"This isn't good." Tony Stark thought to himself as he stared at the closed door to one of his many guestrooms. "Reeeeeaaaallly not good. This is the opposite of good." He shut his eyes with a groan.
"This is a dream." He muttered. "Just some fucked up, alcohol-induced dream. When I open my eyes I'm going to be back in bed. It will not be 2:30 in the morning and the definitely WON'T be a psychotic super-villain in my guestroom." He opened his eyes. The door was still closed and he was still standing in the hallway in a pair of boxers and an old band t-shirt.
"Fantastic." He mumbled. He double-checked that his iron bracelets were firmly attached to his wrists. He was fairly certain that Loki was restrained in some way but he wasn't taking any chances. The windows of his penthouse had just been repaired after a little episode involving Bruce and a broken toaster.
Tensing himself, the still drowsy billionaire pushed open the door. 5 seconds past and no angry god came charging at him so he assumed it was safe to enter.
"Look Rudolph, I don't know what sort of plan your dad has or why that plan involves me babysitting your crazy ass but if you so much as look at me funny I swear to Thor-."
The threat was left unfinished as Tony stared at the scene before him. The god of mischief had been dumped none too gently on the bed, his limbs splayed out awkwardly. There were no chains binding the god, other than a simple metal collar around his neck. Tony hardly had cause to worry though; Loki was in no shape to throw him anywhere. His eyes were closed and if it weren't for the slight rise and fall of his chest he could have been a dead man.
The first thing the genius noticed about the unconscious villain was how thin he had gotten, dangerously so. His already prominent cheekbones looked as though they were ready to break through the skin. The clothes he wore hung off his lean body and Tony could see the outline of the god's collarbone and the unhealthily prominent swell of his ribs. It had been 4 months since New York and Loki looked as though he hadn't eaten the whole time.
The next thing that Tony noticed was the blood. It was everywhere. Loki's long hair was matted with it. It spilled out from a series of wounds around his mouth. It soaked through his clothes and stained the cream colored sheets a deep red.
Something about the god's left shoulder looked off. It looked as though someone had grabbed his arm and twisted it to a very unnatural position. Tony could see a deep purple bruise blooming from under the god's collar.
"Shit…" he breathed, fighting the urge to vomit. He staggered backwards resting a hand against the wall to steady himself. He hadn't been expecting this. He hadn't given much thought to what Loki's punishment would consist of. He'd always assumed the Asgardians would just stick him in a dungeon for a few thousand years. Nothing like this.
Tony jumped as a soft groan slipped from the god's mouth. Forcing himself to breath he walked closer to his unexpected guest.
"Hey Reindeer games?" he asked hesitantly, reaching a hand out but quickly drawing it back again. He got no response, not that he'd really been expecting one.
"Okay." Tony mumbled frantically, trying to figure out what to do. He was way to tired ad way to drunk to handle this right now. This was bad, really bad. He didn't know much about how Asgardians dealt with injuries but from what he could see Loki's condition looked pretty serious.
"Loki?" He asked again, louder this time. When the god still didn't answer Tony walked over to the edge of the bed. He carefully pressed two fingers to the juncture of the god's neck and jaw. To his relief he felt a pulse fluttering beneath the ski, faint but steady.
Releasing a breath he didn't know he was holding, Tony carefully unlaced the shirt that clung to his enemy's crimson chest. He was met with more carnage the more ski he uncovered. Bruises of every hue stained the ivory skin and deep cuts, some now faded to scars, traced the contours of the god's body. Whip lashings, angry red burns, every possible type of injury covered the tricksters skin, a grotesque mural of pain. The urge to be sick seized Tony but he forced himself to push it away when he noticed that Loki's breathing had slower.
"Fuck!" he hissed, grabbing a blanket from the end of the bed and pressing it to an especially deep wound on the god's side. "Listen up Lokes, it's bad enough that I have a bloody mess of a super villain in my bed but I am not about to have a dead one!" Grimacing, he pressed his hands to the trickster's chest and pushed hard. The sickly sound of ribs cracking filled the room.
"Come on." Tony silently begged. "Come on Lokes." Finally with what was obviously great effort, Loki took a ragged breath and opened his eyes.
