So, here we go. I've translated my fanfiction about Tony/Loki into English. It's a strange fic (and already entirely written, so don't worry). Actually, there will be five chapters, but they can be considered as drabbles having a link together. The title is from a poem of Luis de Gongora y Argote. There will be a chapter for every word of the title. So, this first chapter is called « soil ».
Disclaimer : I own nothing.
Soil :
The first time Tony met Loki, it happened on the battlefield. Iron Man's armor was heavy on his sore limbs, and, honestly, Tony couldn't have said when, exactly, things had got out of control.
He was lying on the floor, disjointed puppet, while the sound of the battlefield was growing more and more distant, going to another place of the city. He had just asked Jarvis, while it was still possible to keep in touch with the robot, to get him his sight back. Tony couldn't see anything without taking off his mask, and he was not at ease with the idea.
A few seconds later, Tony felt his mask move by itself, and, too hurt to try anything, he did nothing.
Loki was here.
Crouching in front of him, like it was the most natural thing to do. And he was smiling. Tony felt blood at the back of his throat, and he swallowed with difficulty.
Loki was here. Doing nothing.
And then, one scream. Two. Tumult and muffled explosion. Nothing else. No pain.
When the dust had got back on the floor, Loki wasn't here anymore, and the Iron Man's mask had also disappeared. Later, when Tony would remember this, the only evidences of the presence of Loki this day would be this incomplete armor, this smile, printed in his memory, this eyes able to freeze you. And the taste of soil, melted with the taste of blood. The bitter taste on misunderstanding.