A/N: Consider this tidbit an apology for inactivity. Real life is a bitch, and my computer has been having problems (read as: the fucker won't turn on). Do forgive any errors; this was written on my phone and uploaded to Ao3 before I could get onto a computer to publish it here.


When Loki opens his eyes, he is welcomed only by the pitch black void of darkness. For a few moments, his mind returns to those many months he spent under the razor-like, blood-covered jaws of the Chitauri, and a strangled cry escapes his lips; his torso rockets forward to run.

Hands grab his hips, and before he can throw his captor across the room with enough brute strength to send him through the walls that were likely around him, he hears a hushed whisper; a calming sound that dissipates the growls of monsters in his head and washes away visions tainted with blood. The coppery smell of his own life-force fades, and he returns to the simple blackness of the room.

Calloused, warm hands slide from his hips up his bare back, fingers counting each bump of his spine from beneath his skin. In the darkness, his already delicate senses seemed heightened. He could feel every drop of perspiration tickling trails down the back of his neck, feel the fibers of the sheets grating his skin.

The nightmares had returned, catching him by surprise as the Chitauri's torture had stayed buried in the back of his mind for weeks. Those beady, glowing eyes of molten gold hadn't haunted his dreams until tonight. Or today?

Loki looked around the dark void, feeling hands rub soothing circles between his shoulder blades, and suddenly realized that he had no idea of the day or time. Had the sun already risen, or had Sköll chased it out of the sky to make way for Hati?

"Hey, hey," a soft voice murmured from behind him, hands moving to Loki's shoulders. "Quiet, I'm here. You're okay."

The voice was familiar, rung so many bells that Loki found his head spinning. The smell of aftershave, whiskey (that of which he was beginning to love), and metal and oil all wafted from the body now beside him. Anthony Stark. The genius billionaire philanthropist who had sworn off his playboy days for good. The sharp, hot smell of oil was a familiar comfort, breaking away his visions of blood and excruciating pain. He gripped to the aroma tightly with his mind. Trembling hands found the wrist of a hand on his shoulder, and his fingers guided him to Anthony's neck. A strong, galloping pulse beat against his fingers.

"Yeah, I'm here; I'm alive, and so are you." The unvoiced question was answered in a small murmur just above a whisper.

The darkness around them began to worry Loki. He swallowed, throat tight as he asked, "Where is your core, Anthony? Has it been stolen from you?"

Tony didn't bother correcting him about the use of his given name. Loki's fingers made a beeline for the arc reactor's cozy little spot where Tony's sternum used to be. Beneath his reactor sat a system of wires and metal and bolts keeping it in place. Loki had once witnessed a forceful removal of the reactor during a rather unsuccessful assassination attempt. That didn't end well for the murderer-to-be thanks to an enraged god of fire. The scorch marks still remained beneath a thick coating of white paint.

Tony laced his fingers with Loki's and pulled it down across his chest, letting his fingers lie against a warm parcel of cloth tied against his chest.

"I was worried that it would disrupt your rest," he explained. "It's pretty fuckin' bright, you know? I thought it would make the flashbacks worse."

The heartbeat in Loki's ears was coming to a slow trot, and a hum from outside their walls came to him. How had he not heard it before? His delirium had blocked out any unnecessary sounds trying to reach his mind. Once noticed, however, they were prominent, and Loki could no longer ignore them.

Tony's breath was one of the first sounds he registered, the second being the wet hum from outside, and another being the whir of the reactor constantly in motion beneath his fingers. Tony chuckled, sending vibrations through his chest.

"I'm glad you're okay," he whispered, fingers trailing up Loki's arm to find his neck, cup his cheek tenderly. "You nearly gave Thor a heart attack, you know. I thought he was going to keel over and stop breathing. He threw me clean through a wall to get to your side."

"Are you hurt?" Loki asked instantly. Tony laughed and leaned closer, breath ghosting over Loki's skin and lips pressing lightly against the corner of his mouth.

"Just a bruise or two." Tony's cheek pressed against his shoulder. "We were mostly worried about you. That video of the Chitauri started playing and you dropped like a ton of bricks. Turned white as a snowflake. I began to worry you'd stopped breathing."

Guilt burned in his chest and he put a cautious arm around Tony's waist, pulling him closer. "I'm sorry to worry you."

Both men jumped as a crack of thunder shook the walls. His heartbeat matched with Tony's fluttering pulse. The smaller man laughed, hands warm and reassuring. The palm against Loki's cheek lowered to his neck.

"Don't worry. Lie down, relax." Tony leaned against him and pushed him easily to the sheets. Loki closed his eyes, breath shaking as it left his lips. He could feel Tony's unshaven stubble against his chest.

Loki took a calming breath, taking in the hot smell of whiskey from Tony's breath. It shook as it left his lips. His eyes opened moments later (he had to blink to ensure they were indeed open) and the dark continued to make him anxious. His fingers picked at the cloth over Tony's reactor.

"Something wrong?"

"This is bothering me," Loki confessed. He pulled at the wrap.

"Won't the light bother you?" Tony's hand subconsciously moved to his chest, fingers twining with Loki's. As an answer, the god slipped his hand beneath the cloth. Tony laughed and shooed his hand away.

"All right, fine. I'll unwrap it. Close your eyes, though; I don't want to blind you."

"Blind a god? Anthony, your ego continues to surprise me." Although the confidence was fake Tony was glad that it was there. Loki was beginning to sound like his old self again.

Tony dug his fingers into the fabric and slipped it down his waist, wiggling, and the bright blue glow of his arc reactor began to peek through. Loki kept his eyes trained until he could clearly see the outlines of its frame. The bright light was a comfort in the dark, and seeing it quelled Loki's suspicion that the bed and Tony's presence were not a cruel joke played by his captors. His arms tightened around the small body beside him.

"Thor conjured up a storm to help calm you," Tony offered up in the silence. "I probably should have told him to ease up on the thunder."

"Hush, Anthony. Don't speak." Loki nuzzled his nose into the dark curls of Tony's hair. Tony pressed himself closer, ridding of any possible bits of space between them.

"Fine. I can be quiet." Tony chuckled and watched Loki roll his eyes. The glow from his core seemed to turn Loki's green eyes into sapphires.

The sound of rain pattering against the windows was comforting, and Loki allowed himself to focus on it and Tony's breathing. He looked up at a nearby window illuminated from Tony's glow. He breathed in the aroma of metal again and prayed he was not dreaming, that Tony would not disappear from his side to be replaced with the hot, burning torture he had faced with the Chitauri. Those ugly burn scars still made him shudder each time he saw them and were the main reason he refused to allow Tony to convince him to have sex with the lights on.

The heat from Tony's smaller body made the drowsiness harder to stave off. He began fighting sleep as best he could but succumbed to slumber, Tony's head against his shoulder and the reactor's glow acting as a nightlight to fight away his demons.