My fault (The true story of Ultron and a buncha chaos)

Jarvis is surprisingly chill

POV: Loki

I didn't expect young Peter's idea to work so well. To be honest, I kind of expected Tony to be secretly working on something on his phone, Thor to be flipping tables (which honestly may have happened if we played whatever Axis and Allies was), Steve and Clint to be ignoring 90% of what's happening, and Peter to be convincing them that it wasn't a huge waste of time. I would've been zoned out, planning on how to get a knife. I must say, I'm slightly disappointed they didn't give me one, but at least they're going to give me back my helmet. Thor was a lot kinder to me, too, when he wasn't pushing me off my chair. In fact, I was surprised they let me keep the illusions on. I wonder how Jarvis feels about his top hat.

I open the door to my room, and it hits me all at once. Ah, yes. Back to centerstage with you, thoughts.

I open the book, skim the letter, and close it again. So? She said those kinds of things all the time. All the time. It didn't make up for Odin not saying anything but criticism, but it helped. She was really the best parent I could ask for.

I find myself trying to be gentle and violent and the same time throwing the book upon my bed. I can't deal with this right now. It's been a month, I should be fine.

I missed her funeral.

Guilt manages to pierce my heart and bloodstream until I'm left with a horrible feeling like an abrupt fall. It's fine. It's fine. I couldn't be there if I wanted to. I couldn't do anything about it.

Just like when she died.

"Calm down, Loki, calm down," I whisper to myself, rubbing my palms with my fingers. I don't want to deal with this right now. I can't fix this right now.

Thor opens the door and barges in, not realizing I'm having a bit of a crisis. It takes all my strength not to snap at him.

"What?" I ask, calmly but still annoyedly. He messes with a pencil that was on my desk. I don't look at the notebook.

"Peter wanted you for something. Your supreme board game rulerness," he said, probably not mockingly, bowing a little. I shrugged.

"Alright then. The doors going to lock soon, so I'd advise you leave," I replied. He nodded and left. After a moment, I leave too.

I realize I don't actually know where to go and find myself wandering back to Tony's lab, expecting that's where the kid probably is, judging by all I know of what an 'internship' is. But when I check, he's not there. I look into the room through the windows, not bothering to continue searching. I needed a bit of a quiet moment. I hadn't truly had one in a while. At least, supposing you don't count my own subconscious illusions torturing me as a quiet moment.

"Are you lost, sir?" Jarvis said. To be honest, I'd forgotten he was there.

"No, just..." I trailed off, looking into the lab and fingering the screw in my pocket. They hadn't taken it from me, which surprised me. Granted, I did steal it back from Thor and I don't think anyone noticed. With a little sharpening, it could probably draw blood. If it was bigger. I doubt anyone could sharpen between the tiny ridges. "Wandering," I finally said, remembering where I was.

"Noted, sir. Ask me if you need anything," Jarvis replied, leaving me alone. I smiled, wondering if young Peter would think to look for me here. It was pretty late, honestly, I'd normally be asleep by now, unless I was stealing something or drawing on someone's face. Which didn't happen very often.

"Where's young Peter?" I asked finally, bored of my thoughts this late at night.

"He's in his room. The one two doors down from yours," Jarvis said. Then, after a moment of silence, he added, "He seems to have a lot of things he wants to show you."

"Thanks, Jarvis," I said, putting the screw back into my pocket and going back upstairs. The corridors were empty, and my footsteps echoed quietly. I wondered if anyone else felt exactly how idiotic society was. With all the stupid fashion trends and fidgets going in and out of style every thirty seconds, not to mention the stupid laws against thievery and murder. Although I suppose Midgardians wouldn't survive being stabbed in most places. Any of their blood veins, and they need serious medical attention.

"Uncle Loki!" Peter said, opening the door to his room for me. He had a suitcase against the wall in one corner, a backpack stacked on top of it, and a small desk right next to the door. A notebook and some papers lay on it in an organized mess. Peter sat down on his bed and turned off his phone, taking a pencil out of his pocket. "So I was wondering if you think we should do a movie night thing or a karaoke thing next."

"A... What?" I said, genuinely confused. Peter shrugged.

"A movie or listening to everyone's bad singing. It's like, a bonding thing, or something," he said, shuffling through the papers on his desk. He handed me one with a list of things that I didn't understand very well:

Movie
Karaoke
Games again
DND or roleplay
A star wars Lego set

I reread the list, and still didn't understand very much.

"What?" I said, and Peter sighed and took the list.

"Legos. Like building block things, but usually it's more of a single person thing. DND is rolling dice and... rolling dice, basically. But better. Karaoke's singing. Games we did. And a movie is a movie."

I nodded, slightly comprehending what he was saying. I still didn't understand DND.

"So... what, for next week?" I asked. Peter nodded.

"Yeah, just whenever," he said. "Have you ever rick rolled Thor?"

"Wha-"

"Oh my gosh we have to. Come on, follow me. It's going to be great," he said, pulling me out the door. I'm about to ask him what it is, but then I hear something. It takes me a full second to realize it's screaming.