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Tony lingers on the threshold of their bedroom, his eyes fixed upon the mass resting upon the bed in the center of the room. A soft sigh escapes Tony’s lips at the sight of Loki’s slender body curled in on itself, his slender arms clutching Tony’s pillow to his chest.
The genius’ stomach twists at the sight of the dried tear marks upon the god’s face, a reminder of the dispute that shook the tower earlier in the evening.
Tony’s attention had been focused on the intricate details of the wiring on the next Stark Industries project. He was expected to have the item completed and before the board within the week, but there were several developments he had yet to begin. Tony had been caught in the tangles of his thoughts and struggled to pull himself from them when he was alerted for the presence of another.
Tony hadn’t heard Loki enter the lab and the god focused quickly on what held the genius’ focus before he attempted to gain his husband's attention.
“Anthony,” Loki had stated, his lips curving in a frown as he watched Tony continue to fuss with the mechanics of the device in his hands. Had anyone else used Tony’s full name, he would have objected but Loki had always been the exception to Tony’s rules.
Despite Loki’s adoration for the mortal, Tony had managed to miss their scheduled meal together by nearly an hour before Loki had taken it upon himself to travel the distance to the lab. Over the course of the four years of their relationship, one of which had passed with a golden band upon Loki’s finger, Loki never desired to request much from the genius. The god saw the strain the mortal’s desire to please had already placed upon his shoulders and he would never wish to add to it. However, when Loki asked for something, it was not something he would allow to be discarded for other obligations.
“Anthony,” Loki had bit out, his arms crossing over his chest as he attempted to draw Tony’s attention once more.
The mortal released a distracted hum before muttering, “Hold on, Lo. I’m almost done.”
Loki had been forced to grind his teeth together as his gaze glared holes into the side of Tony’s head. He radiated fury and he detested himself for being incapable of controlling his emotions. Tony always had that power over him.
Less than a minute passed before Tony’s head had elevated and he had twisted upon his stool, immediately seeking out his lover. He paused at the sight before him; the fury was evident in the god’s eyes and in how his fingers curled into fists at his side. Loki loomed dangerously in the doorway and as Tony arose, he felt as if he were a spark approaching gasoline.
“Loki, babe,” Tony had begun, preparing to placate his lover, an attempt to provide himself time to determine the root of the god’s frustration.
“Do not ‘Loki, babe’ me,” the god sneered in a perfect imitation of Tony’s voice. For a moment, the mortal was startled, recoiling at the bitterness evident in the god’s voice. “I waited an hour for you to pull yourself from this project and join me for dinner. An hour, I waited, Anthony Stark. I do not like to be left waiting. I will not stand for it.”
Tony had swallowed visibly. He never doubted his safety in Loki’s presence, but he did recall the last time a fight had sparked between the two. Tony had been left sleeping upon the sofa in the lab for nearly two weeks and was offered little more than a passing greeting by his lover during that time.
His hands elevated, Tony took a step forward in an attempt to offer his comfort. It was then that Tony noted the traces of pain written clearly upon the features of the god and his heart had clenched painfully. “Lo,” Tony had muttered.
“No,” Loki spat, his head shaking hastily. “There is a meal gone cold on our table. A meal that I made for you. I made it expecting I wouldn’t have to wait; expecting that you would be selfless enough to pay even the slightest attention to the single thing that I have asked of you the last weeks.”
Loki’s words had Tony bristling. While they were spat in anger, they struck a cord Tony always attempted to keep buried. Throughout the entirety of his life, Tony had felt as if he wasn’t enough, as if he hadn’t done enough. Loki’s words reminded Tony of his fear that he would never be enough for the god. Despite the budding hurt, Tony feared he’d only make the situation worse, so he makes another attempt to placate his lover
“I tried, Loki. I just got distracted. I need this done by next week and it’s not developing the way it should. Look, we can just go heat it up, alright? I’m all your’s now.”
Loki had released a bitter laugh at that. “Really, Anthony? I doubt you will ever be completely mine. Your attention is always devoted else where and I fear you are hardly provided the space of mind to even listen when I speak to you. Are you listening to me now?” Even as Loki spoke, Tony’s gaze had flickered across the workshop. He was listening, but found that he couldn’t prevent himself from fidgeting in an attempt to contain himself.
Tony was uncertain where the outburst had sparked, but his uncertainty had quickly shifted to irritation as his eyes shifted back to the god. “Jesus, Loki, I’m listening. I always listen to you. This seems like such bullshit. You’re not this angry over a meal and if you are, get over it. I’ve already apologized, but clearly it wasn’t good enough.”
Loki’s eyes had narrowed and his jaw had clenched. A hoarse laugh left his lips as his head shook. “Really, I don’t know why I expected anything less from you.”
As the god shifted to remove himself from the workshop, Tony’s hand had shot forward to wrap firmly around the god’s wrist. “This again? Are you ever going to stop running away when you don’t get what you want, Loki? Why won’t you just talk to me? There’s clearly something else going on here, Lo. Just talk to me.” Tony’s anger had begun to fade, a soft plea hidden in his words.
The god made quick work of wrenching his wrist from Tony, acting as if the contact had burned him. “Running away, I am not, Stark. I am not in the mood to be crossed so I would mind how you speak to me.”
Tony’s fingers shifted to comb through his tousled hair, a noise of frustration leaving his lips. “Need I remind you, Loki, that the ‘Stark’ name now belongs to you as well. I wouldn’t use it as a insult now, if I were you.”
The god’s lips had curled backwards in a snarl, the fire in his eyes never wavering. Taking several steps forward, Loki moved to press Tony against one of the workbenches. As soon as Tony’s back had hit the work surface, Loki’s hands had shifted to block him in on either side.
“There is no need to refresh my memory because I promise you that I hold something that is the clearest sign of our union.”
Before Tony could question the meaning behind the words, Loki’s lips had moved against his ear as he gritted out dangerously low, “Never forget, I do not lust after your attention. I will not stoop to the lows of petty mortals in an attempt to gain the affection of my husband. I do not require you so badly.”
With those words, Loki’s touch had vanished and the god had no longer lingered inside the workshop. It left Tony clutching the workbench behind him as his head reeled from the interaction. How they had managed to progress to soft threats, Tony would never understand.
A noise of frustration had left Tony’s lips and he lashed outwards, his arm running along the surface of the workbench to send the supplies crashing to the floor, the newest Stark Industries invention among them.
Tony had wiped a hand across his face, his teeth grinding together. He’d kill for a drink, but his two years of sobriety were weighing heavily upon his shoulders. If he were to give into temptation, Tony was certain that Loki would never forgive him for it.
“JARVIS, play something,” Tony had stated firmly as he dropped his body weight upon the stool he had previously vacated. ‘He’s acting like a child,’ he silently cursed, incapable of understanding the interaction.
With the prototype for the invention in shards, Tony had prepared himself to start from the basic materials. The feeling of the tools in his hands had allowed for a slight ease in the ache in his chest as he lost himself in the act of developing, allowing for him to focus intently on a single thing.
Tony lost himself for nearly five hours, his process being interrupted by JARVIS, who lowered the volume of the music in order to state, “Sir, if I may. The time is currently 12:01am. You have instructed me to power down the instruments and direct you to turn to your bedchambers to join Mr. Stark.”
While they both knew that it would only be successful when Tony allowed for it to be, Loki had requested that Tony develop a system to attempt to urge him to bed after Loki had spent too many nights alone. Tony would never truly be capable of developing a normal sleeping pattern, driven by the manic moments where he found himself on inventing binges. He’d done it to make Loki happy.
He had exhaled an annoyed breath, but had placed his tools down on the bench. He’d been uncertain that he would be welcome in their bed after the venom in Loki’s words, but he supposed there was only one way to find out. He refused to take the coward's way and instruct JARVIS to request the information.
On the elevator ride, Tony had bit his lip as his hands fisted at his sides. He wasn’t overly fond of the idea of facing Loki so soon after facing his wrath, but routine demanded that Tony make the attempts to settle himself in the penthouse.
It was silent when Tony stepped from the elevator and careful inspection had led him to where he now lingers; the threshold of their bedroom.
Tony’s heart clenches at the sight of the god before him, causing him to silently move across the flooring of their bedroom. The material of his clothing is quickly shed, leaving him in his boxers as he proceeds to shift lightly atop of the mattress.
Despite his attempt to prevent from jostling the god as he settles, Tony freezes when he notices that Loki’s eyes have opened and are presently fixed upon him. He prepares to be scolded and forced from the bed; his shoulders hunching as he notes the red surrounding the god’s eyes.
“Anthony,” Loki whispers, as if he hadn’t expected Tony to appear and it causes the mortal’s heart to clench.
“I’m here, Lo,” Tony mutters, easily adjusting when Loki shifts to abandon the pillow in order to plaster himself to Tony’s side. The mortal’s arm encircles the god’s waist as Loki’s head shifts to rest upon Tony’s chest, directly over his heart.
The pair is silent, the only sound is their breathing, and Tony is certain that Loki has fallen asleep when the god speaks, “Anthony, I am afraid.”
The words grip Tony’s heart like a vice, momentarily knocking the breath from his lungs. The last time Loki had admitted to fear was during Thanos’ last attempt to remove Loki from Tony’s grasp. They’d managed to destroy Thanos, with the help of Thor and his band of warriors, but does Loki now know something Tony doesn’t?
Loki holds Tony firm when the mortal attempts to shift to view the god’s face, only causing Tony’s anxieties to grow. He’s cautious and his voice wavers when he questions pleadingly, “Loki, what’s going on? What do you know that I don’t?”
The god makes no move to offer a response, which causes Tony’s chest to restrict. He’s prepared to force the issue when Loki speaks softly from his side, “At first I was pleased. I hadn’t had this in the past. What we have, Anthony, I’ve never even been able to dream of. I never thought I would have the pleasure of loving someone like you; I knew that I would never have someone like you love me in return. Fate clearly had a different plan. I thought things might have been better this time; that things wouldn’t end the way that they had before.”
Tony’s brows furrow at the riddles the god speaks, but he makes no move to interrupt. He’s aware that Loki is seeking the courage to continue when the god’s words taper off and he forces himself to remain silent. Tony’s hand shifts to brush soothingly across the back of Loki’s head, encouraging him to continue.
“I was intending to inform you at our meal. I planned it carefully; I planned what I would say and how you would react. I realize now, though, that I didn’t take into account how you would actually feel and now I’m afraid that you will not want what I desire. I know it would be selfish, but I can not waver in my decision, no matter what you desire.”
Loki pauses once again before he states, his voice dropping to a faint whisper, “I am with child, Anthony.”
It’s not as much of a shock to Tony as it should have been. He’s aware of Loki’s biology, aware that the god is of Jotun heritage, aware of Loki’s previous conception of children. Perhaps they hadn’t been as careful as they should have been, especially as they’d never spoken of children.
Loki’s fury suddenly makes sense, as Tony realizes that he had made the god question his capability and desire to care for a child. If Tony were not responsible enough to care for himself and his bond with Loki, the god had the right to question whether Tony would be capable of caring for a child.
The motion of Tony’s hand does not still, even as he silently considers the weight of Loki’s words. He’d never truly considered having a child, even after he had settled down with Loki. He’d known that it might eventually rise in conversation if the god desired it, but he had not considered it seriously.
“I know we have not spoken of this before, Anthony, and I am aware that we are unprepared. I do desire this, however. I cannot give my child up, not even for you, my love. If I must, I will leave with our child and you will never be forced to bear the burden. I would never make that choice myself, but the choice is yours, Anthony. I refuse to make it for you. Least you resent both the child and I for it in the future.” Loki’s words are spoken strongly, drawing the mortal from his thoughts.
Tony has always feared being the father that Howard was. He fears spending too much time in his workshop and not enough time with his child; he is hardly capable of caring for himself and he fears that it will leave him incompetent in caring for a child. He still works too much and sleeps too little, habits he knows he may never break.
Despite his fears, Tony can see Loki caring for a child that is a combination of the two of them and he finds, oddly enough, that it is enough to outweigh the fear. It has to. Tony cannot lose Loki and he knows he’d be incapable of living with the idea that he has a child surviving without him. It would remind him too much of his own father.
“Suppose we should begin planning a nursery, yeah?” Tony states nonchalantly, because it is that simple.
He can feel the god relax at his side. Loki’s head tilts upwards, a smile appearing upon his lips as he ghosts them across Tony’s. “I love you, Anthony Stark.”
“I love you, Loki Stark,” Tony mutters, contently. His insecurities remain, but perhaps if he has Loki at his side, things won’t turn out so badly.