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Tony really didn’t have any other choice, but that didn’t make the look on Thor’s face any less pathetic. The guy could give Tiny Tim a lesson on cultivating pathos, the way his big blue eyes filled up with tears like limpid fucking pools and still—and Tony had no idea how—managed to come across as all rugged and manly as the front of Lumberjacks Monthly Magazine (which he totally didn’t subscribe to).
Anyway, there was Thor, standing there, looking all resigned and hopeless, shifting the large, ungainly load slung over his shoulder, rain dripping off his big stupid beard and his big stupid cape. Turning to go out in to the night and the rain and the cold with no one left to stand by his side. Well, no one that probably wouldn’t stab him in the back about five minutes down the road, anyway. Tony really didn’t have any other choice, but that didn’t stop him from stepping aside and opening the door a little wider.
“Alright, you bastard,” said Tony. It was the first word he’d said to the Asgardian since he’d shown up on the stoop of his Malibu home with Loki slung over his back like a goddamn duffle bag. It didn’t slip Tony’s notice that Thor let Loki’s head knock roughly against the doorframe as he walked in, eliciting a muffled groan.
“Friend Stark, I thank you. Truly. I knew not where to turn—there are very few places left where my brother would be safe.”
“Yeah. Funny, it’s really not his safety I’m worried about right now,” said Tony, leading the dripping Thor in to his front hall.
“He is harmless enough, for now,” said Thor. His tone was enough to turn Tony’s head. If Thor’s hands weren’t otherwise occupied he was sure they’d be wringing nervously, feet shuffling on the carpet. Sometimes the amount of earnestness in that guy was enough to strain believability. He was sure that he was probably being played by the larger man—you didn’t hang out with someone like Loki for a couple of centuries and not learn a thing or two.
“So are you going to fill me in, or what?” Tony asked. He’d led Thor to the darkened living room, which was only illuminated now by an occasional flash of lightning, a clue that the thunder god wasn’t feeling as composed as he might appear. Honestly, he didn’t really want to hear what had brought them here, and what had gotten Thor so pissy. He could figure it out by himself. Big daddy Odin had decided the little shit was more trouble than he was worth, and was about to get a taste of (truly horrifying, if you believed the stories) Asgardian justice. That, of course, didn’t sit too well with Thor, and so the stalwart, true, (but none too bright) elder brother had rescued him and brought him back here. To Earth. The one place in the universe that hated little bro, quite frankly, well, universally.
As Tony thought about this he wondered if this was maybe a stroke of genius on Thor’s part. If Papa sent out a search party for the trickster, Earth was probably one of the last places they were going to look. In any case, Tony was just glad that Jarvis had the good sense to keep the lights off; he could feel the beginnings of a really spectacular headache coming on.
“He is hunted,” said Thor by way of explanation, which really shouldn’t have surprised Tony at all. If he’d been in Thor’s place he probably would have wanted to get away with sparing as few details as possible too.
“Great. Well uh, listen. I don’t really have the uh…equipment…to keep him here. Seriously, all I’ve got in the way of super villain lockdown are a couple of pairs of fuzzy handcuffs and--“
“I cannot hand him to SHIELD. They are good men and women all, but Loki has caused them a good deal of strife. I fear for his wellbeing.”
Strife. Yeah. That was a nice way of putting it. He’d taken out several dozen of Fury’s agents, turned one of their bases in to rubble and nearly sent the other crashing from the sky in a big ball of flaming Armageddon. Oh, that, and Coulson. Coulson, who so far hadn’t even had a proper funeral for some reason that SHIELD was being really cagey about. He filed that away for consideration at a later date.
“And you think I’ll treat him with kid gloves?” Tony asked, running a hand through his hair.
Thor’s eyes darkened a little bit. “No, I would not expect such a thing. Nor do I want it,” he paused and eyed Tony for a minute, approaching the couch, readjusting his hold on his burden. It took Tony a minute to realize what Thor was asking.
“Oh sure, just throw him anywhere,” he said with a bit of a smirk. Thor did drop him a little more roughly than was strictly necessary, prompting another muffled groan. “So what are you saying?” he asked. “I already told you I don’t have the tech to keep him locked up---at least, not yet---and that would take a little time. Even for me.”
“I believe you already have the technology that you will need to keep my brother in check,” said Thor, taking off his sodden cape and draping it over his prone brother. Tony couldn’t decide if this was a gesture of affection or one of derision. Thor looked very tired, and more than a little fed up. It could have very well been both.
“Oh?” Tony prompted a little impatiently. He didn’t really like being given lessons on his own tech by a guy whose pectorals were bigger than his brain.
“You have the capability of creating an…intelligence, yes?” Thor asked. “Such as your manservant.”
“Yeah, like Jarvis? Sure,” he said.
Thor reached in to a pouch at his belt and took out a circlet. It was covered with an obnoxious amount of silver filigree and choked with a variety of dark polished stones; basically the epitome of Asgardian taste—or lack thereof.
“Sorry, I’m not really a crown kind of guy,” said Tony, but he took it anyway, turning it over in his hands. There was something strange about the metalwork. Although a good amount of it was clearly decorative, there were bits that seemed to look a hell of a lot like circuitry.
“It is not for you,” said Thor, glancing back at the prone man on the couch who was laying—quite dramatically, in Tony’s mind—with long pale hand hanging out from under the red cape.
“Aw, well, Rudolph finally gets to wear a crown after all,” said Tony, who was watching the hand carefully. Did it twitch, or was he just imagining things? “Dreams do come true.”
“It is strange you should mention dreams, friend Stark. That is what the device is constructed for—sometimes the body must be forced to rest, usually after traumatic events. These circlets give patients something pleasant to dream about. It keeps the mind lively and prevents them from drifting too far afield.”
“Neat. So, uh, what do you need me for?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
“They customarily come with a sort of…dream guide. This guide must be more clever than the patient in order to prevent them discovering the ruse and waking.” He frowned. “I have not been able to find one that will be a suitable match for my brother.”
“So you turned to me? I’m flattered. But I’m not letting Jarvis anywhere near that crackpot’s noggin. No offense.”
“None taken, surely. But this guide will have to be…subtle. Tricky. It must appear to have his best interests in mind. It must not arouse his suspicion. It must seem…benevolent.”
”And Jarvis is a walking sassbasket, so obviously he’s out anyway. “ he paused, starting to pace as he often did when a juicy problem presented itself, “So basically what you’re telling me is, I have to out trick the trickster?”
“Yes.”
“And I have to make it seem like this AI is the only person in the cosmos that gives two shits about him? Present company excluded, of course.”
“Yes.”
“All without ever revealing that his new bestest buddy is actually his jailor.” Tony grinned, “So it’s really just one giant case of one-upmanship?”
“Exactly.”
“How could I resist?” asked Tony with a wicked grin, rubbing his hands together, already thinking of exactly what he’d need. “Just keep the little bastard from wrecking my house. Give me twelve hours. Jarvis, get Thor some food, he looks half dead, and turn on the tunes. It’s going to be a long night.”