R 2

Signs Point to Yes

Loki. His biker gang, Lord of the Rings reading, fruit feeding, kiss giving almost friend was Loki.

The same guy who threw him out a window, and oh yeah, almost killed Phil.

Tony scowled more at the thought of Phil than the window incident. Another lie from SHIELD, and a good one. What a better way to get your heroes to behave than to break them from the inside.

Still, an alive Phil was better than a dead Phil. He just didn't appreciate finding out after he was fucking blinded and couldn't see the man again, even if he wanted too. Anyway, this was supposed to be about Loki.

The thing was, Tony was good at reading people. Well, okay, not everyone. Pepper was a mystery he would never solve, and no longer had the option to try. But he could humbly admit that he knew precisely what buttons to push to get a person to reveal themselves for who they really were. His ability had been damped down considerably since the accident, but it didn't take a blind man to see that Loki was crazy. Or, was crazy.

Tony tried to remember what Thor had said about his brother's punishments when the blond returned to Earth previously. He had looked depressed, not the same 'kicked puppy' look when he usually talked about Loki, but down right hollowed out and empty. They weren't going to ask him at first, but after a week of nonstop rain and lightning storms, Natasha went after him for answers. Tony had a feeling she was just sick of the humidity ruining her hair.

His answer was not what any of them expected. Tony had visions of an execution as the most drastic option, and a padded cell as the most lenient. What they did instead, was ten times worse. At first, they silenced him, Thor had said, with sewn lips. Tony figured it was a metaphor until Thor told them he had been forced to sew them himself.

Bruce left the room at that point, going green for more than one reason, and Tony really didn't want to stay to hear the rest of it, himself. But he did, because he had to know why.

_

"Magic," Thor answered, "his words give him magic."

"Uh, no offense, but we've all seen him use magic without yelling 'abracadabra!'"

Thor looked confused and ready to ask what sort of spell that was, when Natasha interject cooly, "You guys did more than just sew his mouth shut, didn't you?"

Thor nodded solemnly, and when turned his face down, his voice came out low and flat, "his hands were also... kept from producing his spells."

"Oh Jesus," Tony breathed, leaning back into the couch he had snagged when they first sat down. "Do I even want to know how? Let me guess, you broke them?"

Thor let out a pained groan and met his eyes. That was more than enough of an answer, but Thor explained anyway, "his hands were pressed between two metal plates, spelled to stay closed for an eternity, or until he was deemed worthy of their release. They were tightened till his bones broke, and he had not even an inch to move his fingers."

The silence after his words was filled with everyone's own mental images of it, until Tony spoke up again.

"Why?"

Thor furrowed his brow. "His magic is—"

"No, no. You're missing the big, shiny, lit up question here."

"Tony..." Natasha warned.

"Why, Thor? Why would you do that to your brother?"

Clint huffed from wherever he was hiding—probably under the couch— and Tony narrowed his eyes at them all, feeling oddly out of place by being the only one looking disappointed in this news.

"Look, I know he deserves punishment, i'm not saying otherwise. But could any of you guys do that, to your own family? I mean, Jesus... you crushed his fucking hands!"

Thor stood abruptly, and Tony was reminded that, yes, this was a god i'm his living room, and boy did he look mad.

"You think I desired this?!" his roared, and outside a new wave of rain began rolled down the windows. "I begged my father for a more lenient punishment, begged! But Loki had to fight, to dig the knife in further with every poisoned word he spoke. He drove the Allfather to such lengths with his treats and curses, he simply could not accept any kindness we offered. I would not, I would never have..." He turned his head to the side, and the shadows did a good job at hiding what Tony knew was grief.

"No, Thor, I didn't mean..." Tony began, and stood up. He felt like an asshole, well, more of one than usual. "I didn't mean it like that."

"How did you mean it, then?"

"I just... how did you even do it?"

Thor turned back again, his expression showing Tony exactly how he did it, and his time Thor didn't explain.

Now Tony had to wonder how a god, sewn and locked up with hands like cheese between slices of bread, was talking and feeding him berries. Maybe he was wrong, after all this, and it was a British gang leader with an affinity for good fiction and feeding strangers. Tony didn't know which option was worse, at this point. A real stranger, or Loki?

Again, the question always came back to 'why?'

Why me, why Loki, why the visits, why the kisses?

Tony's cheeks tinted pink at the realization that he had been enjoying those affectionate gestures each time they were given, and now that he knew it was Loki...

"I see Thor has come to see you."

Tony snapped his head up so sharply his neck creaked. "You've got to stop doing that, unless you're doing on purpose to spook the poor blind Iron Man as some sort of pretty revenge, then, by all means, do continue. I prefer this to being thrown out the window."

There was the usual amused huff from across the room, and Tony waited for the mattress to dip under his weight. When it didn't, he untucked himself from the sheets and slid off the edge of the bed.

"What are you doing?" the voice asked, unusually tense.

"What, afraid of a little old, blind man?" Tony quipped and lifted his hands out in front of him as he shuffled closer.

"You are but a child, compared to me," came his answer, and cold hands found Tony's in midair.

"Funny, coming from the guy who attacked an entire planet in some sort of temper tantrum."

Loki hissed, and the fingers intertwined between his dug into Tony's hands. "You did say you preferred the window, correct?"

Tony grunted in pain, but continued to press on. Okay, so maybe he was a little insane, or suicidal. That wasn't all that surprising, considering his life was over anyway.

"Don't waste your energy," Tony sighed, and felt Loki's breath brush again this forehead, "you could probably just break my neck right here."

"Stark, you are not supposed to invite me to kill you."

"Why not?" Tony asked, and realized it almost sounded like a plea.

There was a pause before one of Loki's hands broke from his grasp and touched his cheek gently. It was kind, and careful, and Tony realized that if he did want to die, it had to be by these hands.

"Stark... I will not kill you," Loki murmured softly. "That is not... that is not why I came."

"Then, why? Why are you here now? Why did you come here in the first place?"

"I do not know," came his answer in a sigh, and the hand against his cheek traced its way down to his jaw. Cold fingers started to play with his beard, which was already way too long for comfort in the summer heat.

"I do not know," Loki repeated, and Tony felt the same breathy kiss he always did. Only this time, it was against his lips.

His fingers squeezed at Loki's hand, because he always knew what came next. But it was too late, the god was pulling away, and with a soft crackle, he was gone.

_

He didn't wait around this time, partially because he knew what Loki had at stake if he came around too often, and also because he was a little terrified to see him again.

Well, feel him again.

Shit.

So maybe he was waiting, because the only thing that came out of his last visit was more questions.

Why? Why the fuck did Loki kiss him? A kiss on the forehead was one thing, but lips? Well, it was more like a breath against his mouth, but he could almost still feel it.

Tony brushed a thumb over his lips. There was a definite chill there, all the way from three days ago. Tony wondered if there was some magic involved and if Loki actually did want to kill him, why take the long road?

"Tony? Are you not feeling well?"

He dropped his hand and tilted his head towards the doctor. They were on a first name basis by now, doctor Jim something. It didn't take long to get there, since all that really mattered was that Jim put up with his shit rather well, and Tony liked a challenge.

"I'm fine, Doc. You need to stop sneaking me pudding though, i'm losing my figure."

"Oh please, the only thing disfiguring about you right now is that thing growing on your chin," the doctor commented, and suddenly gloved hands were tiling his head up.

"That bad, huh?"

"You ever seen 'Cast Away'?"

"Ouch."

The hand let go and there was a rush of air as Jim moved away again. "You need a shave. Can you think of anyone you trust enough to hold a razor to your throat?"

"When you put it like that, no," Tony replied with a snort. Maybe he could ask Loki to do it. Oh, there was that suicidal part of his brain talking again.

"I can do it, if you want," Jim offered and Tony grimaced when their was a familiar tightness of a rubber band around his upper arm. He knew what was next, at this point. The first time they gave him a shot, no one bothered to warn him and just stabbed into his arm like he knew what was going on. Well, they've sure leaned their lesson since then.

"Sure," Tony said with a small shrug, "so far you're the only one with steady enough hands for shaping my beard back into its handsome shape."

Jim openly scoffed at 'handsome shape' and tapped the inside of his elbow with his fingers. Tony automatically flexed his fist and flinched a little when the cold damp from the alcohol touched his skin. He still wasn't used to things just happening to him, to not be able to see it coming or track it with his eyes.

"Alright, needle coming," his doctor warned, and Tony nodded. The prick against his skin wasn't terrible, Tony wasn't that much of a wimp. But it was much easier to keep himself from jumping when he had fair warning.

It took a while to draw his blood, and Tony guessed they were running some more tests on the chemicals that entered his blood system from the accident. So far there were no resounding side effects, but they wouldn't let him leave until they were sure. It drove him nuts, but since he wasn't exactly in any condition to check for himself, he let them do their damn jobs, for once.

"This is the last time we check, so you're going to have to keep us updated from home, from now on."

Tony perked up instantly, not even noticing when Jim pulled he needle out. "You're releasing me? I can go? When, today?"

"Easy there, not for another two days. You need to do the outpatient physical therapy run at least one day before we can let you go."

Tony grumbled and held the cotton ball Jim shoved into his hand in place over his arm. "I don't need physical therapy, I need whiskey therapy."

"Don't we all," Jim replied from further away. Tony heard the clink of vials being slipped into a case and the snap of his gloves coming off.

"Guess we're done for now?" Tony asked, leaning back into his pillows. He had gotten a little overexcited about leaving, but hey, could you blame him? Two months was a long time to be stuck in the hospital when nothing else was wrong with him other than the obvious.

"I'll be back with a razor in an hour. I have a few more patients to check on," Jim's voice came from the doorway.

"And pudding," Tony demanded.

"But your lovely figure."

"Fuck my figure, your wife makes godly pudding."

There was a bark of laughter and the door closed with a snap.

Was his beard that bad? All this time no one said a thing, not even Clint, and Clint was the type to make every joke in the book about something like that. Tony scowled to himself and tossed the cotton ball onto his bed. The bastard was probably sneaking pictures of it, or something.

Tony ran a hand over his chin, and then remembered a certain god doing the same thing right before he kissed him.

"Oh fuck, he kissed me while I looked like fucking Tom Hanks?"

Tony let his hand drop, and realized he was unsettled by the wrong thing, again. Loki, bad guy, Tony good. No kissing should happen whether he had a beard or not.

For fucks sakes, Stark, you're such a slut.

He kicked his feet in irritation, and was greeted by a grunt.

"Whoa, who the fuck—?!"

"It's me."

Tony let out a sharp breath and put a hand on his chest. "For fucks sake, Rudolf, you need to tie a bell to your horns or something."

A hand brushed across his legs, causing him to jump again, and there was a strange pop.

"Wait... Loki?"

"I am still here," the god replied, and Tony felt a body shift over his. "You seem happy today, why?"

Tony grunted as the body invaded his space, but didn't feel quite bothered enough to tell him to fuck off.

"I'm being released soon," he replied with a small smile, "so, I guess no more visits from you, huh? I can't see you coming to the tower to read to me."

"Ah... so you will be healed?"

"Uh... no, this is kind of... permanent."

Again, Loki's fingers brushed across his eyelids, and just like last time, Tony leaned into the touch. The god traced each eyelid slowly, and Tony could almost feel him thinking.

"I'll have to walk with a cane, I guess. Or a dog." He paused, and his smile started to slip away. "No, not a dog, I don't want a dog. Rogers is more than enough of a puppy for one tower. Maybe I can tie a harness around him and use him to cross the road, or—"

"Shh," Loki hushed him, and Tony trailed off reluctantly. Silence only made him think, and he was trying so damn hard not to think.

He didn't want to walk with a cane, he didn't want a seeing-eye dog. He didn't want any assistants, or pity, or any fucking help.

Tony bit his lip to try to keep back the frustrated sob that crawled its way up his throat. He knew Loki heard it when the god made a small sound in response, and long arms closed around him suddenly.

That was too much for him. Too much because even Bruce didn't hug him, because no one hugged him. Because he didn't let anyone hug him and now someone was doing it anyway and it was too fucking much. The second sob was louder, unrestrained, and his fingers curled against the fabric of Loki's shirt. The god's arms tightened around him and he cried, and cried, and cried.

_

"Do you feel better now?" Loki asked, what felt like hours later.

"I feel gross and bloated, and embarrassed as fuck, so no, not really," Tony replied honesty, and wiped at his face a few more times. He had finally settled down enough to let the god go and try to pick up whatever pieces were left of his shattered dignity. It didn't seem to matter, though, because somehow Loki wasn't laughing or sneering at him. He even whipped Tony's nose with a sleeve at one point.

"You're different," he said after taking a few more shuddering breaths.

"As are you, Stark."

"Yeah, i'm blind, but you're like an entire 180 different."

Loki was silent, and Tony started to fidget with the sheets as he waited. Wrong question, again?

"No," Loki muttered at last, "I am not different. I am as I were, but tired."

Tony allowed him this, anyone would be tired after trying to take over an planet and then spent the next year or so with your hands pressed like paper.

"Still, doesn't explain your presence here, or the fact that you allowed my mortal snot all over your shirt."

Loki laughed at that, and Tony almost laughed too. Because the god sounded so... silly. He guessed that this weird giggle was Loki's real laugh, not the bag-of-cats cackle from before. It was actually kind of heart warming to hear, as ridiculous as it sounded when he matched it with his mental image of Loki.

"I have no reason to explain my motives to you, and thank you for reminding me, you owe me a shirt."

Tony made a face. "Can't you just magic yourself a new one?"

"No."

Tony frowned at the rawness i'm his voice and wondered, not for the first time, exactly how Loki escaped from his prison.

"Uh, okay then. Can I buy you one when i'm out of here?"

"You speak as though you shan't be handing me over to Thor as soon as you escape this prison."

"Loki, if I was going to 'hand you over' to Thor, which, by the way, is physically impossible for me right now... but if I was going to, I would have done it already. You know he was here, do you see him anywhere?"

Loki hummed, and cold hands pressed against his face gently. It was a nice relief from the heat all that crying stirred up. They remained silent for a while, and it didn't bother him this time. Well, until he remembered Jim and his impending shave.

"Shit, Loki," he grunted, sitting up and pushing the god's hands away from his face, "you gotta go. My doctor's coming back any minute now."

Loki huffed in either amusement it annoyance, and stood up from the bed. "You truly do intend to keep me a secret, you strange man."

"Are you complaining?" Tony asked, and held his breath when the usual brush of a kiss graced his forehead.

"Not one bit. I rather like being a secret."

"I'm going to be locked away for a very long time if anyone finds out I sat here and let you feed me fucking fruit for weeks and weeks."

"No, I would not let that happen."

Tony arched a brow and waited for more of an explanation. He got none, and there was that crackle in the air again that told him he was alone.

"Fucker," he muttered just as the door opened.

"And here I brought you the pudding," Jim said is a teasing tone, "This is how you treat me?"

"Not you, well yes you, but not you this time."

Jim laughed and tossed a spoon onto the bed.

"Careful, I've got that bloody cotton ball floating around down there, don't want things to get contaminated, do we?"

"Tony, disgusting. Throw stuff in the trash, it's right next to your bed."

There was a shuffling of a coat being taken off, and hands brushed over his legs looking for the cotton ball.

"Huh, don't see it. Maybe you threw it harder than you think."

Tony frowned for a moment before shrugging it off as unimportant.

"Now that you have brought me sustenance, make me beautiful."

He could almost feel Jim shaking his head at him as he offered him a hand up from the bed. Tony allowed his help with a little less fuss than usual, and seated himself in the plastic chair.

Jim plugged the razor in, turning it on and off before he spoke from somewhere to his left, "You seem to be more eager, got a hot date?"

Tony was about to deny it, before a sly grin slowly formed across his face.

"Yeah, actually, I do."

He had shirt to buy.