Wind howls through jagged rocks as storm clouds churn above the snow-dusted peak. Thunder rumbles, low and menacing, as THOR slams down onto the mountain with a flash of lightning, clutching Loki by the collar of his green-and-gold tunic.
Without ceremony, Thor hurls his brother against the craggy wall of rock. Loki hits hard, cracks spiderwebbing behind him as he slumps down into the snow.
The magical charm Harry left on him finally fizzles away — and Loki gasps, rubbing his throat, then grins lazily up at his captor.
"Finally," Loki breathes, his voice velvet with amusement. "I was starting to wonder if I'd have to mime my way through my own execution."
Thor plants his boots, fury glinting in his eyes, and raises Mjölnir high, the runes glowing as thunder roars above them.
"Where is the Tesseract?" Thor demands, his voice cracking like the storm.
Loki chuckles darkly, pushing himself off the wall with no sign of fear, only mischief.
"Oh, brother," Loki drawls, tilting his head. "I missed you too."
Thor's grip on the hammer tightens, his shoulders bunching with righteous anger.
"Do I look to be in a gaming mood?!" he bellows.
Loki smiles, unfazed by the shout, brushing snow off his shoulder like a man adjusting his cuffs before a party.
"You really should thank me, you know," Loki says airily. "With the Bifrost destroyed, how much dark energy did the Allfather have to summon just to send you here? All this… just to fetch me? How touching. How very… precious."
Thor slams Mjölnir into the mountain at his side, the impact making the whole peak tremble as snow and stone rain down around them. The god of thunder closes the gap in two strides, grabs Loki by his collar and lifts him off his feet. His voice drops to something raw, something almost pleading.
"I thought you died."
That earns Thor a faint smirk, more cutting than a blade.
"Did you mourn?" Loki asks coolly, green eyes glinting.
Thor breathes hard, jaw tight.
"We all did. Our father—"
"Your father," Loki snaps, and Thor stops short, his face falling. Loki wrenches out of his brother's grip, straightening his tunic as he stalks a few paces away. "Did he tell you what I am? What I really am?"
Thor's silence says more than words could.
Loki spins on him, his voice rising now, sharp with years of buried pain.
"We were raised together! We played together! We fought side by side!"
He stalks closer, eyes burning now.
"But I remember… always in your shadow. Always second to the mighty Thor. Always… less."
He jabs a finger at his brother's chest.
"I remember you tossing me into the abyss. I fell through worlds you'll never comprehend. I was broken… and reborn. I was, and should be, king!"
Thor takes a long, slow breath, as if trying to steady the storm within him.
"So you take the world I love as recompense for your imagined slights?" His blue eyes blaze with defiance now. "No. Midgard is under my protection."
Loki laughs — cold, low, mocking — as he circles his brother like a serpent.
"And you're doing a marvelous job of it," Loki sneers. "The humans slaughter each other by the thousands while you posture and pout. And you expect me to leave them to their own devices? To… protect them? Why shouldn't I rule them? At least I would give them purpose."
Thor shakes his head.
"You think yourself above them?"
Loki's smile sharpens to a knife-edge.
"Well… yes."
Thor plants his feet firmly, voice dropping into something heavier than thunder.
"Then you miss the first truth of a throne, brother. A ruler serves. A ruler must earn his place. That throne would suit you ill."
Loki's expression darkens, his charming mask cracking for just a moment as he shoves Thor aside with a snarl. He stalks back toward the edge of the precipice, his cape fluttering like a banner in the wind.
"I have seen worlds you'll never know!" Loki shouts over his shoulder, turning back now, his silhouette framed against the sky. "I have grown, Odinson — while you sat fat and complacent in your halls. I have glimpsed the true power of the Tesseract, and when I wield it—"
Thor cuts him off, stepping closer, voice taut.
"Who showed you this power, Loki? Who holds your leash now?"
Loki's lip curls, and his laugh is full of venom.
"I am a king."
Thor's eyes narrow, and his voice drops like a hammer.
"Not here. You will yield the Tesseract. You will yield this… poisonous dream. And you will come home."
For the first time, something almost fragile flickers in Loki's expression — and then it's gone, replaced by cold defiance.
"I don't have it. You need the cube to bring me home. But I've sent it off. Even I don't know where it is now."
Thor exhales slowly, Mjölnir sailing back into his hand with a flash of lightning. He glares at his brother, voice low.
"You listen well, brother—"
But before Thor can finish, a red-and-gold blur slams into him from the side, sending him sprawling across the rocks. The impact echoes like an explosion as snow and shards of stone scatter into the wind.
Iron Man straightens above them, his helmet eyes glowing, repulsors charged.
Loki watches the whole scene unfold from his perch, a faintly amused smirk spreading across his lips.
"I'm listening," he murmurs dryly, voice smooth as silk.
And above them all, the storm rumbles on.
—
The dark trees sway in the howling wind, branches creaking as lightning streaks across the sky. With a BOOM, two gods of might and metal crash through the canopy, snapping trunks like matchsticks, and slam into the forest floor in a storm of earth and sparks.
Thor rolls to his feet, his crimson cape dragging through the mud, his blue eyes blazing with righteous fury. His chest heaves as he spins on his adversary.
Tony, still clad in his gleaming Mark VI armor, rises calmly out of the crater he left, metal plates hissing into place. His helmet retracts with a mechanical whir, revealing a faintly amused and thoroughly annoyed Tony Stark.
Thor's voice booms through the forest, each word crackling with thunder.
"Do not touch me again!"
Tony smirks faintly, brushing imaginary dirt off his gleaming shoulder plates.
"Then don't take my stuff," he shoots back smoothly.
Thor narrows his eyes, taking a threatening step closer, Mjölnir at his side.
"You have no idea what you are dealing with, mortal."
Tony tilts his head, his smirk sharpening into a full-on grin.
"Shakespeare in the park? Doth mother know you weareth her drapes?"
Thor growls, but there's the faintest flicker of confusion in his gaze. He shakes it off, gripping his hammer tighter.
"This is beyond you, metal man. Loki will face Asgardian justice!"
Tony's grin fades to a thin, serious line. He straightens to his full height, his eyes hard.
"He gives up the Cube, he's all yours. Until then? Stay out of my way… tourist."
The helmet slams shut with a metallic clank.
Tony turns to walk away, his thrusters firing lightly as he strides forward.
But he doesn't make it three steps before Thor's patience snaps.
With a guttural roar, Thor swings his arm, and Mjölnir spins through the air like a blazing comet, slamming into Iron Man's chest and sending him flying backward through two trees.
INSIDE THE SUIT. Alarms blare softly as the HUD flickers.
"Okay," Tony mutters flatly, picking himself up. "That happened."
On the ridge above, Loki lounges casually on a boulder, legs crossed, chin resting in his hand. His emerald eyes glitter with pure delight as he watches his brother and his would-be captor tear each other apart.
"By all means," he murmurs to no one in particular, his silken voice full of glee. "Do carry on."
Below, Thor raises his hand, and Mjölnir rockets back to him, landing with a satisfying thunk. He swings the hammer in a wide arc, summoning a brilliant ray of energy that crackles through the air and slams into Tony's armor.
The impact sends Iron Man skidding back through the dirt. Sparks shower off his chestplate as his repulsors flare.
"Oh, you wanna play that game?" Tony snaps, steadying himself. "Fine by me."
He levels his hand and fires a blast of concentrated energy that slams into Thor, knocking the god flat on his back in the mud.
Tony hovers a few feet above the ground, glancing down.
"Right back at you, bitch."
Thor plants a knee in the ground, his eyes blazing, his teeth bared in something between rage and exhilaration.
"You dare?" he snarls.
With a roar, he lifts Mjölnir high and calls the storm to him. Lightning splits the sky, arcing down and striking the hammer as the air itself seems to crack and howl.
INSIDE THE SUIT. JARVIS's calm, cultured voice cuts through the blinding light.
"Sir, power levels have reached four hundred percent capacity."
Tony grins behind the helmet, even as static skitters across the HUD.
"How about that."
Thor unleashes the full fury of Mjölnir, a torrent of lightning slamming into Iron Man's armor. For a moment, Tony staggers under the assault—then he digs in his heels and fires back with a double blast from his hand repulsors, forcing Thor back to his knees.
Both men freeze, glaring at each other, the air crackling between them like a live wire.
"You've got a hell of a punch, Point Break," Tony quips, his voice distorted through the helmet.
Thor's lips curl into a grim smile.
"You fight well… for a thief."
For a single, charged heartbeat they stand there—like two gunslingers in a duel.
Then, as one, they launch forward, streaking across the clearing in a blur of light and fury, colliding mid-air in a deafening clash of metal and godly strength.
Above them, Loki leans back lazily on his boulder, watching his brother and his captor spiral up into the clouds, his voice lilting and amused.
"Oh, this is going to be delicious."
And thunder roars overhead as the battle rages on.
—
The impact shook the earth as Thor and Iron Man CRASHED back down, smashing through trees like wrecking balls through matchsticks. Branches splintered, leaves rained down, and the forest echoed with the violent symphony of their battle.
Before Thor could recover, Tony yanked the thunder god upright, steel grip like a vice.
Thor's blue eyes narrowed, but Tony didn't hesitate—grabbing both hand boosters, he slammed his palms down on Thor's armored fists, CRUSHING the boosters as energy surged wildly.
"You're gonna have to try harder than that, Odinson," Tony taunted through his helmet's comm.
Thor snarled and retaliated, eyes blazing, summoning every ounce of strength to CRUSH the broken hand boosters.
Tony didn't back down. Charging up, his palms glowed with concentrated energy, and with a furious BLAST, he shot a searing beam straight into Thor's faceplate.
Thor staggered back, losing his footing.
"Is that all you've got, metal man?" Thor growled, lunging forward.
With a swift motion, Tony headbutted Thor with his gold-titanium alloy helmet — a brutal clash of titans that sent the thunder god reeling.
Not to be outdone, Thor slammed his forehead into Tony's helmet with a mighty CRACK, sending Stark flying through a tangle of trees.
Iron Man's boosters flared as he recovered mid-air, zooming back at Thor with reckless speed.
Grabbing Thor by the arm and cape, Tony swung him like a ragdoll into another ancient oak, the tree groaning under the impact.
Thor shook off the blow and looked up, eyes blazing with fury and exhaustion.
He sprinted forward, patience gone like smoke in the wind, aiming to end this.
Tony swung again, but missed. Thor's momentum doubled, and with a savage grunt, he grabbed Tony, lifted him high, and SMASHED him down hard onto the forest floor.
Lightning crackled as Mjölnir returned to Thor's hand, its handle glowing fiercely.
Just as the hammer rose, ready to deliver a finishing blow, Iron Man skidded across the dirt with a quick burst of hand boosters, tripping Thor and sending him sprawling.
Thor scrambled up, scanning for Stark—
But before he could react, Tony CRASHED into his back with the full weight of his armored bulk.
The two locked eyes, primal and unyielding, both ready to unleash hell.
Suddenly—CLANG!
Captain America's shield ricocheted off a nearby tree, slicing the tension like a knife through silence.
Thor and Iron Man snapped their heads toward the sound.
There, standing tall atop a fallen log, was Steve Rogers — resolute and unyielding, shield back in hand, eyes calm but fierce.
Behind him, hovering just above the forest floor, was a sleek black starfighter emblazoned with red and gold decals — its cockpit open like a predator's maw.
Harry stepped out, arms crossed, emerald eyes gleaming with dry amusement.
"Well, you ladies done having your little catfight?" Harry called, voice smooth but tinged with sarcasm.
Tony's helmet visor flickered as he scanned the ship.
"Okay, that thing? That's bitching."
Steve offered no smile, his gaze locked on the two titans ready to explode.
"Maybe it's time to bring this party to a close."
Thor's lips curled into a grudging smile beneath the storm clouds.
"Agreed. But only because I tire of this play."
Iron Man cracked his fingers inside the suit.
"Fine. But next round? I'm bringing fireworks."
Harry shrugged, already stepping toward the cockpit.
"Then let's make sure there is a next round."
The forest held its breath, the storm waiting, as these four warriors prepared for the fight that could decide more than just their pride.
—
A long column of SHIELD agents in tactical gear marches steadily across the helipad, flanking Loki. His hands are cuffed, but his posture is relaxed—almost regal. A sly smile plays on his lips, eyes glinting with mischief beneath the heavy shadows of the overhead lights.
As they pass the imposing entrance to the Helicarrier Lab, the faint clatter of tools halts abruptly.
Inside, Bruce Banner stands over a cluttered workbench, the infamous Chitauri Scepter laid out before him. His brow furrows as he rubs his temples, lost in the complicated circuitry and strange energy readings.
Then, his eyes catch movement through the lab's window. He glances up just in time to see Loki's procession.
Loki's emerald gaze meets Banner's across the glass. Without hesitation, Loki gives a subtle nod and that same sly, almost conspiratorial smile.
Banner blinks, momentarily unsettled, and rubs the back of his head, as if trying to shake off a nagging headache—or maybe a deeper unease.
He exhales softly, muttering under his breath,
"Great. Just what I needed today."
Loki's smile widens ever so slightly, but he says nothing, letting the silence hum with unspoken promises and ancient games yet to be played.
—
The containment chamber hummed softly, suspended in the center of the Helicarrier by thick hydraulic arms. The walls of the cell gleamed — reinforced glass with faint, pulsing seams of steel and circuitry running through it.
Loki sat casually in the center of his transparent prison, hands folded on his knee, smirking faintly to himself. Even here, shackled to nothing and surrounded by armed guards just outside the chamber, he carried himself like a king holding court.
The door to the control platform opened with a hiss, and Nick Fury stepped in. Long black coat billowing slightly behind him, he strode to the console with deliberate, measured steps.
He glanced up at the god in the glass, then leaned forward, pressing a button.
The cell emitted a metallic clunk, and a panel in the floor beneath it slid open, revealing only darkness below. A faint, hollow howl of wind whistled up through the gap, promising nothing good to whatever fell.
Loki, still seated, cocked his head slightly, curiosity flickering in his green eyes. He peered downward as far as his vantage allowed.
Fury straightened, resting one hand on the console.
"In case it's unclear," Fury began, his tone dry but carrying an edge sharp enough to cut glass, "you try to escape, you so much as scratch that glass…"
He nodded toward the abyss beneath the chamber, where the air roared and hissed.
"That hatch opens. You drop thirty thousand feet in a steel trap. No doors. No windows. No keys. You get how that works?"
The faintest flicker of something — not quite worry, not quite interest — passed through Loki's eyes.
Fury jabbed a finger toward him.
"Ant," he said flatly.
Then he tapped the button that controlled the trapdoor and muttered,
"Boot."
The panel beneath the cell slid shut again with a heavy slam.
Loki's lips curled into a sly, mocking grin.
"It's an impressive cage," he drawled, leaning back slightly and running one long finger along his own jawline. "Not built, I think… for me."
Fury's one good eye narrowed slightly, but his tone remained cool.
"Built for somethin' a lot stronger than you."
At that, Loki actually chuckled — low and melodic, his smirk widening.
"Oh," he murmured, his gaze sweeping lazily toward the camera in the corner of the cell, as though addressing someone on the other side, "I've heard."
And he winked.
—
Rows of screens lined the walls, displaying the feed from inside Loki's cell. Around the table sat the others — Harry lounged back in his chair, emerald eyes narrowed in quiet amusement, while his wives flanked him, some leaning forward, others exchanging silent, knowing glances. Daphne, arms crossed; Susan, analytical and calm; Fleur, sharp-eyed and faintly disdainful. Val, Dacey, and Allyria watched with the wariness of warriors. Shaak Ti, Aayla Secura, and Riyo Chuchi shared a silent, tense stillness, their alien features unreadable.
On the opposite side of the table, Bruce Banner stood with his hands on the back of a chair, staring intently at the screen. His brow furrowed slightly as he studied Loki, a muscle in his jaw twitching.
Loki's gaze — on screen — flicked to the camera again, and this time his smirk turned darker.
"The mindless beast," he said, voice like silk but with an unmistakable barb, "makes play he's still a man. Tell me — how desperate are you, that you call upon such… lost creatures to defend you?"
Banner stiffened slightly, his fingers curling faintly against the chair.
Back in the chamber, Fury didn't flinch. He stepped forward, resting both hands on the console, fixing Loki with that unblinking stare.
"How desperate am I?" Fury's voice was soft, but it carried like a gunshot. "You threaten my world with war. You steal a force you can't hope to control. You talk about peace, but you kill because it's fun. You've made me very desperate."
He leaned in closer to the glass now, his voice dropping just enough to become even more dangerous.
"And you're not gonna be glad you did."
Loki only smiled wider, teeth flashing, and leaned back lazily.
"Ooh… it burns you to come so close. To have the Tesseract in your grasp. To imagine your little kingdom of men warmed by its light. Only to be reminded…"
His tone shifted then — deeper, colder, laced with disdain.
"…what real power is."
Fury just smiled thinly and straightened up, turning away from the console.
"Well," he said over his shoulder as he walked toward the exit, "you let me know if 'real power' wants a magazine or somethin'."
Loki's smirk followed him all the way out. The god leaned back in his chair and glanced one last time at the camera, his green eyes glittering with unspoken schemes.
"Do keep watching," he murmured. "This is where it starts to get… interesting."
And he laughed — soft, low, and full of promise.
—
The monitor crackled, flickered… then went black, snuffing out Loki's smirk like the flame of a candle.
For a long beat, the room stayed still and quiet, thick with tension and unsaid words.
Steve Rogers stood at the edge of the table, his arms folded, eyes locked on the blank screen. His jaw was clenched so hard you could almost hear it grind.
Next to him, Harry leaned casually against the wall, hands in his pockets, his emerald green eyes glinting faintly under the low light — thoughtful, calculating.
Behind them, Thor stood silent and hulking, his head bowed. His fists tightened and loosened at his sides in turn, his body stiff as a war hammer. His face was a storm — grief and pride and fury warring behind his eyes.
Even Natasha Romanoff didn't speak. She leaned against the table, arms crossed, expression carefully neutral, though her sharp gaze drifted from Thor to the darkened monitor to Harry and back again.
And then, of course… Bruce Banner broke the silence.
"Guy really… grows on you, doesn't he?" Bruce muttered dryly, rubbing at his temple as though Loki's very presence was giving him a migraine.
Steve turned his head slightly, his voice flat but heavy.
"He's going to drag this out. Play for time. That's his move."
Harry straightened lazily from the wall and stepped forward, his tone quiet but edged with steel.
"The real question is… do you know what his move is, Thor?"
Thor finally raised his head. The god's eyes burned like lightning contained in ice.
"Loki… has an army," he said at last, his voice low and resonant. "The Chitauri. They are not of Asgard… nor of any world you know. He means to lead them here — to claim Midgard as his own."
He paused, his jaw tightening as though the words tasted bitter.
"They will win him this world. In return… the Tesseract."
Steve's expression hardened, his voice low and serious.
"An army? From outer space?"
Before Thor could answer, Shaak Ti tilted her head, her dark eyes narrowing with a hint of disdain.
"We have heard of the Chitauri," she said, her voice smooth and melodic.
Beside her, Riyo Chuchi gave a faint, elegant nod, her blue eyes glittering like sapphires.
"They are a hive-minded species," Riyo added in her soft but cutting tone. "Reptilian. Technologically advanced, but without will of their own. Perfect soldiers. Ruthless. Efficient. Disposable."
Harry crossed his arms, his emerald eyes darkening with quiet knowledge.
"That's the problem," he said evenly. "The Chitauri don't move without someone pulling the strings. They're just… cannon fodder. For hire. The question isn't what army Loki's leading — it's who's he working for."
That landed heavily on the group, drawing a faint frown from even Natasha.
Bruce rubbed the back of his neck and gave a dry, uneasy laugh.
"And I'm guessing he needs Selvig to… what? Build another doorway? Makes sense."
Thor's head snapped up, his blue eyes narrowing.
"Selvig?"
Bruce blinked at him, looking confused.
"Yeah. Erik Selvig. Astrophysicist. Works with S.H.I.E.L.D. Why?"
Thor's mouth tightened, his face darkening even further.
"He is… my friend."
Natasha's cool, professional voice cut in like a knife.
"Loki's got him under some kind of spell. Along with one of ours."
Steve finally stepped forward, his frustration palpable.
"Then why let us take him?" he asked, his voice sharp. "He's not leading an army from in there."
Bruce leaned back in his chair, shaking his head.
"You're trying to figure out Loki," he muttered. "That's your first mistake. The guy's brain is… what's the word…"
He waved his hand vaguely, searching.
"…a bag of cats. You can smell crazy on him."
That earned him a sharp look from Thor.
"Have care how you speak," Thor said, his voice rising to a warning growl. "Loki may be beyond reason… but he is of Asgard. He is my brother."
That hung in the air for only a second before Natasha's dry voice sliced through.
"He's killed eighty people in two days."
Thor blinked, his mouth opening… then closing again. He grimaced faintly and muttered:
"…he's adopted."
That finally cracked the tension. Harry let out a low chuckle, his mouth quirking as he shook his head. Even Bruce smirked faintly, muttering something under his breath.
Across the table, Daphne Greengrass leaned lazily against Harry, her cool blue eyes sparkling with sharp amusement.
"Well," she murmured dryly, her blonde hair falling over her shoulder, "family reunions must be fun."
Susan Bones, arms folded with an almost maternal scowl, shot her a look.
"Daphne," she chided softly.
But even Susan's lips twitched faintly.
On the other side of the room, Fleur Delacour sat perched on the table edge, her golden hair and flawless posture making her look more like a queen than a fighter. She gave a faint, dismissive sniff and said, her French accent thick and lilting:
"I 'ave seen lesser men cause more trouble. At least zis one is… entertaining."
Dacey Mormont and Val both let out quiet, sardonic chuckles from where they stood in the shadows, their warrior's eyes meeting in silent agreement.
And near the back, Allyria Dayne's piercing violet gaze never left the blank monitor — though the faintest smirk curved her lips.
Above them all, on the still-active security feed in the corner, Loki sat calmly in his glass cell, leaning back as though lounging in a throne, his green eyes glinting.
He smirked faintly… and gave the camera the faintest, mocking nod.
As though to say: Exactly as planned.
—
Bruce leaned forward on the edge of the conference table, his fingers steepled as his brow furrowed deeply, lines creasing his otherwise mild-mannered face.
"It's about the mechanics," he murmured at last. "Iridium. What did they need the Iridium for?"
Before anyone else could even hazard a guess, the door swung open.
"Oh, don't everybody jump in at once," Tony Stark announced, his tone the verbal equivalent of a cocky grin as he strolled inside like he owned the place. His suit jacket was unbuttoned, his shades perched on his face, and Coulson followed behind him with the resigned patience of a man used to this exact routine.
"It's a stabilizing agent," Tony continued, barely slowing his stride as he approached the table. "Don't look so impressed, Banner. I skimmed the file. Some of it. Okay, fine — the first page and a diagram that looked like spaghetti."
He dropped a hand on the table with a little rap of his knuckles, then shot a sly wink at Coulson.
"I'll fly you there, Coulson. Keep the love alive."
Coulson just gave him a look — not quite disapproving, but very far from impressed — before moving off toward the monitors.
"Means the portal won't collapse in on itself, like it did back at S.H.I.E.L.D.," Tony explained offhandedly, thumbing through something on his phone as if this was all just background noise to him.
His gaze drifted lazily across the room and landed squarely on Thor, who was standing off to the side with his arms folded, every inch the aggrieved Norse prince.
Tony grinned and gave him a jaunty two-fingered salute.
"No hard feelings, Point Break," he said breezily. "You've got a mean swing. Good form. Just terrible aim."
Thor's head tilted slightly, one golden eyebrow quirking upward, though his stoicism didn't quite hide the faint twitch at the corner of his mouth.
Satisfied with himself, Tony kept on, waving one hand in a vague, dismissive circle.
"Iridium means the portal can open as wide — and stay open as long — as our Asgardian pin-up boy wants. Bad news for us, good news for him."
That was when his eyes caught Harry.
Leaning against the far wall, his posture loose and casual, Harry wore his trademark faint smirk. His emerald eyes glinted in the low light, knowing and amused. Flanking him, almost like a royal court in their own right, were his wives: Daphne Greengrass, cool and poised with her platinum blonde waves; Susan Bones, her brilliant red hair catching the light; Fleur Delacour, radiant and amused with her unmistakable French elegance; Val, statuesque and lethal, her icy blue eyes narrowing at Tony like she was sizing him up; Dacey Mormont, fierce and sardonic, one hand resting lazily on her hip; Allyria Dayne, sultry and watchful, a quiet intensity in her midnight eyes; and finally the three alien women, Shaak Ti, regal and untouchable, her gaze sharp as glass; Aayla Secura, lounging effortlessly with an air of feline danger; and Riyo Chuchi, delicate but deadly, her crystalline blue eyes unreadable.
Tony stopped in his tracks mid-quip, his grin growing wider by the second.
"Well, damn," he said, sauntering closer, his eyes sweeping across the group like he was inspecting a priceless work of art. "Harry, my man. Didn't realize you'd already achieved the dream of every human male since the dawn of time: a harem. And not just any harem…" — he gestured grandly at Shaak, Val, and Riyo — "…hot alien chicks. Do you wake up every morning, high-five yourself, and just… thank the universe? Because if you don't, you should."
Shaak Ti tilted her head just enough to make him feel judged. Val let out a dry little snort of laughter. Riyo merely blinked slowly, unimpressed, as though she'd seen a hundred men like Tony before and found all of them lacking.
Harry didn't even blink. His smirk just deepened.
"It has its perks," he said lightly.
Tony laughed low in his throat.
"No kidding." He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder toward the hangar. "Speaking of perks — that bitchin' one-man spacecraft you were riding earlier? Tell me that's not just some oversized RC plane. Please. For the sake of my faith in humanity. Let me take a peek? Maybe just… cop a feel?"
Daphne arched a perfectly sculpted brow and gave Tony a slow once-over. Then she smirked.
"Oh, Stark," she drawled, her voice silk and steel all at once. "If you think that's impressive… you'd probably orgasm if you saw our actual ship. The big one. Currently parked somewhere near Neptune. Fully crewed by droids."
Tony froze mid-step.
"…Spaceship?" he repeated faintly.
"Droids?"
Fleur let out a light, musical laugh that turned heads.
"Oh, oui," she purred. "Quite… magnifique, monsieur Stark. You would lose your mind."
Tony stared at Harry, wide-eyed like a kid seeing Disneyland for the first time.
"Okay. You and me? Later? We're having a drink. You're telling me everything. Because that?" — he jabbed a finger at Harry, grinning — "is awesome."
Harry's grin widened just a touch.
"We'll see if you can handle it."
Tony chuckled to himself, already muttering under his breath about "Neptune… droids… harem…" as he wandered toward the banks of monitors.
"So. Uh. Raise the mid-mast, ship the topsails. Something nautical. Oh, and—"
He stopped dead in front of one of the consoles, his head cocking to one side with exaggerated suspicion.
"—that man… is playing Galaga."
All eyes swung toward the S.H.I.E.L.D. tech at his station, who froze mid-click, caught dead to rights.
Tony grinned wickedly and leaned closer, just enough to make the guy sweat.
"Thought we wouldn't notice. But we did."
The poor tech scrambled to minimize the game, his cheeks turning crimson.
Already bored, Tony moved toward Fury's desk. He crouched down, pretending to inspect a faint glow on one of the panels — and in one smooth, practiced motion, slid a tiny button-sized bug under the edge of the desk, completely invisible to everyone else.
Well. Almost everyone.
When Tony straightened, dusting his hands theatrically, his gaze met Harry's from across the room.
Harry's emerald eyes were fixed on him, that faint knowing smile still in place.
For a moment they just stared at each other. Then Harry inclined his head slightly, as if to say: Your secret's safe. For now.
Tony's grin turned conspiratorial before he finally straightened up and muttered under his breath, mostly to himself:
"How does Fury even do this? All these blinking lights, cameras, watching everyone all the time? And all with a single eye. Sounds exhausting."
Maria Hill, standing off to the side with her arms crossed, raised one elegant brow and replied, her voice cool and dry:
"He turns."
Tony blinked, then smirked and tugged at his lapels.
"Well," he said finally, "that sounds exhausting, too."
And just like that, he strolled away — leaving half the room trying not to laugh, and the other half shaking their heads in quiet disbelief.
---
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