Distressed

Summary: Filled for Avengerkink on LJ: Tony is suffering from a migraine and someone unexpected comes to his aid. Minor/Pre-FrostIron. Hurt!Tony.

A/N: As someone who suffers from Chronic Migraines I'm using my own experience. Hope you like my first Avengers Fic, I will be posting this story on LJ and A03 as well.

A/N2: Probably not what the OP wanted, but I hope this Mini-Fill is ok.

Original Avengerkink Prompt: Tony has a really bad headache, and someone finds him and takes care of him. Seriously, that's it, that's the prompt. In case some pointers would help, though, maybe the person in the role of caretaker hugs him from behind and strokes his hair? Tucks his head under their chin? Rests their hand on his head not too lightly but not too heavily? Kisses his temples? Strokes his neck and shoulders lightly because too much pressure hurts? ANYTHING. Please and thank you. 3

Enjoy the Story!

The sounds of his own blood rushing increased the throbbing in his head. His skin tight and scrunched; moaning in distress, Tony tilted to his left and leaned his head against the cool frosted glass door of his shower. He tried to relax his face in hopes that maybe if he was a bit more calm, the churning in his stomach would cease and not lead a revolt across his bathroom tiles.

Only there was to be no relief. Tony's mind rebelled, spun and whirled around in nauseating circles. His own thoughts screamed at him; ideas for system upgrades and random strings of numerical coding bounced around, waiting to be sorted and filed away for another time. It didn't take long for his thoughts to become jumbled as the pain and pressure increased from the blood rush. Everything flowed at a manic speed causing Tony to reacted with panicked motions. He was dizzy; he couldn't think straight.

Tony's hand found its way into his hair; weaving his fingers through dark strands he pulled tight and hoped that another type of pain would give him a moments peace. Make it stop, make it stop, make it stop... "...please."

"Sir... there is a bre..."

Tony protested loudly as JARVIS echoed around the room and resounding off the tiles. "Not now, JARVIS." he hissed out between clenched teeth. Sadly he cringed, his face tightened and his stomach lurched. Gagging Tony's body flew forward and his stomach waged war on the shiny little white tiles before it.

" Sir!" His head pounding, his heart racing, body spasming and unaware of the danger just outside the door; Tony cried out against the loud voice of his AI, " Mute."

Exhausted, Tony slumped forward; tears streamed down his face as the door was kicked in. Tony didn't care that he was looking into the sneering face of the Avengers worst enemy. He didn't care that, that same face fell until it lost almost all expression. He didn't even care when his vision blurred and colors of green and gold blended into one. He barely even noticed when he was picked up gently from the floor, a voice muttering softly in his ear.

When he breached level 53 of Stark's overshadowing tower to do battle with the man, this wasn't what he had in mind. A glorious, invigorating bout between the two of them this was not. With the Man of Iron's body cradling against his, Loki placed a cool hand against Stark's burning forehead and the other beneath his shirt, resting on his belly. He wasn't as adept as his mother with healing magic, but he could at least fix this.

He pressed his hands gently into the ailing areas upon Stark's person and muttered a few words of intent. With attentive finger tips he pressed light circles into Stark's body coaxing the tension to leave. Humming softly, he felt the pressure slowly ebbing, the nausea declining, the heat easing and muscles loosening. Anthony Stark was, for the first time in years... relaxed.

The God of Mischief let his fingers slip from the younger man's head and carefully shifted Stark over enough to enable him room to remove himself. He stood pulling his other hand from beneath Stark's shirt and... Loki could hear the running foot falls of the Avengers arriving.

The god smirked and pushed himself back away from the mortal. He closed his eyes and concentrated, when he opened his eyes the room around him was shrouded in illusions of broken and dismantled Iron Man suits... with possibly a few scorch marks on the wall above Stark that spelled out:

Mischief Managed

END