Chapter Text
Loki was acting strangely, and Tony was worried.
Tony was alone in the penthouse, fretting. Loki was in his apartment lower down in the tower, and he had been there for hours at a time almost every day for weeks. Tony didn’t know what to make of it. Loki came as went as he pleased, of course. Tony had no desire to stop him, to control him, but he rarely spent so long secluded off by himself, in his private apartment.
Tony had given him the apartment months ago when he had first returned and announced his intention to stay. There was no surveillance there, no cameras, no heat sensors, no motions sensors, not even any microphones. Loki had a phone that he could use to contact JARVIS or Tony if he wanted to. But he had not. As soon as he got out of their bed that morning he had told Tony he had some matters to attend to and slipped away.
The energy readings from the apartment had remained unchanged. The crystals that Loki had recovered from Otr's machine on Nidavellir still provided their shield. They protected the tower from scrying, from the Bifrost, from malign magics. The last time Thor had visited, the Bifrost had landed in Central Park, and Thor had tossed himself and his hammer up to the tower without remarking on it. Tony wondered how much contact the brothers had. For all he knew they had methods to communicate the Tony knew nothing about. Not that he SHOULD know about it. Loki had every right to talk privately to his brother, and Tony certainly did not expect him to ask permission or even to inform him. Loki was free to do as he pleased.
But still, Tony worried, and his mind churned over the possibilities, each worse than the last. Communication was not Tony’s forte, and Loki had been so distant of late. Tony could not help but fear that something was wrong. Loki had come back to him after he had released him from the thrall-collar. He had returned of his own free will, and Tony had thought Loki happy with him. Tony tried to please him, to be a worthy partner, but he knew he was not the best that Loki could hope for.
Tony was mortal, Loki was almost a god. Tony was middle-aged, and Loki had millennia left to live. Tony gave Loki whatever he wanted, whatever his money and power could buy. He worked hard to please him in the bedroom, to fulfill his desires, but there always was a secret fear that whatever he did, he just was not enough.
He would most likely be dead in 40 years, tops. Had Loki decided that he owed him a debt, that he could put up with him for that long, pretend his affection and his desire for that time? Or did Tony’s tower offer protection that Loki needed? Protection from Odin, from whatever allies Otr had with the Nidavallir and beyond? Was sharing Tony’s bed a price worth paying for that? A safe home, security, comfort, the shelter of Tony’s weapons and influence?
Tony shook his head. He was being ridiculous. Loki cared for him. He knew that was true. Nothing was keeping Loki here except his own wish to be there.
Tony's mind turned back to the same question. If all that was true, why had Loki been hiding himself away in his apartment every day? Leaving every morning and returning around noon with no word as to why? Tony chewed his lip. He needed to know.
Making up his mind, he strode over to the elevator and punched the button for Loki’s floor. Loki’s apartment was his own, of course, it belonged to him, but he had never said Tony could not visit. Tony could go knock on his door, couldn’t he? Of course he could, and he bounced on his toes in the elevator, willing it to hurry up before he changed his mind.
“Who is it?” came the suspicious response to Tony’s knock.
“It’s me,” he replied, “Tony” he added, in case there was any uncertainty.
There was a pause. A long one.
“A moment, please,” Loki’s voice was muffled through the door. His reply was followed by another, longer pause. Tony shifted his weight from side to side. If Loki did not want him to come in, he wouldn’t push. He would leave him be. He would respect his privacy and go back upstairs and wait and fret. Tony unclenched his jaw, took a deep breath. He had no idea what was taking so long. He heard water running and then the door swung open and Loki was there.
As always, Tony’s heart melted a little at the sight of his lover. He was so beautiful, loose curls framing high cheekbones, deep green eyes that Tony could willingly drown in, a faint pink blush on pale skin. For a moment Tony forgot why he had come.
“Tony,” Loki said, his voice scratchy, “Is everything well?”
The unspoken question hung in the air. Why are you here?
Tony shuffled his feet. “I was gonna ask you the same thing, I guess.” They stared at each for a moment, and Tony’s concern grew as he noticed details he had missed at first. Loki’s cheeks were flushed, his hair damp in places, as though he had hurriedly washed his face. The whites of his eyes were bloodshot. Had he been crying? Tony raised his hand and tapped on the door, only yet half opened.
“Can I come in?” he asked, his voice soft, half expecting to be denied. The ground shifted under his feet as he waited. He had no claim on this man, no power to make him stay if he wanted to leave. He had already given him everything he had to offer, had held nothing back, nothing of himself or that was within his power, and if that wasn’t enough, there would be nothing he could do. The moment stretched endlessly, and Tony only breathed again when Loki nodded and stepped back from the door, gesturing Tony to come in.
Despite his tension, Tony was curious. He had not been in the apartment since he had shown Loki around it months ago. Loki had his own accounts, his personal credit cards that Tony had no access to, except to deposit money, which he regularly did. Tony had expected Loki would use some of the money to furnish his apartment to his preference, with JARVIS' help, but the place was still almost bare. An open package of crackers sat on the kitchen counter next to a tea kettle and a cup. A chair and desk faced the glass doors, a stack of books pushed to one side. Only the balcony showed any life, crowded with large pots overflowing with plants, greenery, and flowers, spiky and lush.
There was nowhere to sit, and so Tony stood in the empty room, unsure how to ask what he had come to ask. Loki twined his fingers together, he glanced around the room, eyes darting to all the corners, seemingly to avoid alighting on Tony. Just as he had when he had released Loki from the binding, Tony knew he could not hold on to someone who desired to be free. He could not keep a bird in a cage and expect it to sing for him. If Loki wished to go, if he was only staying out of obligation or need for Tony’s protection, Tony wanted to know about it. He could not hold back his desperation and fear anymore.
“Do you want to leave me?” he blurted out, and the faint pink flush drained out of Loki’s face, leaving him a sickly gray. He swayed on his feet, steadied himself on the edge of the kitchen counter.
“No!” he gasped, “No! Tony! Do not...do not say such things! I would not! I do not! I do not want any such thing. Why would you say that?”
Loki's horrified denial released something in Tony, and everything else came falling out of his mouth.
“You’re avoiding me! You hide down here, you don’t tell me what you’re doing. Not that you have to! But...What’s going on? Are you sick? Is something wrong? Tell me, I’ll help you if I can, you know that! I love you! I love you, Loki, and I’m going out of my mind that you don’t...that you don’t feel the same way. About me. Anymore. So if that’s the case, just tell me now and put me out of my misery.”
Tony wrapped his arms around himself, suddenly sure that whatever Loki was going to say was something that would break him. He had given him his heart, and he had no defense to him.
“Tony,” Loki's voice was gentle, soft, and Tony squeezed his eyes shut, held his breath. “Tony, it’s not what you think.” He sighed, “You are right, I do have something I must tell you, and I should have told you before now, but I was afraid to. I...I am sorry…I…”
“Just tell me, please Loki,” Tony begged. His mind was swirling with confusion. Whatever Loki was going to say could not be as bad as his first fears, no matter what it was.
Loki took a deep breath, stood up straight. He looked as though he was facing a firing squad and Tony would have comforted him if he had any ability to do so.
“You know I am not Asgardian by birth,” he started, and Tony frowned and nodded. This was not the direction he had expected the conversation to go. Thor had said Loki was adopted, and Otr had called him a Jotun runt while they were on Nidavellir. Tony had never asked Loki about it, it had not seemed important at all, once they had found each other.
“I am Jotun,” Loki continued and flinched as the word left his mouth, as though he expected some reaction from Tony.
“Yeah,” Tony said, “Jotunheim, the ice-realm, right?”
Loki nodded and cautiously glanced up, to check if Tony had anything else to say. Tony was confused, he didn’t care if Loki was from Asgard or Jotunheim or anywhere, as long as he was happy and safe. He told Loki as much, but if anything Loki's tension only increased.
“Loki,” Tony said, “If there’s something you wanna say, how about you just spit it out? You’re kinda freaking me out here, and I swear, if this is anything about Asgard or Jotunheim or your family or anything like that, I will not feel any differently about you. I love you. I love you, Loki, and I just want to help you with whatever it is that’s bothering you. You can trust me.” Tony held out his hands to Loki, wanting nothing more than to hold him and be close to him, but his lover did not come to him.
Loki wiped his face. He shook his head, disbelieving, but he steeled himself anyway. He stood up straight and faced Tony. His shoulders heaved as he took a deep breath.
“Tony, this is what I must tell you. I love you too. I am with child. Your child. I am pregnant.”