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Chapter Text

The monster that they fight is a foul thing, black and oozing gray slime where it treads. However, it is faster than it appears, and lightning and the Man of Iron's fire alike only seem to stun it for a moment before it reels back, even stronger than before.

Thor is sticky with slime and sweat of battle. His armor clings to him, his cape slick with the mess. He rises from where he was thrown and begins to spin Mjöllnir. The sheer audacity of the creature infuriates him to the point where his lightning comes easily, ready for yet another go.

It is an hour gone before the beast finally falls with a mighty groan. The Hulk, astride its back, slides off with a sound that makes the Captain grimace. In Thor's ear, Stark is bitterly complaining about the creature's slime getting in the joints of his armor.


“Stop being a teenage girl and let's get out of here before the wolves descend.” The Black Widow stands neatly, wiping a flaming lock out of her face with a delicate swipe. Her fierce dislike of the Midgardian media is common knowledge. Thor does not mind smiling for pictures or boisterously retelling their teams triumphs, but even he desires a hot shower.

There are already people walking up the rubble with their tiny camera phones, snapping pictures and videos. SHIELD agents in black suits and dark glasses are taping the area off. Sometimes, Thor believes that the Midgardians must have some kind of magicks, to arrive and take control so quickly.

“How about it, big guy?” Stark has appeared next to him. His face mask is up and his skin is covered in earth and gray matter, eyes crinkled at the corners. “Race you back to the tower?”

Thor is about to eagerly agree when the sky rumbles, crackling with blue lightning.

“Uh, buddy?” Clint asks him over his earpiece. “The battle's over: you can put the thunder away now.”

“That is not me,” Thor replies, still staring upward. The sky rumbles once more, winds picking up and clouds gathering. Thor can barely shout a warning before there is an almighty crack! and blinding blue light shoots from the sky a few feet away from him.

Barely a second later, the light disappears. The figure left standing there makes Thor's heart go double and causes him to smile brighter than Sól.

*

Thor is filthy.

His hair is curling with sweat and gore. Streaks of black and gray cover his armor and his cape. There are bits of the mighty beast—which Loki assumes was his foe—clinging to parts of him. And yet Loki cannot summon true disgust, not when his husband smiles at him like he is a precious jewel from a conquered land.

Loki does a quick sweep of his body. He doesn't not appear to be injured. Something that had tightened when Heimdall informed him that his king was in the midst of battle eases.

Evidence of a recent fight is all around. Loki can feel rubble beneath his boots, smell the sharp, cold scent of Thor's lightning on the air. The sky is grayish blue, weak sunlight fighting to be seen between thin gray clouds. Tall buildings of brick and wood surround them. There are men in suits surrounding the beast that Thor and his Midgardian friends defeated. Other Midgardians stand behind wooden barriers, holding odd little devices in their hands. They are trained on him. Loki feels a frisson of alarm, but no one else seems concerned with this and he is uninjured.

Still, he eyes them distrustfully.

The Midgardians seem excited about his attention. They babble to each other and point at Loki and continue to hold up their strange items. Occasionally, a flash of light will come from them.

Thor starts forward, nearly radiant with happiness. He smells awful as he leans in to just barely cup Loki's cheek. Apparently, he is mindful of his grimy state and the fact that Loki hates to be dirtied unnecessarily. Up close his eyes are bright, bluer than the skies of Asgard. “My queen,” he says, sounding rough.

Somewhere behind him, someone makes an oddly strangled sound.

“Did he just say 'my Queen'?”

“Shhh!”

“My king,” Loki replies, peering up at his Lord through his eyelashes. “You smell worse than a rotting Lyndworm.” Thor smiles even more at this, taking Loki's hand and lifting it to his lips to gently press a kiss to it. Loki allows himself to give a tiny smile at that. His eyes flit behind his husband to the company that has gathered.

The red haired woman catches his eye first. She is watching him with a wariness that seems to come as second nature. Her suit clings tightly to her, showing off rich curves and an ample bosom. Weapons are tucked into her boots and pockets. As he studies her, she does not look away from his gaze. Interesting.

Close to her is a man with sandy blonde hair. He holds a black bow like Loki has never seen before in his arms. A sheath of arrows is strapped to his back. Like the woman, he is dressed in all black. Unlike the woman, though, he does not watch Loki openly, but casts assessing glances at him.

There is a man in a metal suit who is staring, seemingly at ease with being trapped in a machine. A large, blonde man with a shield at his side is watching both him and Thor. A more unassuming man with a bare chest, brown hair, and tired eyes finishes the group.

“So, Thor, buddy,” the metal man speaks first, his voice deceptively bright. “Who's the guy?”

“I am Loki,” Loki replies, chin tilting up. He will not be spoken of as if he is not present. “Wife of Thor, prince of Jotunheim, and queen of Asgard.”

The large blonde man with the shield appears to have something caught in his throat. He clears it several times while the other men gawk stupidly. “Wife?” he repeats, as if disbelieving.

These are the first Midgardians that Loki has ever met. His opinion of the race as a whole, which was not very good to start, is slowly sinking.

Thor, sensing this, hurriedly cuts in. “Wife,” he says, “This is Natasha, Clint, Tony, Steve, and Bruce. As I have told you, they are both my friends and fierce warriors.”

“Indeed,” Loki says neutrally. He looks at the group once more before dismissing them, turning back to his husband. Later he will watch them more carefully as see if they are worthy of all the time that Thor spends in this realm. “My king,” he says, “I come to you with a request.”

Thor's brow furrows. The hand in Loki's tightens. “Does all fare well in Asgard?” he asks, slightly anxious.

“Yes,” Loki inclines his head, knowing the cause of his distress. “What is ours is fine. It is just...” he looks over at the people gathered around. Someone has pulled up in a white vehicle of some sort and a fussy woman appears to be bustling over to them. Loki looks back at his king. “May we go somewhere more private?”

“You can head back with us, if you want.” Tony cuts in. It seems that he has recovered from his shock. “The tower is about five minutes from here. 'Sides, I want to know why Thunderface here didn't tell us that he was hitched.”

Loki cocks his head, sorting through the sentence quickly. Midgardians and their odd words...

Thor just looks confused. “I wear a band of matrimony,” he points out, lifting his left wrist. A dark leather band with the runes for marriage lies against his skin, unsullied. Loki himself cast the spell that keeps it safe from Thor's many adventures.

The man with the arrows sputters. “We didn't know what that was!”

“We need to go.” The woman—Natasha--finally speaks. She inclines her head toward where a woman is striding toward them, two men with large devices on her trail. “Will we be meeting you at the tower?”


“Yes,” Thor replies. He glances at Loki, questioning. Loki judges the filth on his clothes against the fact that he really does not want to be alone with these mortals. With a sigh of resignation and a bit of magic to keep the filth off, he steps forward in Thor's embrace. His king wraps a strong arm around him, pulling out Mjöllnir and with a few swings, lurches into the sky.

Loki can remember the first time they did this. It was hundreds of years ago, when they were both very young and Thor wanted to impress him. Loki, shy and sharp, hesitantly agreed to a flight.

It was the first time that Thor had truly held him close. He remembers shivering slightly and wrapping his arms around the elder's neck, gripping hard enough to bruise. Rather than flinching, Thor had laughed and spun his hammer.

Of course, later Thor landed clumsily and accidentally broke Loki's leg. Laufey's fury had been fearsome to behold. He'd whisked his son away and for long months, there was speculation that the betrothal would be broken and war would break out. Tensions were eventually soothed by Frigga, who smoothed ruffled tempers with gentle hands. Loki was invited back to Asgard. Thor greeted him at a run, swept him into his arms and kissed him for the first time.

Thor lands on the roof of Stark tower with more grace than usual, steadying Loki. His hands linger for longer than necessary. Loki smirks as he slithers away.

“Your chambers?” he asks, swaying his hips slightly as he walks away. He laughs inside as he looks over his shoulder to see Thor's eyes glued to his ass. “Husband?” he asks with innocence that he doesn't have.

The thunderer growls. It is a low, dark sound. Loki bites his lip around the slow, warm feeling in his lower belly as he heads for the rooftop's door.

The door is actually another invention of Midgard's. Thor explains the “elevator” in low, distracted tones, one hand on Loki's hip. When the door opens, he practically hustles them down the hallways past various rooms. Loki will explore later. He has the feeling that Thor will throw him over his shoulder if he asks to be shown around now.

Thor's chambers are surprisingly decadent. They are colored differently from their rooms in Asgard, a deep, royal blue and gold with silver accents. All of the other aspects are ignored in favor of the bed.

Without a word, Loki starts to undress. “You will bathe first,” he says casually, removing his boots. Thor's gaze is like strips of sparks on his back. “And then you will return and we will properly greet each other after months of separation.”

Thor moves so fast that he's nearly a blur.

Loki smirks. He still has his request in mind, but for right now, he will be selfish.

*

When Loki wakes, Thor is pressing butterfly kisses to his face. His eyes flutter sleepily as he takes in the smell of food. Still, he looks at him with a grumpy expression. “Leave me in peace,” he mumbles, turning away. Thor only grins and follows him, leaning forward to press his tongue between his lips.

They kiss for long moments before Loki pulls back to yawn. Laughing softly, Thor kisses him on the nose. It is disgustingly sentimental.

But Thor loves to dote on him, and after their enthusiastic night, Loki doesn't have it in him to protest.

Thor pulls him into his lap, cradled between his legs. Loki lets his eyes fall half closed as he sleepily chews on bits of fresh fruit and something that Thor calls a “pancake”. It is light and sweet, and Loki finds that he enjoys it as he washes down his food with a glass of juice.

His king runs a hot bath. Loki dozes as his husband fawns over him, soothing sore muscles with his hands. There is power constantly humming under Thor's skin like thunder, rolling and waiting. But Thor is tender as he carefully cleans Loki with a soft cloth. Loki allows himself to be maneuvered out of the tub and dried off then carried, naked, back into the fresh bed.

*

The next time that he wakes he is alone.

He sits up slowly in bed, testing. His body doesn't feel like it's going to give out on him if it moves, so he carefully wobbles out of bed. A mere mortal would not be able to stand, let alone walk if confronted by Thor's vigor—he is the God of strength, after all. He only winces slightly as he heads for Thor's drawers.

His husband is larger than him in many ways. Loki finds a pair of soft, dark blue pants that have strings on the waist. After some thought, he pulls them on, tugs the strings tight, then tie them. The cuffs of the pants hang around his ankles and the pants slide a little past his hips, but that is fine. He slides on a long sleeved gray shirt. Like the pants, it is large on him, exposing a shoulder and sliding past his hands. It does nothing to cover up the marks on Loki's neck and shoulders.

Perfect.

He rolls the sleeves up until they are satisfactory, then heads for the bathroom.

Loki uses Thor's toothbrush and finds a comb in the drawer under the sink. His hair is a dark mess of tangles. When Thor told him he preferred it long, Loki began to grow it out. It is now past his bum and a trial to care for. Normally, he has someone else to do this for him.

When his hair is glossy again, Loki braids it into a neat, single lock that is bound by a little magic. He puts the things that he used away. And then he goes in search of his husband.

Now that he is not hurrying, Loki see the place that they are in properly. The walls of this place are pure white. Loki's feet are pleasantly cold on the hardwood floor as he walks silently toward what he'd seen of the main room. The ceilings are high and though the design is simplistic, it is rather tasteful.

It is within moments that Loki finds himself in what must be the main part of the house. To his left there is a living room, with a large couch and a very large black box. To his right is the kitchen where Thor is standing, presumably making food.

The rest of the Avengers are sitting at the table in varying states of exhaustion. Stark is the only one who seems slightly awake. His eyes are bright and his grin is slightly alarming as he notices Loki standing in the doorway.

“Queen of Asgard! My man!”

The others look up. Natasha is glaring at Clint, who is snickering into his cereal. Bruce is nowhere to be seen, but Steve, the large man, is next to Tony and is an odd red color.

Confused, Loki looks to Thor for help but only receives a kiss on the hand. His grin is slightly bashful as he leans back.

“We were very loud in our reunion, Wife.” he says warmly.

“Like, really, really loud,” Clint says, smirking despite the circles under his eyes. “You don't have to be embarrassed though, man. It sounded like you were having the time of your life.” he looks at the marks around Loki's neck and his grin becomes wider.

Loki is nonplussed. “Why would I be embarrassed?”

Clint and Tony's grins simultaneously falter. “Um,” Tony says, “because you were screaming like a cat in heat?”

“Loki's heat don't arrive this time of year,” Thor informs them earnestly, steering Loki toward a plate. This time it is a large sandwich that makes Loki's mouth water. Thor takes the plate and his wife and steers them to the kitchen table, pulling Loki onto his lap.

Natasha is the first to recover from Thor's statement. Loki could learn to like this mortal more. “You said that you had a request for Thor,” she says without prelude.

Loki draws himself up, mouth twisting into a sneer. “I do not see how that is any of your business.”


“She's a SHIELD agent,” Tony says, sipping at a dark beverage. He's distracted. Loki knows that he is probably stuck on 'heat'. “What's your private business is always their business. It's best just to tell them what they want to know. You know, before they stab a needle in your neck and make you spill about how someone made you wear pink panties and you liked it.”


Steve makes a sound like he is dying. It is rather alarming. Tony pats the man on the shoulder.

“Is there something wrong with the Captain?” Thor asks with concern.

“He's just suffering from a little Prude-itis.” Tony replies. “Don't worry. We'll find a cure. Someday.” He gazes off into the distance.

“I hate you,” Steve mutters.

“Your news.” Natasha interrupts, looking at Loki.

For a second Loki considers idly snapping her neck. His husband always forgives his darker nature--eventually. However, as amusing as watching the mortal's reactions would be, doing so would go against what he has decided to ask for.

The Avengers will find out sometime, anyway. He drums his fingers on the table, takes a bite of his sandwich and chews slowly, thoughtfully.

Finally, he swallows. The entire table is waiting now. Loki leans back lazily, enjoying his audience, and announces, “Our children would like to come and visit Midgard.”

Thor stiffens with excitement at the announcement. Before Loki can smile at that, Tony is flying out of his seat, arms flailing ridiculously. He looks wild about the eyes. “You have children!?”

“Of course I do,” Thor says, a frown in his voice. “Many of them.” he adds proudly, arms tightening about Loki's waist.

“You have surrogacy on Asgard?” Bruce walks into the room. He is the only one who does not have circles under his eyes. Perhaps he was not sleeping in the tower last night.

“Surrogacy?” Loki parrots, blinking.

“You know.” Tony is pacing. “Willing woman, pow, kids.”


Thor is indignant. “You believe I would lie with another?” he demands, standing as well. Loki slides onto his feet as his husband rounds to table, his expression furious. “You besmirch honor of both myself and my Queen!”

“Of course not,” Tony says quickly, skittering away from the angry god. “No, no, there's a kind of surrogacy that doesn't involve Slot A going into Slot B, but obviously you don't know about that. So who's the mother?”

Thor's glare is enough to send phantom electricity zinging across Tony's skin. “My wife is the mother of my children.”

Silence.


“Okay, okay,” Barton begins, “I know, you guys have got that whole kinky feminization thing going on and stuff—and that's cool, really, not throwing stones here. But man--” Clint gestures to Loki, “In case you haven't noticed, Loki is a dude. Dudes don't get pregnant.”


Midgardians, for all of their inventions that his husband goes on and on about, can be amazingly obtuse. “I am Jotunn,” he informs the man slowly. “We are a race of single gender.”

“You're both male and female,” Natasha says.


“Yes.” Perhaps Loki will keep her around, if only so she can explain things to the rest of the bunch.

For the first time since they have met, Bruce actually appears to be interested in something. “Fascinating,” he says, reaching up to adjust his glasses. “That is fascinating. Would you mind if I asked you a few questions later on?”


“Perhaps,” Loki grudgingly agrees. If there is any invasion of privacy though, he will suffer Loki's wrath. He is not an experiment to be poked and prodded at.

“And you...had kids?” Steve appears to be absorbing this with some difficulty. There is a furrow between his brow, one that inspires fondness when it is on Thor. However, this man is not his husband. Loki tries to suppress his irritation.

There is a moment's pause while everyone considers this.

The silence is broken, of course, by Tony. Fear forgotten, he delivers a friendly blow to Thor's shoulder. His grin is wide and bright. “Thor, you lucky dog. You get the best of both worlds!”

“That is my wife you speak of.” Thor says with a dark frown. “I also do not like being compared to an animal.”

“You'll get used to it,” Tony waves an absent hand. “So, how many you got? Two? Three? There's plenty of room here at the tower, so you can just move 'em right in if you want.”

“That would not be wise,” Loki informs him, retaking his chair. Thor walks around to rest his hands on Loki's shoulders.

“Why not?” Clint looks disappointed. Loki barely avoids the urge to roll his eyes. The man will understand in a moment.

“We have seven children,” Loki begins. “That is seven young godlings with individual abilities. There have been one hundred and sixty eight separate incidents in Asgard since they have been born.” He smirks. “Should I bring them here and allow them to stay, your tower would fall by the end of the week.”


Tony stares. “You're exaggerating.”

“He is not,” Thor says, sounding extremely proud. “Our children are strong in everything. And I do know how you love this tower, Stark.”

“You're not joking,” Clint says. He is staring as well. “You're actually serious.”


“They are children of Chaos and Thunder,” Loki replies.

“You know what?” Tony says, a strange look in his eyes.

Steve looks at him warningly. “Tony, whatever you're planning, it's not happening.”


“I,” Tony says, ignoring him, “accept that challenge. I'm going to god-proof a floor of this place and make it awesome at the same time. What are their names? Favorite things? Colors? JARVIS, take note of this.”


“Yes sir.”


Loki jumps violently in his seat. Natasha's smirk is there but gone in an instant. 

“Who is--” he starts to search for the source of the voice.

“JARVIS is Tony's Heimdall,” Thor explains with a smile. “An invention. He sees and knows all.”


“Indeed.” Loki is still unsettled. He does not like to be made a fool of, however, so he sits up in his seat and moves on. “You truly wish to house our children here?”


“I told you,” Tony says, reaching for his mug to pour himself another drink. His eyes are already far away. Loki recognizes that look: ideas are running through his head, being accepted and discarded. “I like a challenge.”


“Shouldn't we be telling Fury about this?” Steve asks, looking to Natasha for support. “You know, before a family moves in here?”


“My tower, my rules.” Tony says blithely, waving a hand.

“Well you've at least got to ask Pepper.”

Tony freezes. “Uh. Damn. Better to beg forgiveness than ask for permission?”

“One of these days she is going to shove a stiletto heel up your ass,” Clint says, smirking. “And I'll be there to watch. With a camera.”


“She'll be fine with it,” Tony insists. “Pepper's awesome. She’ll love them. When are they supposed to get here anyway?”


“I will retrieve them when the time comes. However, they are eager.” Loki returns to his breakfast. The bread has firmed slightly, but a silent spell makes it soft again. He picks it up and bites into it with silent relish.

“Cool.” Tony claps his hands together. “So everyone agreed? We gonna house Thor's spawn? Okay? Okay. Thor, before we get started, is there anything else we should know about that you haven't told us? Evil adopted brothers, weird fetishes...no? Awesome.”

*

It is two weeks later than Loki stands on the roof of Tony Stark's building and calls for Heimdall. Thor stands next to him, their fingers entwined. He is nearly humming with anticipation. It is not unlike his eagerness before a battle.

His husband has not seen their children in many months. Part of the reason for this is because they miss their father. However, when their eldest child came to Loki with her request on behalf of her siblings, Loki saw the sense in it. Midgard was, after all, under Thor's protection. This would be an educational experience.

Thor sent word to his father that the children were to be sent down. They are waiting for no longer than a minute before clouds begin to roll in.

Heimdall works fast. The light shines down, and when it departs his children are standing in front of them.

*

Let the record show that Tony Stark? Does not sweat the small stuff. Not anymore.

He once had a car battery keeping him alive. Last year, with the help of a god, two spies, a superhuman and a giant green man, he defeated a fleet of aliens intent on destroying earth. But even he can't help staring as Thor's spawn land on his roof.

The oldest is obvious. She looks about twelve, with long blonde hair, a splatter of freckles across her cheeks and Loki's bright green eyes. A knife is tucked into the leather belt around her waist. Her dress is golden and floor length. A dark haired baby is slung across her front in a sling, pink lips pursed in sleep.

Next to her, a set of dark haired twins with bright blue eyes are swatting at each other. They look to be about ten, with Loki's delicate features but Thor's wide grin. Movement draws Tony's eyes to their shoulders, where honest-to-God wings are protruding from their backs. The girl—who is not wearing a dress, he notes—has wings that match her eyes while the boy's are a bright, blood red.

Watching them impatiently is another boy who looks exactly like Thor. It's almost like seeing double, right down to his displeased frown. He seems to have inherited his mother's personality though, because instead of joining in he looks like he wants to tie both or them to a tree. The stern look on his chubby face is almost comical, seeing as he looks all of six.

Holding his hands on either side of him are two more boys. Another set of twins. They have their oldest sister's blonde hair and green eyes, but where she's tan these two are totally pale. Their lips and fingertips are tinged with a faint blue color. They lean into mini-Thor’s side and look about three years old.

Thor shouts with happiness, striding forward in three huge steps and gathering all of his children into one sweeping hug. His arms are huge, so they all fit into a squirmy, protesting bunch.

“Daddy, I can't breathe,” the one who looks just like Thor says. He looks over Thor's shoulder at Loki, pouting. “Mother.”

“Hugs!” one of the light haired toddlers shout, snuggling closer. The other does the same.

The blue winged girl's wings flail, swatting someone. A child yelps. The red winged one seems intent on getting as close as possible, no matter the competition. A collective noise rises from the group as they all start talking at once.

“I wanna hug 'im I haven't seen him since forever--”


“Stop hogging daddy, Sky!”


“Daddy, I shot an arrow straight through an apple from a long way away and Sif said I was really, really good--”


“--been practicing flying and I can do two loops--”


“--stole my favorite book and dropped it in the river--”

“--made me clean my own rooms! I wasn't that bad but she still made me--”

“--really, really wanted to see Midgard so I convinced Mother--”


“Missed you! My daddy!”

A pang of guilt hits Tony. He really hadn't thought about who Thor was leaving behind every time he spent months on Earth. Looking around, he can see that the thought is occurring to the other Avengers as well.


Steve's eyes have gone all big and soft and stupid, and if there was any other chance that he'd oppose the kids staying, it’s gone. Hawkeye is looking enviously at the wings on the kids’ backs—which are, actually, pretty damn badass. Bruce looks fond and not a little sad. Natasha looked like she wanted to flinch away from the kids. Out of the entire group, she has to be the only one who actively disliked children.

Tony took an unholy delight in making her uncomfortable by letting them stay at the tower. Even if she eventually crushed his skull between her thighs, it would so be worth it. Pepper would have been here, but a sudden meeting had come up. She'd promised to come as soon as soon as she could.

After the first (and last) meeting with Loki and Fury, it was unanimously decided that the one eyed man would not be attending. Fury had been keenly interested in the abilities of Thor and Loki's children, and he'd mused aloud about a Young Avengers team.

Tony had never seen someone fly into a protective rage so fast. To be honest, it was kind of terrifying. Kind of hot, too. But mostly terrifying. Loki's eyes had gone blood red and before anyone knew what was happening, Fury was pinned to the wall like a fly, Loki's arm braced across his neck. It took a lot of convincing on Thor's part to get his wife to let the man down, but once he was, Loki practically dared the leader of SHIELD to come near his children while they were on Earth. Thor had calmed Loki, but he was glaring as well. They were in complete agreement.

Needless to say, the only Agents present were Clint and Natasha, and even that nearly didn't happen.

Now, Loki walks to where his husband is trying to hug their kids to death. He says something low in his ear. Thor frowns, then grins before letting go of the kids.


“Mother's turn!”

“Thor--”  Loki doesn't get the chance to protest before seven godlings are tackling him. Even the baby, now awake—and wow, he really looks like a mini Loki—is babbling happily, tiny hands on Loki's cheek. The god looks massive compared to the infant, even when he leans forward and nuzzles him a bit. The two toddlers have attached themselves to his legs, hands scrunched in the fabric. The winged ones are still exchanging slaps as they brush their wings across their mother's back. The sensible, Thor looking one is leaning against his side and the oldest contents herself with a brief touch.

Loki takes the sling from his oldest daughter, droppings kisses on foreheads and smoothing ruffled hair. Thor watches with a small, content smile on his face. He sweeps the one that looks like him into his arms and wiggles his fingers into the boy’s stomach. The serious visage cracks like glass as the boy breaks into helpless giggles. One of the twins travel to Thor's leg.

Despite the fact that they're all dressed differently, they look like a family.

Tony silently promises to remind the big guy to go home more often.

“Who're they?” One of the toddlers asks loudly.

Next to Tony, Cap straightens up. Tony smirks and swaggers over. Kids? No problem. Everyone loves Tony Stark whether they want to or not.

“Tony Stark: genius, billionaire, playboy—well, ex. playboy anyway—philanthropist at your service. And you are?” he squats down so that he can be at everyone's eye level. Thor's eldest looks at him with bright, curious green eyes, not shy at all. The twins flank her.

Tony grins charmingly at her. “Let me see if I can get this right: Brynhildur.” his eyes flit to the twins. “Sky—I can see why they named you that, sweetheart—and Gimli. Baby Keir,” he gestures toward the baby, who is chewing on Loki's shirt. Tony's face scrunches exaggeratedly. “Ew. Ew. Sorry, kid, as cute as you are I'm not gonna let you do that to me.”


The entire company giggles. Tony is the man. He stands to continue. “Mothi and Magni, mommy's little boys—I can't tell you apart but that will be a thing soon, and finally—mini-Thor. Haldor.” The boy tucks his face into his father's chest. Yep: just like Loki. Tony doesn't think Thor's been shy a day in his life. He looks at them expectantly. “Did I get everyone right?”

“Surprisingly, yes.” Gimli, the red winged one, speaks up. “Hardly anyone does.”


“I'm just awesome, that's all.” Tony turns to his team mates who couldn't look more awkward if they tried. “Godlings, this is the Avengers. The big blonde one trying to shrink away is Captain America—you can just can him Uncy Steve.”


“Uncy Steve,” one of the younger twins tries, repeating it hesitantly. Steve blushes but gives him a megawatt smile, making the kid hid in his mother's leg.

“Totally,” Tony says. “Okay, next to him, the scary looking one is Aunt Nat. I know she looks like a monster, but I can promise you that she's—well, actually she's really a monster.”


“You are?” Sky's eyes are wide. “But daddy hasn't killed you.”

“Tony's just trying to be funny.” Natasha says. Her gaze is bore holes into his skull. He just has to hope that SHIELD hasn't developed some kind of freaky eye laser tech.

“Is he okay?” Bryn asks in concern. She's looking at Clint, who's face is screwed up with the effort of not laughing. “His face is funny.”

“Never mind him,” Tony tells her kindly. “That's Uncle Clint. He has a condition. Sometimes, and by sometimes I mean always--his face just always looks like that.”

All of the humor in Clint's face disappears. “Fu—screw you, Tony. Which one of you were talking about archery, just now?”


A small, pale hand shoots up. Sky.

Clint grins widely. “You, me, training room kid. Can you use those pretty wings of yours?”


Said wings puff up as if prepared for flight, arching wide over the kids' heads. Her twin grins, about to follow suit.

“Do not even think about it.” Loki's voice cuts in, as effective as a bucket of cold water. The twins pout but put the wings away. Tony watches their muscle control, thinks of how far and fast Thor can fly and wonders how badly Loki would maul him if he challenged his kids to a race.

Maybe he can get Thor to take the other god out on a date for an afternoon.

“We still have one more person,” Tony says, gesturing to Bruce. This is--”

“I think I'll introduce myself, thanks, Tony.” Bruce turns to the children. His shoulders are back and he doesn't fidget too badly. Tony's kind of proud of him. “I'm Bruce. You can call me Uncle. But only if you want to. You don't have to. I mean...” he trails off.

“I am sure they will be honored to call you Uncle,” Thor says boisterously. “Right, children?”


“Yes, daddy.” The kids chorus. The future queen of Asgard offers Bruce a gorgeous smile. Yeah, that's all Thor.

“Daddy?” the twin on Thor's leg tugs at his jeans. “Gotta pee.”


“And that's our cue to stop standing up on the rooftop like a bunch of morons,” Tony sing songs. He offers an arm to Bryn, who eyes it before delicately taking it.

*

Loki presses his nose against Keir's soft, dark hair. His is a comforting weight in Loki's arms. A longing that Loki did not realize he'd been feeling eases, and he smiles a little as the child cuddles back against him.

Of all his children, Keir looks the most like Loki. It had been a pleasant surprise to be handed a baby with eyes the exact shade and shade as his, who shares his dark hair. The child is no longer sleepy, staring wide eyed at his surroundings. With his children around him and Thor's strong hand at the small of his back, Loki feels at peace.

The large elevator takes them down to the thirty fifth floor, where Tony has commissioned Midgardian workers to construct apartments for them. Loki is still unconvinced that the Man of Iron knows exactly how destructive these seemingly-innocent children can be, but he did warn him.

However, he is pleasantly surprised by what he sees when the elevator doors open.

The walls are a deep cream color. Not white: dark enough for tiny fingers smearing food or dirt on them to be covered. The apartment is wide and spacious.

“You names are on the doors,” Tony tells the children. “Go crazy.”


They look at Loki for permission. He sighs and nods, and all of them fly off. Haldor, ever the good big brother, leads the younger twins to their rooms (and also, for Magni, the bathroom). Soon exclamations of delight fill the apartment.

“Wow, Tony.” Steve looks around with wide eyes. “You really went all out.”


“Had to prove a point,” Tony says smugly. Clint, Bruce, and Natasha—the latter unwillingly--follow the children to see what all of the fuss is about. Loki goes to follow as well, but he's stopped by a hand on his arm.

“Baby's room is this way.” Tony jerks his head toward a separate hallway. Thor's arm around his waist, Loki follows the man to a wooden door.

“Welcome to your awesome.” Stark says as he opens the door.

It looks almost like a miniature of Thor's room upstairs, with gold, dark blue and brown accents. There is a wooden crib in the middle of the room with a planet-laden mobile hanging over it, a changing table to the side and a rocking chair. Drawers under the changing table have room for clothes and in the corner, there is a small, mulit-colored play set with a toy box.


Tony pulls out a bright toy that beeps and flashes light. Keir stares with comically huge eyes. Loki sets him on his feet and he clumsily toddles over to the man, reaching for the toy.

“Pepper decorated the place,” Tony says as he moves the toy from side to side, playing with Keir. “Which makes me kind of nervous now that I think about it, but—yeah. She's always had an eye for that sort of thing and Thor once saved her from being eaten alive, so she was happy to help.”


“Lady Pepper is a fair maiden, and you would do well to beg for her hand in marriage lest she be swept away by another.” Thor says. “I shall never forget her gift. Nor yours.”


Tony smiles, but it is not his usual one. This one is shyer, less sure. “It was nothing,” he says, brushing it off. “Just wanted to win a bet, that's all.” He raises an eyebrow at Loki. “Well?”


“It is gorgeous,” Loki admits slowly. “But will it stand up to Sky slamming her brother into things when they fight?”


“I thought about that. The kids have their own workout/play/rage room. The walls of this entire floor are reinforced with metal and shi—stuff.” he looks down at the baby who has lost interest in the toy and is now poking at the glowing circle on Tony’s chest. When he smiles down at Keir, he looks much younger. “Everything's supposed to be super sturdy, super durable and if it's not you can just replace it. And the icing on the cake? Your bedroom is lined with three times the amount of sound proofing than normal.” he grins wickedly. “You can scream all you want, Loki, and no tiny ears'll hear you. Consider it a really late wedding present.”


Loki blinks. “I am forever in your debt, Stark.”

“Not yet, you aren't.” Tony stands and swaggers over to the dresser, where a switch that Loki didn't notice. He flips it up and the mobile glows, playing a soothing little song as it spins in circles. The lights coming out of it are light green and blue, holes in the planets casting Mjöllnir shaped lights on the walls as it spins.

“'Cause that's how I roll.”

*

It is interesting to see how the household dynamics change.

The younger twins adore their Uncle Tony. The first time takes them down into the lab they are allowed to blow something up—on purpose. Loki bites his tongue, but if anything happens to his sons, Stark's suits will be nothing but puddles of metal. (Of course, they both respect and fear their Aunt Pepper.)

Loki and Thor spend a large amount of money on clothes and shoes. Tony shows Loki something called an ‘online catalogue’ and the children pick what they like.

Brynhildur, Haldor, Sky, and Gimli attend a private school in the city. Their last names are registered as Thorson and so far no one has caught on, but it has only been two weeks. Midgardians are slow, but they are not utterly stupid. Loki glamors the twin's wings for now, but promises them that they will be able to let them free once their true parentage is revealed.

(No one can agree on just how that will happen, but Loki does not mention that.)

When they get home, Loki fixes them snacks and sends them off. Brynhildur has taken to visiting Natasha. The child is mature enough that the woman does not feel uncomfortable, so their arrangement works.

Sky rushes through her homework so she can sprint up to her Uncle Hawkeye's rooms. There is a place in Stark's building that is just for archery. They practice flying whilst shooting at targets. Thor was never one for the sport—he always preferred to use brute force to take down his opponents—but he glows with pride every time their daughter hits a target midair.

(“Just how did you end up with winged kids, anyway?” Tony had asked one night. Loki had smiled behind his wine glass and decided to keep the man guessing.)

Haldor has always favored books and quiet. He finds a friend in Bruce Banner, who does not mind answering questions and letting the boy watch him. Loki believes that this is good for both of them.

Banner will never be able to have children of his own, as he fears that he may pass on his condition. Haldor has always been the quiet child in a loud family. Having someone's attention focused solely on him makes him flourish, and he comes home from school with news of making friends. Loki does not know if the child tells Banner about his Visions, but he would not mind if he does.

Gimli's choice of Avenger was a surprise to everyone but Loki. Many thought he would drift to Clint as his twin had. The trickster knew better. Gimli liked to create mischief, yes, but he could often be caught defending the very young one whom he had just teased. He had his moments of introspection and seriousness. More importantly, though, he loved to draw.

He and Steve would go out for hours (glamor on, of course) and find things to sketch, to paint. One night they were out so late that Steve had to carry him back to his room. Scarlet wings draped over the man's broad arms as he carefully laid the boy into the hammock that Tony had gotten them.

This was not to say Thor was ignored. No, the children loved their father fiercely and often seeked him out—or vice versa. Thor walked around with Keir slung over his shoulder so often that Loki feared the boy would forget how to crawl. When the Avengers were called to fight, the children gathered around in the family room and watched the battle on the “TV” .They whooped and cheered for their heroes and booed when the most recent villain appeared to gain the upper hand.

“Are you sure it's okay for them to be watching this?” Pepper asked, flinching as Tony was flung into a building. The twins shouted in garbled Allspeak, too excited to form proper words.

“How else will they learn?” Loki inquires. He consciously makes sure that his expression does not change when it is Thor who is thrown quite a distance away. They are fighting some kind of large monkey-like beasts. “Besides: it motivates the team to win.”


Indeed, they do triumph over and over again, if only to keep from shaming themselves in front of the children.

One night, after such a day, Thor has claimed his spoils. He kisses Loki's neck, insatiable as ever. Loki is grateful for Tony Stark's soundproofing and magick: if one of the children rise and need them, two copies of himself are waiting at the door to intercept them.

“Are you not lonely for a child to dote on, Wife?” Thor murmurs to him. “I know that my friends and I have occupied a lot of their time lately.”


“Children always return to their mothers. Besides, I have taken that time to relax,” Loki replies honestly. “I have recently taken to Midgardian books. Humans have very...interesting imaginations. I am not lonely.”

“You have me,” Thor agrees.


“Yes, my king” Loki smiles. His face heats as he takes Thor's hand and guides it to his stomach, allowing the glamor to drop and the soft swell of it to appear.


“And,” he says, “I have her.”

Thor has been told of a child to come seven times before. The look of wonder and love and happiness that he gives Loki never diminishes, but grows stronger every time.

The thunderer is tender enough to make Loki shiver as he pulls him into the curve of his body. A arm draws him back further into the embrace, and Loki sighs as Thor presses loving kisses to his face, murmuring words of adoration.

*

“Daddy?”


Thor looks up from where he is reading a book to Keir. Loki's confession from the night before sits warm and good like an ambrosia. He wants to shout his joy from the rooftops—and he would, too, if it weren't for Loki's request that it remain a secret for now. He wants to surprise the children.

Thor has managed to keep his silence, but he can't stop grinning. His joy is something barely contained, like trying to stuff Volstagg into a box the size of Keir's tumb. He feels as though he could burst.


“Somebody got some last night,” he heard Clint mutter, too low for children's ears. Loki caught it though, and sent the man a positively venomous look as he tried to feed Keir.

Now, though, he can hear a whimper in his son's voice. Thor's smile drops immediately. He shifts Keir in his arms and stands slowly, but the baby does not stir as he sets him in his crib for his afternoon nap.

Thor trades one child for two others, settling little and Mathi and Magni on either side of his chest. Magni presses his forehead against Thor's collarbone and Thor's breath catches with alarm. He is ice cold.

Mothi's green eyes are wide and scared. “What's wrong with Magni, daddy?” he asks in a fearful whisper.

“I am not sure, son.” Thor presses a kiss to Mothi's forehead, then Magni's. “But your mother may know.”

The thunderer wishes to bellow and rage for a doctor for his son. Instead, he turns on Keir's mobile and shuts the door softly behind him.

And then he runs.

*

Loki is in the Captain's room with Gimli, watching them play with various paints when Thor bursts through, the twins on his front and anxiety all over his face.


“There is something wrong with Magni,” he says without prelude, striding over to Loki. The trickster takes his ailing son into his arms and presses a palm to his forehead. The boy is panting shallowly.

“Mommy?” he whimpers. Grimli is in front of Loki immediately, looking uncharacteristically worried, while the Captain hovers in the background, his phone in hand.

“Hush, my love.” Loki brushes a hand over his forehead...and freezes. He presses again, just to make sure, and—yes. Loki closes his eyes. He could laugh, he is so relieved.

“What?” Thor demands. “What is it, wife?”


“Magni will be fine.” Loki blinks, and without hesitation his form shifts completely. His skin becomes smoother, bluer, and more impenetrable, eyes blood red. He barely notices the sting of a small pair of horns growing from his forehead. “He is merely his mother's son.”


Thor's eyes are confused for a moment before they light up with understanding.

“You mean--”

“Yes.” Loki closes his eyes, willing himself to get colder. And then he puts his hand back onto Magni's forehead. At a temperature that would give a mortal instant frostbite, the boy doesn't even shiver. Instead, he pushes back into the touch with a happy sound. His skin slowly starts to turn blue.

Loki looks up, a smirk pulling his lip up to reveal a sharp incisor. “We're going to need a lot of ice.”

*

The children fuss over Magni. No one can touch him, save Loki, but they get as close as possible to marvel at his new blue skin, his red eyes. The boy has tiny golden horns protruding from his forehead and his hair, already dark, is slowly turning darker. Soon, It will be the same black-blue as Loki's.

Magni lays in a bathtub full of ice water. Tony Stark has ordered his favorite kind of ice cream and had a flat screen TV installed. He paid money to get the new Disney movie, Frozen, sent early just for Mothi—and ordered a multitude of others as well. All of the children have spread sheets on the bathroom floor and are slowly making their way through the pile with their brother, oohing and aaahing.

It is a very large bathroom.

It turns out that a rock that Stark gave the twins to play with while he was away—on a date with Pepper—triggered an early maturation. The man feels guilty despite the fact that he is not in the wrong. So he is pampering Loki's son, who looks very far from ailing. Banner has taken the rock to try and see what properties in it could have triggered the change. Stark does not remember where he got it from.

Loki is keeping a close watch on Mothi, but he does not appear to be anything but pouty. His brother is receiving attention and sweets and he can't touch him. It upsets him greatly, so Loki pulls him into his lap and smooths his hair in an attempt to forestall a tantrum.

“Wanna look like Mommy too,” Mothi grumbles, a fierce scowl on his face. When he is angry, all of the speech lessons that Loki teaches him fly out the window. His arms are folded across his chest, cheeks puffed and red. He looks so much like Thor that Loki has to swallow a chuckle.  “Want pretty rock 'gain. Rock make Mothi blue.”

“The rock can only bring out what is inside, my love.” Loki pokes the boy in the stomach, hoping for a giggle, but the child only becomes even poutier.

“Mothi blue inside too,” he insists. “See?” he shows his mother the tips of his fingers which are, indeed, blue. They have been like that since birth.

Loki grabs his fingers and kisses them. “I know. Maybe it is not yet your time?” That is possible. Late blooming is not unheard of.

“My time now!” Mothi shouts. The children all turn to shush him at once, even Haldor, who would normally be trying to comfort his brother. It seems that this 'Disney' is some kind of magick, entrapping children.

To Loki's alarm, his son begins to sob, hot, angry tears spilling down his cheeks and onto Loki's shirt. He fists the collar with considerable strength and cries into Loki's chest.

“Mothi Thorson,” he says sharply, not to be disobeyed, “you will stop this at once.”

All of the children have given up on the movie and are staring at the scene with wide eyes.

“Mothi,” Magni begins.

“I—wanna be--” he hiccups loudly-- “special too. Mothi not special.”

It is true. All of Loki and Thor's children officially have some gift. Brynhildur has power over storms, Haldor Sees visions, Sky and Gimli were born with wings, and now Mothi is a Frostling. Even little Keir takes after his mother: less than three months after he was born, there was a kidnapping attempt. They burst into the room, sure that they would find an empty crib. Instead they found the culprit pinned to the wall with golden magic around his wrists and neck, Keir burbling happily.

If Thor were here, he would probably hug the love back into Mothi. But his husband left hours ago with the rest of the Avengers, called to an emergency.

Mothi gives one more sob and convulses violently. He shudders all over, once, twice, and before Loki can do anything—can even breathe—he is holding a silver-blue foal in his lap.

There is a startled silence. The movie is still playing in the background-- “And I keep wondering and wondering and wondering and wondering, when will my life begin?”

Loki sighs. “I suppose,” he says in a deliberately loud, long suffering voice, “that I cannot hope that your new sister will not be this troublesome.”

“A sister?” Sky asks. When Loki nods and presses a meaningful hand to his stomach, she whoops and throws a fist into the air. “Yes! No more brothers!”

“Who says the one after that isn't gonna be a boy?” Gimli retorts. Bickering immediately starts—with Mothi whinnying his input, of course.

*

“Another little godling to terrorize my tower,” Tony says fondly, when Magni eagerly tells him about his new sister. “I so didn't see that coming.”


“I'm completely blindsided,” Clint adds, smirking. Loki has become familiar with the aspects of Midgardian sarcasm. “Truly.”

“Shut up.” Natasha slaps him on the back of the head. The children giggle as their Uncle Clint rubs at the back of his head, scowling. “Congratulations, guys,” she tells Loki and Thor.

“Shoot for twin girls after this one,” Banner advises. “It'll even the playing field.” he winks at Brynhildur, who grins.

*

Later, as they're getting ready for bed, Loki grumpily complains about the fact that no one seems to doubt that Loki will bear more children after this one.

“You do not want to?” Thor asks, looking thoughtful.

“I didn't say that,” Loki rushes out quickly, before Thor can get any awful ideas about birth control. “Of course I want more, I want twenty--” He cuts off at the look on Thor's face. Loki scowls. “You are insufferable,” he snaps.

Thor loses his straight face. He throws his head back and laughs and laughs and laughs.

*

Chapter Text

Saturday, the apartment was in chaos.

Haldor and Sky got into a screaming match about the latter leaving her arrows and things everywhere. To prove his point, Haldor had snapped an arrow across his knee. Sky returned by ripping one of Haldor's picture books—a very thick, scientific one that Banner got for him—clean in half. They'd jumped into a brawl, Gimli encouraging each of them. There was a significant dent where Haldor had pinned his sister.

Meanwhile, the twins were playing catch with Keir, who had been thrilled with the game. Bryn, who was supposed to be her mother's responsible one, was talking on the phone with a Midgardian boy, twirling a piece of her blonde hair around her fingers and ignoring everything else.

When Thor returns from training with the Avengers, Loki is fit to rip his hair out.

“I will take them out to see Midgard, Wife,” Thor says soothingly, guiding Loki to their bedroom. The children were getting ready after Thor had announced that they were going out. They are all excited—even Haldor, who usually feigns nonchalance. They have not been anywhere but school since they had arrived, and their driver brought them straight home.

An error on Loki's part, really. He should have seen this explosion of energy coming. He blames the distraction on his daughter, who kicks and moves within as she grows.

“I wish to—Loki yawns widely—“see them off.”

Thor complies, and Loki walks with him to the elevator, one hand under his five month pregnancy belly. His husband goes to help Brynhildur dress the baby.

Haldor is the first out of his room. He is wearing a dark blue shirt with jeans and play shoes. As he walks over, he stares down at the separated pages with a mournful expression then looks up at his mother, silently pleading. It is like watching a miniature of Thor.

Loki sighs, cursing his weakness, and takes the book in hand. A spell that he uses frequently comes easily to his tongue. When he hands it back, the book it tightly bound once again.

Haldor graces him with a rare smile. “Thank you, Mother.”

“You are welcome.”

Haldor presses a hand to Loki's stomach briefly before letting it fall.

The twins are out next. Sky has a quiver full of arrows hanging over her shoulder. Her black hair barely skims her shoulders. It is tucked out of the way by a dark cap that she favors, and she is wearing a plain black shirt with tan shorts and shoes that Tony had called 'high tops'. Her brother is dressed similarly to her, but he is wearing a sleeveless shirt and carries a sketchbook under his arm. Both of their clothing has been tailored to fit around their wings.

When they were young and upset, Sky and Gimli would fly out of their cribs to their parents' room. They flew before they walked, talked, or even ate solid foods. Loki had to use magic to fetch them when they were flying and did not want to retire. He couldn't depend on Thor to do it: when his husband chased them with his hammer, it often devolved into a game.

“You fixed Haldor's book,” Sky says, her arms folded across her chest.

Loki raises an eyebrow. “And I soon as you act in a manner befitting of a young Asgardian princess, I will fix your arrow as well.”

She remains stubbornly silent for a few moments, during which Loki straightens a lock of Gimli's dark hair and smooths a wing back in place. He will not glamor them today, as Steve—upon learning that Thor is taking the children out--promises that he knows a remote location where no one will see them. The twins do not like to watch their wings disappear from view anyway.

“It is like watching your fingers go away,” Gimli complained on his first day of school. “You can still feel them, but you can't see 'em. It's odd, Mother.”

“May I please have my arrow fixed?” Sky finally asks, her tone only slightly sulky.

“You may.” Loki takes it and fixes it, and they go on their way, chatting about the things that they are going to play. Haldor grips tighter to his book and watches his sister distrustfully.

Loki's second set of twins ran out then, tripping over each other and laughing loudly. Loki has been teaching Magni how to control his shift from Asgardian to Jotunn features. The boy has a surprising amount of control. When he slips in concentration, though, a tip of an ear or the end of his nose will become bright blue. Tony calls him the 'smurfling'.

Mothi is utterly smug about his new abilities. He has taken to clattering around the apartment in horse form and sleeping in his next favorite shape, a kitten. Loki is sure that he'll be able to become many more things when he grows older.

Mothi and Magni are wearing matching jerseys, jeans, and shoes that light up when they run. It is a direct contrast to their sister. Brynhildur is wearing a short floral dress with sandals, her long blonde hair in an artful ponytail. If Loki is not mistaken, there is a faint shine of makeup on her lips. She is still talking on the phone with that boy.

Perhaps Loki will pay him a visit.

Finally, Thor and his youngest walk out. Thor has changed into a white t-shirt and jeans and is carrying the baby in a carrier that Loki ordered. Keir is strapped to his front. The child looks mildly fussy but settles once Loki sweeps a calming stream of magic across his cheek.

“Do try to behave for your father, children,” Loki says.

“Yes, Mother,” they chorus, smiling at him.

Loki does not doubt that they will run his husband ragged. Instead of saying so, he grins and presses the button for the elevator. As the children pile inside, Thor leans forward to give him a long kiss.

“Be safe,” Loki says softly, pulling back after one last peck.

“Of course, Wife.”

“Daddy.” Mothi whines. “Wanna go.”

Thor laughs and complies, stepping into the elevator. Loki lifts a hand in farewell as the doors close.

And then he is left alone in their messy apartment, a full day of doing nothing ahead of him. The girl within kicks, and Loki’s reminded that he’s not entirely alone.

He presses a fond to his stomach and smiles.

*

Loki calls for the help that Tony has hired, because he cannot abide leaving the apartment as it is. Normally he would use magic or make the children clean it themselves, but he is tired. He instructs them to let themselves in and that he is not to be disturbed. When they confirm, he hangs up the phone and goes to the bedroom.

This room, at least, is clean. Loki strips down to his underclothes and slips under the soft sheets. They slide against his skin and he shivers with delight even as he reaches for the remote for his windows. A press of a button and shades start to slide down, enveloping the room in darkness.

Yes, Loki like Midgard very much indeed.

*

Getting everyone into seatbelts is something of a struggle, but the Captain is adamant that they are “safe”. Thor has trouble with the buckles as he straps a squirming Keir in. By Odin, this is more complicated than his battle armor.

After their training session, Clint and Natasha had to go on a mission for SHIELD and Banner wanted to stay in the lab to work on an experiment. Stark and the Captain have decided to accompany Thor and the children on their outing.

“Oh come on, Capsicle,” Tony says as Mothi, pouting, is strapped into something called a “booster seat”. He is struggling with the straps as well. Perhaps Midgardians invented these devices as a form of punishment for already hassled parents. “I’m pretty sure that if there were a firey accident they’d walk out just fine.”

“Do you really want to risk Loki’s wrath?” Steve asks pointedly.

Tony and Thor exchange a long look. “Safety first, kids,” Tony sing-songs, moving even faster with the buckle.

“Can we go now?” Sky whines. Tony had a seat designed especially for her and Gimli’s wings, but she still loathes the small space of the car. She is much like her father in that way.

“In a minute, buttercup.” Tony snaps a final buckle in and grins triumphantly. Thor, hopelessly lost, looks down at Keir and frowns.

“I do not understand this at all.”

“Here, daddy, let me help.” Brynhildur reaches for the straps. Thor lets her and watches in fascination as she does it in seconds. When he looks at her in askance, she smiles. “There were instructions on the side.”

“As clever as your mother,” Thor praises his eldest.

Her green eyes shine with pride before the expression is smoothed. She nods regally. “Thank you, daddy.”

Finally, they are off. For once Tony has hired no driver. Instead, Steve is at the wheel, the man of iron hovering over him like an old woman as he starts the van. Tony is sitting in the back seat next to Haldor, who has his nose in a book.

How the child can look so much like him and be the complete opposite, Thor does not know. He does, however, see the good in having people to read books and hold knowledge as well as fight in glorious battles.

The ride is not long, and Steve and Tony bicker like old women the entire way there. Tony leans forward, forgoing his seatbelt, and talks to him about his driving until Steve turns up the radio and ignores him.

They finally pull into a tall, shaded park. It is rather busy, but Steve continues to make several twists and turns until they reach a small, empty clearing.

In their enthusiasm, the children all try to climb out at once. Thor booms with laughter as Gimli’s feathers are ruffled by Magni, who nearly knees his twin in the eye.

“One at a time, one at a time,” Steve cautions, looking worried. Brynhildur unstraps her baby brother and carries him over to the swings, where one for babies is fitted. The other children have run off already to play on the small, metal playground.

“I’d watch that, if I were you,” Tony comments as they watch her walk away. Her phone is to her ear. She smiles, suddenly, and Thor can hear the bright, happy tone of her voice as she drifts toward the swings.

“Watch what?” Thor asks in confusion.

“Your daughter is talking to one Tyler Jones, age thirteen. Lives in Brooklyn. His father owns a small but successful business in computers. He’s good at math but sucks ass at science. This will be the thirty-second call that they’ve had.”

Thor stares.

“JARVIS,” Tony explains.

“Leave that poor kid alone,” the Captain says, scolding. “He doesn’t need you stalking him.”

“No,” Tony says, “Because when I was thirteen I was awkward, sweaty, and ready to screw anything with a face.”

“You were also graduating high school,” Steve points out as they walk over to a picnic table. “You’re a pretty special case, Tony.”

“Aw, Thor, didya hear that? I’m special.” Tony’s eyelashes flutter.

“I do not understand,” Thor says. “Should I not let Brynhildur speak to the Midgardian boy?”

“I’m not saying you shouldn’t,” Tony said, pulling a tablet from nowhere. He’s poking at it with a frown. “Just—make sure that legs stay closed and all that.”

Steve’s face is bright red. “She’s twelve.”

“Technically,” Thor says, “Gods age more slowly than Midgardians.” But he is still confused, and the look that his teammates exchange does not help.

He has not had the chance to meet the boy himself, but his wife has informed him that there will be a play that his daughter will be a part of. He made it clear that attendance was mandatory. Perhaps Thor will meet this “Tyler” there.

“So she’s older than she looks?” Steve is genuinely curious.

“Yes.” Thor’s brow is still furrowed when Tony’s words finally catch up with him. “Stark,” he says slowly, “Were you suggesting that my daughter and this ‘Tyler’—“

“So,” Tony says quickly, “We never did get that whole ‘How I Met Your Mother’ story.”

It is an obvious attempt to avoid Thor’s ire—because Thor is angry at the thought of his first child doing anything with a boy when she is so young—but he slowly lets it fade away. The children will be disappointed if it starts to rain on their sunny day.

“You are asking how my wife and I came together.” Thor says, tilting his head.

“Holy crap, you actually got that reference?”

“Natasha watches that television show late at night. She invited me to watch it with her once.” Thor informs Tony.

A look of pure mischief takes over the man’s face.

Steve groans. “Now you’ve done it. But I have to admit, Thor—I’m curious too. About you and Loki and, well…” He gestures to the children. Haldor has found a shady spot to read, his blonde head bent over the book; Brynhildur is pushing Keir one handed in the swings while she talks on the phone, which he seems to enjoy; Magni and Mothi are climbing the playground quickly, giggling; and Gimli and Sky have taken to the air, the tall trees around them ensuring they are concealed from view.

They are happy, and that makes Thor feel warm.

“My wife and I were betrothed hundreds of years ago, when we were but five Midgardian years old.” He begins, smiling at the memory of a small, blue boy with a pointy chin trying—and failing—to look fearless. Thor had been pouting because no matter how much he shouted, this was still happening. “Our betrothal was a part of an agreement between our warring realms. With our marriage, Jotun and Asgard would have peace.”

“You were five.” Tony says flatly, interrupting.

“Yes,” Thor confirms. “It is not as unusual as humans seem to think. Betrothals are usually from birth. However,” he adds, seeing Steve’s stricken expression, “they can be broken if one or both parties truly wish it.”

“What are you, Vulcan?”

“I do not understand that reference.” Thor tells Tony. Steve is looking at him with an equally baffled expression. The man of Iron claps a hand to his face in a way that seems painful.

“Whatever. Continue.”

“During summers, I would spend time in Jotun, and during winters, my wife would be in Asgard. We did not like each other at first.” The thunderer smiles fondly. “He would play tricks with his magic, some mean spirited, others meant in jest. I hated Frost Giants, for my nursemaid would tell me stories of them from the thousand-year war.” It is partially because of her, Thor thinks, that he sometimes has an insatiable urge to fight and plunder unseen enemies. The rest is in his blood. She was dismissed when she insulted the little Jotun prince. That had only made Thor dislike Loki more.

“But Loki’s not a giant.” Tony points out. “He’s, like—“ he raises a demonstrative hand. “This tall.”

“My wife born early, and small. It made him ideal for the betrothal, as normal frost giants are the size of your buildings. His sire, Laufey, is feared throughout the realms.”

“So basically, if you hurt Loki, daddy-in-law will kick your ass.” Tony smirks.

Thor stares. “Why would I hurt my queen?”

“It was a hypothetical question, Thor.” Steve cuts in. He’s actually leaning his chin on his hand as he sits forward, looking at Thor with a small smile. Perhaps the Captain desires someone to love of his own. Thor vows to ponder the situation later. “So you fell in love?”

“Aye,” Thor says softly. “We did. Loki always desired children and we had to create an heir to seal the peace between our lands. And once we started, well…”

“You went baby crazy,” Tony says knowingly.

“How could I not? Our children hold a part of my wife and a part of me. There is no greater treasure than having children, Stark.” Thor smirks. “You will understand someday. Perhaps in the near future.”

The sound that Tony makes has both Thor and Steve bursting into laughter.

“You know what? Screw both of you. And anyway, Thor, and does not explain how two of your kids ended up with freaking wings.”

*

Loki’s heat comes with the first chill of October.

He lies awake, staring at the ceiling for a few moments. The child within stirs sleepily, aware of something happening, but Loki lies still and lets her fall back asleep.

He turns around (with some difficulty in Thor’s arms. The pounding of his blood is easy to ignore right now, but that won’t last long.

“My king,” he whispers, unable to keep himself from pressing kisses to his husband’s sleepy face. “Wake up.”

The god stirs, opening his eyes slightly. “Hm?” He frowns, suddenly sitting up and resting a hand on Loki’s stomach. “Is it—“

“She is fine,” Loki assures him.

“Then what—“

Loki’s body chooses then to make it’s need known. The now-familiar thick, sweet smell hit’s Thor’s nose. His eyes darken to match the night sky. “Oh.”

“The children,” Loki urges, before Thor can pounce. “They need to be—“

“Yes,” Thor says, never looking away. His gaze is almost like a caress. Still in the mood to play, Loki stretches, reaching down to remove his pajama pants.

“The children,” Loki reminds him again. This may last from three days to a week, and they need to be watched over. “Pack bags, take them to Steve, explain the situation, and hurry back.” He bites his lip as another wave hits. “Hurry, Thor.”

Thor goes. When he comes back, Loki grabs his hand and takes them to a place that he once visited. The room around them is barely taken in before Thor tackles him.

Hours later, throat sore from screaming and body aching pleasantly, Loki hums as his king idly sucks another mark into his neck. He has to be covered in them by now, but Thor is possessive. The band around his wrist is not enough.

Loki does not feel like he can move, let alone speak. So instead he drifts hazily, feeling Thor's hungry hands roaming around his body. When Thor nudges him onto his stomach he goes easily, spreading his legs a bit wider.

As he can do is mewl weakly as Thor grips his hips, pushing in. His hands fist the sheets and he closes his eyes, whimpering softly as his husband takes him. He is sensitive, his nerves shot from pure sensation, and it hurts at first before Thor rubs his big hands along his sides, soothing.

“Mine,” he rumbles, leaning forward to latch onto the back of Loki's neck with his teeh. Loki whines and bites a swollen lip, panting. “My wife. My queen. Mine, mine--” he breaks off with a growl. Loki just holds on for the ride.

It is good to have such a sweet husband.

*

“So basically,” Clint murmurs, “Thor and Loki have been holding fuck-a-thon for a whole week.”

“Yep.” Tony steals a couple of chocolate chips before Steve can whack his hand and downs them. “They’re gone. Not a single trace. That lucky, lucky bastard.”

The kids are making chocolate chip cookies with Steve and Pepper. Tony’s girlfriend is in a rare pair of sweatpants and an old shirt, her hair in an upswept bun. Bruce is out of the lab and helping one of the younger twins—Magni, he thinks--stir, making sure there are no major spills.

Surprisingly enough, it hasn’t devolved into complete and utter chaos.

Clint hadn’t known what to think when Thor had come out with the fact that not only was he married, but he also had kids. It was Thor—the guy who smashed things and made inconvenient lighting storms when he was frustrated with a video game, the guy who was on, like, a billion teenage girls’ walls, who once had a hock-a-loogie contest with him. (And had won, if only by a millimeter. Hawkeye is still sore about that.)

He was a good guy, sure, but kids? Clint wasn’t sure about that.

And then he saw how cool they were. Granted, Loki was the one who was pulling the strings to make their huge family work, but Thor was really neat with them. Even Tasha had to admit that she was impressed.

Clint watches his partner sit on a stool with a baby in her lap, carefully letting him play with a pile of flour, and smirks. ‘Deadly Russian Spy Who Hates Children’ his ass.

Sensing his scrutiny, Tasha turns and gives him Glare #12. His smirk only grows larger.

“Uncle Hawk?”

Clint looks down. Sky, arguably his favorite of the bunch, is looking up at him with a hint of a pout. “I want to go on a picnic.”

“I would like that as well,” Haldor pipes up. He was the one to carefully crack the eggs, one by one, a comically serious expression on his face.

Steve, who has innards made of marshmallow, had been concerned about whether or not the kids were worried about their parents’ disappearance. Thor had woken everyone—the Avengers and the kids—up at nearly four in the morning, explained the situation to the adults, pressed kisses to his kids’ foreheads and then left at a near-run.

“Do you um,” he’d cleared his throat uncomfortably at breakfast, hilariously awkward, “Er. Do you guys know why your parents aren’t here right now?”

“Mother is currently going through his heat cycle,” Gimli had explained, his tone reasonable. He couldn’t stop his nose from scrunching, though. “Daddy is helping. Usually, that is when we get another brother or sister.”

The adults stared in mute surprise.

“A heat cycle is—“ Haldor began helpfully.

“We’ve got it,” Pepper had said hurriedly. “Thank you, dear.”

“They will be back soon,” Brynhildur said, as if they were the ones who needed to be consoled. “Don’t worry.”

And that was that.

Now, Clint smiles. “You know what? I think a picnic sounds like a really cool idea.”

*

The picnic was a cool idea. Until, you know, the whole ‘crazy ass chick with walking trees’ thing happened.

Tony is never going to be able to look at Lord of the Rings the same way again.

Their villain sits high up in one of the tallest oaks, out of reach with glowing copper light around her hands. She’s protected by long, thick roots that surround her. The trees separated everyone before they knew what was happening. Tony lost sight of the kids five minutes ago, which terrifies him much more than he ever thought it would.

Luckily, everyone carried their communicators. As he flies between the trees, shooting at the bark—he can’t even use his damn missiles because a fire right now would not be cool—when he hears the Captain, “I see them! Iron Man, straight up and four o’ clock, we’re going to need an assist over here!”

“Gotcha, Cap.” He swerves around the tree reaching for him and flies over and up, breaking away from the copse of evil trees. Dark gray storm clouds are rolling in, probably Brynhildur’s doing. Lightning strikes, sharp and cold. The Hulk is roaring, huge fists smashing and throwing trees but there are so many and Tony is definitely not going to that save-the-forests benefit next month.

“Cap I don’t see them, I—“ He spots a golden dome of energy and dives, knowing in his gut what it is. His view screen zooms in on the kids and Pepper, surrounded by a golden shield. Cap is fending off a tree but two others are battering at it. Fine, spidery cracks are starting to form, and Tony tries to look for who’s doing it, but he can’t—

And then he remembers baby Keir, reaching for a toy of his and unable to grab it. Tony had went to get it for him but Thor had stopped him, a small smile on his face. “No. Watch.”

Magic, strong and gold, had curled around the toy like a string and pulled it into the baby’s arms. Thor had laughed, scooping the kid up and nuzzling him proudly. Keir had just been happy about the toy.

His stomach practically falls out of his armor. He dives.

“Shit. I’m coming, Cap, let’s get these bastards.”

“Stark, what’s the situation?” Black Widow’s voice is sharp.

“She has them going after the kids,” Tony snaps back.

“Apparently,” Hawkeye grunts over the comm, “’Kill them all’ really means ‘kill them all’. What—a--bitch.”

“Sir, there are reporters flying in in helicopters, estimated time of arrival two minutes, thirteen seconds.” JARVIS informs him.

Tony throws himself into a tree with a grunt, feeling his armor creak a little with the impact. “Peachy,” he snarls, “Any sign of Loki and Thor yet?”

“I haven’t been able to reach them, sir.”

Damn them to a million hells for going off somewhere that JARVIS couldn’t reach. He hoped Thor’s dick fell off.

Distracted, he doesn’t notice the tree going for a huge swing until he’s flying through the air—

--And straight into the precarious barrier.

The kids’ protection shatters.

Tony will never forget the sharp scream that Keir gives as the baby’s magic falls. The trees are lunging forward, eager to get their prize, and Pepper, his Pepper is glaring at them like she could set them on fire with her gaze and Cap is shouting something but all Tony could think was it’s all my fault.

A tree rises up to swing, heading straight for Haldor—the kid is still clutching that fucking book, face defiant—

And a huge, Avada Kedavra green barrier slams into place over Pepper and the kids. Tony’s head swings so fast his neck clicks.

Loki looks like an avenging angel. His hair is out of its braid, stripping down his shoulders like a river of black. He’s wearing Calvin Klein jeans and a green button up that’s stretched over his pregnant stomach. And he is one pissed off motherfucker.

Tony realizes that he hadn’t truly understood the meaning of Momma Bear. Not until just now.

He’s so utterly badass that Tony barely registers Thor standing behind him, looking equally furious. And Thor is the freaking god of thunder.

And then the carnage starts. Not that it can really be called carnage, since Thor is basically beating the hell out of a bunch of trees, but it sure looks like it. Loki’s not idle, throwing his hand this way and that and sending oaks and birches flying.

“They appear to be heading toward the woman who is orchestrating this, sir.” JARVIS says.

Not a second after he says that, Loki transforms into his Jotun figure and leaps. Thor follows him, still fending off trees and stuff. There’s a sharp crack! and they both disappear from view.

And then, abruptly, the trees start to fall. Without hesitation Tony shoots to his feet, flies, and grabs Steve to haul them both into the air and out of range. Loki’s shield is holding.

“Black Widow, Hawkeye,” Cap barks, “You need to get clear of the trees.” Loki’s dome of greenness seems to be holding, which is awesome. Another pang of guilt hits and Tony shoves it away. He can’t deal with that right now.

“Because that wasn’t completely obvious,” Clint says cheerfully, sounding slightly out of breath. “What do you think Loki and Thor are up to?”

“Whatever they’re doing, it’s making turning the trees inanimate again.” Natasha says.

Tony lands, of only because there are a bunch of camera’s trained on him holding Steve and he’s heard of fanfiction, so, no thank you. The little clearing that the kids played in is utterly destroyed. Natasha and Clint blend out of the woods simultaneously to meet them, looking worse for the wear. Hulk is huffing as he looks around in confusion.

“Evil tree gone?” he asks, looking disappointed.

“Yeah,” Tony flips up his helmet at peers up at the big guy. “Good riddance to bad rubbish.”

“Try ‘nasty as hell rubbish’,” Clint says, pulling a splinter out of his finger. He grimaces as blood begins to well up. “God, if I ever see another tree again it’ll be too soon. Fucking witches man.”

“Quiet,” Steve says evenly. “Do you hear that?”

They fall silent. Even the Hulk tries to breathe a little quieter.

And then Tony hears it: a high shrieking sound that sounds like a buzzing mosquito. As the footsteps get closer, they can make out the words of a shrieking woman:

“Let go of me, you brute! I am Katrina the Magical, and you are beneath me—“

“Shut your foul mouth.” Thor’s voice, even at a growl, is fairly recognizable. “You are a wretch and a tyrant and my wife shall handle you as he so desires. You are lucky to keep your tongue, let alone your head—“

They come out of the trees that are still standing. Tony doesn’t restrain his delighted laughter.

Loki, back to his human form, has a huge knot of the crazy chick’s blonde hair wadded in his fist. He walks ahead with a stony, yet somehow self-satisfied expression, ignoring her as her bitten fingernails claw futilely at his arms. Dirt and leaves are stuck in his hair and on her face, like she’s been dragged.

It’s basically the greatest thing ever.

“Dude,” Clint says, smirking, “You just got your ass beat by a pregnant dude.”

SHIELD pulls up then, and two agents come to hustle her away, handcuffs strapped to her wrists. She’s so furious that she’s shrieking wordlessly now, reaching for Loki with her eyes bulging. The trees refuse to respond, though, and they pack her into the truck and haul her away.

And when Loki’s barrier falls and the kids come shouting and running toward their parents and Pepper is safe in his arms, well, Tony’s eyes are just reacting to all the fucking pollen in the air.

Shut up.

*

The month following the fight goes something like this:

The kids are teleported into school for a whole month because of their sudden popularity. Loki sends then off with kisses and a sharp smile for their teacher, whose eyes constantly drop to his stomach.

#MamaLoki, #LokiRules, and #LightningBabies has been trending on Twitter. (Tony’s convinced that they broke the Internet. What that means, neither Thor nor Loki know, though Brynhildir does try to explain.)

And the Avengers crash a school play.

(Thor is still covered in the blood of his enemies and halfway through Mothi gets enthusiastic and turns into a colt, and Tony is way too camera-happy—but they get out without much bloodshed.)

*

Thor is deeply asleep when his Queen wakes him with a firm hold on his arm.

“It’s time,” he says, a small grimace around his eyes.

And though Thor has done this seven times before, he still shakes as he holds Loki’s hand.

*

“This is Zoe,” Thor says, his smile nearly taking up his face. The children crowd around, inquisitive, and he bends so that all of his little ones can see their new sister. She has a thick head of blonde hair and darker blue eyes, like the night sky. Loki is sleeping, Banner quietly putting things away in the background.

“She is little,” Mothi says, quiet for once.

“She’s going to be for a while, kiddo.” Tony ruffles his hair. Bruce is still in the room with Loki, putting things away as the god sleeps. “Congratulations, Thor. I would say she’s cute but frankly—“

Thor’s eyes flare. “But what, Man of Iron?”

“But cute doesn’t even cover it,” Pepper saves his ass, giving him with a well place elbow. She knows his position on babies and scrunched up, red faces but he could at least try to filter.

“How is Loki?” Steve asks quietly, a small smile, happy on his face. Clint and Natasha are angry; they were sent on a mission mere hours before Loki went into labor. Thor had promised to let them know how it went.

“My wife fares well,” Thor says warmly, turning to the bed and smoothing a hand over Loki’s sleek hair. He didn’t look like he’d just given birth at all. “He was unwilling to be parted from what is ours, but he must have his healing sleep.” His eyes flit down to the girl in his hands and the children, who are quietly bickering around who gets to be closer.

“So,” Tony grins, “Zoe, huh? Cute. I like it. Asgardians don’t do middle names?”

“Usually we don’t,” Thor nods, a smirk on his face. “However, since she is born on Midgard, we decided to follow the Midgardian tradition.” He turns to the baby and smiles, smoothing a hand down her pale cheek even as he strokes the twins’ heads. “Zoe-Antoine Thorson.”

“You named the baby after Uncle Tony?” Haldor blinks.

“Uncle Tony cool!” Magni shouts, eager to defend his favorite Avenger. He turns red when he’s shushed by the rest of the kids. Loki doesn’t stir.

Tony still can’t bring himself to speak. Instead, he walks out of the room.

He doesn’t realize that he was followed until he looks up and sees a pair of huge, concerned blue eyes looking at him.

“I don’t deserve it.” The words are shoved out of his throat without his permission.

Cap looks totally confused, which is his default state when he’s not being all Leader-y or angsty or prudish. He blinks. “You don’t deserve it,” he repeats. “What? Being named after the baby?”

“When we were fighting the trees, you saw—“

“You broke the barrier with your armor, yes. But you did it while trying to protect those kids.” He’s all earnest eyes and movements, looking like he’s three seconds away from grabbing his shoulders and shaking him. “That’s being a hero, Tony. People name their children after heroes.”

“I drink too much, I blow things up, and I understand machines better than people,” Tony snaps.

“You also gave those kids a home without blinking, provided for their every need and showed more consideration than I thought existed today. You’re generous and smart and we’re all lucky to have you.” As if he’s unable to help himself, he reaches out and covers Tony’s shoulder with a big, warm hand. It’s steady when Tony feels like he’s just been shoved into a blender.

He swallows and slowly, steadily, his anxiety begins to fade. “Huh,” he chuckles a little. It comes out more like a wheeze, but Cap politely doesn’t say anything. “I guess I’ve got to listen to you since you’re Captain America.”

“Nah.” Steve’s hand bumps his shoulder light enough not to hurt but firm enough to make Tony stumble. “This is more Steve talking to Tony.”

And that means a lot more than it should, really. He doesn’t know where to look, sure that he’s blushing, and Steve is still looking at him with that small smile.

“Come on.” The guy takes pity on him, slinging an arm over his shoulder. “Let’s go back and coo over your namesake, huh?”

“I still say she looks like a beetroot.”

*

The new child sleeps in Loki and Thor’s room. 

Zoe-Antoine. A fine, strong name for an Asgardian princess. She has Thor’s blue eyes and blonde hair and Loki’s demanding pout and Thor sits with her well into the night, her tiny hand unable to curl around his finger.

She falls asleep, eyelashes fluttering reluctantly as if she wants to stay awake and see the new world around her.

His wife, exhausted, is still sleeping in their bed. Thor goes to join him when a cry from Keir’s room sends him in that direction.

When the babe refuses to settle down, Thor, tired himself, simply slings him over his shoulder and carries him back to his bedroom. He tucks the child between him and his mother. His wife wouldn’t allow it but just this once, he’ll do this. Keir probably feels threatened by his new baby sister. It wouldn’t do to let that feeling stay.

The child eventually settles contently with a finger in his mouth and his back pressed to his mother. Thor kisses his head, strokes a fond hand across the curtain of Loki’s hair, and sleeps.

He is woken by the feeling of the bed dipping as the twins crawl onto it, pouting sleepily. Without a word, Thor lifts the covers and lets them snuggle close to their parents.

Haldor is next, to Thor’s surprise. He finds himself a place against Thor’s chest, Magni in front of him, and falls still. Thor sleeps again.

The next time he wakes, Gimli and Sky have joined the group and Brynhildur is climbing over his legs. Knowing that she is caught, she gives him a small smile and finds a spot between her winged siblings. Sky, deep in sleep, shifts a blue wing up to cover her sister.

*

Loki wakes to the sight of all of his children separating him and Thor and the high whine of a hungry child. He smiles, brushing a hand over Mothi’s head, and rises to retrieve Zoe.

Thor is awake, watching him through drooping blue eyes as Loki gets a bottle and starts to feed their daughter. He gets back into bed, the warmth of his family’s bodies soothing beyond compare. He had never dreamed, all those years ago, that he would have this.

Thor’s hand creeps across the mound of bodies and curls into the fabric or Loki’s sleep pants. He smiles sleepily and falls into slumber again. Loki looks at his great brute of a husband fondly.

No, he had never dreamed. But he is glad that he is able to now.