have to look deeper into this."

"Loki is the only mage that will willingly speak to me," Thor groaned, slapping his face with a force that probably would have knocked Tony's teeth out. "And even that's obligation, not genuine. He has despised my company for many years now."

"All we have to do is look around, okay?" Tony reassured the God, offering him a drink of champagne. There was nothing to celebrate but hey, booze. "For the mean time, why don't we just enjoy the fact that your bag-of-cats little bro isn't trying to destroy realms and all that jazz."

"He is in danger every passing second, Friend Stark," Thor worried, chewing on a large hangnail. His fretting was almost audible, tangible like static in the air. "It will not be long before the Asgardians begin their search for him, and I fear I will not be able to change their minds. They never have been fond of Little Loki."

"Are you shitting me? How could you not love that little face?" Tony defended, outraged. He shrugged at Thor's curious expression. "What? I'm surprised, that's all. No wonder the guy's fucked up. He's been 'disliked' since he was in diapers."

"Of course, but please hear me Friend Stark-,"

"Quit it with that 'Friend Stark' bullshit, big guy. My name is Tony."

"Tony-,"

--Sir, Baby-Face has awoken--

Jarvis' clean voice cut through the workshop with crisp authority, effectively silencing Thor's half-hearted sentence. Tony glanced up mid drink, slamming his glass onto the table in excitement.

"Baby-Face?" Thor questioned, his face crumpling into an expression of hilarious perplexity as he gazed up at the ceiling.

"Oh c'mon, it's gonna be hilarious when Loki turns back into the good ol' imposing little shit he is and hears that everyone is calling him Baby-Face."

"Indeed, that would be-,"

The God of Thunder was interrupted a second time when a shrill scream suddenly pierced the air, somehow slicing through three layers of 'soundproof' walls.

***

"TONY STARK, WHY THE FUCK DO YOU HAVE A POOFING BABY IN YOUR LIVING ROOM?" Poofing... Used as a verb in this instance, to accurately describe the toddler that could appear out of thin air. Yep, eat your heart out Houdini.

The genius in question cringed as he dashed up the stairs, Thor following close behind him.

Clint was holding a giggling Loki by his shirtsleeve like he was a pair of dirty underwear, watching in morbid curiosity and fear as he spun around in crazy little circles. Natasha Romanoff, stoic as ever, had a gun pointed directly at the child's cranium, her confusion hidden well by a mask of studied apathy.

"You have five seconds to explain yourself, Stark, or this goes directly to Director Fury."

"Chill your tits, guys," Tony scoffed breathlessly. Natasha shot him an unimpressed look. How in the fuck was he going to dispel this?

"Five, four, three, two-,"

"Okay! Okay, wait a second," Tony snapped, swallowing past the nervous lump in his throat. "Just please- stop... stop pointing that fucking thing at him!" he growled, eyeing the gun with explicit distrust.

Clint picked the dizzy child up by his elbows and held him in the air. The fearless child simply squealed with laughter and tried to kick Barton in the head. 

"Why is Loki here?" Natasha asked calmly, lowering the gun but keeping it firm by her side, ready if she needed it. Clint gasped in realization, wrenching the child's arms behind his back in disgust and fear. Loki? No fucking way-

"Ow!" Loki yelped, kicking the archer in the shin.

"For fuck's sake, Clint," Tony yelled, catching Loki in mid fall and instinctively bringing the child safely to his chest. Clint, clutching his leg, stared at him like he had gone mad.

Hey, maybe he had.

"Why are you defending him?" he accused, obviously hurt. Tony didn't even have the energy to feel guilty. "He brainwashed me, he tried to kill all of us! He damn near almost succeeded, you stupid shit!"

"Harboring a criminal is illegal, Stark. Has it occurred to you that he could be playing you?" Natasha deadpanned, tilting her head to the left in acute confusion. To her, the billionaire would always be a mystery.

The unusual reappearance of the trickster God didn't necessarily worry her; it was Stark's sudden protectiveness over him. Who knows how far the Norse God's manipulative abilities could stretch...

"Are you fucking high or something? Thor, why the fuck would you let him out? He should be rotting in a prison cell, where he belongs! Kill him whilst he's defenseless!" Clint choked out, his hands reaching for his bows.

It was an understandable reaction, considering the God of Lies had mind-raped him not three months ago, but Thor wasn't going to have a single bad word or veiled threat made against his younger not-sibling.

Thunder grumbled outside ominously and all three mortals shifted their eyes to the stationary Asgardian. His face was dark, darker than they had ever seen it, hands practically trembling with unbridled fury.

Natasha's hand shot out to drag Clint's back down to his side before slinking off like a cat to stand in front of Tony. The billionaire gulped, feeling itchy with self-consciousness as she stared deep into the recesses of his soul.

"What are you hiding, Stark?"

"Thor, I'm hungry," Loki spoke quietly from his place in Tony's arms, interrupting the 'intimate' exchange. The billionaire blinked owlishly at him, as if only just remembering he was there. The child was biting on Tony's necklace confidently, staring unwavering into the eyes of the two strange assassins.

"His hands tremble," Natasha observed lightly, taking one of Loki's pale hands in her own. The child immediately leaned into the warmth of her touch. She frowned at this display of trust that Loki had never openly shown before. "He doesn't have any recollection of memory beyond this age, does he?" She asked, more to herself than the other three useless men in the room.

"Oh c'mon, Tasha- don't tell me you believe this shi-,"

"Silence, Barton," the redhead commanded, smiling apologetically when Loki flinched away from her harsh tone. Tony's eyes widened in surprise. This was the most human he had probably ever seen the recruited SHIELD assassin act. "When was the last time you had something to eat, Loki. Do you remember?"

Loki liked her voice. His hand shot out to play with a strand of her red hair. Tony was impressed that she didn't flinch but he saw the slight tightening of her eyes at the sudden and unpredictable movement.

"Falling," the child mumbled, before retracting his hand and burying his face in Tony's neck again. The billionaire's hand resumed its subconscious motions across the trickster's back.

"Oh Norns," Thor whispered sadly, just as every head turned to look at him for an explanation. "My brother hasn't eaten since his fall from the Bifrost."