The room is dim, only a warm yellow glow lighting the walls, the windows are blacked out for maximum privacy. It is silent, save the gasps of amazement and quiet murmuring of sleep. Proud parents stand in each other’s hold, watching two highly trained assassins carefully. Tony has his arms wrapped tightly around his partner’s waist, his chest pressed up against the other mans back. Loki lets himself lean most of his weight against the engineer, his hands gripping the others wrists for maximum support.

“Shit guys!” Clint whisper-shouts, as he stares wide-eyed in awe at the tiny bundle below him, “You have made a seriously cute kid — look at his tiny hands, they’re so… tiny!”

“Clint, no.” Everyone looks to Natasha, not understanding her sudden outburst; she sees their confusion and looks directly to her partner, “We are not having one.”

Clint’s mouth gaps open, unsure of when his girlfriend and long time field partner began reading minds, her skills of deduction were not that good last time he checked. His mind pauses on that thought: who was he kidding, she can read him better than an open book with the letters in large print, she doesn’t need to read his mind. Natasha’s voice was firm, no hesitation present; there is no way she is budging on this topic. He looks away from her and back down. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing, since they were still in the field. With their line of work, you can’t risk a child's life or the chance you may not return to them (they knew what it’s like having no parents), it’s not fair. Tony and Loki, of course, are an exception, they aren’t SHIELD employees, they can quit the Avenger’s when they like. They can do what they want.

Hawkeye and Black Widow are stood side-by-side leaning over the large, Stark designed super-crib staring at the sleeping baby; Loki is almost on edge as he watches them closely. He is still recovering from the birth, it only being a few days following, his mind and body too weak to protect the baby or himself if the need arose. He knew they wouldn’t hurt his child, but they are the first people they’ve allowed in to see him. With such bad experiences in the past with his offspring, no one blames him for being overly cautious with Peter. If it weren’t for immediate royal business on Asgard, that according to the Allfather he couldn’t miss, Thor would still be on earth to be the first one visiting his son. But Loki’s due date was still a week away, no one had really been that prepared. It had been a… shock. They really should have taken into account that the baby was half Stark, and when has a Stark ever done what they’re meant to, when they're meant to. Tony may be always late to the party, but this little one decided he wanted to be a little early to make his grand entrance.

“You did good, love.” Tony whispers in his partner’s ear. Loki only hums in response, far too exhausted to respond more eloquently; Natasha’s ears perk up at the tone of the noise. She inconspicuously glances over to the couple, and sees the weary look on Loki’s face and the way his body is slumped against his makeshift support of Tony’s strong hold. She also knows he won’t leave the baby with the assassins still in the room. She nudges Clint, who also sees the fatigued God, and silently agrees with her.

Both step away from the crib and turn to the parents. “He is beautiful, Loki. You should both be so proud.” Natasha steps forward and places her hands on Loki's upper arms, “If you ever need anything, a few hours for yourselves, or whatever, you only have to call, okay?”

He hears her words and nods. Other than Tony, Natasha is the only other mortal Loki would trust with his life, as well as now his son’s. Eventually, but not any time soon, Loki would think about her offer. He would protect his baby with his life, and he knew it would be hard for him to make that first inevitable separation.

“Also, when everything has settled down, we'll bring Mischief back home, okay?" Loki grins wide at the prospect of his pet cat coming back to him. He had missed him during the pregnancy, but he understood Tony's reasons.

He steps forward and wraps his arms around the redheaded assassin, as tightly as his weak arms allow, “Thank you for everything, Natasha.

Clint also steps up and gives Loki a manlier, one armed hug that they've accustomed themselves with. They both do the same with Tony, before they leave the room altogether.

“Come on, Lo', let's get you to bed,” Tony takes Loki's hand in his and pulls gently.

“No, I'm fine, a few more minutes,” Loki protests.

“Love, look at me,” the God reluctantly turns to look over his shoulder. “You have to get some rest, being up this long is doing nothing for your recovery. Peter will be fine.”

Loki feels his body aching, throbbing in mild pain; his magic is too depleted to completely heal himself, his stores were used up when making the birth possible. He lets go of Tony's hand and walks over to the crib. Wincing from the movement, he leans over the side of the crib to kiss the top of baby Peter's head, “I love you. Sweet dreams, my son.”

Tony joins his partner, taking a hold of his hand. He wishes his own quiet goodnight, and gently tucks the blanket that had wriggled free back into place. Loki rests his forehead against the billionaires neck, tiredly breathing; the calloused fingers of an engineer, a genius, brush through his long dark hair. The couple stand for a few more minutes, before Loki lets himself be guided from the room and along the corridor.

They both slip into bed immediately, no need for changing their clothes; sweat pants and in Loki's case one of Tony's large Bon Jovi shirts too — he likes the dagger through the heart logo — were their chosen attire, comfort was a must. Right now, the thought of wearing leather, tight and restricting, scares the trickster a little bit.

Once lying down, the bodies are still for only a moment. Loki shifts from one position to another, twisting and turning, Tony noticing instantly his restlessness, “Love, what's wrong?”

“Uncomfortable,” Loki’s voice quiet, drained, “It hurts.”

“Where does it hurt, Lo'? Tell me,” he coaxes. Tony feels horrible that Loki is suffering so much and he can do next to nothing to aid him. He just wants to help.

“Everywhere,” Loki rolls himself away from Tony, curling into a ball, wishing the soreness away.

Tony slides closer, his hands resting on the nape of Loki's neck. Slowly, with just the right amount of pressure, he begins circling his thumbs, massaging the tense muscles. As he lowers his hands, he stops for just a moment, slipping them under Loki's shirt, skin-to-skin contact.

“Relax,” he kisses the exposed skin, his hands working down the God's back, taking extra time to massage the lower region of his spine, the part of his back that has taken the most punishment from the pregnancy. First of all there was the strain of carrying the weight of Peter's growing body, then there was the brutal pushing he had to suffer through during the delivery, so he could finally meet his child.

Loki all but purrs in appreciation, his body relaxing completely in bliss. He leans his head backwards finding Tony's shoulder, enjoying the feather-light kisses against his cool skin, his eyes finally falling shut. When Tony hears the shallow breathing he is accustomed too, an indication that Loki is asleep, he stops his hands, moving them to circle the entire body in front of him. Once he has made one last quiet check with Jarvis, and he knows everything is fine next door in Peter's room, Tony’s eyes close too. Both parents and child sleep well that night.