Chapter Text
Tony Stark was a man who believed himself to be prepared for mostly anything. Being an Avenger, he had to be ready at a moments notice to fly into some of the most chaotic and perilous situations mankind had ever encountered.
He was a composed man, remaining in complete control, even when faced with his own mortality; it was logic that drove him, that dictated his reactions. Ever the futurist, he was sound in the belief he could predict the outcome of any situation, and deal with it accordingly.
Leaders lead, as Steve had once told him, and delegation was his strong point.
But now, here, alone in his mansion, without his armour to hand at such short notice and with JARVIS waking him with an intruder alarm, informing him that one Loki Laufeyson had materialised in his lounge, he truly felt vulnerable.
He was only mortal, all things considered.
Tony did not know what drove him, perhaps his arrogance and self belief, as he crept through his silent mansion, to his newly rebuilt lounge, dressed in nothing but sweatpants and a vest top, baseball bat in hand.
He knew it would probably do no good against an asgardian god, hell, Loki would probably turn it into a snake... or fire... or a snake on fire that would then strangle him, something like that, they guy was crazy.
But feeling the weight in his hands, he convinced himself that before he went out, he could at least cause some superficial damage.
Taking a deep breath, every scenario he could calculate ran through his head, how he would swing, where he could go for cover if Loki began hurling those damn spells.
How everyone at SHIELD and the mansion would look up to him for taking down the god of mischief with a baseball bat...
He shook his head, trying to regain his focus from the images of parades through New York in his name, medals and being surrounded by hot, busty girls, all thanking him for taking down one of the most wanted super villains in history, as he pressed his back against the wall to the lounge entrance, slowly peering round the corner.
A soft whimper echoed through the hallway, a sound brought on by pain, it seemed. Tony leant forward a little more, taking deep, steadying breaths as he moved forward carefully, one step at a time.
More whimpering sounded, a soft groan and a gasp of pain.
Pressed flat to the wall, Tony moved towards the lounge, spotting a dark figure on the floor by the sofa.
“Jarvis, lights,” Tony said, little more than a whisper. He stumbled a little and blinked, regaining his stance as the ceiling lights opened the scene, taking a step forward when he saw the figure in the full light.
Of all the things Tony had expected to find that night, a naked, bleeding, shivering Loki Laufeyson was not one of them. He was curled in the foetal position, arms wrapped around himself best as he could, laying in a quickly expanding puddle of crimson.
Loki whimpered again, the sound truly pathetic, it was so weak. Tony weighed up his options. This was Loki, after all. He could be playing possum, drawing Tony in, ready for the strike.
But there was so much blood...
Tony took a deep breath, trying to keep his composure as he approached Loki slowly, treating him like a freshly tranquillized lion... Was he truly out? Or was he preparing to attack?
As he got closer, he noted just how violently Loki was shaking, his chest heaving with the effort of getting air into his lungs. His skin was littered with tiny cuts, all jagged and deep, bleeding sluggishly, painting his body a morbid red.
His neck was mottled with bruises, they seemed to wrap themselves around all the available skin, copied on his wrists and ankles.
Had he been bound? Tony wondered, crouching next to the wounded god.
Slowly, tentatively, he reached out a hand, swallowing any protests he may have previously had in the wake of such obvious hurt.
The tips of his fingers made contact with the smooth skin of Loki's ribs. He felt like ice, smooth, wet, yet so pliable.
“Loki?” Tony tried, his voice still a whisper.
But it was enough. Loki's entire body convulsed, panic stricken as the god turned to face Tony, a terror in his emerald eyes Tony had never seen before, on anyone.
He imagined his face must have been the same when Obadiah had taken the arc reactor from his chest, in this very spot.
Tony fell backwards, the shock of Loki's movement throwing him off balance. Loki was now curled against the bottom of the sofa, one hand out, still curled up as best as he could.
“No, n-no, no m-more, I, no, can't, no, more, no, no, no,” Loki gasped for breath, his hand falling uselessly on the marbled floor.
Tony surveyed the scene. There was blood everywhere, smeared across the floor where Loki had moved, on the front of the sofa, all over Loki.
Fighting it as hard as he could, Tony could no longer ignore the pang of sympathy that clanged around in his chest. With a heavy sigh, he conceded.
That look of terror he had seen in Loki's eyes could not have been faked. The man was seriously hurt.
But why, why had he come here, of all places? Tony wondered as he stood up, brushing himself off and moved next to Loki, kneeling beside him.
Loki flinched and tried to move away again, repeating his mantra of “no, no, no,” but Tony stopped him with two strong arms wound carefully around his torso, trying to avoid aggravating any of his wound.
“Loki,” he whispered softly, still trying to calm to struggling god. “Loki, it's... it's, uh, it's gonna be ok,” he tried. He'd wasn't all that experienced with comforting people, but he figured he was pretty alone in this.
Loki squirmed more, trying desperately to escape Tony's clutches.
“No, please,” he gasped, tears beginning to spill onto his face. “No more, please,” he begged.
The image of Loki, god of mischief, the guy who had tried to flatten New York more times than anyone cared to remember, the super villain, a god, shivering, covered in blood, tears tracking down his cheeks, begging for mercy, that image, burrowed its way deep into Tony. He suddenly felt like he'd been punched in the gut.
“Loki, um... it's ok. You're... you're safe. You're in my house, it's, uh, ok.” Tony desperately wanted to make him at least feel safe. Not that he was particuarly good at things like this. But no one could even pretend to be a dick in the face of such blatant misery.
Bright, wet green eyes suddenly locked with his, focusing as if seeing him for the first time.
“S-Stark?” Loki murmured, his eyes going unfocused.
“Uh, yeah, Loki. You're at my home. You're, well you're safe here,” he swallowed hard, feeling a lump settle in his throat. What the hell had happened to him?
“Stark, I... I can't... I,” Loki tried, a desperate look on his face.
He had been torn open. There was no façade, no power here now, just a broken man, seeking safety. What remained of Loki's front crumbled as he collapsed, sobbing into Tony, gripping his vest top as if his very life depended on it.
Tony awkwardly looped his arms around Loki's back, trying to give comfort, still a little thrown off by this turn from lunacy to desperation.
“Loki, come on, we need to get you cleaned up,” he coaxed, tugging gently on Loki's arm. The god groaned, fresh pain apparent in his expression. However, to his credit, he did lean on Tony as he supported Loki, pulling on of his lanky arms over his shoulders. He knew that he'd be covered in blood after this, but right now, that didn't matter.
Loki whimpered as he limped, supported by Tony, into the guest bedroom and through to the en suite. His eyes looked more glazed than ever, unable to focus on anything by the time Tony had started the faucet to fill the bath. Tony noticed this, and knelt in front of him.
“Hey, Loki, stay with me, man,” he encouraged, taking one of Loki's hands and squeezing gently. Green eyes locked with brown, a familiar look of terror rising, and fading just as quickly. Loki tried to take a steadying breath, but it caught in his throat. He swallowed, beginning to hyperventilate. Tony rubbed his arm gently.
“Slow, deep breaths,” he soothed, breathing with Loki. “That's it, calm down, ok? Slow, deep breaths.” Loki consented, breathing evening out quickly.
Tony hooked Loki's arm back over his shoulder to lift him gently.
“I doubt you can stand, but you can sit in the bath while I clean you off,” he instructed, glad there was no resistance to his orders as Loki gingerly lifted one leg over, hissing in pain, then the other. Tony lowered him carefully down into a sitting position, wincing when Loki flinched again.
It was weirding him out, seeing the usually ever so composed, suave, silver tongued god of mischief this vulnerable and hurt. Whatever had managed to do this to him, could obviously be a threat to everything, if it had managed to take out a god.
Loki let out another hiss as the hot water hit his skin, but it was not so much of pain as of relief, the heat soothing against his tattered skin. Tony grabbed a sponge from the bath side, wetting it quickly under the spray as he moved the shower head, making sure he didn't miss an inch of Loki's skin.
He gently pressed the sponge against him, washing away the dried blood, wincing every time he caught a sore spot and Loki let out a hiss.
Underneath the blood, the skin was healing quickly. Loki was still a god. Any injuries would heal quickly.
Physical ones at least.
Tony rubbed over Loki's skin as gently as he could, finishing his back quickly, and moving onto his front.
It was then Tony noticed more bruises, along Loki's hips. They were accompanied by tiny, half crescent cuts, all dried and healing now, but there nonetheless. Tony frowned as he washed gently, cleaning the blood off of Loki's chest.
He had never seen him without armour on before, and was pleasantly surprised by the muscular frame the god had, defined in all the right places, pale skinned, and... Tony risked a glance lower.
He was merely a man, after all. He was flesh and bone, with mortal sins and desires. He was allowed to peek.
But he soon realised, he would likely have to do more than peek. Loki had barely any strength left, Tony realised he could not fight it, or do anything for himself. He let out a resigned sigh, gingerly washing further down Loki's stomach, towards his...
Tony jumped as Loki's hand shot out, grabbing his wrist, stilling him.
“No,” Loki growled, head still hanging. “No, S-Stark.”
Tony drew back carefully, a little perplexed.
“O-Okay,” he conceded, replacing the sponge on the side of the bath as he pulled Loki's arm back over his shoulders, helping him from the bath.
Forgoing the towel, Tony thought it best to get him straight into bed. He was obviously exhausted, broken and needed to recuperate.
Tony pulled back the covers quickly, laying Loki down in the soft caress of mattress and duvet as gently as possible, covering him. Loki let out a small groan as he lay down on his back, and quickly curled up on his side, as he'd been when Tony first found him.
Unsure what to do, Tony dimmed the light via the wall panel, and sat in the bucket chair next to the bed, deciding he would stay until Loki fell asleep. Just to make sure he was not up to anything.
It had been one weird night.
***
Loki woke with a start, a thousand images rushing through his head at once;
The blood. his blood, there had been so much...
His body ached all over, pain searing up his back and through his groin as he shifted around, the sheets he was wrapped in catching at tiny cuts all over his body.
He winced as he craned his neck, taking in his current chambers. The room was stark white, modern looking, the double bed he was settled in dominating the room, a bedside table one side, and the other...
Loki jumped as he caught sight of Tony Stark, arms crossed, laid back and snoozing in the white bucket chair next to his bed.
His white vest top was covered in dried blood, his hair tousled, arc reactor glowing a brilliant blue through the thin material covering his torso. He was letting out a soft wheezing snore every time he breathed in, and drooling slightly.
Loki would have laughed, done something awful to the sleeping Avenger, were he not so concerned by the recent turn of events.
Loki's mind was a blur... how had he ended up in Stark's house? He had no recollection of ever getting here. And why was Stark asleep next to his bed? Why was Loki not locked in an 'ultimate security' cell? Surely he would have called SHIELD, the other Avengers or at least...
His mind juddered to a halt.
Loki closed his eyes as a thousand and one memories flooded through him.
Shining silver armour, the scales tearing at his skin, his leathers being torn to shreds by huge, dominating hands... his wrists being bound, struggling against the bonds, blood, and pain, so much pain!
A whimper involuntarily escaped his lips as his eyes began to sting. He heard a mumble beside him and opened his damp eyes, glancing at Stark, who was now looking directly at him, bleary eyed.
“Morning sweetheart,” he offered, rubbing his eyes. “Did you sleep ok?” He reached out a hand to examine Loki's arms, but the god recoiled.
Tony drew back, unsure of what to do.
“So, uh, you kinda showed up here last night, bleeding and battered, I pretty much cleaned your ass up and put you to bed, and now you won't trust me just to take a look at some teency little wounds?”
Loki closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Dim memories of a strong embrace, warm water and soft material against his skin rolled through his mind.
“You... you helped me?” Loki stated, though it came out more as a dumbfounded question.
Tony nodded thoughtfully.
“Yeah, I guess. You were in a bit of a state. Who the hell managed to get one over on you?” he asked softly, unsure of whether he wanted to hear the answer or not. Loki bit his lip, eyes clenched shut.
Strong hands ripped his chest plate off, exposing the soft, supple skin... His wrists were bound tightly, held in place by a sword, thrust into the wall above his head. He was trapped.
His arms were already shredded, the armour his assailant wore had hundred of tiny spikes, and he did not seem to want to waste time taking it off. Instead, the had lowered his breeches, and left it at that. In fact, he seemed to enjoy pulling Loki flush to his body as he thrusted, hearing the god's whines of pain seemed to heighten his pleasure.
Soft lips teased Loki's neck, sending shivers down his spine, a tongue slipping out to tease his pulse point.
Loki did not want this.
He struggled, trying to escape those tender lips, those masculine hands now tearing at the rest of his leathers, exposing him, fondling his flacid, cum covered cock, slipping thick fingers under his balls, towards his tight entrance, massaging the opening, smiling a horrifically proud smile as he pressed inward, feeling his own cum already inside. Loki whined in pain and shuddered. He was so sore already, not again...
“Please, no more,” he pleaded, desperate now. He already knew he was outmatched in strength, the bruises on his hips, on his legs, around his throat were testament to that, but perhaps he could play the mercy card now. He had been doing this for hours, so much pain...
But the plea only caused the free hand of his assailant to shoot forward, wrapping itself around his throat, pressing him against the wall hard.
“You denied me so much, you shall not deny me this...”
The voice so familiar, yet so distant rang in his ears as he was flipped over, the muscles in his arms screaming at him, pulled and twisted, as the last tatters of his clothing fell away from his lithe body, his face pressed up hard against the wall, tears springing to his eyes and desperation roiling through him as he felt the tell tale weight press up behind him.
“Please!” he tried one last time, voice hoarse, he was practically screaming now. “Please, no more, no more, d-don't do this! I-I-I'll do anything, a-anything you want!” Tears were streaming from his eyes now, he felt weak, pathetic, powerless.
The rapist leant in closer, licking around the shell of Loki's ear before kissing down, biting down hard enough to break the skin on his neck as he thrust inside the trickster. Loki let out a howl of pain as the voice whispered in his ear.
“Then be still, and it will be over all the more quickly.”
***
“Loki? Loki!” The panic in the voice, the concern in those chocolate brown eyes, it all confused him so.
Stark took a deep breath, looking relieved.
“Holy shit, man, don't do that again! Are you ok?” he asked softly, hands fluttering over Loki's chest, as if he was afraid to touch him.
Loki nodded the affirmative, ashamed of the wetness he felt on his cheeks. His eyes stung, his face felt puffed up, and all he wanted to do was disappear.
In his current state, however, he knew his magic was depleted; something had drained him just before he was attacked. To even try to get away now would be pointless. He was more or less trapped.
He tried to sit up, but whimpered at the pain caused by his backside, instead curling back into the foetal position, facing away from Tony.
“I thought you were having some kind of seizure,” Tony continued rambling, still sounding shaken. “You went all stiff and pale, and... what happened?”
Loki shook his head. His chest ached, his entire body was sore. All he wanted to do was curl up in some dark hole and not come out until the entire human race was dead and he did not have to suffer this humiliation, being cared for by a mere mortal.
“You... would not understand,” he hissed, although it came out sounding rather more desperate than hostile.
Tony frowned, sitting back in his bucket chair and leaning towards the bed.
“Try me,” he challenged. Loki shook his head again.
“No.” Tony shook his head in response, heaving a sigh.
“Then what are you doing here if you didn't want my help?” Loki stilled.
He didn't rightfully know the answer to that. But the liesmith always had a line on hand.
“I required your help. I may have exaggerated cetrain aspects of my attack,” he swallowed thickly, “all a trick, a way to make you to take them seriously, Stark. It was a game. A test. Soon, I shall be out of your hair and on my wa...”
“Bullshit!” Tony roared, a rage unlike anything he had ever experienced rushing through him.
He was stood, fists clenched over the bed, teeth gritted, glaring down at Loki, who looked as if he'd just been slapped in the face.
“I found you, you, a god, last night, naked, shivering, covered in blood, terrified, in my living room, having teleported to an Avengers house in need of help, you were that desperate! God knows I should have called Shield to come pick your ass up, but no, I thought, 'I'll be a decent human being and try to help him', and this is the thanks I get? I should have shopped you right away you ungrateful shit, but no, I thought we could help you, we could find... Loki?”
Tony's rage had dissipated as he'd gone on. Loki had clambered out of the bed and was now pressed up against the far wall, cowering, naked as when Tony had found him, the bruises on his body a sickly, vivid purplish yellow today.
Tony sighed, feeling like an ass. His heart did a little flutter at the look on Loki's face. His façade once again gone, he looked utterly vulnerable, broken.
He couldn't explain it, but Tony wanted to fix him.
“Loki, I, I'm sorry. I want to help,” Tony reassured him, walking round the bed.
Loki choked a little. He felt utterly pathetic, but the fear that had washed over him when Tony had begun shouting... He was so angry... would he even be able to fight back in his current state?
What if he was the same, hungry for power? What, what if it happened again? Loki did not have the strength to fight him off, even if he was a mortal. He felt so weak, his arms ached, he was still sore, his legs trembling at any weight put on them.
Humiliation washed over him like waves upon rocks, seeping into every open wound, every tiny spot it could pool in, leaving traces that would take days to dry up, crashing down over his self worth, his strength washed away.
Tony could take full advantage at any moment, and no one could stop him...
Fresh tears rolled down Loki's face, everything rushing back to him, overwhelming his already scattered mind.
“Hey.” The soft word made Loki jump, as did the tender caress on his face. Tony cupped his jaw with one hand, his expression unreadable, fingers stroking Loki's damp skin gently.
“Shit, Loki. You're a pain in the ass, but even I have to admit, this is fucking awful. Who did this to you?”
Loki's face crumpled. He gripped Tony's hand, pressing it harder against his face, the skin warm and comforting as he tried to calm himself. His breathing was erratic, too fast and too shallow. Tony jumped a little at the action, caught off guard.
He was wary. This was still Loki, after all...
But as he watched him intently, he found his sympathy smothering all other emotions inside him.
“Loki,” he tried again, moving onto the floor next to him. Loki shifted away a little, still shaken from Tony's display of anger.
But he swallowed the lump in his throat, and locked eyes with the man who, by all rights, was trying to save him.
“I, It, He...”
“Sir, Captain America, Thor and Hawkeye are are inbound via quinjet, ETA 2 minutes.”
Both Loki and Tony jumped at Jarvis's disjointed voice.
“Holy fuck! Thanks for that advance warning, Jarvis!” Tony grumbled. Loki had jumped back a good foot, and was now pressed against the wall, a renewed terror in his wide eyes.
Tony grabbed the duvet from the bed and wrapped it around him, acting on instinct more than anything right now.
'Your goddamn instincts are gonna get you killed one day,' he chastised himself internally.
“Don't worry. They're probably responding to the intruder alarm. I'm not gonna tell them you're here. Just... stay in here,” he instructed, closing the door as he left the room.
Loki's eyes followed him out. How had he ever ended up in a situation like this, he wondered to himself as he felt fresh tears track down his cheeks.
He felt exhausted, terrified and ashamed. He felt broken, and not for the first time, he did not know how to ask for the help to fix himself...
***
The whirring of the quinjet engine was already audible in the distance by the time Tony had made it to the landing pad to the rear of his home.
He was shaking a little, his mind a rush of concern for Loki, guilt, for after all, Loki was still a wanted man, determination to keep him safe, and a morbid curiosity. What had happened to the once all powerful god of mischief to break him into the fractured man currently cowering in Tony's guest room?
The mash of emotions continued to swirl as he watched the quinjet land expertly 20 or so yards away, the down force of the jet engines sending a thin layer of dust and sand over him, towards the house and swirling up into the air.
He shielded his eyes as he heard the engines power down, and moved towards the already descending steps.
“Took your time,” he jested, trying to lighten the mood as a stern looking Steve Rogers made his way carefully down the steep path from the jet.
“You never called,” Steve retorted, jumping the last step, a look of relief washing over his face as his feet hit solid ground once more. “It was Jarvis who told us there'd been a break in.”
Tony smirked.
“Nothing I couldn't handle on my own, Cap, but thanks for the concern.” Steve tried to suppress a grin, failing brilliantly, and let out a soft chuckle.
“You really are more like your father than you know, Tony.”
He clapped a hand on Tony's shoulder, squeezing gently. Tony gulped a small lump in his throat away and smiled.
“So, what actually happened here?” Steve asked, moving to look around, to head towards the house...
Tony put a hand on his chest, stopping his advance.
“Uh, I'll um... Where's... You're not on your own, right?” Tony grasped for anything, anything to stop Steve from entering his home.
As nice a guy as Steve was, Tony figured he probably wouldn't be as sympathetic to find a super villan,
naked and curled up in bed, injured or not.
Tony took a steadying breath as Steve looked him over, a suspicious glint in his eye.
“No, Tony. I'm not on my own,” Steve said slowly, not breaking eye contact.
He was calculating his words carefully, Tony could tell. For such a big guy, Steve was actually very smart. And an expert in coercion.
“Thor's here with me, and Clint. Are you sure you're ok?”
Tony ignored Steve's last question, finally managing to break the intense eye lock and look towards the quinjet.
“Uh, why aren't they coming out? They sucking each other off or something?”
Steve's face screwed up in disgust as he gave Tony a final once over with his suspicious gaze, finally relenting with a sigh.
He knew when he wasn't going to get anything out of him.
“You know, I'm not sure. Thor's been really weird, like all day. Quiet. Just keeps muttering to himself and playing with that stupid hammer. Honestly, you'd think someone just took away all his hex box games.”
Tony raised an eyebrow.
“Xbox games?” Steve smiled and rolled his eyes as he nodded.
“Yup. That's the one. New addiction to that game whatchamacallit. Skyward? Skyrod?”
“Skyrim?” Tony helpfully supplied. Steve grinned.
“That's the one, he barely stopped playing it until yesterday. Then he went all weird, says he's tired, goes to bed and comes out this morning looking like someones deleted his game!” Tony snorted.
“Maybe Clint did,” he said thoughtfully, movement catching his attention as the aforementioned archer descended the steps, a long suffering look on his face.
“I give up!” he shouted, exasperated, hands up in a surrender motion. “I have been trying,” (at this point he turned to shout a the quinjet), “for OVER AN HOUR,” (and turned back to face Tony, looking more than slightly annoyed,) “to get that Asgardian woman in there to smile, laugh, talk or do something. But no. Nothing. Nada. Zilchoooooo.” He heaved a massive sigh. “Hey Tone,” he added, almost as an afterthought. “Some hot broad set off your security system again?”
Tony chuckled.
“You could say that,” he winked, inwardly wincing at his words. Loki would have killed him, he was sure, if he'd ever heard Tony describe him as a 'hot broad'.
Clint wooped and put his fist out toward Tony.
“Touch me, playa!”
Tony laughed as he fist bumped Clint, Steve rolling his eyes, a smile playing on his lips.
These two guys, Tony smiled to himself. The best laughs in the Avengers, when it came down to it. Steve was a little uptight, but it was so, so fun embarassing him with the lewdness of the 21st century. And also watching him try to use technology. He still couldn't understand mobile phones.
And Clint, well, the thought he could ever even have been a SHIELD agent was beyond comprehension. He was a real ladies man, a hero, a reckless dick, and probably a liability when it came down to it. But he was for sure the most loyal friend anyone could ask for.
Tony contemplated this as he shook his head.
“Look, guys. It was a misunderstanding, that's all. It's nothing to worry about, honest. And if it happens again, I'll be sure to call home and tell you everything's ok. Promise!” He placed his hand over his arc reactor.
Steve and Clint glanced at each other, a smirk on both of their lips. Steve let out another sigh, a bad habit he'd picked up. He sounded like a long suffering wife.
“Fine, just make sure you call next time. Don't leave us all worried!” Tony rolled his eyes.
“Yes mom,” he chimed, sounding as much like a bored teenager as possible. Steve's eyes glinted with evil genius for a second.
“Don't joke about that, Master Stark. I knew your father, and if he was as much like you as I imagine he was, I could have had him,” he coughed, “switching teams in no time. In another reality, I could have been your step father!”
Tony gagged a little, mouth open wide in shock, while Clint nearly fell over laughing, bent double, holding his stomach as his back heaved from the giggles.
“Oh my fucking god!” Tony choked out, face bright red, giggles still breaking his words. “Captain America has a sense of humour! And a filthy one at that!” Steve blushed a little, but chuckled softly.
“Learning from the best, Stark!” Tony clapped him on the shoulder, reaching a hand down to Clint to help him up. Said archer was now coughing, having giggled so hard, he'd caught his breath. Steve hit him on the back a couple of times, the three of them giggling together like schoolgirls, when a voice caught their attention.
“If you are quite finished with your childish Midgardian antics, I wish to return to the mansion. I have urgent business to attend to.”
Tony's eyes widened at the sight of the thunderer hanging from the quinjet.
Thor looked like shit. He looked like he hadn't slept in weeks, his usually flowing blonde hair knotted in places, sticking out at odd angles. His armour highly polished but looking like it had been thrown on carelessly. There was pain on his face, but it was obvious he was trying his best to keep a poker face.
“You ok, Thor?” Tony asked, moving closer to the aircraft. Thor nodded the affirmative.
“I simply wish to return home. Last night was.... unsettled for me.” Tony frowned. His thoughts wandered back to Loki.
“Unsettled, how?” Tony asked carefully, studying Thor's reaction. The god's eyes widened a little, a frown falling across his face.
“What business is it of yours, Tony Stark? Since when do you care of the plight of anyone but yourself?” he growled, glaring now. He swung Mjolnir without even thinking about it, merely using it with his hands to add expression to his words, but as it only missed Tony by a couple of inches, he began to back off.
Steve stepped up beside Tony, who felt a little like he'd been slapped in the face. He cared about a lot of people. In fact, he was a different person now a days. He too had been on a humbling journey, much like Thor, had his power taken away and returned. They were so alike, yet Thor had never seemed to gel that well with him.
“Don't talk to Tony like that, he's the only reason you have a place to live, he keeps you, looks after us all,” Steve snapped at the asgardian, raising his shield slightly as Thor's glare intensified. The god raised his hammer as if to strike, instead sending one last glare at Tony.
“Keep your material things. I have no need of them, or you,” he all but spat as he swung his hammer and took off, turning into a speck in the sky before disappearing completely.
Steve turned to Tony, confusion written across his face.
“What the heck was that about?” Tony shrugged.
“I have no idea.” He turned to face Clint now. Ssaid archer shrugged.
“Man period?”
Tony laughed out loud as Steve giggled like a schoolgirl.
“Jesus, Clint. Tact, man, tact!” He clapped a hand on the shorter man's shoulder as Tony sighed, looking to Steve, who had regained some of his composure.
“Look guys, I have to go. I've got some mods to do on the suit, then I'm supposed to be doing some commerical thing, yada yada yada,” he waved his arms to exaggerate his point.
Clint heaved a sigh.
“Yeah, yeah. We get it, we'll leave,” he grumbled, imitating a sad puppy, all wide eyes and sorrowful expression. Tony patted his head.
“See you later ladies,” he winked. Steve turned as he went to climb up the quinjet steps.
“Oh, Tony,” he called. Tony turned sharply.
“Yeah, Cap?”
Steve grinned, waving a hand.
“If you need anything, shout. We're not that far away.” Tony nodded, blowing kisses at the craft as it took off. He could imagine, as he walked back down the steps to the back entrance of his house, Steve rolling his eyes as they took off.
But his minds soon turned back to Loki. And Thor.
Why had Thor acted so strangely. Did he know something had happened to Loki? Is that what he meant by, 'other business to attend to'? Was he trying to find his brother?
Tony shook the thoughts from his head.
Loki was the focus, at the moment. It was obvious he'd been hurt, even if he didn't want to admit it. And Tony, for once, had been given the chance to be the one looking after someone else. After all, who else could he go to?
***
Tony was surprised to find Loki casually sat on one of the counter stools in the kitchen when he returned to the house, naked if not for the bed sheet loosely tied around his waist, shifting somewhat uncomfortably, a guarded look in his eyes as he surveyed the spacious room.
“I apologize for my curiosity. I did not get an intimate look around during my... arrival.” His voice was soft, calmer, his composure seemingly returning. He swivelled to face Tony, his lips curved into a gentle smirk, green pools glistening as they studied Tony, swirling with fear, anger... It was the only sign that he was still hurting, and gazing inward, like driftwood caught in the pull of the tide, unable to escape, Tony felt a twang somewhere in his chest. He could see his pain, even through the façade..
“That's cool,” Tony shrugged, his attempt at nonchalance fooling nobody. Loki gave an amused snort.
“Oh, Stark, you are not as dense as some believe. Even I could see, however, that you were concerned at being caught.”
A frown crossed Tony's face.
“Well, in case you've forgotten, you are still a wanted man, Loki. If you'd prefer it, I can make a call to Fury now, and he can send a Shield convoy out to come collect your ass.”
Loki's eyes went dark, a threatening air around him as he stood, advancing on Tony. Even wearing nothing but the sheet tied around his midriff, he was elegant, menacing.
Tony was suddenly struck by just how large Loki was. Thor had mentioned in the past that he was fairly small for an asgardian, and even smaller for a frost giant, but now, advancing, Loki towered over Tony by a good foot.
“You would not Stark. I know little about you, but I know how much you value your life...” His fingers skimmed Tony's chest, tips running across the glass front of the arc reactor. “And if you were to even attempt it, I would rip this device from your chest, and take great pleasure in watching you die.”
Tony's eyes stung. He backed away slightly, heart pumping furiously, adrenaline racing around his system.
“You...” he gulped. “You wouldn't,” he tried. Loki smirked.
“Wouldn't I?” he whispered, suddenly right on Tony, his mouth next to his ear. Tony couldn't hold in the gasp which escaped him. He had no time to react. “I, Tony Stark, almost succeeded in destroying an entire race.” His hand clutched at Tony's chest, the sudden movement making Tony jump, inhaling deeply. His mind was swimming, fear gripping his heart like a vice, adding pressure to a piece of steel, bending, priming, a it's very tensile limit. “You are a mortal man. One, mortal man. You are weak, powerless. What would one life be to me?”
Tears stung at Tony's eyes. Loki was right, of course. Without his suit, he was just a man. Vulnerable, weak, as defenceless as anyone else in the world. He took a sharp gulp of air, trying to steady himself. He could feel panic rising in his chest, and he knew, if he was not careful, he would end up in an even more precarious, vulnerable situation.
“Even after I helped you?”
At that, Loki paused. Tony caught his gaze. The trickster looked confused, but there was something deeper in there.
“It...” Tony thought it through as quickly as he could. “I wouldn't call them Loki. Not while you need my help.” He found himself slammed against the wall a few feet behind him before he even had a chance to blink.
“I do not need your help,” Loki snarled, his face mere centimetres away. Tony raised his eyebrows.
“Really?” Tony was practically panting now, his heart felt like it was about to burst from his chest and flop across the floor. “Because not an hour ago, you were practically crying and helpless in my bed. You sure looked like you needed it then.”
Internally, Tony cursed himself. His mouth was going to get him killed one day. Probably today, he sighed to himself, bracing for the blow as Loki wrapped one slender hand around his neck, and squeezed lightly, even as his eyes betrayed him.
“I...” Loki caught his breath, memories of pain, of humiliation overloading his brain, everything unfocused for a second. Tony took that second to wrap his hand around Loki's wrist.
“Loki...” God, he sounded desperate, even to himself. “Drop the act... It's... It's ok to need help sometimes.” His voice was croaky, Loki's grip pressing down somewhat on his airway. “I just want to help. I don't know why the hell I do, maybe it's the philanthropist in me... I just... I don't like seeing people hurting.”
Loki dropped his gaze to the floor, the expression grim as the grip on Tony's neck gave way.
“A true hero, Stark,” he murmured, turning away and heading back toward the spare room he had spent the night in. “But no hero can save me now.”
Tony watched the trickster walk into the room, shutting the door with one last glance back at his somewhat host in a very slow, deliberate way. It was a warning and a challenge in one movement, and Tony, for the first time in a long time, wanted to run.
He somewhat felt like a hostage in his own house. It was more than apparent now, if he attempted to contact anyone for help, Loki would surely know. And that was where the trickster was definitely right; Tony valued his life more than catching a super villan. Hero or not, he had to draw the line and accept his mortality sometime.
On shaky legs, Tony stumbled across the smooth floor of the kitchen, reaching for one of the instant packs of coffee to jam into the machine. He was shaking quite violently as he reached over, accidently knocking the glass pot to the floor, where it shattered, shards of glass scattering across the kitchen floor.
“God fucking damn it,” Tony muttered to himself, his heart still racing as nearly toppled over, bracing himself with both arms against the granite kitchen top, his head lolling forward uselessly.
A wave of nausea hit him as he took long, deep breaths through his nose, his heart still pounding furiously.
As much as he hated to admit it, Loki had gotten to him. He had achieved his goal, and Tony was still terrified.
Hit by another wave, Tony's legs buckled, his whole body slipping down, coming to a rest next to the massive fridge. Resting his head between his knees, Tony closed his eyes, breathing laboured, as he tried to fend off the massive panic attack which had been threatening to overwhelm him since Loki first wrapped his slender, delicate looking hand around his neck.
He could still feel the pressure, feeling like he was choking. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Tony cursed himself. He'd never had these before his whole kidnapping affair.
Wrong thought pattern, he lamented grimly as the familiar, haunting images of the dingy cave, of gun barrels aiming at his head, the crude car battery he had been forced to carry for the first weeks, the pain, ice cold water, explosions and blood, all ran through his mind, flashing at light speed.
A sob escaped his throat as his vision swam, tumbling forward as he began to crawl, the hard, mable like floor causing a burning cold against his skin. He felt his chest heaving, everything spinning and tumbling and falling out of control as black spots began to mar his sight. Rolling onto his back, Tony slumped, gasping for breath as a dark figure loomed overhead.
His name was the last thing he heard before the darkness took him.