Author's Note:
STOP MAKING ME WRITE DAMMIT. I'm supposed to be studying xD
But your reviews and responses oh gosh I can't not write.
Also, I've already got some people doing artwork for this story so if anyone else has done anything/plans to let me know because when people do art for my stories I sorta hyperventilate and squee.
That night, Loki is somehow even worse. He's finding it almost impossible to breathe and his voice is barely a whisper. Tony grimaces as he thinks about it, and he tucks Tasha under her comforter.
"Is Loki gonna die?" Clint says with an eagerness that echoes his adult form. Usually, Tony would have joined in with Clint's hopeful attitude, but over the past day or so Tony has seen Loki at his most vulnerable and that's a scary, scary thing to witness.
There's also something about the little guy that annoyingly makes Tony way too sympathetic.
"No, Loki won't die. He's just really sick."
"Sometimes sick people die," Bruce pipes up, and Tony tries to ignore the pang in his heart. What if the common cold is too much for a Norse god? Hell, it seems insanely unlikely because they're immortal and oh, gods, but what if the most pathetic illness for humans turns out to be the most dangerous for them?
No, Tony's thinking way too much into this.
"Shh, Brucie. He's not gonna die. I won't let him."
"Hey, Loki, how are you feeling?"
"Is that a trick question?"
Loki is sprawled out across his bed with his comforter on the floor, and he's cast his pyjama shirt away. His chest and horrifyingly pale face are shining with sweat.
Tony leans against the doorframe, watching Loki as the boy stares at the ceiling. His breathing is laboured, his nose is blocked and his eyes are sunken. It's honestly near impossible not to feel any sort of sympathy.
"Was Barton lying when he said one couldn't perish from the common cold?"
"Hmm?"
"Was he lying?"
"No. Well, it's very, very rare if it is true. But damn, kid, you're really not lucky at all." Crossing the room, Tony sits by Loki's feet. "You got hit hard."
"You don't say."
That, Tony decides, is enough. "You are going to stop being snarky with me. Okay? We could have killed you the moment you set foot in this building. You don't have a clue how much Fury is kicking himself that you're just roaming about in the Avengers tower. He wants to see you incinerated. So show some fucking decency and be thankful you're not six feet under. It's time to cut the act and just be yourself. Take off the asshole mask."
"But-"
"Take it off."
The two stare at each other for a long while. Tony watches Loki's face with avid scrutiny – he picks up every softening then re-hardening of Loki's eyes, and the twitches of his mouth.
When Loki doesn't speak, but instead jumps out of bed and slams the bathroom door behind him, Tony shuffles up the bed and lies down with his head on the pillow. It's been a long day.
Dinner had been chaos. Upon offering up the idea of pizza, the kids had gone wild. Clint had fist-pumped the air and had begun running around like a lunatic yet again. When the pizza had arrived (pizza arrives within the second when you give the address as 'The Avengers tower'), tears were shed when the pieces were torn from someone else's grasp who "HAD IT FIRST" and Tony was left to point out that there were "more slices in the box than that one!"
It had been an experience Tony doesn't particularly want to go through again. But depending on how quickly Loki gets his magic back, Tony could be facing another ten or twenty of these dinner time fiascos.
He shudders.
Loki doesn't come out of the bathroom for a long time. When he does, Tony's almost asleep, but he cranks an eye open and watches the god pad over to the side of the bed and meet his gaze.
"Do you mind?" Loki hisses, clearly not okay with Tony's presence on his mattress.
"Nope," Tony replies with a grin, and he doesn't move.
He expects to hear an angry remark in response but nothing else is spoken.
Loki simply climbs into bed beside him, puts his back to him, and switches off the lamp.
Tony plans to stay there just for a short while longer to annoy Loki.
He doesn't count on actually falling asleep.
It's the sun that wakes Tony up the next morning. It blares through the gap in the curtains and the stream of light annoyingly falls across Tony's face. It's annoying, because he's actually pretty damn comfy. It takes him a considerable amount of time to notice that the mattress beneath him is breathing. Slowly, Tony tilts his head up and finds himself face to face with…
"Good morning, Stark," adult Loki sing-songs down at him.
"WHAT THE HELL?" Springing off of the bed, Tony miscalculates his movements and ends up landing on his ass, but he's too shocked to care. "HOW?"
"During the night I had one of my coughing fits, and it was so intense that I managed to somehow cough my magic back ever so slightly. The magic I coughed back was barely controllable, but I grasped it and managed to not only heal myself but make myself…myself again."
"Shit, so you can help the others?"
"Well, not quite."
The closest thing to Tony is a sock, which as a weapon is just pitiful but he throws it at Loki nevertheless.
"You wanna rethink your answer there, buddy?"
Loki dodges the sock and chuckles strangely.
"I can't. That use of magic really did zap it all out of me. I may be healed physically, but I strained my magic so much that this time it truly has diminished into nothingness."
Tony scrambles to his feet and points an accusing finger. "YOU…YOU…"
"Yes?" The smirk playing on Loki's lips sends Tony over the edge.
"WHY ARE YOU ALWAYS SUCH A PROBLEM?"
Loki shrugs. "Because it's fun?"
Tony roars and throws himself at Loki. They both fly off of the other side of the bed and land in a crumpled heap amongst the comforter and broken pieces of the bedside lamp.
"YOU-SMIRKING-LITTLE-SHIT," Tony exclaims, whacking the Norse god on the side of the head. Loki retaliates by slapping Tony across the face, and Tony shrieks in humiliation and disbelief.
"I may not have my magic but I am stronger than you can ever imagine being without your suit so if you desire to live, Tony Stark, then I suggest you keep your hands to yourself."
"Back at ya!" Tony is borderline Hulk-anger now, but then he splutters as he realises something. "Why didn't you kill me when you got the chance?"
"I still have the chance, don't forget." Loki winks, but continues. "You seem to have forgotten that this entire section of your tower is under lock-down so I have no hope of escape, and killing you – though it would bring me much joy – would be foolish. Plus, Director Fury not wanting me here but having to deal with it is exceptionally thrilling so I will relish the time I have here. With no magic, I need a resting place and this is the best I can get in my current situation since you require me, so there you have it, Stark. You're just going to have to put up with me."
Tony punches him in the face.
He only regrets it when he slams hard into the wall, breaks through it and lands in the living room on the other side.
Loki walks through the door and enters the kitchen. Tony spits out some wall.
"I hate you."
Loki holds up the kettle. "Coffee?"
Author's Note:
Reviews for me? :3