It's odd how life can go from sudden violent animation to a dead stop in the span of a heartbeat, or a door opening as is the case, like a plug has been pulled and all of his spirit is draining out from him.

Tony's far more familiar with the frenzied motion. His whole life has been a matter of action; going, doing, working, living, and dying. The bone creaking feel of sudden inactivity nearly knocks the wind from his lungs. Even though he's still moving, that switch has been flipped. His gut has bottomed out and his heart is nothing but a calm babble in his chest.

Bruce doesn't look up from where he's working a thread into Loki's skin, stitching a neat line across the angry infected wound, it looks like a jagged mouth and Tony finds himself wondering how much of mythology is true.

"Thank you for waiting."

"Well. I'm a good guy like that." Tony sighs, coming no closer than halfway across the room, as close as he can get before the smell of blood starts to tickle at the back of his throat. Stuffing his hands in his pant pockets and trying to find heat and activity but Bruce and Loki are cold twin black holes. Slow and silent and providing no warmth as their gravity sucks him in to his death.

Clearing his throat, he looks away from Bruce working over Loki's body and finds himself a place to sit, his bare feet slapping across the floor as he walks to an extra table despite the army of chairs at the side of the room. Hoisting himself up and letting his legs swing.

He can count on one hand the number of times in his life he'd waited so calm and quiet and they're not the most pleasant of memories; most of them involved his father's work shop. Watching Howard pour his attention and love over projects and always silently longing it was him.

One of them was waiting in a hospital ER as doctors tried to figure out how to tell him he was alone in the world now.

Another was the dark moments in a cave as Yinsen slipped out a door.

Pulling himself away from that bitter reminder of life, he watches Bruce's red stained latex covered hands prodding and working efficiently.

Fuck, that's disgusting.

It's even harder to look at Loki though. The powerful creature reduced to a feeding bed for merciless machines; tentacles of IV lines providing blood, antibiotics, maybe if Bruce was nice, a little Morphine. His torso swathed in that god awful betadine orange and pristine white bandages. Loki's so pale it's hard to tell in some places where the bandages end and Tony's sure the first thing he's going to do is help the guy get a little sun.

Bruce's voice nearly startles him out of his skin. "He's doing well, you know."

"Oh?" He asks, his voice breaking a little and forcing him to clear his throat before trying again.

"Yep. Still a fighter, as if there was any question this mess was Loki." Bruce snips of his thread and sprays a topical antibiotic over the stitches before taping down a bandage. "Not that I doubted."

Tony rolls his eyes and leans his hands back against the table behind him. "Mm, right, because you can believe it's Loki, but you can't believe I want to help him."

Bruce's shoulders sink a little with his head, altering the dose of the IV drip before pulling a thin sheet up to Loki's shoulders. Tony watches him spend a moment fidgeting before finally turning on heel to face him.

"Can you calm down a little, please?"

"I'm calm. If I was any more calm I'd be in a coma. Can you just-" Tony breathes out his nose with a frown, shifting foreword so he can rest his arms on his knees, unable to get comfortable. "Just tell me how Loki is."

Bruce nods and seems a little calmed by changing subjects off of the shit mess called their friendship. Pushing his glasses up his nose he pulls a chair across the floor, the nail on chalkboard scrape is- yeah. Ouch. Tony can't help but glance over to Loki just to make sure the god of chaos is still sleeping because he's pretty sure that sound just woke the dead.

Bruce flinches before settling into the seat and snapping off his gloves. "Sorry. Ah. Loki is obviously stable. He's on a blood drip, type O because I don't know what type he is and I'm just winging this on a hope and a prayer that his body doesn't reject it. He's not exactly human."

"God. Adopted. Thor. Asgard. We already knew that." Tony tries to wave him on but Bruce holds up a finger asking for silence. Shocked, Tony gives in and settles himself for a lecture.

"Yes. Aliens or gods as our ancient ancestors saw them. I never had a chance to run any kind of biological or physical studies when Thor was out and I'm regretting that now. This is… it's all a little new to me. There's human physiology and then there's… that." He says, hooking his thumb over his shoulder at Loki. "And that's not human physiology at all."

Arching an eyebrow Tony looks at Bruce, watching him straiten his wrinkled shirt cuffs. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying I'm working blind here. Loki and Thor may look human on the outside but inside it's a different world. I did what I could to stitch his insides back together again but I'm loathe to do too much. It would be easy to do as much damage as good. I'm sorry." Bruce says, spreading his palms out like that explains everything and the man looks sincerely worried that it's not enough.

Pinching his nose as the pressure in his head threatens to mount an attack into an all out ache Tony digests the information. It's adding up to his pheromone theory. The whole god thing was always a little hard for him to swallow. "So what kind of damage are we looking at that you can identify?"

Bruce rests his elbows on his knees and scrubs his hand though his mop of hair, gathering himself together for what he has to say. It's a look Tony's seen on doctors before, when he was nothing but a teen, when they'd examined the arc in his chest. Palladium poisoning and car accidents playing Ping-Pong in his head even though those two times feel a million years ago, so long it's not even memories from this lifetime. Tony's abused gut clenched a little in worry making him regret not stopping by the kitchen long enough to grab some Tums.

"He has a number of lacerations that are already infected, from the look of them, have been for weeks. I don't really know what he's been through but it's been going on for a while. Considering the scramble that make up his insides, I've done my best to stitch together what looked nicked. He has defensive wounds on his wrists and ankles from struggles if you don't mind me making an educated guess."

Tony shakes his head and waves a hand. "No. Guess away, I'd come to the same conclusion myself when I saw them. I don't see anyone laying still and letting that happen anyways."

Bruce nods a little and clears his throat. "He's also emaciated but I'm not going to in tube him."

"Thanks, that's just disgusting sounding," Tony looks away from Bruce and eyes Loki's unmoving body across the way. The machines chatter filling the space during the lull in their conversation.

"It's not pretty. Tony, I want you to prepare yourself. He's in bad shape." Bruce says in a small soft voice, settling back and glancing over at his patient as one of the machines gives an alarm. Tony frowns hard at the machines and hates the technology he can't understand or read. It must not be anything dramatic though because Bruce simply looks back with a shrug. "For now, he's on antibiotics and pain killers. All we can do is monitor him and hope Thor comes back."

Tony looks down at his swinging bare feet and feels the gravity of the whole world squeeze at his heart.

There's just one problem with that; Thor didn't look like he was coming back any time soon. The thunder god had looked to Loki like he was giving Loki up and the broken pain in his eyes was as bright as the sun, readable to even the emotionally obtuse Tony Stark.

With a heavy sigh and a heavier heart he slips off the table passing Bruce to get to Loki. "Clint came by my room. Your posse has yet to leave."

Banner blinks slowly but after a sigh he seems to adjust to the fact that the conversation on Thor isn't going to continue. "Do I need to go reset his nose?"

Tony shakes his head no, scooping long cool fingers into his hand and feeling them twitch every so softly against his palm. "He tried to give me a bunch of bullshit about friends and caring; if he got any fuller of emotions I was going to have Jarvis play John Denver."

"It's not bullshit Tony." Bruce says, shifting in the chair to look at him, hooking his arm over the back of it. "We are your friends and we do care. Even if you don't want it."

"I don't-" Tony closes his mouth hard, his jaw aching with the force of it. The words 'I don't give a shit' refusing to come up, sitting cold and dead in his belly instead. He closes his eyes for a moment and lets his whirlpool thoughts slip away, drowned out by the beat of his own heart and the hum of medical equipment. When he opens his eyes again the room is a washed out blur that he has to blink clear.

"Let me ask you one thing Tony."

"If I say no, will you go away?" He asks with a dead smile over his shoulder before shaking his head. "What?"

"If you can't trust anyone, how do you expect him to trust you?"

All the air leaves the room, or maybe that's just his lungs turning to concrete but he tries to play it off by rubbing the pad of his thumb gently over the white bandages around Loki's bird like wrist. Dragging in a ragged breath that sends a shiver down his spine. "What?"

"That's your goal here, right?" Banner asks and when Tony looks to him his brown eyes aren't judging. He almost wants them to be, the bare honesty in them now is hard to face. He can deal with failure and judgment, he always has, but open emotional honesty is so fresh and new to him that he can't handle it. Looking quickly back down to Loki as Bruce continues. "You want him to trust you, to trust us. And maybe switch sides. Right? That's why you agreed to do this."

"That's not… no." Tony whines, dropping Loki's hand and scrubbing his palms over his face before carding his fingers though his hair, wincing as still damp locks catch and tangle a little. "I don't want to convert him. This isn't about converting or sides or good or evil or Shield. I don't want to use him."

"Then what is it about?" Bruce asks, turning back to face away from Tony once more. He spends a moment staring at the back of the man's head before looking back down to Loki. Watching the rise and fall of that slim chest, the flutter of his pulse at his neck, absorbing the subtle signs of life.

Licking his lips he glances about for a chair, deciding as those long elegant fingers twitch against the table, seeking contact, he needs to stay right here. "I just want to help him."

Seeing that he's not getting any clearer of an answer than that Bruce rises to his feet slowly, moving like his back is stiff. Tony more than familiar with the achy shuffle of feet; the similarities to him when he's coming out of the lab after a fourteen hour bender behind a workbench.

"He's likely to wake up and murder you. All of us. I've seen him pissed before but I get the feeling it was child play compared to the wrath this will incur."

And how further from the truth could that be…

"No he won't."

"You sound pretty sure about that." Bruce says, twisting his hands together and watching Tony as he grabs a rolling chair, setting himself up next to the god's bed and anchoring himself to Loki's hand once more. Hunkering down for a long wait.

There's no way in hell he's telling Bruce why Tony knows how Loki feels right now. That when he wakes up he's more likely to be terrified and so alone and only after time will that turn to anger if no one intervenes.

Breathing out a sigh he shakes his head no, denying Bruce any explanations. No one, not even Pepper has heard the full story of what happened to him down in that cave. Yinsen is a name that hasn't left his mouth in almost two full years and it still is too soon.

"You shit heads aren't leaving any time soon, are you?" He groans, picking at the tape on the bandage about Loki's wrist, pulling the tape back and smoothing it back down again flatter. Fixing wrinkles in the soft white bandages. Fixing the little things where he can so he doesn't feel like such a useless tool.

Glancing up as Bruce says nothing Tony frowns hard. He could always force the issue. Down the suit and physically throw the three out but the time and effort for that kind of stunt is lost to him in his lethargic state so he'll stick to crude remarks and glares. It's a tactic that had worked well enough to get him out of board meetings.

Sniffing he looks back down to Loki's limp hand in his. "I don't want you people here when he wakes up."

"Then I'll make sure Steve and Clint stay off this floor but we're not leaving Tony. I'm not. If for no other reason, you don't know how to care for him."

"Funny. You said you don't either." He says more than a little aware of the bite to his tone, turning his chair a little so he can look up at Banner, trying his best to loom over the man from a seated position.

Holding his hands up Bruce flinches, the man deflating a little. "We'll be here Tony, for when you need us. At least till he wakes up."

Tony doesn't move from his spot as the door closes behind Bruce, trapping him alone with his chaotic disaster.

"I don't need them. We don't need them." He says under his breath, bringing his head down till his brow is resting against Loki's and his intertwined fingers.

It's easier to think without an audience. Getting lost in examining the elegant hand in his and drowning in the ocean of beeping and whirling machines.

He doesn't have to force himself to remember back to that cave, the memories come back well enough on their own. Splashing against his mind like a poisonous mixing pot of emotions.

Tony's chuckle ghost across their hands as he wallows in the irony of picking apart memories that he's tried his hardest to forget for many years now. He's searching though them methodically, trying to keep the burning emotions at a clinical distance to the best of his abilities as he navigates though them. Seeking the words Yinsen had said that had truly changed things for Tony, picking apart all of their conversations in search of the magical phrase that had made everything better for him.

He can't find it though. No matter how hard he analyzes everything the wise man said, no one word, no sentence or conversation comes out as a definitive answer.

"I wish you were here." He says softly to himself and if he strains hard enough he can almost here Yinsen's soft voice replying back, 'but I am not, Stark.'

O0o.

Tony spends a grand total of three days in a haze of unfamiliar inactivity. Loki acting as Schrödinger's cat in this chapter of his life; neither good nor evil, a blank slate that Tony itches to leave his mark on. To alter and fix and heal and if it helps him in the long run, if he can figure out the magical formula that Yinsen had seen so easily, then yay him.

He spends most of those three days without sleep and when weariness drags him down he doesn't dream of lightning or his balcony and the change of mental surroundings should be nice if not for how wild his mind runs with the now blank slate of sleep. Bringing foreword all kinds of vivid nightmarish memories he'd been fighting his waking hours to keep at bay.

The blistering sun and heat of Afghanistan burns him one moment only to give way to the blind panic and cold of his workshop floor. Feet separating him from a glowing salvation only for the room to melt into bitter cold miles. Snow cutting into his bones and pain shredding his soul into bloody frozen ribbons

Ice cracks and breaks and then he's falling, not though the center of a planet but though space itself the blackness sinking it's inky claws into his psyche and raping him of his purity with it's evil.

So Tony avoids sleep much like he'd avoid plague ridden zombies.

Instead eating when Bruce brings him food, reading and talking to Jarvis. He leaves only when Bruce comes in to clean the wounds, showering and returning to his post freshly clothed but no cleaner in spirits.

He spends most of his time though examining the slumbering god.

He studies the way Loki twitches in his sleep and responds to his voice when the nightmares and fevers get too much. Long fingers holding onto his, pain drawn face turned to him like the god is seeking out the warmth of a sun that Tony somehow holds in his chest.

Every breath Loki takes is a miracle in Tony's opinion although Bruce says as the days pass that he is healing. By the third morning, the fever has broken and infection is starting to pass.

Tony's beginning to look a little dead himself though. Last time he caught his own reflection in a mirror it had actually startled him. Pale beneath his tan and shadows under his eyes, he realizes the last good sleep he did get was probably somewhere two months ago before everything in his life turned to hell.

When did his life separate itself into Before Avengers and After Avengers?

It's a wordless groan, the cram of syllables throaty and rough, that finally gives Tony something to do other than vegetate. His head snapping up from the tablet in his hands and he can feel his cheeks heat under the tired green eyes that greet his.

"Wow. Hey! You're awake!"

Bruce had promised many times over that the mild coma that Loki had slipped into was probably his body trying to heal and fight infection but that didn't make it any less scary for Tony.

Now though, now that Loki's looking at him without fear but more in silent question Tony grins like a full blown idiot. His first genuine smile for days.

"Shit, check you out. How do you feel? Do you want something to drink? Are you in pain, I can get you anything you want." He rambles, filling the three days worth of quiet in the span of a few seconds.

Loki doesn't seem quite so amused though, wincing at the too loud sound of Tony's voice and closing his eyes without saying a word. His thin lips twisting into a grimace as his hand lifts, trembling, up to his throat. Feeling the bandages there.

"Oh. Okay, sorry." Tony breaths out, softer this time, getting to his feet and retrieving a near by cup and filling it with lukewarm water from a waiting pitcher. He should page Bruce down so he can poke and prod Loki now that the god is awake but Tony wants this time to themselves for his own reasons.

Loki's eyes crack open a sliver as he approaches the bed again, wearily looking down to the plastic cup in his hand. "It's water. We've been keeping you hydrated with an IV but you really should try to drink something."

Loki looks skeptical at best, licking at his cracked lips as he thinks about it.

It's all in the trust. Part of why he doesn't want Bruce just walking in and steaming over everything with medical procedures and no bedside manner. Tony's not sure but he's willing to bet these first few moments are important, maybe more so than the hazy hours a few nights ago that Loki was swimming in and out of consciousness.

After an oddly not uncomfortable span of time Loki gives a small tilt of his head in acceptance. His arms shaking with the effort to try and sit up.

"No no. Let me help; it's why I'm here." Tony says with a tense smile, easily slipping into nurse mode as he shifts the cup to his other hand so he can slip his arm behind Loki's shoulders. Flinching a little as the god hisses in a breath at the pain caused by moving. Ever stubborn as his hands limply fumble to grab onto the cup and steady it at his lips.

Tony flinches and looks away as Loki chokes more on the few sips of water than he actually drinks it.

"Bruce says the cut on your throat most likely perforated your windpipe, so ah, drinking, talking, just about everything's going to hurt till it's healed." He says softly, just to fill the quiet air with a noise other than machines and Loki's wheezed breath. The same sounds having filled the room for three days and really it's like being trapped in an elevator with the same song playing on repeat. He's pretty sure that it's one of the levels of hell.

Loki's hands push against his and his eyes close, a shudder shaking down his lean spine as Tony helps him ease back down against the pillow. The god looks worse awake then he did asleep, the sluggish life to him such a pale comparison to the man who'd thrown him from a window it's disquieting.

Tony'd almost have the anger and snark, this is a more than a little horrifying for him to handle. Talk about putting himself out of his league.

Feeling like a big loser as he clears his throat and settles himself back into his chair, setting the plastic cup at his feet for easy access. "Are you in pain?"

Loki's lips twist into a frown and he gives a small jerky nod, settling everything to Tony. He has to bite the bullet and get Bruce in here because for all of Tony Stark's wonders and abilities, he has no fucking clue how to work the morphine drip that's attached to the IV.

"I'll be back with the doc." He says briskly, not even making it to his feet before Loki's hand makes a grab for him. Holding on to the edge of Tony's shirt with what must be the last of his strength, eyes wide and scared.

"He can give you something for the pain." Tony explains, swallowing the lump in his throat. Keeping his eyes down on the hand holding his shirt, grip so tight that Loki's knuckles are standing out and snow white.

Loki gives a jerky shake of his head and when Tony finally has the courage to meet his eyes, sees that they're as hard and sure as steel; A big fat no.

"He can help." He tries one last time but Loki only tugs his hand down, indicating for Tony to sit once more.

Okay then.

Only once he shifts to pull the chair closer does Loki let go of his shirt, his hand hanging limp off the bed like he lacks the energy to even pull it back. Sitting on his numb ass once more he moves Loki's hand back onto the bedside and fixes the IV's feeding into it, fidgeting under the god's tired questioning gaze.

"You've been asleep for three days, I don't know if that's normal for you when you're hurt. But you don't normally get hurt easily do you? I mean, you took that beating from the Hulk easy enough." He says just to fill the air again, talking enough for the both of them as he fiddles with the thin clear tubes that attach to Loki's forearm. Loki doesn't seem insulted by the Hulk comment so Tony keeps going, knowing his emotions are bleeding though each word he says because his own voice is raw feeling. His throat lined with sandpaper.

"Your brother hasn't come back yet. Banner, Rogers and Clint are still here but I haven't seen the other two for a few days. I think their hiding down in the lower floors. There are spare rooms there. I don't know if you explored the tower that much on your last visit. The arctic's all my design."

He stops when he realizes he's rambling, talking more than enough for the both of them. Clearing his throat he nods, knowing he should shut his mouth and let the tired man sleep. Hopefully for a shorter span than three days.

Loki's fingers hook around his wrist however when he goes to pull away, giving a soft pain filled huff. Nodding to Tony and arching a delicate eyebrow, a silent request to continue. There is something in his sliver green eyes that make his bones melt and his heart calm in his chest. A smile twists at the corner of Tony's lips and he settles himself, holding Loki's hand and smoothing his thumb over the back of it gently.

"Things have been oddly slow with you here, I've spent most of my time here you know. You should be thankful; I normally don't leave my lab other than for leggy blonds."

What's quickly becoming a familiar smirk graces Loki's face as his eyes close.

"Yeah. Maybe my tastes are more to the leggy brunets right now. No need to rub it in." He says with a low chuckle, leading into a story of a time in MIT when he'd bedded a lovely brunet only to find out her father was his Calculus with Theory teacher's daughter. Stojanoska had forced him to take the final exam the next day, and then threw a fit from hell when the great Tony Stark had passed with a ninety eight.

He goes on for over an hour, long after Loki's fingers have fallen slack against his wrist, and he's drifted off to sleep. Carrying the one sided conversation bights about a comforting ease to Tony, like with the robotics in his lab.

Filling the quiet sanitized space with more stories of MIT and Pepper and explosions and how stupid reindeer are. Pointless things that he'd never say to anyone else. The endless chatter to himself a soothing balm to his soul as much as it eases the sleeping god.

It's frustrating that he can't remember if Yinsen talked to him like this when he'd first woken up, that memories he'd fought so hard to forget, now refused to surrender the answers he's seeking. His past is unwilling to give up its secrets; he's just going to have to settle for what he can do here and now.

It's only after his voice has gone rough and his throat raw does he stop, settling with his fist against his stubble cheek. Searching out the contrast between his blunt tan fingers and Loki's pale elegant ones. The hushed tone of the door opening bringing a frown to his face.

"Eh… Steve made some food. I don't really know what it is. It's good though and I thought you'd want some."

Clint then.

Drawing his eyes up he schools his expression into one of boredom as he looks to the archer balancing a plate of food in one hand and a dew covered beer in his other. Setting his load on a nearby examination table Clint dusts his immaculate hands on his pants and shuffles his feet a little, staring at Loki's sleeping form.

"How is he?"

"He could be better. Don't touch him." Tony says, laying Loki's hand out gently over the god's thin rising and falling chest. His back popping in protest as he stands to his feet and meanders over to the plate of food. "What the hell is this shit?"

"I don't know. He called it a casserole but it doesn't look like one to me."

Forking the breadcrumb crust and sniffing the cheesy aroma he decides it's more edible than anything he'd ever cooked and tries some, talking around the mouthful. "I didn't even know I had food in my kitchen."

Clint shrugs his shoulders, setting himself in Tony's chair and spinning it around to face Loki. As far as Tony cares it's too fucking close to Loki but at this point the man could be standing in the hall and it would be too near for his tastes. He stuffs a forkful of cheese and noodles into his mouth to stop himself from ripping into the other man. All he's done is sit, no harm in that. Yet.

"You know… if you want to take a shower, I can watch him for you." Clint says, tilting his head to indicate Loki; like Tony's spent the last three days babysitting a fucking cactus and he needed to define that he'll be watching the deity instead.

"Yeah. No." He says around a mouth full of actually good tasting food. "Bad idea for two reasons. One, didn't you want to skull fuck him with an arrow? And two? He's my… charge." He says, stuffing another fork full into his mouth before popping the cap on the bottle. He doesn't drink beer but he's willing to make the exception on the grounds that it's the first alcohol he's seen in a few days.

The bitter taste in his mouth washing down the food is like coming home from a very dry vacation.

"I'm just going to sit here." Clint huffs, lifting his head from examining his nails and giving Tony a grin. "Bruce kind of told us why you're doing this. I won't fuck your project up."

Oh?

"Really now? What did he say?" Considering Tony's answers was vague at the most when Bruce had asked him why. Taking the beer by the neck he abandons the food half finished and returning back to Loki's side, leaning his hip against the table and putting himself between the god and the archer.

"You wanted to try and get him to play with the good guys."

"Fuck." He swears, shaking his head. Every time he hears that, it sounds wrong to him. Sounds abusive, like he's using Loki. Like rubbing sandpaper down his spine, it's uncomfortable in a nerve splitting way.

Clint looks confused at the outburst. "That's not-"

"It is." Tony admits, looking over his shoulder and down to Loki. Maybe he's slumbering, maybe he's not. Loki's fingers twitching across the rough white sheet till they brush against his jean covered hip and Tony sets the bottle aside to grab it. The deity stilling once warm contact is made. "It's just… this isn't a brainwashing, this isn't fucking Star Wars, no join the force. I don't want to use him. I just want-" He stops himself, biting his lower lip in frustration.

There's another twitch of long fingers against his and he glances down to Loki. The silence between the two of them is nearly long enough for the next ice age to start and in the mean time Tony finishes his beer.

"I understand." Clint says roughly by the time the world is defrosting again, his voice rough with honesty that seems pried from him more than freely given. When Tony looks back to him the archer is staring across the space at the slumbering god of chaos, his slate eyes mapping everything he sees there.

He lets his mouth slant down into a frown; highly doubting that Clint knows anything about a situation like this.

"No. Don't give me that look." The archer huffs.

"What look? Am I giving a look?" Tony blinks, laying a hand on his chest in mock hurt. Shifting Loki's hand out of the way a little so he can hop up onto the table next to his side.

Clint rolls his eyes as Tony settles himself, his boot covered feet swinging as Loki's hand twitches against his hip once more, demanding attention even in his sleep. "You're giving that 'bullshit' look. I do. I really do understand."

Taking Loki's wandering hand back into his he wonders just how asleep the god is though all of this. Snake in the grass bastard he is. The little clever act makes Tony want to grin but he holds it in. "Maybe because it is."

Breathing out a heavy breath Clint leans back in the chair and stretches out his legs, hooking his ankles one over the other. Settling in despite the fact Tony wants to scream at him to leave. "When I was assigned to take out Natasha I made a different call. I saw something in her that no one else did. I didn't see in her some perfect Shield spy, or bullshit like that, all I saw was a life with so much potential being wasted and I knew I could help make it better."

"It's the same thing with you and him. The way you're staying close, protecting. I did the same shit with Tasha; I was on her like glue for those first few weeks when she was cleaning her life up. I guess I still am. The two of us are, well, you know."

Tony rolls his eyes; anyone would have to be blind to not see that the two Shield agents are deeply in love.

"What I'm trying to say here Tony, is I understand." Clint says, gesturing with his hand between Loki and Tony. "And in respect of that. I'm willing to help in any way I can. Either of you."

Arching an eyebrow he looks up from Loki finally, meeting Clint eye to eye. "So you don't want to shoot him?"

Clint makes a pinched face and shakes his head no. "Ah, actually I'd still like to do that, but I won't. How's that?"

Tony gives a little shrug of his shoulders and feels a natural smile tug at his mouth, twelve watt cocky son of a bitch grin. "I can live with that for now."

"So go take a shower, watch some TV. I'll babysit here for you." Clint says, slapping his hands together and giving Tony a gut wrenching you're my friend now, right? Smile.

Bastard.

He'd really like to sleep for eighty hours in a bed but that's not happening. Even just to be able to leave the med floor for longer than twenty minutes sounds like a fucked up slice of heaven.

"Steve still lingering around?"

Clint nods, "Food, remember dude?"

Tony shrugs and slips down from the table, watching Loki for a moment to see if the god is going to make any kind of protest to him leaving but he lays still and sleeps on. "I could always hope that he'd left after cooking."

"You need to get over him, Tony. Just go take a rest. Everything will be fine here. Me and Sleeping Beauty are just going to chill." Clint says, standing to his feet and shoving Tony along as he tries to linger on by Loki's side.

It feels wrong to leave the room. Every time Bruce forces him out it feels like Tony's left a part of himself behind and this time now with Clint, it's no different. With each step out that door and into the hall a hollow hole forms in his chest that has nothing to do with his arc.

He chalks it up to remembering that Yinsen never once left the cave with him; that maybe the proximity was part of the solution that he's not equating in but his gut knows its closer to something more animalistic. The need to protect and cherish what is his and no one else's.