Wooing The Trickster. Chapter 11.
Jan. 28th, 2015 12:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
teofseTitle: Wooing The Trickster.
Author: Teofse
Rating: G
Pairing: Loki/Tony
Genre: Slash. Romance.
Word Count: 5770
Warnings: None. Unbetaed.
Disclaimer: Don't own these characters. No money is being made out of this work.
Summary: “Get ready to be swept off your feet, Loki of Asgard, because my fucking heart has finally found its match, and I'm afraid it's you.”
Wooing The Trickster. Chapter 11.
Anyone who had ever dealt with Tony for long enough ended up learning that his quirky sense of humor and all around tendency to not really give a fuck about a very long list of things indeed often meant that he'd forgive quite a lot of sins and put up with plenty of bullshit without batting an eye. Believing that to be the case for everything, though, was the very first -and usually final- mistake that many, many, people kept making around him. Not that he particularly cared, because he'd never had any problem when it came to dropping whichever acquaintance had dared to step over his precious written-on-stone boundaries without so much as a by your leave, but the point was that they existed. And they were kind of... unmovable, because they made him who he was and he fucking loved himself.
There were things, personal, specific things, that Tony knew he was quite particular about. These were things he didn't like at all and wouldn't let anyone get away with, no matter who they were or how much they thought he needed them in his life. He didn't take orders from anyone and that included both S.H.I.E.L.D and Stark Industries' board of directors. He had no problem letting them believe they could control him -as long as it suited him- but that didn't make him their plaything. It only make them look all the more stupid in his eyes because, come on, controlling Tony Stark... what the hell were they thinking?
He was also well and truly done with weapon manufacturing, stepping on little people to get just an inch ahead, and the bachelor lifestyle that had earned him his playboy reputation, if his recently developed tendency to stutter to a halt in the middle of one of his awesome-genius-dazzling-your-tiny-brain-with-indecipherable-science-here rants to get all dreamy-eyed over steamy thoughts of Loki's toe-curling kisses was anything to go by.
He disliked swimming pools, jacuzzis, river rafting, the ocean and any other thing that had even the slightest possibility of putting him in a position where he might, just might, end up with his head under water. He couldn't stand people who tried to hand him things, and he wouldn't let anyone, and that meant absolutely No. One. At. All, mess with HIS STUFF. And currently there was nothing and nobody in the entire universe who fitted into the category of being HIS STUFF better than Loki Odinson, Second prince of Asgard, and the best goddamned kisser in all the realms put together. That meant that the little bracelet his crush's douchebag of a father was using to mess up his mojo was offending Tony's 'Stark sensibilities' all the way down to his bones, and the fact that he hadn't managed to get rid of the blasted thing was sticking in his craw so savagely that he'd turned almost overnight from his default laid-back genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist persona into an increasingly enraged wild bear who exhibited every sign of having a rather large thorn stuck deeply into his paw.
Tony knew the rest of the team -and even Pepper- had started to give him a wide berth lately due to his snappy attitude and all around grouchy disposition whenever he wasn't too busy either having his tonsils all but sucked out of his body by Loki's talented mouth or attempting -and failing abysmally- to devise a way to pulverize that overly flashy shackle into a million tiny grains of satisfyingly small dust.
His trickster kept advising him to let it go already, reminding him that the bracelet had been created by a god. An ancient being who not only had thousands of years of experience over him, but also a rather extensive knowledge of the magical arts. Tony didn't like Loki's resignation to put up with his 'new sentence' one little bit. He liked the slight redness he could glimpse around his gorgeous prince's wrist whenever he was too slow to cast the healing charm he'd begun to use on a daily basis even less, and wasn't prepared -or even willing- to learn to 'live with it until the king grows tired of this game'.
He'd listened to Loki's latest lecture on the subject just a couple of days earlier and had ended up smiling at his alien-wizard with as much apologetic regret as he could possibly muster when he felt no regret whatsoever before telling him that no, he wouldn't let it go. He couldn't let it go. The whole thing had become a matter of principle and his pride was on the line. He had to find a way to break him free of that bloody bracelet because, seriously, no one who had the balls to put a shackle on Tony-Fucking-Stark's boyfriend/godfriend/maddeningly-sexy-sock-sliding-partner right under his nose should be allowed to have a single hope of getting away with it. Not even the one-eyed king of Asgard. Specially not the one-eyed king of Asgard.
Loki had stormed off in a huff, accusing him of being an arrogant, pigheaded midgardian who wouldn't know how to pick his battles even if Sun Tzu himself wrote him a bloody manual detailing how to do it, and locked himself in his bedroom. He'd given him the cold shoulder to put all cold shoulders to shame, until Tony had bribed him into forgiving him with a surprise trip to the opera that had ended up with both their faces splashed all over the papers, under some of the most hilarious headlines he'd read in a very long time.
Despite the gleeful sense of satisfaction that had filed him with triumph as he'd read out loud each and every one of the innuendo-fueled headlines that the 'torrid, alleged, romance' they were having had inspired the city's paparazzi to write, the sweetness of their relationship's first airing to the public hadn't managed to soothe the seething rage that Tony had begun to experience as soon as he'd realized that Loki had started magicking the stupid bracelet invisible whenever he was around him. He understood why the god had done it, he really did, but that knowledge only managed to offend him even more.
It wasn't as if Tony could forget the bracelet's loathsome existence, just because he was no longer able to see it flashing its little evil beams of golden light every time the cuff of his reindeer's long-sleeved shirt rode up his arm enough for it to catch a stray ray of sunshine. He's been convinced for a while that the bloody thing shimmers like a string of perfectly cut diamonds, just to spite him, regardless of whether he can see it or not and he hates it. Hates it. HATES IT! He also hates his maddening inability to figure out how to bust that bloody lock without hacking Loki's hand clean off his wrist to do it. And the fact that he'd just left Dum-E cleaning the mess he'd made of his lab after his latest failed experiment was responsible for the bitter taste of defeat he was currently struggling to swallow.
“You can tell your douchebag of a king that I'm not giving up on this research, Tomy-boy.” He growled at the end of his tether, giving up on trying to control his increasingly frustrated temper as he stomped across his private balcony until he'd reached the spot where Thor usually appeared whenever he called for that magic bridge of his. “I don't care how hard Loki is trying to make me forget the dammed thing even exists, or how many times my experiments hit a roadblock. I'm gonna crack that shit open sooner or later. All I've got to do is keep on trying, and I'm goddamned brilliant at being a stubborn pain in the ass, so yeah... Tell that bastard that I'm planning to set his son free come hell or high water. What's dear old pirate-face going to do then, eh, Pervy? Is he gonna lock him in his room like a very bad boy and never let him out? That's rather medieval, isn't it? And we both know that Loki will never speak to him of his own free will ever again if he dares to go down that road, so... come on, buddy! Tell that cowardly old fart to sort this out like a man and grant me a fucking audience or something. I can't wait to call him an asshole to his face.”
He was tired, annoyed and so goddamned exhausted of hiding how easily he could read Loki's ever-growing despondency over his inability to cast that blasted cloaking spell while bloody Thor spent every other hour of the day shouting 'dear brother this and dear brother that' without so much as noticing that his sibling was crumbling like a house of wet cards right under his oblivious, royal nose, that he could have happily ripped that blond idiot a new one if Loki hadn't specifically forbidden him from discussing the bracelet thing with anyone, least of all with Thor.
Tony hated family messes. He'd had enough of his own growing up and had sworn to himself never to get embroiled in anybody else's, no matter what the provocation. Loki wasn't asking him to get involved, though. The reindeer had taken great pains to drive home the message that he didn't want him sticking his oar in the pissing-contest he had going with his father and, perversely, Tony felt illogically annoyed by the fact that his irritatingly independent boyfriend kept on giving him the perfect excuse to abandon the mad ride into the absolute pit of misery that was the Asgardian royal family dynamics when the only thing he wanted was to stay on until the bitter end, so he could pick up each and every one of Loki's shattered pieces and glue them back together as soon as humanly possible.
“You're gonna break him, you, bastards. You are gonna break him and I'm not letting him fight this one on his own. He's not on his own, goddammit! He's got me and I, Anthony Edward Stark, Have. His. Back. Do you hear me, Pervy? I have Loki's back now and that means I'm not gonna let any of you, assholes, bully him any more.”
“I would like to know the identity of this 'Pervy', friend Stark, for I also have my brother's back and will happily help you crush the insect who has tried to bully a rightful prince of Asgard.”
Tony was so startled upon hearing Thor's quiet voice snarl that ferocious statement with the kind of hair-raising anger the guy rarely bothered to embrace that he ended up whirling around so fast he almost tripped on his own two feet.
“You've gotta give a half-drunk mortal some warning that you're eavesdropping, pointbreak. You can not sneak onto my private balcony and spy on a for-my-ears-only rant like some sort of overly muscled, alien, 007. I swear your brother and you are gonna give me a heart attack if you keep pulling these sort of stunts on me.”
Thor's bulging biceps rippled as he crossed those massive arms of his across his equally massive chest before looking right at him with unusually somber blue eyes.
“You are not drunk, Man of Iron. Do not forget that I have been around you long enough to be able to tell the difference between alcohol intoxication and frothing fury whenever you care to exhibit either one.”
Tony swallowed uncomfortably, fighting down the bubble of hysteria that was making his gut churn unpleasantly. He didn't want to have a stupid heart to heart with Thor about this. He couldn't have a stupid heart to heart with Thor at this point, no matter how much he wanted to have one or how many times he'd rehearsed the stuff he'd been desperately eager to shout in his dumb face for a while now. He couldn't surrender himself to the temptation of having this fight tonight because he'd promised Loki he wouldn't spill the beans to big, blond and thunderous. And he knew his reindeer would never forgive him if he blurted out what was going on in the middle of the more generalized you-really-are-the-shittiest-big-brother-I've-ever-met shouting match he was dying to start with the dude.
“We can't have whatever conversation you came here to have, Obelix. Trust me when I tell you that I, personally, would love to give it a go but I can't. At least not right now, so let's call it a day and go to bed before either of us says something Loki will make us regret ever putting into words. That plan cool enough for you, buddy?”
“I do not plan to regret what I have come here to say, friend Stark. My brother is unhappy. He's trying his best to hide it but I see it clearly enough.”
Tony's entire frame tensed at the implied accusation and his eyes flashed with anger, cocky jaw lifting in vicious challenge as he crossed his own arms across the glow of his arc reactor in a defiant stance that perfectly mirrored Thor's own:
“And you think I'm responsible for that?”
“I'm positive that you aren't.” The thunderer spoke with enough conviction to deflate Tony's outraged sails with that single verbal blow. “I don't know how you've done it, but you've managed to convince Loki to let you in. He didn't even bat an eyelash when you showed up for the latest Avengers' battle wearing your strange new armor and that means he'd already seen it and, against all the odds, decided not to take offense for the misguided choice of color in your token. You should be proud. My brother hasn't worn any shade of blue since he learned of his heritage, no matter how much our mother would rejoice in seeing him do so. Blue is her signature color and Loki's decision to disown it has been a great blow to her.”
“Maybe he didn't want to kick up a fuss about it. Your brother's not exactly keen on having public tantrums, Thor. He's more the grin-and-bear-it sort.”
“He's also extremely proud and very quick to anger. He would have strangled you with your own entrails before letting you wear a warrior's token in his honor, if he hadn't cared for your affection. He even touched you in front of everyone just this morning. He put his hand squarely on your shoulder before leaning over it to reach for the salt.”
“That doesn't mean anything, pointbreak.”
“It does when you are Loki and you have magic on your side. He could have summoned the shaker right into his hand. That is his way, son of Howard. My brother doesn't like to touch people. He takes great pains to avoid bestowing that sort of contact upon those he doesn't care about on a regular basis. But he touched you. He did it because he's chosen you and that... that is a great achievement indeed. Loki has never allowed himself to choose anyone before.”
“We shouldn't be talking about this. You have no right to tell me that sort of stuff when Loki, himself, hasn't.”
“I have every right to speak thus. My. Brother. Is. Unhappy. He shouldn't be, but he is, and I want to know why. Loki's refusal to acknowledge nearly two thousand years of brotherhood doesn't negate their existence, friend Stark. He may be trying to actively forget our fraternal connection, but I am not. We grew up together. I know his tells as well as I know my own. There is something the matter with him and, although he's refusing to confide in me, he has obviously told you what ails him. That is why you have been so out of sorts lately. I recognize your eagerness to avenge whatever dishonor has befallen him because I feel it too. We will destroy those who've harmed him together. All you have to do is tell me everything you know.”
Tony's wildly pounding heart fell all the way down to the floor as he stood there, equal parts ecstatic about finally having irrefutable proof that he'd been right all along about the depth of Thor's love for his sibling and the fact that he was so clearly willing to fight in Loki's corner, but also thoroughly depressed by the knowledge that he couldn't give the poor bastard the break he wanted because that had to be Loki's call and his reindeer was quite obviously not ready to forgive and forget the enormous mess that goldilocks here seemed to have made of their relationship so far.
“I can't tell you anything, thunderpants. I swore to him that I wouldn't and I'm not gonna break his trust for you. I'm not gonna break his trust for anyone, do you understand me? Loki comes first on my ship.”
“Who is this Pervy you spoke of and why has he dared to threaten a prince of Asgard?” Thor questioned once again, ignoring Tony's refusal to share for the time being.
“Back off, rippling biceps. None of this is any of your business.”
“How can it not be my business? My brother is clearly suffering. He's depressed and on edge and retreating further away from home with every passing day. He refused to accompany the guards father sent down to retrieve him just this morning. He spurned mother's invitation to lunch without even caring to voice a single excuse to soothe the sting of such rejection. He's disowning us one snub at a time, and I shall not rest until I've learned the truth of why he's chosen to do so now.”
Tony felt cold all the way down to his toes. He'd been out at one of Peppers' awfully boring board meetings half the morning and had locked himself inside his lab to work on his latest theory for cracking open that bracelet as soon as he'd returned, so this was the first news he'd heard about the asgardian guards' unexpected visit. He'd have hated to come home and found Loki gone. He'd have hated even more not knowing whether the reindeer had gone back up to daddy's of his own free will or not.
“Have you tried talking to him about this? It shouldn't be that hard to ask your own brother why he doesn't want to go back home, magic-hammer.”
“There's nothing to talk about. Loki can be stubborn when he feels wronged and often defies father's wishes out of sheer pigheadedness. This is the first time one of their fights has affected my brother's relationship with mother, though. And such petty act of manipulation to force her to choose his side of whatever ridiculous argument he's having with father is unworthy enough to shame him.”
“Maybe he's trying to keep her out of it altogether. And maybe one of you should bother to pose the uncomfortable question of whether your brother needs someone to choose his side of the argument or even what the fucking argument is about. Has it ever occurred to you that Loki could have very good reasons to send your father's guards packing?” Tony asked, pointblank, and could have oh-so-happily strangled the little bastard when he frowned with so much confusion that he had to push both hands inside the pockets of his baggy pajama pants for fear of succumbing to the ever-growing temptation of wrapping them around Thor's neck and squeeze as hard as he could manage.
“You forget I know my brother in a way you never will. Father and Loki have been clashing like a mountain and a blast of eroding wind for as long as I have memory. They are both equally stubborn and rarely see eye to eye. That doesn't mean they have reached the point where estrangement is the only option. Loki is deeply loved. He may have decided to shy away from that truth while he struggles with the pain of his adoption, but nothing can erase the fact that he has always been one of us. He is child and brother and prince to everyone in Asgard. He has a place among our people. We lost him once before and have no intention of doing so in the future. He has nothing to fear from anyone back home, for none of us would willingly allow him to come to harm ever again.”
Tony shook his head from left to right, marveling at how very thick these gods, who were old enough to know better, could be when it came to one another. He stared unblinkingly at the unshakable conviction he could read in Thor's earnest blue eyes and wondered what it'd take to get lighting-boy here to understand that love alone wouldn't be enough to fix this giant mess, unless he learned to express it in the right way. Loki was big into things like 'choice' and 'effort' because he'd never been chosen before and no one except maybe his mother seemed to have ever bothered to put any effort whatsoever into caring for him, either.
The blueberry had been burned far too deeply to keep giving his heart away to the same people who'd trampled it based on nothing but faith. Tony could see that both Thor and his father loved Loki with enough strength to keep fighting a battle they'd never win, unless they learned to speak the same bloody language the silvertongue spoke. He was sure as hell neither of them had understood that much so far, though, and Loki would never even think of giving them a hint. Why should he? They were the ones who'd failed him the most.
Tony could definitely understand the kind of anger that could make someone as painfully insecure as his crush decide to give up on two thick-headed buffoons with the emotional depth of a starved mosquito between them, but that wouldn't help anyone in the end. Loki needed his family in a way that Tony had never needed his own, and the saddest part of all was that they seemed to need him just as much. He had a mother who'd walk over fire for him without a single hesitation and a brother and father who'd probably do the same thing, regardless of the fact that neither of them had a fucking clue of how to show their affection in a way that Loki could both trust and understand. 'Shit. Shit. Shit... These dammed bastards are so bloody busy proving how macho they are on a regular basis that they've forgotten how to say the big L-word to each other.'
“Did you even bother to give Loki the I-shall-not-rest-until-I've-learned-the-truth-and-crush-the-insect-who-dared-to-harm-you spiel or was that just for lucky, old me? Because I honestly think that listening to that one would have impressed frosty long enough to call you brother once or twice, thunderpants. You should try it, you know? Since it was wasted on me and all that.”
Thor's determined blue gaze skittered away for the first time since their awkward conversation had begun. His head lowered self-consciously and he shrugged those wide shoulders of his in a gesture of such helplessness that Tony's small enough reserve of sympathy went out to the poor bastard, despite his increasing annoyance with the brute's failure to recognize a hint the size of a mountain when a bona fide genius decided to give him one.
“My brother wouldn't have received such avowal kindly. He's determined to deny my right to protect him from all danger and I... I do not wish to hear him renounce our kinship once again. He does it often enough without such blatant provocation and, no matter how constantly spoken, the words never grow easier on the heart they are so cruelly set on wounding.”
Tony fidgeted uncomfortably, unable to decide whether he wanted to punch the man in front of him or hug him until he cried himself ragged once and for all. The situation between the brothers or even between father and son wasn't as black and white as he'd have liked. They were behaving like idiots, that was true, going about re-claiming their ties with Loki in the worst possible way, but then the reindeer was giving them a pretty hard time and they'd probably had never even heard about the good old art of putting 'effort'. Why should they have? They were the bloody King of Asgard and his shinny golden heir, after all. They had probably never needed to lift a finger to get all the love and adulation they could handle and, now that Loki seemed determined to teach them the hard way that there was someone out there who wasn't willing to shower their oblivious little hearts with his affection for free, they were panicking left, right and center and behaving like thoughtless assholes into the bargain.
“I love him, Thor. I love him so much I'm gonna deck you if you dare to break his heart.”
Thor blinked at him stupidly, clearly appalled at his bluntly delivered threat.
“That's... commendable, but I have no intention of breaking my brother. I want nothing more than to see him whole once more.”
“Then you've got to stop talking and start acting, blondie. Loki is enough of a wordsmith to write his own fucking poems. What he really needs is people who are dammed serious about loving him.”
Thor's puzzled face lost it's hilarious confusion and became ferociously angry in the blink of an eye.
“Are you implying that I'm not? Because I can assure you that I...”
“You don't need to assure me of anything, eel of doom. The last time I checked you'd taken him all the way to Asgard and abandoned him there as soon as you arrived in favor of going off to find your friends.”
“Man of Iron...”
“Do. Not. Interrupt. Me, mucho macho! You left your brother all alone in a palace full of fuckers who despise him, knowing he'd be easy pickings for whoever the hell wanted to give him a hard time, just because you felt like having a good sparring match with the same bloody assholes who've spent their entire lives calling him an ugly, girly, coward and questioning his right to have a place in your merry band of warriors.”
Thor took a couple of furious steps forwards, clearly intent on defending actions he had no regrets about.
“I invited him to come with me, but he refused to do so. It's not my fault that Loki decided to hide in his precious library and pout all evening long, just to spite me! The Norns know the Lady Sif would have loved to challenge him in the ring. She has always delighted in training with him.”
Tony literally saw red.
“You mean she'd have loved to either humiliate him by defeating him in front everyone or call him a chicken for using 'magic tricks' to win, if he'd bested her, don't you? I have it on good authority that this Sif chick hates your brother with every bone in her body and she wins every single time they 'train' together because, no matter what he does, she can twist it around to paint herself as either the awesome fucking warrioress who trashed the weakling prince of Asgard into the dirt or the unfairly defeated victim of a cheating sorcerer.”
“That's a vile pack of lies!”
“Is it? Will the truth become a lie because she'd deny it, or because you'd prefer to keep on using the same rose tinted spectacles that allowed you to miss how everyone up there delighted in bullying your little brother right under your goddamned nose while he was growing up?”
Thor was pale with bone-deep rage. His massive fists were tightly closed as he towered over Tony, clearly a heartbeat away from thumping him into unconsciousness by the look of him.
“Loki would have never said such things about the lady Sif. He would have never accused a fellow Asgardian warrior of bullying him, as you've implied.”
“He didn't have to say much, thunderpants. The little comments he sprinkles here and there whenever he's too relaxed to bother keeping up that annoying emotional wall of his are more than enough for me. I happen to be bloody brilliant at reading between the lines and trust me when I tell you that the story I've read so far should shame you.”
The thunderer deflated upon hearing Tony's clearly disgusted growl. He took a wobbly step backwards, proud shoulders hunched forwards with the weight of dawning misery even as those earnest blue eyes of his tried to seek a reassurance the engineer wasn't generous enough to give him.
“You must have read the wrong story, then. It can't have been all that bad. I would remember every one of those slights, if they had been so terrible. I was there, growing up beside Loki all along, and I have no recollection of wrongdoing. My brother has a tendency to make mountains out of anthills, friend Stark. You've said it yourself: he's a wordsmith. A gifted storyteller. It wouldn't have been hard for him to paint a terrible picture of coldblooded neglect and convince even himself it was the truth.”
“Would that have taught him it'd be pointless to seek either your help or your mother's whenever he needs it the most because he knows it wouldn't be offered, anyway, or is it more likely that this attitude of dismissive disbelief that you're so freely showing me right now was the one to do the trick?”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that your brother doesn't trust you and that he has pretty good reasons for not doing so. It means you've taught him to be the self-reliant jerk who doesn't want to give you a break through one disappointment after another, Thor. It means that you let him down in the worst possible way at every single turn and you're still doing it, because it's easier for you to blame everything Loki does on his 'unreasonable' nature and his talent to tell tall tales, than to grow the pair of balls you need to confront the ugly truth head on: You are a shitty brother, buddy, and that's putting it lightly because you're also blind and self-entitled and so goddamned unwilling to open your eyes and see Loki for the incredibly talented, beautifully gorgeous and amazingly independent tower of strength he really is that its seriously given me the chills. You don't deserve him. That's the plain and simple truth and I'm not going to stand here a single second longer, listening to your pathetic attempts to turn the man I love into the villain of this story when he's always been the victim!”
Tony was so furious that he didn't even want to stay around long enough to find out whether the hammer he'd used to ram the fucking truth down this bloody idiot's gullet had hit its mark or not. He grunted with indignation and tried to storm right past his now thoroughly unwelcome companion in a bid to put as much distance as he could between the two of them. He'd have given half his fortune in exchange for the courage he needed to head down to Loki's room and hug his god's sleeping body as tightly as humanly possible, keep him near until his own heart had stopped pounding and he'd found some measure of comfort in the knowledge that he'd at least tried to fix this hopeless mess for his reindeer's sake.
Thor caught his wrist in a hold of steel as he tried to stomp past, ruining his gloriously peeved exit at the last possible second and, although he'd really tried to pull himself free with a couple of mighty tugs, Tony had known from the beginning that he'd never manage to escape until his fellow avenger decided to let him go.
“What the fuck do you want now? I've already said everything I wanted to say to you.”
“Do you realize your words implied that whoever has threatened Loki can be found in Asgard?”
Tony laughed rather bitterly before shrugging his stiff shoulders in a what-the-hell gesture and deciding to give his currently least favorite team-mate exactly what he wanted: a giant headache, Tony Stark style.
“I never said anyone had threatened the reindeer up there, although I may have been trying to remind you of the fact that each and every one of Loki's emotional wounds can be traced back to Asgard, because he sure as hell has never been harmed here.”
Thor's sharp inhalation told him he'd struck a nerve and he couldn't help the vicious little grin of savage satisfaction that curled his lips upwards as his wrist was finally released.
“I will get to the bottom of this, son of Howard. I do not lie when I claim to love my brother.”
“Good for you, pointbreak. I hope you're not expecting a medal or an applause, because I'm really not feeling sufficiently awed to break out the good gold right now.”
“Is that all you're going to say?” The asgardian questioned, clearly wounded by his cold and uncompromising tone and Tony's heart went out to him at the last possible second. He'd been in this dude's shoes not so long ago, trying his best to push past Loki's formidable defenses without having a single bloody clue as to why he'd never managed to even dent them. He'd been lucky enough to get a hint from the trickster himself and he was pretty dammed sure Thor would never be that lucky. He'd had his chances and he'd squandered them all by the look of things. But he also clearly loved his brother with a depth that made him... worthy. One last chance. He'd give the idiot one last chance and he hoped to hell and back that he'd grown smart enough not to blow it.
“A very picky asgardian told me not so long ago how to speak your brother's language. Finding the right words to communicate properly with Loki wasn't very easy at first, but it gets better as you go along and he tends to be forgiving when you really, really, try. Effort, hammer-boy. That is the only thing that will ever make you worthy. Effort is the language of the gods. The one thing that often forces them to notice you and reward you with your heart's greatest desire. Effort is the key that opens every door, but you must use it wisely, for it could gain you things you are not truly ready for.”