Tony thinks that rain is overrated and uncomfortably damp. But, in this case, not going after him wasn't an option, so he went begrudgingly. Now, as he stands in the rain, he thinks, just this once, he can see the beauty others profess for it. It's almost as if the sky is reaching out a comforting hand and saying, "weep, you aren't alone."
He had found Loki outside, sitting in a mossy outcrop. Droplets of water fell from his hair and cheeks, remnant of a storm. He seemed almost peaceful, the expression on his face calmer than Tony'd ever witnessed before, unlined by anger or fear or malice.
The only thing that lingered was...regret. It showed in his eyes, and in the curve of his neck, and in the soft furrow between his brows. It was a sort of wistfulness that Tony would have had a hard time placing, had he not worn it so often himself.
"It really is beautiful," Loki had said softly, turning his face against the tree line, letting the light drizzle splatter his skin, and perhaps wash away any evidence lingering of his weakness. "your world."
"It is," said Tony, because what else could he? "Indeed it is." He'd never had any instinct for this sort of thing, and regretted that now more than ever.
The sound of droplets tormenting the ground fills a long silence that can't distinguish itself between uncomfortable and familiar.
In the present, Loki turns and looks him squarely in the eyes. "I never wanted to destroy this." There is a mournful undercurrent in his tone, and Tony knows that he isn't talking about Earth anymore. Not really. He faces the dripping forest once more. "I never wanted to destroy anything."
"I know," is all Tony can muster. He doesn't know what else he can say, so he lowers himself to the god's side and sits there silently.
"I've killed so much," Loki whispers. "Was it like this?" He leans his head onto Tony's shoulder as if for stability. Tony stiffens minutely, but doesn't object. If there is any time for indulgence, it's now. He doesn't mind, really. "Was is like this?" Loki repeats, softer this time.
Tony can feel the wetness of the mossy rocks seeping into his clothing, and with it a sharp chill. "I don't know." He doesn't.
Loki sags against the other man for support (more emotional than physical, Tony thinks). "I don't know," Loki echoes, and falls silent for a long time.
Tony lets him be.
The steady drumming of rain on leaves fills the forest, unbroken.
And that's okay, for now.
Sometimes, talking can wait.
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