Good Move

Tony Stark. Iron Man. The suit and he are one. In battle together, they are formidable. Mixed with the recipe of Tony Stark's little sense of self preservation, his genius and his ever present talent to annoy the enemy, along with the suit's technological advancements and intelligent weaponry, they cannot be stopped. Obadiah couldn't stop them; Vanko couldn't stop them; even the God of Lies couldn't stop him, and it was for that very reason that that same Trickster couldn't stay away from him.

Tony Stark had intrigued him, no less. The small little circle of light that hummed in the middle of his chest was a mystery to him. He couldn't quite figure out what it served to the Iron Man. In all the months that he'd been with the Avengers – compelled to draw out every little secret they held, every lie they told to each other – he couldn't fathom what that small invention of Stark's did. It was just there, the whirl of its mechanics stopping Loki from hearing the rhythm of Stark's heart, a technique Loki favoured when discovering what words were truths and if others were lies.

So, over the course of those months, Loki let himself dig deep into the man's head, barrelling past the barrage of sarcasm and genius and reckless thoughts that the man held to try and pry out that one secret. Instead, he came across a broken man, who loathed himself for his idiocy and ignorance for acts he didn't even commit. The loneliness of this man was astounding, even when Loki could see he was surrounded by people every hour of every day. And Loki knew his pain, he knew the scars of betrayal from people you thought loved you, the emptiness of never being enough for the one person that mattered.

And then the battle came. Waves of vengeful Chitauri had finally found him. Loki thought them all dead, defeated when the mother ship was destroyed and the links to their life force severed thanks to Stark. Captain America, the leader of the Avengers, called the team together, apprehensive about letting Loki join forces, but Loki assured him that the Chitauri would be after him just as much as their little team.

There was only a small platoon of Chitauri to deal with, the tougher few who had escaped the snap of string that held them all together, and this made them all the more harder to beat. There was no chaos, no pit for them to fall into the Avengers little battle strategies and traps. This time, they were organised in their work, and lethal in their style. Only an hour in, and the Avengers were tiring, wounds growing harder to evade as the alien warriors lunged in with long knives to gut them.

But Iron Man could not be gutted. His suit protected him from the blades that had managed to tear through the frail skin of his comrades, and even the skin of gods. His armour was scratched, but they could not pierce the metal that shelled the man.

And then Stark fired his weapons, and the Chitauri fell. One by one, Tony Stark blasted them to pieces, taking about 30 of the 60 soldiers that had come to claim the ones who had destroyed their force. The team regrouped, and they all fought a little bit harder, a little bit faster, and that gave them an edge. It gave Loki enough time to regroup his magic, teleporting away from danger to stab it in the back.

Eventually, the fight was won, the battle over, Stark's incredible invention left grazed and marked from the blasts and blades that could never reach the human that kept it alive.

The man was never one to let his own victories go unnoticed; for the duration of the journey back to the Stark Tower, Stark rambled on and on about how his new designs and installations helped save Clint Barton from being picked at like a dead carcass in the presence of vultures.

"Well, maybe if Banner was here instead of at some stupid conference, the fight wouldn't have had to last 3 hours," the Hawkeye argued.

The golden mask that hid Stark's face lifted as he exclaimed a sigh. "Clint, that's a lame argument and you know it."

"And I bet your beast would have probably destroyed every single standing structure just to, how do you put it, 'smash' his targets," Loki chimed, thriving off the glare Barton sent him. "I think this city of yours will live far longer thanks to Stark's interventions."

"See, even Reindeer Games here is with me," Stark beamed, his dark eyes gleaming with joy from the compliment. It was another expression of emotion that Loki enjoyed creating because, as much as he loved to make the rest of the Avengers squirm, he particularly took pleasure in watching Stark put on his facade in front of his teammates, the very people he thinks he trusts. But Loki knows he doesn't, otherwise he wouldn't hide himself.

And so he became distracted with the very reason he decided to ally with the Avengers in the first place, the secret of the light lost to him. What Loki really wanted to do was unravel this mortal and see him bare, his emotions and desires as open as a book. And he did it; Tony Stark showed him his vulnerability, every weakness that left him awake at night in fear of haunted memories that could return to him, every flaw that left him shaking against a wall with an empty bottle of liquor in hand. This genius had shown Loki, his enemy, what he could not show the others, his friends, and that confused Loki to no end.

Why would a hero, a genius at that, trust Loki with such knowledge? Stark knew Loki was a master manipulator – as Loki was constantly reminded by him – but he still told him everything. It was only until Tony started to ask Loki questions that Loki finally understood: they were the same. They had grown up with talents that favoured science (or, in Loki's case, magic, but they were one in the same on Midgard) but were ignored by their elders. Even with their abilities, they were still not enough, shunned for the golden hero that stole their father's sight. For Loki, it was Thor. For Tony, it was Captain America.

So Loki told him everything, no lies and no tricks. Just the plain, simple truth. He told it with ease in front of Tony, who would listen attentively, hanging off of every word Loki uttered. He understood him, this little mortal. He knew what it was like to be ignored by the people you cared for the most and used by everyone else around you. He knew what it was like to be naive of the most important things about you, and then to have that knowledge thrust upon you. Tony cared that Loki had been hurt, and now he understood why Loki did what he did.

And then Loki came across a startling realisation. He cared about Tony, cared enough to want to make him smile when it was just the two of them, and cared enough to want to chase away the nightmares for him. It was most distressing when Loki finally realised that he actually cared for a mortal, his enemy nonetheless. It was a terrifying notion, one that almost had him running from Stark Tower and back into the folds of the realms where he could hide and scheme and plot many ways to destroy the man just because he made Loki feel something.

But then the god looked at his smirking face as he riled the Avengers and noticed how Stark's eyes grew brighter when he looked at Loki, and something in his chest constricted. It was like his heart was squeezing all the warmth it held until it pulled into his stomach. His blood was rich and warm, pumping too hard and too fast whenever Tony looked at him like that, and it took the use of his magic to hide the growing redness on face and to rid himself of this strange warmth across his skin. Whenever Tony spoke, whether it be annoying sarcasm or rambling about Midgardian science, Loki's ears hummed with pleasure, his mind only focused on what Tony spoke of. His magnetic personality attracted something deep inside of Loki, no matter how hard Loki tried to repress it.

Is this love, Agent Romanoff?

Even after the rage of battle, Tony was still talking, his tongue never tiring with his words. Loki could feel his entire posture softening at the mention of the nickname Tony had given him. 'Reindeer Games'; Tony had explained it was to do with a Midgardian species having a close resemblance with Loki's horned helmet, but Loki had yet to understand until Tony had shown him the animal. He'd told the mortal he'd rip his throat out if he called him that again, but that had been a lie to cover up the feeling of content swelling inside him.

Stark had failed to heed his warning.

They continued to make their way back to Stark Tower, Loki feeling a pair of eyes training his face. Thor's, no less.

"Why must you stare, Thor?"

"It is nothing, brother. I am merely concerned..." The God of Lightening trailed, eyes flickering to Stark before returning to him.

"I assure you, I am fine. I was barely touched during that last battle, unlike some of your friends here." Loki snapped. "Maybe your concern for me should be for them, I am sure they would appreciate it more."

"That is not what I meant."

The conversation ended there.

Thor did indeed move his attention to the rest of the team, glancing at the Black Widow's bloody face and dragging leg. Loki, meanwhile, returned his gaze to Tony, who was silent, dark eyes following Loki. He'd been watching.

Loki breathed, remembering the way Thor had looked at Stark before looking back at him. Thor was more astute than he gave him credit for. "What troubles you, Stark? Please don't tell me you agree with my brother."

Stark exhaled slowly, making his way to Loki. "Thor's just trying to help, don't flip him off because of the past. His puppy eyes kinda give me the impression he wants to fix what he did, too."

Green eyes met with brown ones in that moment, locked in a fixed gaze that screamed 'Why do you have to be right?', 'Stark I think I'm falling for you' and 'I think I'm falling for you too, Loki'.

And then Stark was gone, snatched away from Loki's watch by a pair of gruesome, sickly blue hands, a desperate, monstrous shriek of rage hiding Stark's cry for help. A shroud of crystal blue light engulfed both beings, disappearing with them in less than a second.

Loki screamed with rage, eyes blown wide and dangerous as he lunged into the space where Stark had stood moments ago. There were still traces of Chitauri magic left behind, so Loki had to calm himself. It would not last for long. Echoes of the mortal's questions ringed softly in his ears as he focused on that one, tiny piece of magic that would show Loki where the monster had taken his Iron Man. He feared the suit may not be enough if the Chitauri ripped it off, piece by piece, just as they had once done to him.

He reached out and tugged at the pulse of energy, digging into it and immersing himself in the structure of it, trying to find the right glow that would show him where he had taken Tony Stark. He pulled and tugged and dug and scratched and ripped it apart until that sliver of light was the only thing left, a beacon of hope, a calming sun in the storm of rage and ferocious heart-beating that was taking place inside him. He flooded the light with his own stream of magic, pressing down green against blue until he was transported from the city of Manhattan to a mountain range, the Himalayas, if Loki's knowledge of Midgard was correct.

Two minutes was all the time it had taken for Loki to find and transport himself to the Chitauri monster who had survived the attack, but already most of Tony Stark's armour had been stripped, wires sparking as it tore off piece by piece. Loki was only a few yards away, but could not bring himself to move as he saw the state of his mortal; Tony looked like death. There was no struggle, barely any movement at all. His face was ashen, his eyes glistening, yet the spluttering of his mouth told Loki he was still alive, still holding on, still breathing.

Two minutes.

Love is for children.

Loki then brought forth one of his most trusted daggers, quickly thrusting it into the monster's back. He twisted the blade, pushing it harder and deeper into the body of the Chitauri that had dared hurt his mortal. It screamed unpleasantly, its voice grating Loki's ears. But it was gurgling, and that meant it was dying, quickly. Not quickly enough, Loki decided, tugging the blade out and swiping it hard and fast into the Chitauri's throat, ending its scream and then its life. Its dying cries echoed throughout the mountains long after it was dead.

The swirl of rage and anger was suddenly quelled with fear once Loki laid his eyes on Stark, whose spluttering was slowing down far too quickly.

"Tony!"

Loki ran quickly, kneeling down to examine his mortal. He was dying, and Loki was afraid his magic wouldn't be enough.

"Please, Tony. You can't leave me. You're the only person who understands me, the only person who cared enough to want to understand me, and I will not have you dead by some Chitauri oaf," he rambled, taking one of Tony's hands in one of his, using the other to smooth back Stark's hair. His skin looked so delicate, so easy to break, and his breath was choking. His eyes were slowly glossing over, but they reflected so much of Loki's panic and Loki's pain. Tony was scared, and that sunk Loki's heart. Tony Stark was never scared, not even of him, but now he was shaking with terror. Then Tony's eyes trailed lower to his chest, to his circle of light.

His empty circle of light.

That was it, that was the secret, the big secret that had drawn Loki to Tony Stark in the first place: the secret of Tony Stark's heart. Frantically, Loki scanned the area, throwing away pieces of ripped gold and metal from the suit that the Chitauri had discarded until he uncovered the light. Thick wires stood out from the bottom of the device, and Loki could only guess that they attached to the bottom of the hole deep inside Tony's chest.

Make a move, Reindeer Games.

Quickly, Loki gripped the end of the wire between his fingers, which were now trembling as he watched Stark's breath start and stop. Loki tried to breathe deeply, but he figured he was just wasting precious time. He moved his hand down into Tony's chest, plugging the bottom of the wire down to the base of Tony's chest. He removed his hand, sticky with something created by the device, but Loki didn't care. If this saved Tony, he didn't care if he had to die to do it; he had to save him. He slotted the main bulk of the machine, the steady stream of blue light, right in the device, careful to make sure it had fitted in correctly.

Stark's eyes had closed.

Loki looked down at Tony Stark, breathing stopped, face pale, hand stiff. All that remained was the light in the middle of his chest, but even that wasn't Tony's. It was a machine, not an organ, and even the faint hum of the device could not stop Loki from knowing Stark's heart had stopped. He'd gotten what he wanted, the secret of the machine. It had kept Tony alive, all this time, and now his need to unravel secrets and mysteries had killed the only person who had ever shown they'd cared.

"No."

He had been the only person who wanted to understand him.

"Please, no."

He had been the only person to fall in love with him.

"NO!"

The anger had returned, consuming every thought Loki had ever had. There was nothing but blind rage for the monster, the dead monster that Loki could no longer make suffer. He wanted to rip the skin off its body and tear out its organs. He wanted to crush its heart, make it feel what Loki felt, but it was gone. The only comfort was that its soul must be going to Hel, where his daughter would make it suffer for the rest of eternity.

Loki gripped the black undershirt Tony was wearing, feeling the warmth of Tony's body as he pressed his head in the crook of Tony's neck. He was still so warm, still felt so alive even though logic proved him otherwise. He sobbed, chest constricting and crushing against his heart. Tears blurred everything, blurred Tony's body, blurred Loki's mind as he tried to grip onto the last pieces of what made Tony so alive. But there was nothing.

"I'm so sorry... I was too late," Loki choked, the back of his throat tight and hurting. He bent down, cupping Tony's still face. "Please forgive me." Loki continued to bend until his face was centimetres away from Tony's; Loki's ragged breathing the only thing keeping Tony warm. He went closer, pressing his lips to his, saying goodbye. He wanted Tony to feel this, feel the way Loki understood him and wanted to make him happy, make him safe. But Loki had failed... it seemed he always failed.

Suddenly, Tony Stark gasped underneath Loki. His mortal was sucking the breath from his mouth, so Loki pulled away to breath.

Tony Stark, Iron Man, genius, billionaire, playboy philanthropist, was alive. His eyes were wide, his breathing heavy, his pulse growing steadily stronger under Loki's grasp. Colour had returned to Tony's once ghostly face – and did Loki detect a hint of rose in Stark's cheeks? He was alive, and Loki had never been happier.

"You- you're alive?" Loki exclaimed, his chest still shaking.

Tony gave a weak smile, wrapping his fingers tighter around Loki's. "Of course I am, you saved me," Tony said.

"But, I thought I was too late, I thought I'd lost you, I-"

"Oh, just come here, you crazy son of a bitch."

Tony leaned up quickly, pressing his warm, alive lips against Loki's, who returned the kiss sweetly and deeply. His cheeks were still too wet, too vulnerable, but he didn't care. All that was left was this brilliant, amazing, alive kiss that meant they had made it. They were alive and they finally understood what all this meant, what all this was for. All this emotion and all this vulnerability created a power that was stronger than the ties of death.

Good move.

THE END

First slash story I've ever written, I really hope that wasn't awful... Please review, they mean the world to me!