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Chapters: 31/?
Fandom: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Relationships: Loki/Tony Stark, Happy Hogan/Pepper Potts (in the background)
Characters: Loki (Marvel), Tony Stark, Thor (Marvel), Bruce Banner, Steve Rogers, Clint Barton, Natasha Romanov, Pepper Potts, Nick Fury, Steven Strange, Happy Hogan, Doctor Doom, Victor von Doom, Sif
Additional Tags: Blindness, Aftermath of Torture, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Nightmares, Tony tries to make things better, Odin's A+ Parenting, Magic and Science, Drama, Lots of drama, PTSD, Slow Build, long fic, Tony still has his arc reactor, FrostIron - Freeform, Blind!Loki
Summary:Â When the Avengers let Thor take Loki back to Asgard to receive his punishment they never really thought about how it would be done. So, when after two years of silence the Thunderer suddenly comes back with his brother desperately clinging to him, Tony wonders how the justice system works in the Fairy Land. But what he imagines pales in comparison to the harsh reality he's faced with.
TITLE:Â Theory of the Ethereal Body
ONESHOT/CHAPTER NUMBER:Â Oneshot/Prequel
RATING:Â M
GENRE(S): Romance, Victorian Alternate Universe, Blind!Loki, Drama Â
SUMMARY:Â This house wrests such wickedness from her bones.
NOTES/WARNINGS:Â As a gift to my absolute bestie, startraveller776, this is a prequel to an AU drabble I wrote some time ago, also as a gift--to audreyii-fic. Reading the drabble, Well Read, is recommended, but not required. Twisted and wrong, like Lokane should be.Â
Huge thank you to thereallimegreenandloki for looking this over for me!!
Original story inspired by this photo:
I'm so sorry.
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“Jane Foster.”
Loki’s greeting is familiar, uttered by rote, and as irritating as it is thrilling. Not thrilling; unsettling. Not thrilling.
“It’s Odinson, now, brother.”
Jane tries, oh how she tries, to match his derision with her words. He always greets her with such cool insouciance, such indifference. He always calls her by her maiden name, and indeed, makes her feel a maid. “Foster.” Such a girlish concept, to kindle and to nurture, when she, a suitably wedded woman of arguable pedigree, has so little inclination to do so. Anymore, at least.
She had no idea that marriage had so dampening an effect on the cultivating of scholarly pursuit. The only pursuits she has time to foster now are the entertaining the unentertainable (her husband’s jaded friends, far too worldly to be wooed by the highest of high teas), impressing the unimpressable (Thor’s stoic father, Odin) and evading the unevadable (Loki.)
No wonder her retort sounds feeble on her lips. Even “brother” rings thin, as if she does not believe the title to be true.
Or worse, that she wishes it were not.
“Forgive me, sister-mine. I keep forgetting.”
Jane doubts he has forgotten anything in his miserable existence.
She turns back to attend her original, embarking on two of the insurmountable tasks she’s been given since her marriage to Thor: finding stolen moments, like this one, to secret away another book to her room, and ignoring Loki.
The latter succinctly extinguishes the hope for either with, “Are you quite sure you are in the right section?”
“Are you quite sure that you are?” Her retort is petty, unkind. Jane does not make a habit of mocking the disabled, and her cold ridicule of his blindness is a cruelty as foreign to her as the Norwegian Odin’s orchestrated dinners always dissolve into.
This house wrests such wickedness from her bones.
And like a viper, the vessel of poison rather than the victim, Loki smiles. The gesture is more akin to a wound than to happiness, the action slicing open his face in a bestial show of utter satisfaction at her petulance. From the edges of the smoked glass of his spectacles, Jane can see the corners of his ruined eyes crinkle in mirth.
“Oh, quite sure,” he says, his voice low and his chin high. “It just seems curious that you would be perusing Lodge’s Theory of the Ethereal Body when Thor has gone to such great lengths to procure the latest Dickens for you.”
“I have little interest in fiction and--” Jane stops short, realizing. “How did you know what book I selected?”
He steps closer to her and she bumps into the bookshelf at her back. With spindly fingers, he plucks the tome from her hands. He nimbly caresses the lovely leather binding, and Jane suddenly feels as if she were witness to a very intimate act. He lifts the book to his face and reverently presses his parted lips to the spine before answering.
"I know every inch of this room, this room above all others," he whispers into the spine.
The movement of his mouth on the leather and the slow stroke of his fingers on the binding hypnotizes Jane. To coerce such revelations with only his hands--to have such perception of his world based solely on the weight of the book in his grasp and the number of steps taken--this unlocking of a darkened world has been a fascination of Jane’s since the moment she met Thor’s younger brother.
She wanted to believe that the deference with which he held her book tugged at the academic side of her pneuma, how she too respected these bound tomes as the keepers of the ages of intellect. But the slow stroke of his fingers and the drag of his lips over the gold words of the spine--perhaps that is how he reads, through the touch of the delicate thin-ness of the skin of his lips--tugged at a much more base facet of her consciousness.
And quite suddenly, Jane wishes to just have her book back so she may flee this sudden and unwelcome arousal.
This is when Loki steps closer still
“I seem to have underestimated you, little Jane.”
His words are still whispered dagger-sharp and feather-soft into the spine of her book. The sweet lull of it calls her to lay her hands upon his on the book, to try to sort the world out through the tips of her fingers like he.
She resists.
“Underestimated me in what way?” Her words sound drowsy.
He smiles, though it is a much pleasanter gesture than before. “I had thought Thor only picked you because you were comely.”
She realizes the words are cruel, but something in the thrall he is spinning keeps her indignation at bay. Instead, it coaxes an invitation from her.
“And how do you know I am comely?”
He chuckles darkly. “By science, you must be.”
His tongue darts out, the tip lightly brushing the leather of the book. Jane very nearly moans.
“Your voice is of the optimum pitch, not so high that it grates upon a man’s patience. Low enough that he might imagine how your sighs of contentment would vibrate across his skin. Not flat and monotone, but nearly musical, and so inviting of cajoling his name from your lips in every pitch you possess.”
He’s even closer now, and Jane’s eyes have fallen closed. Hearing his voice is stimulation enough.
“You are petite in stature.” Jane can hear him place the book high up on the shelf, and suddenly his hands are at her waist. “And small in the waist. Both fashionable traits to have.”
She can feel, so acutely, the surprising heat of his hands that settle so purposefully at her middle. She can smell the sandlewood of his soap, something she is sure she would have noticed before. She should open her eyes. She should see where she is falling.
“And your hair.” His fingers grip a measure more tightly at her. “Your hair is heavy, thick and long. It was down, that morning before the wedding, when I came to offer my congratulations. You were so scarcely dressed, I thought your lady’s maid would die of fright from my coming in the room. Do you remember?”
“Yes.” Jane licks her lips, dry from the shuddering breaths his proximity is eliciting. “I told her you couldn’t see me.”
“Oh, but what is seeing, Jane? What do I know of sight? Of color, or pattern? These seemingly simple concepts so thoughtlessly referenced in every book I manage to consume. What is that to me?”
His hands trail to her hips and Jane’s fingers twitch with wanting to touch him.
“The brush of your loose hair on the naked skin of your back, that I know. The soft padding of your tiny feet on the carpet, unshod. The quiet left in the absence of your fussy gowns, replaced with the intimate, thin brush of the muslin of your shift. You stood more naked to me than you knew.”
“Loki--” Jane warns, her words choked.
“Your hair, I know it to be long and heavy and thick. Were I a gambler like my brother, I would wager it is also soft. But I am rather a man of science, and I test my hypotheses.”
He does, his hands in her hair, loosing it from her combs. Raking those keen fingers through the lot of it, roots to ends. Jane does moan, then.
“Like spun silk,” he says, his hypothesis spoken into law.
He tilts her head up, and she lets him, as he brings his mouth to hover over hers. “You are indeed comely, exquisite even, by the standards and measure of beauty those sighted fools find so important.”
She brings her hands to his lapels, finally giving into the urge to reciprocate contact. He steps bodily into her then, crushing her into the bookcase at her back.
She understands now, as her eyes fly open, reclaiming the sanity that exists in sight, why she always felt as if she should not find herself alone with Loki, the saturnine son of Odin. Why some part of her always warned against engaging him. The name Silvertongue, which whispers between the servants like the ripples on a lake, seems now more a warning than a sobriquet as her hands reach to test her own hypothesis that his hair is also silken. To say Loki is trouble is to say the night sky is vast; he is so much more than trouble and the night sky is infinite.
“It is the finest collection of published works on modern physics that bite into your back, Jane.” He is speaking against the skin of her neck, not kisses but something equally as igniting. “And I know it to be incomplete, the rest of the tomes secreted away in your chamber. This is why I cannot name you only comely, exquisite.”
Her eyes dart around the library, willing herself to see as much as possible, to stop hearing, to stop feeling.
“You are also clever.” His teeth nip at her jaw. “I like clever.”
“My book!” Her whisper is sharp, biting. “Kindly unhand me and give me my book!” She still holds him tightly.
His fingers nimbly pluck at the embroidery of her bodice, as if he could gather the sewn flowers into a bouquet, undo her petal by petal. “For a token, sister-mine, I will release you.”
Her eyes search his face, willing that damnable grin to divulge his intent. “A token?” She scoffs.  “Are we children?”
“You are no child, clever Jane, and I’m sure you can suppose what I would require of you.”
His smile, so persistent. So cruel.
“In exchange for a book from my own library? I couldn’t begin to guess.”
“My father’s library, and only a kiss.”
“A kiss?” She drops her hands from their deathly grip at his jacket, her voice bewildered though she knows she has no right to claim disillusionment. Her fingers ache from clinging to him.
“Does this honestly scandalize you?” He rolls his hips more firmly into her, and indeed, a kiss seems very much a token in light of the dragon’s horde that is his desire.
“No,” she admits, straightening. She has lost so much ground since the search for a new book began. She needs some measure of it back. “Though it surprises me. You think me clever, but I now think you droll and predictable.”
His smiling mouth purses, and he absently fingers a lock of her still fallen hair. “I have been thought worse.” His hand falls to her neck and the indifferent tilt to his head quickens her pulse. His voice is dead when he asks, “My token, might I have it?”
Jane should not. Jane knows she should not.
“Only a kiss?” The words sound like her last. “Very well.”  Â
Slowly, so slowly, the displeasure drains from his face, his mouth loosening. His lupine curl of lips is returned as he reaches to remove his smoked glass spectacles, head bowed. He places the glasses in her hand and turns his face back on her.
Jane cannot help but to gasp at the first sight of his eyes. Horrible and beautiful, like milky opals placed askew in a silver setting. If he looked a daunting specter before, the opaque stillness of his eyes places him atop a mountain in Delphi, foretelling the doom of kings.
“May you find this clever,” he says, before dropping to his knees.
She is so disarmed by his eyes that, even before she can register his movement, he swoops beneath the flounces of her skirts. She bites back a shriek when his large hands find crushing hold at her hips.
“L-Loki!” she pants, her hands gripping the shelves behind her for support. His thumbs hook into the waistband of her pantalettes, dragging them down an inch. “Loki…”
He places a searing, wet and probing kiss at the hollow inside her hipbone, employing teeth, tongue and lips. A warbling, gurgled sound bursts from Jane and Loki stills. His lips lay along the ridge of her hipbone and he speaks against it, like she were the spine of a book.
“Tell me to stop, Jane.” His voice is soft from beneath the layers of her gown. She would laugh at the absurdity of it if she were not so taken by her pantalettes dragging down another inch. “My token is won.”
His tongue slices across her abdomen, wetly caressing her in places even her husband has not traveled.
“You must tell me to stop, woman, or I will teach you the meaning of Silvertongue,” he says louder, in warning.
She shuts her eyes again, a dangerous tactic. To feel rather than see. To feel rather than think.
“Don’t--” her pantalettes slide lower. “Don’t stop.”
And as he sets his mouth on her, hungrily devouring her surrender, she thinks she may never open her eyes again. If only feeling his mouth is so sublime, if only hearing his obscene sounds of appreciation is so gratifying, why should she look upon anything ever again. Â To be at the same plane as this man who thinks her clever first, comely by science, second. If she could live like this, just like this, why must she see?
And when his deep, damp, brutal kisses bring her to peak among the stars, she remembers.
Her book, still on the top shelf. Her husband, in his study. And his brother, on his knees coaxing her to come again using only his mouth.
She thinks she would rather never see anything again, but only because she might see their accusation, or her own guilt.
Loki wrests another crest from her, and Jane opens her eyes.
A: Okay, so, basically there's nothing too exciting for me to say. Just a fair warning, there's a brief mention of self-harm in this chapter right at the beginning and really I'm just dancing around the topic now. One day I'll face it.
Summary: Feels and a movie.Â
Part Seventeen: (previous | next) now on AO3 and FFN for your reading discretion.
Loki stood when Tony was asleep, but only for putting on something that would cover those scars. Since he couldn't find his own shirt, he borrowed Tony's long sleeved one and put it on, returning to the bed then, and curling up against the man, his fingertips lazily tracing lines on the man's body until he woke up again.
He didn't sleep, though, he was not tired enough.
Tony awakes a short time later, feeling refreshed with his short nap. He smiles and snuggles into the warmish body beside him, his knee slotting between Loki's.
"Good morning," he murmurs despite the fact that he knows it's far from morning. "Didn't mean to fall asleep on ya." He presses his nose into Loki's hair and takes a deep breath.
Tony smiles back. "You're wearing my shirt," he points out tugging on the fabric.
"I am. I couldn't find mine." He chuckled. Even if he was not about to sleep, and he was just relaxing there, it was rather comfortable, and he didn't feel like he should move away or anything.
A sudden thought blossoms, and Tony slides the sleeve up. He hadn't been paying attention enough earlier, finding himself more about trying to pleasure Loki than anything else, to see.
He wasn't entirely sure those scars from the days earlier would still be there, and most certainly not where they came from, but there they were just hidden by his shirt, a sharp contrast to Loki's pale, alabaster skin. He brings Loki's wrist to his lips and presses a kiss there.
Despite that kiss, Loki quickly took his hand back, pulled down the sleeve again, pushed away the blankets and sat up on the edge of the bed, looking around for his clothes.
Tony frowned as Loki pulled away. He sits up as well, moving closer.
"Hey," he says softly, reaching for the god. "Don't go." His fingers wrap around the top of Loki's arm gently. "What did I do?"
He couldn't have ruined this already. It wasn't possible.
"Loki, I-I'm sorry, whatever I did, I'm sorry." His voice was gentle, soft, concerned.
Okay, so no scars. He was supposed to ignore them. He could do that.
Loki heaves a sigh, dropping his head.
"Not a question, Anthony. Not one," he said before he lay back down on the bed.
"Wasn't planning on it," he says as he pulls Loki back towards him. "It's not any of my business."
He burrows his face into Loki's hair once more. It's a long moment before he decides to speak.
"I do have one question though, not about that. But I wanted to know what changed. What happened between us...?" And he meant more than the sex, he meant the sudden nicety between them. "I mean, I'm gone for a month, and then suddenly we're wrapped in a cocoon of emotion. It's different. A good different, though," he says as an afterthought.
"If you don't know, why should I?"
Tony gave a lazy shrug. "I don't know. Just thought I'd ask." He tightens his arms around Loki's waist, pulling the god closer to him. "But you noticed too, yeah? It wasn't just me."
"It wasn't just you," he confirmed with a nod.
He presses a kiss to Loki's neck and Loki purrs. "You're still wearing my shirt," he says slipping one of his hands beneath the hem and splaying his fingers out on the toned flesh he found beneath. "I kinda want it back."
"If you want it, you will have to take it off of me," he responded, casually throwing his long leg across the man's waist while he absently drew some abstract figure on his chest.
Tony chuckles as he seals their lips with a kiss. Grabbing the bottom of his shirt, he lifts it up and over Loki's head, breaking the kiss to do so.
"Thanks," he says rolling away from the trickster.
He holds the clothing close to his chest as he does. Shaking the shirt out, he fixes it so it's right side out and pulled it over his head.
"I was getting a little chilly there," he says teasingly with a small smile spreading over his lips.
As soon as Tony was dressed again, Loki leaned over, grabbing his arm and pulled him back down on the bed, so that he could have back his comfortable position.
"Is it because of my skin?"
Tony smiles a little bit.
"Partly," he admits. "But I also don't have the heat on as high as I usually would. So it's already cold. Plus it's snowing. Or at least cold enough to snow. But I like how your skin is colder than normal." He was rambling, he knew, but he often did.
"Is my skin hot to you?" he wonders.
"Incredibly hot. Not enough to be a torture, though."
It was a pleasant warmth, actually. He was just like a fireplace in winter, and being always so cold, some warmth was pleasant. Not at all like that warmth Thanos used to 'persuade' him to follow his orders, that hadn't been pleasant at all.
"Oh. Well, that's good to know. That it's not torturous, I mean."
Kinda like how Tony felt about Loki's skin though. It was jumping in the pool on a hot summer's day; cold at first but the longer you're in it, the better it feels. And after a week of nightmares featuring that cave in Afghanistan, cuddling up to Loki felt amazing. His thumb rubs little circles into the God's flesh and he hums softly.
Loki sighed, his eyes closing again as he relaxed against the man.
Tony snuggles closer and pulls the blanket up further so it would cover their shoulders, or at least his. It was still cold.
The last time he'd spent time after like this... Well it had been a while. He and Pepper had long lost this before they had split. He missed it.
And maybe he enjoyed this more because it was less complicated. More intimate than a one night stand, but simpler than a full time relationship. But maybe he didn't enjoy it as much because it was more intimate than a one night stand but simpler than a full time relationship.
Not like it really matters, he thinks as he closes his eyes again.
And besides, Loki was a fantastic lover.
Loki was feeling cuddly. It was something he had always enjoyed by staying in bed all the time with his lover, having the chance to relax and go for a silly behavior, almost superficial. Just relax and enjoy some time together.
His hand moved from Tony's chest to his shoulder and up his neck, moving then through short, wild locks. He liked Tony's hair. He didn't know why, but he liked it.
Tony hummed at the feeling of Loki's hand ghosting across him until his fingers were on his scalp, playing with his hair. A tiny grin forms on his lips, his eyes still closed. It felt nice.
Wonderful, if he had to choose a word, it would certainly be wonderful. It wasn't the first time that evening he noticed Loki playing with his hair.
"Now look who has a thing for hair." He blinks his eyes opened and tilts his head so he can stare down to Loki and still have the god play with his hair.
"I have a thing for your hair. It's soft and it has a nice smell," Loki responded, not even looking at Tony while he spoke, he just looked at his own hand while playing with the man's hair.
"We will have to stand sooner or later," Loki muttered absently after a silent moment, though not really in the mood for moving, less than ever when they were so covered, and there was so much snow outside. He liked snow. They could go out if they didn't know what to do.
"I'm too comfortable to stand," Tony mock complains.
And I'm afraid this will go away if I do, he thinks to himself. It was uncanny but true.
"Besides, there's not much to do out there." Not together at least. "Nothing fun. You don't want to watch movies or build a snowman and a snowball fight is off the table."
It might (ha!), probably was, quite presumptuous of him to assume they'd continue to spend their time together outside of the bedroom. They hadn't before. Why would they start now?
"Mh," Loki responded.
Moving his hand back to Tony's chest, he tapped absently on his skin while thinking to what they could do. If he agreed with the snowman, he would cheat. He knew he would. He was a Frost Giant, it would be as easy as a snow fight.
"I could take watching a movie, if you pick a very good one." Loki looks up at him with a questioning look. He didn't really know Tony's tastes, after all.
Tony's eyes brighten because (ha!) it's a small victory.
"Well, your definition of good might be completely different from my definition of good." He takes his hand and lays it on top of Loki's on his own chest. "But I could show you my movie collection and you can pick out one that appeals to your tastes," he says as he twists their fingers together.
"I have never seen a movie, Anthony. I wouldn't really know what to pick. Though, for as long as it is not some silly love story, it should be okay." He shrugged.
"The only silly romances would be left over from Pepper," he tells. He tilts his head slightly away from Loki. "We don't have to leave the bed, if you don't want to." Tony didn't want to himself. He brings their hands up to rest beside his head. "We could lay right here and watch it on the screen over there," he offers.
Loki pouted slightly and leaned over as well for reaching him once more, his teeth returning to nibbling softly on warm skin.
"Yes, please. I don't really want to move." He agreed. It sounded nice, laying there, in the warmth, while watching a movie and the snow falling out of the window.
Tony smiles and snuggles closer to the god, enjoying the little nibbling that he was doing. He calls out to JARVIS to start a movie. He didn't really have a particular one in mind. He simply wanted to enjoy the time spent cuddling close to Loki, and not having to deal with responsibilities.
Loki didn't really care about the movie. It was just an excuse to keep on staying together in such a peaceful way. If they didn't have to move from the bed, better. He didn't look at the screen or what was upon it, he kept his eyes closed, or he looked at Tony, and closed them again then.
"Tony?" he called, looking back up at him.
"Hmm?"
Tony. It sounded terrible. Cutting off names like that was so disrespectful... And yet it came spontaneous calling him like that. When he turned and looked at him, Loki gave him a light smile.
"Kiss me."
Tony smiles back at Loki. He raises his brow at Loki but doesn't say anything. Who was he to argue if the god wanted a kiss?
When Tony leaned towards him, Loki leaned as well, his hand returning to hold the mortal's hair. When their lips met softly for a slow and gentle kiss, he smiled and pulled Tony closer.
He didn't know why, but he liked kissing him. His lips were warm and soft. Maybe it was because of that.
Tony smiles into the kiss. He enjoyed kissing Loki too. Or maybe he just enjoyed Loki.
Either way, he pulls the trickster on top of himself as he deepens the kiss, less because he wanted to take the kiss further, and more because he wanted the god as close to him as he could.
The god slipped one of his legs between Tony's for being more comfortable, and pushed his long hair on one side to not have it in the way. He nibbled playfully on the mortal's bottom lip, moving closer to him.
Tony hummed with enjoyment, his fingers flexing on the pale alabaster skin of the Asgardian. He smiles again as he pulls away to look at the god fully. A calloused hand cups Loki's cheek and his thumb strokes absently.
"You're beautiful," he murmurs.
He grinned at the compliment and lay his head back on Tony's shoulder.
"I am totally aware of that.”
Tony laughs softly and rolls his eyes.
"Of course you'd say that. Although, you have every reason to." Absently he runs his fingers through Loki's hair as he return to pretending to pay attention to the movie.
Loki grinned and closed his eyes again. He knew he was good looking, often it had been proved to be a powerful weapon for him to use, but Tony was not bad at all to look at either.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
âś“ Live Streamingâś“ Interactive Chatâś“ Private Showsâś“ HD Qualityâś“ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Chapters: 29/?
Fandom: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Relationships: Loki/Tony Stark, Happy Hogan/Pepper Potts (in the background)
Characters: Loki (Marvel), Tony Stark, Thor (Marvel), Bruce Banner, Steve Rogers, Clint Barton, Natasha Romanov, Pepper Potts, Nick Fury, Steven Strange, Happy Hogan, Doctor Doom, Victor von Doom
Additional Tags: Blindness, Aftermath of Torture, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Nightmares, Tony tries to make things better, Odin's A+ Parenting, Magic and Science, Drama, Lots of drama, PTSD, Slow Build, long fic, Tony still has his arc reactor, FrostIron - Freeform, Blind!Loki
Summary:Â When the Avengers let Thor take Loki back to Asgard to receive his punishment they never really thought about how it would be done. So, when after two years of silence the Thunderer suddenly comes back with his brother desperately clinging to him, Tony wonders how the justice system works in the Fairy Land. But what he imagines pales in comparison to the harsh reality he's faced with.
A: Okay, so, basically before starting with my costume and laundry, I'm going to post a chapter and fix all the links and maybe actually update on AO3 and FFN. Ah, well. Also I have about 6 billion other little things that I want to post but haven't gotten around to it. Maybe I'll postpone the cutting of my pattern for another day...
Summary: More arguing (as always) and then civility for once. Tony can't handle breakups. Loki's Patronus is actually a bunny, and Fenrir makes a cameo.
Part Fifteen: (previous | next) now on AO3 and FFN for your reading discretion.
Tony continued walking, wrenching the door open and heading towards the roof.
He wasn't dressed appropriately for the snow that was building up there. But also didn't care.
New York City was gorgeous in the snow. And he picked this spot to build his tower because it was a stunning view. And the roof had the best part.
It was cold, of course, Tony knew it was cold, it was snowing, but he'd left his heavier coat down stairs.
As he steps out onto the top of the building, the snow crunching beautifully beneath his feet, he realizes he should have got that first. And his gloves.
"Stark!" he called again, picking up the pace for reaching him and stand in front of him. "Did you even listen to me?"
Tony blinked like he just realized the voice talking to him actually existed and wasn't just a figment of his imagination. He tilts his head in confusion.
"I thought you wanted to ignore your existence?" He crosses his arms. "So which is it? Am I listening or ignoring?"
"A sign of acknowledgment would have been appreciated!" He snapped, looking at him with a rueful expression. "In this way, it was only disrespectful." he stated then, clenching his fist.
But then, he turned around, snorting, and returned sitting on the edge of roof. At the contact with the snow, his skin adjusted to the temperature, and he decided that turning into a Jötunn would protect him better. He took some of the snow in his hands and just looked at it with his red eyes, doing nothing more than this.
"I was told to ignore your existence, if you don't recall," Tony snaps. "You threw your keys and hit me in the back of the head. And yelled at me to ignore your existence. I'm pretty sure I can have JARVIS play it back for you if you just developed a case of short term memory loss."
Now he can't even stand on his own roof without being patronized. Wasn't that just peachy?
Loki turned and threw the snow right on his face. He guessed Tony was lucky he didn't have something heavier in his hands.
"You have problems. I said to give a sign of acknowledgment. Saying 'okay' and then leave, it would have been different. In this way, it was disrespectful," he repeated. "You mightn’t have listened at all."
He wanted to laugh it all off. He wanted to just give in and agree. He wanted to pick up a handful of snow, pat it into a perfect sphere and throw it at Loki and start a snowball fight reminiscent of winters spent before Maria Stark had died. He wanted to do a lot of things in that moment.
But Tony didn't do any of it.
He only let the word "Okay" escape his lips harshly, and left. He'd play in the snow some other time. Whenever he didn't have to deal with the finicky trickster god.
He knew this time Stark would do as he was told. He would ignore him, he would totally let him be 24/7. And it hurt. Why did it hurt? It was him asking, he should be glad Stark was letting him be. It shouldn't hurt.
"Stark," he called him, but when the man didn't stop, Loki threw another snowball at him.
"Tony!" he called as he stood again, though without following him this time.
Tony paused when the snowball hit him. His hands clenched and unclenched at his side a few times. He brings one of them up to his face and wiped at it before plunging his hand into his hair, tugging at it.
What did he want now? Has Tony not done everything asked of him? He turns back then.
"What?" he asks less than polite.
He was tired of this charade. He just wanted a date with his good friend Johnnie Walker and a nice dreamless sleep in which not even his AI could wake him from. Was the too much to ask?
Stark was cold with him. Loki couldn't blame him, and he suddenly felt bad for how he behaved with him. Maybe he had exaggerated. Maybe. He looked down in shame - both for what he had done and what he was about to say. He was not one who apologized often. He was still a Prince, after all.
"I'm sorry," he said, sitting back down then and looking at the currently white city beneath.
"No," Tony said without much thought. "No. No. No. You're not allowed to do this. You can't just treat me like shit for days and then apologize after I basically tried to beg for your forgiveness. No. That's not allowed."
He turns around once more stomps inside. But just inside, he stopped. And much like he'd had done the previous month, he put his back to the wall and sank down. His knees were pulled to his chest and he wraps his arms around them hugging them tightly. Tears threaten to fall from his pained brown eyes as he presses his forehead to his knees.
Tony sat there curled as he was, silent sobs wracking his body. He'd given in. It hadn't even hurt this much when Pepper had left him.
All Loki did was apologize. For what? He didn't care. Why should he? If Loki didn't care then he shouldn't either.
Eventually, he managed to pick himself up, ashamed he had allowed someone so trivial to bring him down so low. He returned to his flat, heading for his bedroom, ignoring the bar that seemed to be echoing his name. It wouldn't work for him to be drunk now. He laid in bed staring at the empty space across from him, not saying anything, not thinking, just allowing fatigue to take over him and pull him into a dark place. And he slept.
Loki, instead, remained up there. He couldn't have expected it to do anything. He really didn't know what else to do though, and Stark rejected so quickly his apologies that he knew even less of something he could do. He just pulled his legs to his chest and cupped some of the snow falling in his hand. The snowflakes immediately turned into ice as soon as they touched his skin.
He observed them for a few moments, and then let them fall down. He lay down on the rooftop, then, his eyes closed as his whole body sunk into the snow.
Going back down and risking to meet Tony, to face rejection and humiliation once again... No, no. He couldn't make it.
He could stay there until spring returned. Until all the snow had melted, and hopefully he had melted with it. It had been incredibly embarrassing for him apologizing.
It was... admitting a mistake. Which Loki rarely did. Only once, with Sigyn, and he could not really avoid it. Their kids died because of him, he could not really deny it was his fault.
Eventually, though, he returned downstairs, finding the common rooms empty... And finding the chocolate.
Sighing, he took the bag, opened the chocolate, and started eating until it was finished.
Tony didn't leave his room the next day. Or the day after. Or the day after that. In fact, to be more specific, he didn't even leave from his bed. The only times were to use the bathroom and to shower.
The prospect of running into Loki, into more heartbreak had only made him hurt worse and bunker down further into his sheets.
It was wasn't until JARVIS practically yelled at him to get his sorry ass up and eat something, did he venture out of his room three days after his return from Malibu.
Loki had returned to the 'walk around, try to find something to do' life he used to do while Stark was away. It was like he was gone again, and he didn't know if it was because he was in his workshop, if he had left again, or if he was in his bedroom.
There was nothing to do, he just walked around, read something here and there, and then returned to his bedroom. He could say he had mostly eaten only chocolate since he arrived on Midgard.
He was sitting at the kitchen's table with a glass of milk when Stark re-appeared after... he didn't even know how many days. But he just looked at him, holding his glass.
He had asked Stark to ignore him, and he wouldn't blame him if it was exactly what he was going to do. But still, he looked at him.
Tony spotted him, immediately, and he stopped, frozen. He wanted to say something, anything, but he couldn't and let his mouth flounder open for a moment before he snapped it shut.
His eyes turn to look at the refrigerator and he finally manages to move again. There's nothing really in it to eat. He'd been gone for a month, so he didn't expect anything. But he did find an apple that seemed to be okay.
He took the cold fruit into his hand and shut the fridge.
Tony looks back to Loki once more, certain he was going to say something, anything, but the words die in his throat and he just pads back to his room shutting the door softly behind him.
Loki continued staring at him with his big eyes even when Tony stared back. He was almost afraid of what he could say, because all the while he had been looking like if he was on the point of talking, and instead never said anything and left in silence.
As soon as Stark had left the room, he closed his eyes and sighed.
No, this was much worse than his situation in Asgard. He never had any kind of relationship with the guards surrounding him, if they ignored him it wasn't a big deal. In this way, it was different.
Sighing, he stood from the chair and approached to Tony's door. He did a trick that always made him smile when he was sad, as a kid. It was the first one he learned from Frigga.
Tony had just taken a bite of his apple when the bunny had appeared. He was confused at first. But then the ethereal frown on his face slowly tilted up into a smile.
The little bunny of air started jumping around Tony's room, without really touching now breaking anything, it was just an illusion. And it stopped on the bed, looking at Tony, before it vanished.
He sort of felt like a kid at Hogwarts. His house guest was magic. He wasn't a wizard, but still.
Loki, instead, walked back to his bedroom with his glass of milk and quietly shut the door behind him.
It took Tony three more hours before he could bring himself to leave the room again. And another hour to bring himself to take the short ride on the elevator down. And another ten minutes to knock on the door of Loki's room.
Loki had spent his time reading, reordering his room, creating some more clothes for himself to put in the wardrobe - all of them with green, black, leather or gold in them - and he lay down once more in his bed.
He wasn't sleeping, nor he was tired, but it was not like he had something better to do.
He was surprised to find Tony at the door - not that it could be anyone else, but he could have just imagined it. He thought he would not give him much consideration anymore, less then ever that he would come knocking to his door.
"...Yes?"
Tony stared at Loki for a moment, not expecting the god to answer.
"I'm not here to apologize and I'm not here forgive you. I just want to talk. I want our relationship back. I'd rather fight all the time then not talk at all." He drops his head, ashamed he'd acted so childishly. "I can't handle the lack of association," he says looking up from beneath his lashes.
Talk. Exactly what Loki would prefer to avoid. Talk, meet... It was a weird situation in which he was sad when he was being ignored, and almost afraid when he was not. Exactly something he would never want to live.
"Relationship?" he asked, skeptical, but shook his head, then, deciding to ignore that part. "What is it that you want to talk about?"
"It wasn't a sexual," he answers immediately, "or even platonic, relationship, and even if we hated each other, it was still a relationship." Tony shrugs. "I don't know. I just want to talk. I can't do silence anymore." He frowns, nips at his own lips and sighs. "I'll understand if you don't want to. Or want me to leave."
Loki shrugged and looked away, moving his long hair behind his ears.
"I have nothing to say," he said, leaning against the door with his arms crossed to his chest. Tell him what he did while he was away? He did nothing. Tell him why he apologized? He barely knew himself.
Well, this was great. Loki didn't have anything to say, not that he expected him to. And Tony didn't remember what he wanted to say. So that left him standing there twiddling his thumbs, afraid that if he walked away they might not ever speak again. Improbable, not impossible.
“um... That Patronus thing you did..." His lips tilt into a smile. "It was kinda cute."
"That... what?"
Tony smirks. He realized Loki wouldn't have understood, but it was the best way he could think to describe it.
"Harry Potter reference." He waves his hand as if to push the matter away. "But the little rabbit you made run around my room. It was cute. I liked it."
Recognition flashes on Loki's face.
"Oh, well... That was just an illusion. A trick I learned when I was a kid."
He'd thought as much. If it hadn't actually happened he would have thought of Loki as one for childish things like that. But it was a nice thought, to find the God had shared a small part of his childhood. Even if it was just a bunny. Tony frowned slightly.
"Why... Erm. Why did you do it? Show me the rabbit? I thought..." But he doesn't finish.
Loki raised his eyebrow when Stark stopped himself from talking.
"What did you think?" he asked as he crossed his arms to his chest for a more comfortable position. "It usually puts me in a good mood, and I thought it might work with you as well. Nothing else," he explained with a careless shrug, leaning against the door frame.
"I thought you didn't care." Tony shrugs shifting his weight. "You were pretty adamant about that." He smiles again, softly this time. "It did actually. Work on me. I smiled." He pursed his lips for a second. "Thank you, for that, I mean."
Loki didn't answer to that. He wasn't supposed to care indeed. He gave a light smile as well, though, when Tony admitted he had smiled with the little rabbit.
Closing his hands, he directed there some energy to create another illusion with air. Opening them again, he blew on them, and this time a kitten came out, jumping out of Loki's hands for sitting on Tony's shoulder.
"These tricks usually work only for amusing children."
Tony giggles, actually giggles. It's been an emotional time for him. At the mention of children he remembers Loki yelling at him why Sigyn left. He won't say anything, although he's curious. He's already made that mistake.
"They're adorable," he says as he watches the kitten. "Of course they work on children. Maybe an adult or two, if you catch them at the right time."
"No, they never work on adults." He shook his head as he watched the fake kitten mew and then vanish.
"It's only a mental stage. Captain Rogers is an adult, Agent Romanoff is an adult. You, for example, are not. Most of the time, at least. It's all about who you think children are. Not always are they the youngest."
Just as Tony was going to complain that he was an adult and they worked on him, he heard the comment. "Oh. Gee. Thanks," he says with heavy sarcasm though he still smiled.
"You're welcome,” Loki said, not really paying attention to the fact that Stork might have been joking on that or not. Once more, Loki blew the energy from his hands, and there was an elegant wolf sitting on the ground, moving his gaze from Loki to Tony.
"This is how Fenrir looked the last time I saw him."
Partly because he paid attention to Thor's fact or fiction conversation with Clint over Norse myths and partly because he was just thinking about Loki's children he asked, "Your son, right?" as he took in the stunning illusion.
Loki just watched Fenrir's figure disappearing in the air.
"One of them. I have had six," he explained then. "Of course, he is not a wolf in his natural form. He is a shape-shifter."
Tony shook his head and smiled. "Like you?" he asks with a softer grin.
It was more of an observation than an actual question. He should probably stop. The last time he pried about family, it ended with a sad Loki and then things just spiraled from there.
"Like me," he confirmed, the ghost of a smile appearing to his lips as well. He missed his kids. All of them, even those he couldn't see anymore... Or those that were no more. His thoughts were taken away once more when Stark spoke
"I've said my piece so, I'll leave you be now. It was nice to be civil for once."
"You can ask, if you want. I won't talk of my marriage, nor of two of my kids. I should have no problems with all the rest." Because yes, he had liked to be civil as well, for once. It had been nice, talking without yelling or threatening.
Tony smiled. "Thanks." And he was thankful for the opportunity. "But I'd rather not push my luck today." He pulled up one side of his mouth as an unconfident gesture. "I'll see you around Loki."
A hand is raised partly, in effort to clap his hand on Loki's arm in a farewell he'd give anyone but thought better of it and let it fall back to his side.
No trust. Well, of course. He wouldn't trust himself either in Stark's position. He wouldn't trust anyone at all. What to do, then, to have things becoming again what they used to be? He would have to give Stark a reason to trust him.Â
A: Okay, so, basically I have an hour before class. So have a chapter. Also for you Destiel fans that I promised a surprise for. Well, I finally have it almost finished. It should be up tonight.
Summary: Arguments ensure. A lot of yelling and throwing things. And Loki technically gets the last word.
Part Fourteen: (previous | next) now on AO3 and FFN for your reading discretion.
Loki returned to his room, blocked his bedroom with a chair so it wouldn't fall shut yet, and then went to Stark's without even knocking.
Well, now he was locked inside, as it probably should have been since the beginning. Not too bad. He shut himself into the bathroom and returned to the shower once more.
What. The. Hell. Was. That?
That was it. That was the only thing Tony could think about. He couldn't even remember what he was doing before the god had interrupted him with flying objects.
What did he throw anyway? Tony glanced down at the item on the floor by his feet. Keys. He threw his keys. Why?
And then it finally registered with him what Loki had said.
Well, fuck.
He snatched the keys from the floor and dashed to the elevator moving faster than he had in a while.
He didn't even bother knocking on the door, just used the key to get in, he was that... emotional. He was angry and worried and hurt all at once. He walked straight to the only sound in the flat; the shower.
"What the hell was that about?" he growls as he storms into the bathroom.
As soon as he heard footsteps in, Loki immediately closed the shower's curtain. The last thing he wanted now, was to be lectured from that man about the scars and cuts on his arms.
"You heard it very well." he said as he picked the bottle of shampoo and poured some on his head for washing it. "Isn't there a way to get rid of you? It was so peaceful while you were away."
"Well, I hate to break it to you, but you're stuck with me for the foreseeable future," he responds. He picks himself up and sits on the counter top. "What's going on with you? And don't tell me it's nothing, because there's very obviously something wrong. So tell me."
He knows Loki won't tell him. At least, not without a lot of coaxing, hopefully. He wasn't about to ignore the fact that he had a god who petulantly locked himself in his room, because Tony screwed up. He wanted to fix whatever it was. Even if they went back to just insulting each other the whole time.
"There is nothing, believe it or not, and even if there was, surely I would not talk to you!" he snapped, and he started washing his hair hard enough to actually hurt his own scalp without realizing it, and just then he forced himself to stop. Never be rueful while washing, it gave him a hell of headache.
"Will you leave me alone on your own, or will I have to drag your dead body out myself?!" he threatened, remembering very well how Stark still seemed to be scared Loki might kill him in any moment. And then the man expected him to believe he missed him. Sure.
"You'll have to drag me out yourself," he replies, finding that half hope that Loki was telling the truth when he said he wasn't going to kill him. "Loki," Tony says softly, despite the other's anger at him. "I'm sorry. I don't know what I did, or what I said, but I know it was something. Something I said up on the roof or did or whatever, and now you're just angry all the time. You don't even smile anymore. I am sorry."
Loki growled at the reply. When did the man become so confident Loki wouldn't hurt him? Some sort of psychological torture would work anyway. Making his mouth disappear, so that he couldn't speak nor drink anymore? Forcing his mind to live over and over again the events of New York? Anything might be good enough, even without taking the man's life.
"Smile?" He growled again. "You say you like me and yet you think I might kill you, you say you missed me when you escaped from me, and you keep throwing back at me that with you I'm not a prisoner, when you fail to see how this is not even true even just for the fact that you do throw it back, and you keep trying walking through barriers you know you can't fight, making me speak with you of my wife and life! What else then? Trying to turn me into some domesticated dog, laying down next to you when you want to watch some stupid movies! Do you expect me to be grateful, do you expect me to follow your lead, do you expect me to smile? Really?" he yelled across the shower box, not caring anymore about keeping some sort of composure.
"Fuck you, Loki. Honestly. Fuck you. I try to be nice, try to be truthful, you just continuously push me away. Yeah, I ran. Because that's what I fucking do at first sign of emotion towards anyone other than hate. I run." Tony's hands clench at his sides. "I only asked. I never forced you to tell me anything. You didn't have to say anything. You could've just left. And you know what? You should. Finish your fucking shower and then get the hell out of my tower. If I see you again I won't hesitate to call the Avengers."
"I can't leave and you know it!" he yelled, opening the shower box to look at him this time. He gave a glare of hatred before going to pick the robe again and put it on, pushing Stark out of the door, back into the bedroom. "I don't want to be dragged in chains back to Asgard to be put at Odin's mercy. I gave you back the keys, I will remain here, out of your way! What do you want more?!"
Tony stumbles back when Loki shoves at him. "I don't want you to be dragged back to Asgard either! And I don't want you to trap yourself down here. That'll only make me no better than Odin. I want to know what the hell is going on with you! What happened to make you suddenly become a hermit?!"
"You happened! You and your nice words and nice behavior!" He said, turning to look at him. All that yelling gave him a heavy breath, but it didn't stop him from looking at him with hate burning in his eyes. "Affection is never for free. Odin wanted to use me, Thor needed my help, Sigyn stayed for the kids, and she left as soon as they died! So, I'm wondering, Tony Stark..." he started again, approaching to him. "What do you want from me?"
It all registered with Tony. Every single word. Odin, Thor, Sigyn, kids. It all hit home. But they only thing he concerned himself way the last question. What did Tony want? What could Loki possibly give him? He didn't know. Actually, that's not true. The answer was simple.
"You," he's says honestly. "I want you. And I don't even know why, but I do."
"DON'T LIE TO ME!" he yelled again, pushing him again. They were always only lies. The only one that gave him love without asking anything back was Frigga. All the others... they were all the same. Nothing ever changed. "What do you want?!"
"I'M NOT LYING!" This time when Loki shoved him, he grabbed Loki's wrists to keep him close. "I want you to believe me. I want you to forget what's happened in the past and I want you to look at me. And I want you to see that I'm not lying."
Loki did look at him, though without trying to see anything. Staying at distance, he had to keep his own heart cold and away from anyone's grip. That was the only way he could save himself from being hurt and disappointed once more.
"Let me go," he only said, trying to remain quiet as he spoke.
"Fine. Fine," he replies letting Loki's wrists go. "Don't believe me." But it wasn't fine. Because it hurt that Loki didn't believe. It hurt a lot. "Sorry I care."
Tony, unable to hide the pain anymore, hangs his head and turns to leave. If Loki wanted to stay locked in his room, then so be it.
Before Stark could leave, Loki gripped his wrist and pulled him back in. "What is it? Do you think that I will feel guilty if you play the part of victim?! If you show big painful eyes? You are a liar, as anybody else. Nothing comes for free. There is something that you want from me, and I will discover what it is." He insisted, looking right into the man's eyes. "I fail to see how you think I can trust you."
Tony wrenched his wrist from Loki's grasp. "I'm not a victim. I'm not playing the victim. I don't even know why I came down here. I don't know why I do anything anymore. You're not going to believe anything I say. I'm sorry so many people have hurt you in the past. I wanted to be the one person that didn't want to hurt you. If you won't have me fine. You don't have to be a dick about it."
Loki once more removed his still wet hair from his face. He kept his eyes still on Stark, studying him with attention.
He was lying. He had to be lying. Everybody lied when it came to this. Even more now. He was a murderer, he was dangerous, Stark himself admitted he was afraid of him. He had to be lying.
"Why should I trust you?"
Tony shrugged. "I don't have a good answer for that." He wanted to be as honest as possible here. And little half lies wouldn't help here. "But if you want a reason, because I haven't lied to you. Except about calling the Avengers thing. I probably wouldn't have done that."
"You would have." he responded instead. "Because I could push you down off the roof, couldn't I? You have to pay attention because if you piss me off too much I could kill you." He threw back at him, approaching again. "Stop pretending everything is love and sunshine for you. You don't trust me. You would have called them."
"You're right. I don't trust you. But you don't trust me either," he points out. "And not everything is love and sunshine. You could kill me. You told me you wouldn't, or rather that you already would have if you were going to. If you go back on your word, I'll haunt your ass in the afterlife."
"I don't, and I never hid it. I don't go around calming I like you or that I missed you." He responded easily, going to sit on the bed then, crossing both his arms and his legs.
He sighs. "Let's just... Not. You've already told me you don't like me back. And I'm okay with that. I think. Believe me or not, it's your choice. But I'm tired, and I don't want to fight anymore."
"Oh, sure. Let's not. Let's keep on escaping from problems." He mocked him with a careless shrug.
He rolls his eyes at the trickster's mockery. "I'm here aren't I? I just don't want to fight anymore."
"Do you really want me to leave? Don't think of Asgard or Odin, I can hide myself. Answer honestly."
He sighs. "Of course not. Not thinking of Asgard or Odin. No I don't want you to leave."
Loki stared at him, trying to find the crack in his facade.
"Are we able to do anything besides fighting?" Loki asked after a moment, sighing and laying down on the bed, his hands crossed upon his stomach while he stared at the roof.
It was better this way, after all. If they fought, then Loki would never grow fond of Stark, and if the mortal truly cared for him on some level, it would pass. Fighting was better. It had to be.
"Sometimes," Tony says thinking back to the few times they ended up in a bed together. "Sometimes we have really domestic times." He smiles softly. "But for the most part we're at each other's throats. And not in a good way."
"Domestic arguments," the god corrected, giving him a quick glance.
He turned on the bed and gave his back to Stark. He held his injured arms to his chest and closed his eyes, sighing.
Nothing would be alright, anyway. Nothing was ever alright with him. He didn't have trust in anyone after discovering his true origins. With Stark, it was not different. He couldn't trust him. He was the enemy, after all.Â
He turns around to leave. But spins back around almost as fast.
"Oh, before I forget. I brought you back some chocolate. There was a little place I passed that just made me think of you. So I don't want you starving yourself either."
When he heard the sound of the keys being dropped, Loki turned, leaned over for picking them, and threw them back at Stark.
"You will use it against me again if I keep them," he quickly explained, and then slipped under the blankets. "I will eat if and when I'm hungry. You can eat the chocolate, I never asked for it."
Loki's sleeve had been bunched up allowing Tony to see the scars adorning his arm as he reached for the keys. Were they always there? Or were they new? He doesn't say anything, thinking it was beneath Loki to self-harm, and not wanting to cause another argument.
"I don't like chocolate. Not enough to eat it straight."
He bends down to pick up the keys once more.
"I'm not going to treat you like a fucking prisoner. If you take the goddamn keys, I'll try my damnedest to not say anything to you. Cause you sure as hell don't want me saying shit anyway.”
He tosses the keys back at Loki and slips out the door before they could be thrown back at him.
"Everything you say is shit." He responded coldly, turning just in time to catch the keys before they could hit him and for seeing Stark leaving.
Sighing, he stood, opened the door, and aimed right at the man's head when he threw them back at him.
"Stop it, okay? Stop being friendly, stop doing anything for me, stop caring, if you truly do it. Stop it." He growled. "Throw the damn chocolate away, take the damn keys and ignore my existence."
Tony ignored it all, just continued on his death march to the stairs. If that's how Loki wanted to be then fine. Screw him.
He could go fuck himself while he wallowed in the pool of self-pity for all he cared at the moment. Tony had a one-way ticket to "IDon'tGiveAShitVille" and he was campaigning for mayor.
This is why he hid behind a bastard's personality, heavy sarcasm, and witty remarks.
Loki looked at the man while he walked away with an angry expression. Stark was... ignoring him.
"Hey, I am talking to you!" he called as he followed after him. He could stark ignoring him after the discussion was closed, at least.
...No, no. It had to be Loki closing the discussion, and slamming the door on the man's face. Not like this.
