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Loki had been alone in the cave for hours when, suddenly, in a rush of air and flame and falling rock, he wasn’t. Tony Stark’s suit was many things, but covert it was not. Loki watched the gilded armor descend into the middle of the cavern, light from the repulsors sparkling sharply off the ice crystals that formed the interior.
As the other man approached, Loki struggled to sit up on the pallet he’d placed against the cave wall. Its soft filling gave under his hands and made the effort difficult, his movements awkward. He tried to control his breathing.
Tony’s faceplate snapped open: “Fancy seeing you--”
“Shut up, Stark. Why are you here?” He finally pushed upright. Tony, he noticed, hadn’t immediately moved to help.
When Tony spoke, each syllable fogging in the cold, dry air, the words were voiced with deliberate casualness. “Let’s see--my full-term baby mama hands off our toddler to his uncle Steve and vanishes without a word, and … let me see if I recall Steve’s description.” Tony pretended to think. “He said it was urgent, but Stark doesn’t need to know. Aaaaand … you think I wouldn’t catch on?”
Loki huffed, slapping his hand on the floor. “Fine. But how did you know--”
“I Lojacked you three weeks ago, babe. You think after last time I’d take the risk of you leaving me out?”
“You Lo--”
“Your boots. Tiny transponder. Couldn’t predict what you’d wear when you pulled a Fluffy-the-housecat and disappeared under the porch to litter, but you probably wouldn’t be barefoot.”
Litter. Loki glared, disbelieving. “You--”
“Don’t even think of getting pissed at me, babe. You left me.”
Loki paused as a sudden ripple of his abdominal muscles--another one--stole his breath. Distracted, and now infuriated, he’d lost track of how long it had been since the last. Tony’s face drained of emotion, and he began snapping off gauntlets, leg plates, chest armor--all the pieces of the great suit tossed aside like so much roadside debris. By the time Loki’s body relaxed again, Tony was kneeling at his side, uncharacteristically silent.
When Loki was breathing normally again, Tony asked, “How long? Until--?”
Loki took a few more breaths before speaking. Finally: “Soon. Moments. An hour at most.”
“Wow--okay. This is how Fray was born?”
A gasp as Loki’s body produced another sharp twinge. “Yes!”
Tony studied him. “You did this by yourself,” he said, accusation sliding back into his tone.
Loki’s eyes narrowed, signalling Tony to get to the point. “Yes,” he said.
Tony snorted, shook his head. When he looked back at Loki, his expression was somber. “I wish you had--”
“Oh, shut up. We were in no position to share in the glorious birth of our son, Stark.”
“‘Tony’.”
“Stark.”
“Christ--you’re here giving birth to our second child and you won’t call me by my first name. Really?”
Loki tensed, took a few more deep breaths. Then, he looked around Tony’s feet, twisting awkwardly to try to see behind his back. His movements were becoming more agitated by the second: “Wait--why is your armor off?”
“...You’re just noticing this now.”
“Can you--can you put it back on?”
“What do you mean? Why?”
Loki’s questions were sharp. “What would happen if you needed to take the baby? What would happen if I weren’t here to take us back?”
“You weren’t-- Why wouldn’t you be here? You seem kind of … necessary to this whole process.” He waved a hand vaguely over Loki and the pallet.
“If I died--”
Tony’s face paled, the hand dropping back to his thigh. “You won’t.”
“If I did--”
Now, anger: “You won't. Besides … I could call for help. JARVIS. You know.”
Loki settled, finally, but he didn’t look impressed.
Tony glared at him. “Why do I have the feeling I just failed one of your arbitrary tests. Again. If I fucking recall correctly, you were here by yourself until ten minutes ago.” He added something under his breath that Loki could swear was “Fluffy.”
Loki ignored it. “Irrelevant. You’re here now. And unprepared. I thought you had learned how to be a father, Stark.” A breath, or a plea: “...Tony.”
“Well, a first name--small favor there, Loki. And, by the way: Fuck you. I’m here for our baby, and I’m here for you. I came here. For. You. Fuck the suit.”
Loki’s body arched off the pallet as another spasm began. “You must understand,” he panted. “The child comes first.”
Tony inched closer on his knees. “No, you must understand. We all come first. You, me, Fray, and this little nugget. New Tower motto: Never leave a Stark behind.”
Loki laughed despite himself, despite the contortions of his body. He chose to ignore the “Stark” part--didn’t acknowledge that he himself was possibly categorized as such in Tony’s mind. Instead: “‘Nugget.’ Yes. We still need to decide on a--”
“Wait--I don’t get any kudos for not making a dirty ‘who comes first’ pun? Really? I’m being so good.”
“Gods, Tony.” Another pained pause. Loki covered his face with his palm, pushed his own fingers over his scalp--the same self-comfort that had gotten him through the last one, alone. This time, though, Tony reached over, took his hand in one of Tony’s own, and wove the fingers of his other hand into Loki’s hair.
A hard squeeze of his fingers redirected Loki’s attention--some of it--off the pain and onto the other man. He looked up, met Tony’s eyes, and grimaced at his own weakness.
As if Tony could read his thoughts--and, who were they kidding, since he probably could at this point--the mortal chuckled softly. “Okay, babe--the thermometer is about to pop out of that turkey. So ... what do you need me to do?”
“Just … “ Gripping Tony’s fingers tightly, Loki lifted his other hand in a wait gesture.
Loki stopped just before a groan tore from his throat.
“Can I say something here?”
“No.”
“Too bad. Seeing you like this--even … well, like this … It’s … I ...“
“No! Shut up.”
“God, you’re difficult.”
“And that,” Loki wheezed, “is the most accurate observation you’ve ever made.” He sucked in air. “You fool.”
***
Twenty-three minutes later, Loki delivered their child into Tony Stark’s waiting arms.
(Well, mostly one arm, since the hand Loki had been holding was cramped into a painful claw.)
Loki looked at Tony’s face before he looked at the newborn. And, mostly with fatigue--but a little trepidation--he waited while Tony wiped off the infant’s chest, back, head, and then drew it tightly to him for comfort and calm as its crying quieted.
Tony exhaled, smiled softly at the child. “Healthy. Beautiful … Another … another boy. Hm.” He chuckled, his smile broadening. “You’d think someone out there doesn’t trust us with a daughter.”
Loki tried to push up, wanting to see his new son. But still he asked: “Disappointed?”
Tony shook his head, nosing the baby’s soft temple, smelling him. “No. Hell, no. We make good boys. He’s perfect, just like Fray. And I certainly wouldn’t trust you with a daughter on Earth. You’d murder the first middle-school kid who took an interest in her.” Then he laughed. “Hell, I wouldn’t trust you not to start that shit in kindergarten.”
Loki snorted. “You really think I won’t do the same for our sons?”
“Hah--yes. Point taken.” Finally, Tony handed the child to his mo--father, making sure the edges of the swaddling blanket were tucked into Loki’s hold. Then he sat back on his heels, considering the pair. “So ... Fray has a brother.”
Pressing the infant to his chest, Loki sighed, head dropping back against the stone wall. “Yes.”
Tony spoke so carefully. “How do you think that will go?” He turned his attention, seemingly, to gathering spare blankets to insulate himself against the cold air.
Having Tony’s eyes off him loosened Loki’s tongue. “I’m not … certain. I don’t know exactly how--how they should act. What they should be … to--”
Tony took pity on him. Interrupted: “Yeah.” He reached over, ran a palm over the infant’s crown, downy with fine, near-black hair. One little arm jerked reflexively inside the wrapping. “I’m shit at family relations myself, really.” He thought for a moment, tilting his head, and watched Loki and the child. “But you know who might be able to help us?”
Loki studied him in return, then rolled his eyes. He huffed in disgust, “I don’t know why you pride yourself on your cleverness--”
“Yes, that’s exactly who I was going to say: Your brother, Thor!” He snapped quickly, then, barely hiding a grin, shook an index finger at Loki. “He will be perfect at helping us figure out what brothers should be to each other. And he would love to be asked.” His tone turned teasing and a little sweet. “... Great minds, Loki, great minds.”
Loki leaned down, whispered mock-conspiratorially to the now-sleeping child: “At least, between us, we have the one.”
“Aw, babe--thank you for that.” Tony came off his knees, finally, stretching his legs out beneath him and shuffling next to Loki against the wall. Pressed shoulder to shoulder, they watched the newborn together.
Loki lifted a hand, touched the infant’s nose gently, stroked it through an involuntary frown. “And what of the name?”
Tony was--for once--silent.
Loki raised an eyebrow. “It’s … fine, Tony. What we discussed. Fray after my mother; this child after yours.”
The other man sighed. “‘Maria’ would have been simpler.”
Loki smiled, teasing in turn. “You want to name him Maria? I didn’t think Midgardians were that unconventional.”
“Well ... Sue, obviously,” he retorted, but without much heat. He hitched the blankets tighter around himself. Then, after a moment: “So. Colin--based on my mother’s middle name, then.”
“Colin. Yes. Meaning ‘victor.’ One son from conflict, one from victory.”
The cave fell into silence. Tony may have rested his head, just slightly, against Loki’s, and, while maintaining plausible deniability, Loki may have allowed it.
Finally, from Loki: “We need to--”
Tony shook himself out of his thoughts. “Yes! Yes ... we need to get back.” He wrinkled his nose, amused. “There’s no way Captain America has avoided a category-five diaper disaster by now. He may never speak to us again. And real babysitters cost a goddamned arm and a leg these days. We can’t afford to lose a free one.”
“What--your hero, offended? Doesn’t that fall under his responsibilities to save the world from evil? Or Communism--I forget which.”
Tony shrugged. “Either. Both.”
“Yes, fine, then. Let’s return.” Before Tony had a chance to rise, however, Loki touched his arm and stayed the other man’s movements. “But … let’s go … in just another moment.”
“Okay. Yes. Just another minute. Moment. And, uh, Loki?”
Loki steeled himself, resigned. “Yes?”
“For the record: Not sorry I Lojacked you.”
“Of course you’re not,” he said, then added, “idiot,” with a cadence of weary affection.