Safe and Sound
Blood.
Blood stained the lab-room floor dark and rusty, copper filled the air and hung so thick Tony felt as if he were fighting to breathe. A man lay in the center of all of this, what little clothing that clung to his lithe frame torn and hanging uselessly from his limbs. The arc reactor the scientist had been building dropped from his hands, cracking against the table, and for a moment Tony let a string of foul curses whip through his head, knowing he would have to fix whatever had been broken.
Knees pressed against the hot, sticky mess that covered his floor; shaking, calloused hands reached for the body, stilled the tremors and turned the pale, perfect face toward him. Acid churned in his stomach at the sight, bile rose in his throat and a soft, broken cry passed the hero's lips before he was able to gather himself.
"Loki."
The god's eyes were wild, clouded and un-seeing. The body Tony now held in his hands was nothing more than a shadow of the glorious perfection that had been the God of Mischief. The thin, whipcord muscled body was torn and bruised, gaping wounds still seeping and festering despite the weak tendrils of Loki's emerald magic that lit them, desperately trying to knit the flesh whole. Bone showed white through the wounds, bringing around a second sickening lurch from Tony's gut. The worst of it all, though, was not the amount of blood or the obvious beating the broken god had endured, but the horrific implications behind the thread that bound the trickster's lips shut.
The small, unmarked stretches of skin Tony could make out alongside the purpled flesh, recalled a night that now seemed very long ago, when he had tasted that flesh, learned its planes and valleys. Vaguely, Tony wondered what had brought the god here, if perhaps the hot, furious nights they had spent together were something more than sex.
A pained noise pushed through Loki's nose, wrenching the inventor from his memories. "Shh, Loki, its alright, you'll be alright." A trembling hand that Tony tried desperately to still smoothed across the god's forehead. "I'll be right back. I need...I need to get some things. I'm going to take care of you." Moving as if to pull away, a hand shot out, wrapping tightly around Tony's wrist. Green eyes focused and locked fearfully with brown. His free hand cupped the cold cheek, thumb running over sharp cheekbones. "I'll be right back," Tony assured, "I swear, I need to get things to stop the bleeding, to keep you here with me. I'm not letting anything happen to you."
The iron grip relaxed and slid away, allowing Tony to dart from the room, cold, sickening fear rushing through his veins. As he ripped through his medical supplies, Tony began to shout. "Jarvis!"
"Yes, Sir."
"The Tower is on lockdown, no one in or out unless I say. You will erase the tapes from the lab and no one will know of this."
"Already done, Sir."
The man nodded grimly. "Good boy," he murmured, arms laden with alcohol, small scissors, and gauze. Back inside the room, Tony dropped carelessly to his knees once more, carefully maneuverings the god's head into his lap, fingers carding through his hair. "I'm going to cut the thread, and I'm going to pull it out. It will hurt. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he whispered, awed when the god simply nodded and curled an elegant hand around his thigh, squeezing tightly. Swallowing back the revulsion he could feel rising to the surface, Tony deftly cut through the needle-work. "Okay, okay I'm going to do this, I'll do it as fast as I can but..." he trailed off, they both knew that fast was not an option here.
As he closed a pair of tweezers around the first strand and began to pull, the cry of a tortured animal tore itself from Loki's body, the hand on his thigh turned to iron. "I'm so sorry," Tony managed to husk out, ignoring the burning tears that had begun to work themselves down his cheeks. By the time the horrific task was complete, the god had mercifully passed into unconsciousness. Many of the wounds already starting to close faster, Tony only bothered to carefully bandage a few before lifting the man, surprised at how light he was, and carrying him into his bedroom.
Hours passed as Loki slept, with Tony keeping a fearful watch, eyes glued to the rise and fall of his chest, afraid he would see it stop. Daylight broke before the god awoke, and when he did, it was stiff and frightened, his eyes opening, wheeling around the room before settling on the man draped half over the edge of the bed, asleep. Reaching out, the god ran his fingers through the vaguely familiar hair and managed a thin smile.
"Tony." It was the first word he had spoken in nearly half a year. His partner woke with a start, rising quickly.
"You're awake. I was afraid..." The hero trailed off, sickened by the very thought. "You came back," he whispered, "Why?"
The trickster god shivered, the room temperature dropping several degrees. "You were...the only one who might care," he rasped. "Do you? C-care, I mean?" A soft smile broke over the inventor's face and he nodded, shocked when he found himself pulled into the bed and wrapped tightly in a desperate embrace. "Don't leave me here alone," he pleaded, "I can't be alone, not anymore, please."
The plea broke Tony's heart and immediately found him returning the tight embrace, burying his nose in the Norse-god's hair. "I'll never let you go, Loki. Not if I have anything to say about it."
Tony woke with a start, turning to check that his bed-mate was, indeed, still in bed. Warily, Tony brushed the wild hair from Loki's pale face and offered a smile to the sleeping form. Leaning down to press his lips against the beautiful man's ear, Tony began to murmur softly, "You'll be alright, no one can hurt you now."
Loki stirred, impossibly long eyelashes fluttering open. "Morning," he whispered into the column of Tony's throat. The smaller man shook his head, throwing an arm across the god's chest.
"Not morning. Its only three A.M." This pulled a soft laugh from deep within Loki's chest.
"Stark, that is morning whether you recognize its existence or not." This only received a soft groan in response that tickled his ear and sent a shock down his spine. "Speaking of which, why are you even awake, the famous bachelor who sleeps until noon and no earlier?" Loki frowned at the violent shudder that passed through his partner's body. Sitting slowly, so that the man's head rolled onto his chest, the god tucked a finger under the smaller man's chin. "Tony, what's wrong?"
A lump and formed in the ex-weapons maker's throat. "It was a dream," he whispered softly, tucking his face into Loki's strong, flat chest. "It was that night...when you came back for me...I..." A soft sob betrayed him, causing Loki to turn the man's head toward him and lift him into a kiss. The kiss burned to Tony's very soul, setting him on fire. His hand rose to the back of the god's head, holding him there, refusing to let this end. He could already feel his lips bruising and closed his teeth around the other's lips in retaliation. A groan rumbled through Loki's chest and they both broke away, staring at each other.
Something serious set itself over Loki's face, his long fingers curling around Tony's chin. "All of that, is dead. It has gone and it has passed. Tonight, you are here with me, only me. Do not let all of those shadows into our bed." Fixing him with a stern gaze, Loki once again lifted the smaller man into a kiss, hands sliding down to fist the shirt Tony had fallen asleep in. The kiss seemed to last into eternity, the two participants breathless and no longer a part of the world spinning around them.
Loki broke the kiss only to turn Tony onto his back, peeling off his shirt as he lay the man back against the pillows. His cold lips raised gooseflesh as they made their way down his chest, teeth closing hard around his collar bone, tongue darting out to trace icy circles around the arc reactor. Tony moaned, fingers digging into the sheets, rising to the call of his lover. The scientist managed to extract one hand from the sheets at his side, only to wrap it around Loki's dark locks, aching to feel more of him. "I love you," he breathed, the words ghosting across the other's head.
All movement stopped, and for a moment, cold dread rushed through the iron man. "Truly, Tony Stark?" The god whispered, fingers trailing across his cheek, "You could love one such as me?"
Warmth filled Tony's smile as he nodded, rising to brush kisses along the tiny scars around the Liesmith's mouth.
"I could love no one but you, Loki, God of Mischief."
"And I love you, Tony Stark, Man of Iron. Thank you for piecing me back together." Hands ran over skin, rediscovering familiar bodies, lips quickly followed and soon, Tony could feel the only man, the only person he had ever loved, deep inside him, crying out his name.
The two slept through morning and well into the following evening. As usual, Loki was the first to rise and as was his custom, he spent hours watching the mortal beside him sleep, watching the way his eyes rolled under his lids, watching his lips twitch, but mostly, he watched his chest rising and falling, much like Tony had done for him, when he lay wounded and broken. Now though, he watched his lover's breath in awe of the beautiful life that lay before him.
Finally, the tall god rose from the bed, careful not to disturb his partner and walked to the picture window, pressing his hand flat against the glass. Smoke wafted through the air outside, buildings leaned precariously, stone and rubble and, undoubtedly, bodies littered the ground. This was all his fault. If he had only told Director Fury, if he had not left his home in search of comfort, the Allfather would not have a reason to be searching for him here.
"Don't you dare look out that window, darlin'," a sleepy voice drawled from behind him, "The war outside this room and passed that door will rage on with or without you. You do not deserve to be treated the way you were." The bed creaked, followed by the protest of floorboards as Tony made his way toward the window as well, wrapping his arms firmly around Loki's waist.
"Everything's on fire, Tony," the god whispered, his hand curling angrily against the glass. "This is my fault. All of this is my fault." He could feel the head pressed between his shoulder blades shaking adamantly.
"Just close your eyes." Tony murmured against his skin, "The sun is going down and when it sets we won't be able to see the stupid things Odin has done in the name of violence and torture. You, my heart, deserve nothing less than what you have right here."
Loki spun quickly in Tony's grasp, his hands closing painfully around the man's shoulders. "You don't understand Stark," he snarled, "He will find me, and he will find me here, and when he does he will kill you!" His voice broke and the proud god's head dropped onto the smaller man's shoulder. "I don't think I can live without you Tony," he murmured, shivering.
Tony was silent for a long moment, fingers tracing calculations absently across his lover's back, other hand resting in the groove where his spine met his hips. "That's what this is about?" He whispered, shaking his head in disbelief, "Loki, no one can hurt you now," he smiled, lifting the god's head to meet his watery gaze. "You and I?" He smiled softly, one finger rising to trace those perfect lips, "We'll be safe and sound."