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He'd never wanted his house empty so much before.
There was a time of his life, not long after MIT and his parents' death that abode ala Stark was always full. Parties and girls and general PR messes.
After Afghanistan and Obi there was the still constant influx of Pepper, Happy, and Rhodey.
Now?
Now he's trapped in a hell, the world bent on never giving him the time to contemplate the situation he's stuck in. When he needs empty and quiet, life has given him loud and busy.
To make it worse his home and sanctuary has been invaded by foul traitors in sheep's clothing. Bruce most of all. Tony's loath to see the man again; every visit he makes to the med bay has been a tense dance of mistrust and sorrow. He wants him out of his house, away from his god.
Tony tries to feel sorry, he tries to let Bruce back into the tight ring of friends that Tony actually trusts but he can't just help but not give a fuck.
Much to his distaste Steve is sitting at the dining area table; worrying a mug between his palms like some fifties era housewife when Tony comes off the lift. His normally perfect blond hair is forked out in all directions and showing signs of the captain having worried his fighters through it too many times.
He'd always liked this dining room, not that it was an overly used part of the tower. It's lit by an over hanging modern chandelier that sets the gray stone and neutral tones to the room into a golden glow of a eternal sunset long after the city outside the solid wall of windows is slumbering under nights warm blanket.
Now it seems a bit stuffy and over decorated compared to the sanitized med floor.
Rogers stays frustratingly quiet as Tony lingers in the doorway, leaving it to him to break the silence. "That food, it was good."
Great. Stress has reduced him to caveman vernacular. 'Food good'-'Steve friend.'
Steve's blond head nods slowly and he mumbles a soft 'thanks' so low that Tony barely catches it..
Tony pinches his nose and rolls his neck to work out the knot that's formed back there, well on it's way to scoliosis knowing his luck. He's just too tired to do this again, emotionally hung from a laundry line and left for the birds to sit on when all he really wants is to just hide away in his lab/bed/any surface that's not an office chair.
Rubbing a hand through his hair he nods his head a little and turns away. Fine. If Rogers isn't going to say anything, than he's not going to either. For once in his life, he's willing to let quiet rule the room.
"If you want me gone Tony, I'll leave. I'll respect you and leave here." Rogers says breaking the delicate silence anyways, lifting his head from examining the contains of his mug. His broad shoulders look like their supporting the weight of the world and boy does Tony know how that feels.
Rogers, stick in the mud as he is, isn't the main problem here.
Yes. He wants his house empty, the time and space to think and be alone with Loki. But Steve is- was- a friend. Is he still? The man, much like Clint was only dancing to Bruce's flute; duplicity by association.
He's shaking his head no to Steve isn't he?
Shit. He is.
Breathing out a heavy breath he stuffs his hands into his pants pockets and rocks back on his heels. "I don't mind if you stay actually. Just don't talk to me. Or look at me."
Steve's cheeks color in a blush but there is a smile tilting to his lips. "You're an asshole, Stark."
"I see you've got my business card then. Don't burn down my kitchen." He fires back, giving a smile of his own and offering Rogers the one finger salute before striding down the hall with a little more bounce to his step. He hasn't won any wars but he's victor of a few private battles and at this point this willing to take anything.
Coming into his penthouse bedroom, he stops, his feet gluing to the marble floor and staring into the moon lit room with so much longing he can feel it. Need unfurling in his gut and sleep draws his shoulders down.
How many days has it been since he's slept in a bed- his eidetic mind supplies him with the answer of roughly one week. Between the benders on the couch and penthouse floor and the self induced insomnia in the medical floor with Loki. It's been almost one whole week.
The draw is uncontrollable. Groaning he ambles foreword in a zombie like lurch. "Oh bed. Beautiful bed. I love you bed. Jarvis, I love my bed."
"Dully noted, Sir."
Snide bastard.
Kicking his boots off as he falls face first into the expensive sea of silk sheets, practically swimming to the middle of the bed. Rolling over so his face is pressed into the whip cream mountains of pillows and breathing in till his chest is tight. Holding the breath. His bed smells clean and inviting; not like the medical floor.
He didn't come here to sleep but now that his face is shoved into his pillows and his body is enveloped by the bed like a sea slug's swallowed him whole, he just can't move again.
There is no emergency in the world that can tear him from this. Not even his whack as hell nightmares are going to fuck with this little personal moment between him and Mr. California king.
Smothering himself into the pillows he groans lowly, maybe if he just suffocated here and now, it would all be ooookay.
He wonders idly if Loki would be willing to hold off in his recovery as Tony channels his inner Rip and sleeps for the next decade. Probably not, he's such a demanding princess.
"Sir. You're needed down on the Medical floor."
Speak of the devil…
Turning his head so he can breathe, he scrunches his face up, brows coming down low. He couldn't have left Clint with Loki longer than twenty minutes, but now the sun is shining warm through the windows and painting colorful patterns across the sheets throwing him off.
His limbs feel stiff and rubbery at the same time as he sits up only to flop back down into the cloud of sink. Mouth a minefield of nasty tastes.
"Jarvis, what time is it?"
The display on the window comes to life, glittering in the arid sunlight of summer. "The time is one fifty three PM Sir, Today is Tuesday, September the eighth. The weather is projected to be in the high nineties with an eighty five percent chance of humidity, dropping down to the low nineties after sunset."
Blinking slowly he see's that ten hours has passed. Given that the time was one blur of black and nothingness he breaths out a sigh.
Well fuck!
Rubbing the sleep from his eyes he grunts, shifting to scratch the his side where his shirt has left an indent into his skin. "What happened? Why didn't you wake me up?"
It's the fact that Jarvis actually hesitates for a moment that sends a bucket of ice down Tony's back and the thrill of the bed is gone. "You were sleeping sir, I've only awoken you on request by Rogers, Agent Barton has reported Loki missing."
Loki. Oh god.
Loki. The resident god of chaos and mischief is missing and hurt in his tower.
Nothing in the world could serve as a better wake up call at that moment.
He sits up in a rush and flings himself off the edge of the bed, making it to his feet only by a achievement of miraculous balance and acrobats honed from years of fleeing from unwanted bedmates. His head slower than his body and the room tips as his equilibrium tries to keep up with the sudden change of pace from peaceful rest to frantic motion.
"How did he lose him? He's a vegetable! Scan the tower, Find him!" He screeches, realizing his own voice is as pinched as a crack whore yelling at the cops to 'take that bitch to jail!' Tripping over his own discarded boots on the way out the door and into the hall.
"In process sir, Banner and Rogers have gathered in the med rooms to try and locate the missing-"
"Oh, wonderful." He huffs as he hightails it past the lift and takes the stairs down two at a time, his bare feet nearly slipping on a step before he rights himself and runs on till his lungs are screaming and he's panting for breath.
Crap he's out of shape.
His side is aching something like a bitch as he rounds the corner into the med floor, Steve's head lifts up and there's not a smile between the three of them. Bruce- a dark cloud over an already raining shit kind of day- is prodding a clean bandage to Clint's bleeding face.
"Shit." He wheezes and chokes and thanks the gods that aren't raving lunatics that he'd never picked up smoking.
"That was a hell of a run, why did you build this tower so big, Rogers, you're fired. What? Do you have pitchforks and torches too? The villagers have gathered Jarvis. We must find the beast!" He makes a show of waving his hands around as he fishes his lungs out of his mouth and breaths like a normal human.
"This isn't funny, Stark." Steve says with a serious expression carved into his stony face.
Right, back to the Stark. Tony glares a little at Steve and shifts his attention to the only other person in the room who doesn't have the stick of virtue shoved up their ass. "Clint. You lost him?"
Clint turns a few different shades of red and shuffles on his feet, backing away from Bruce's gentle touch. Glancing to the open door to the room Loki had been situated in for the last three days like the missing god is going to appear and save him from the trouble. It would be cute and endearing if not for the bitter burn of neglected trust. All he had to do was watch Loki for five fucking minutes.
Clint's shoulders do a little bunch up kind of shrug. "He-ah- just went missing?"
"He… ah? Clint." He groans, rubs a hand through his hair and claps his hand to his friend's shoulder. Counting from ten to one slowly as he tries to calm the firestorm building in his head. He has to clasp his teeth together to the point they ach in his mouth to stop from wanting to scream every profane word he knows at the younger man.
"I need to prep some tranquilizers and you need to seriously think of calling Shield out here for backup." Bruce says behind them and Tony's ten to one count down falls apart.
Shield will find Loki alright. They'll find him and destroy him. Take what little broken pieces are left of the god and grind them to salt. There will be no Loki for Thor to return to, no way-word god for Asgard to come for; Loki will be a stain on Fury's boot and nothing more. And Tony… Tony will-
Tony has to blink back the white haze from his mind, his thoughts too sharp to violent. Rage boiling and atoms colliding in his head sending all of his thoughts to ash with a nuclear explosion of 'oh fuck'.
"Can you please tell me what the fuck you did with my god!?" His voice rises and sifts pitch at the end like puberty was yesterday for him. His hold tightening as he frog marches Clint backwards into the med room, the archer doesn't flinch as his back is rammed into the wall. All of his sorrow contained in his ever honest eyes.
"I had to take a piss. He must have been awake and waiting. When I got out he…" Clint trails off into an incomprehensible babble and his tongue makes an appearance to dab at his bleeding lip.
So Loki laid in wait and attacked his capture in Tony's disappearance.
"How long has he been awake?" Bruce asks from across the room, his back a tense line as he preps a needle. Ramming it into the rubber top of a small bottle with precision.
"He woke up for roughly an hour before Clint showed up with dinner." Tony hisses, pushing Clint against the wall in an angry but pointless shove before letting him go. The Shield Archer makes like wallpaper and stays glued in place with dinner plate sized eyes.
The food.
Why the fuck did he fall asleep that long? Was it drugged? Was he drugged to sleep?
"Did you drug me?" He rounds on Bruce, and the man looks honestly confused. His ruffled brown hair standing up like a representation of his opinion, all dog with his hackles raised. Tony's strides eating up the distance between him and the mellow doctor. "What the fuck did you-"
"Sir. Loki has been located." Jarvis cuts in and from the projected tone of his voice, he sounds incredibly relived.
Because punching Bruce for a second time in under a week is just a bad idea.
"Where?" he asks, flipping Bruce off instead of hitting him. Clint and Rogers scrambling out of his way as he starts across the room in their direction.
Their watching him with sad scared eyes, like he's gone mad and they don't know how to react to seeing it.
Maybe he has.
"He is within the medical room sir. My scans show three life forms; you and Banner are the only one accounted for on the surveillance cameras. " Jarvis informs.
Son of a bitch, snake in the grass, Loki.
"Get out. Get back." He huffs, closing the door on Steve and Clint's nose before they can rush in. Bruce securing the needle in his hand, tapping out bubbles. "I said out, Bruce."
"Here then. You know how to use it." Bruce says, holding out the hypodermic. A frown twisting his brows down over his face as Tony crosses his arms over his chest obviously displeased with Tony's answer.
He can get in line with everyone else he's ever disappointed for all the fucks Tony gives.
Tony's not tranquilizing Loki again. For all they know its part of why he went nearly vegetable for three whole days. The enigma of his physiology and reaction to common drugs is too unknown for Tony's tastes; too big of a question mark for them to go pumping the deity full of every pharmaceutical they can.
"No. No more tranquils."
Bruce pinches his nose like he's fighting back a headache and Tony hopes it's just that and not anger. "He attacked Clint."
"He struck out at someone who's previously threatened to kill him after waking up in an unfamiliar environment. Get the fuck out so I can find him." Tony waves his hand to the door with a little bow, throwing theatrics in just to defuse a little of the tension in the room and turns away from Bruce.
He takes in the medical room, searching it out for hiding places. Somewhere that the security cameras aren't seeing. Looking up at the black eyes on the roof he tries to judge were the blind spots are. Loki's smart enough to know exactly what security cameras are, he'd used it to reveal himself in Stuttgart.
Loki was thinking a lot more clearly than… less driven on instinct and the need to safeguard himself away.
"Get out, Banner."
Bruce sighs softly, the needle making a soft noise against the steel table he sets it on somewhere close to Tony's side. "We'll be right out those doors, Tony."
"Good. Get."
Tony looks down at the rows of cabinets that line the wall under a sturdy counter, ruling that out on the fact he couldn't see Loki fitting his lanky body down there even with how bone skinny he is.
The soft hiss of the door closing before latching shut tells him he's alone.
Clenching and unclenching his fists a few times his knuckles pop loud in quiet, glancing over his shoulder to the closed door just to vindicate his own paranoia.
"You can come out. They're gone." He calls out, moving across the room and making sure to walk loud enough that his footsteps can be heard coming.
The supply cabinet across the room is close to the bathroom door and closed snug. Tony's unfamiliar with how big it is but he's sure it's better than under the counter.
Pulling it open slowly he steps back with the out swing of the door. The harsh overhead lights painting a white slice in the dark closet, cold tile and cream sheet. Pale skin and paler green eyes revealed in the harsh light.
Some small part of him was ready to see Loki, full Asguardian battlement, waiting on the other side. Blood and wrath and death. The entire book of revelation bound in ivory skin and poison green eyes.
He'd rather like that.
The Loki that greets him on the other side of the door is feral and pale, his green eyes blown wide in all encompassing terror. He's capable of damage in this state, but just as easily damaged. No apocryphal angel of death here.
No need for Shield or tranqs.
"It's me. It's okay." He breaths out, whisper soft as he lowers himself down to his knees to be level with Loki as he cowers further into the corner of the closet. The sheet clenched in shaking fingers tight to his bone thin body.
Even if he didn't see himself in the way Loki quakes in fear it would still twist at his heart.
Loki shifts a little, eyes taking in Tony's mused hair and rumpled clothing before shifting enough to see though the open door. His pale eyes searching as much of the room that he can see, resting his weight foreword on a palm to the floor. Twitching back as Tony shifts a little.
Tony's never been around very many animals before, but he's sure this is what one looks like when scared.
"They're all out in the hall." Tony assures him. Lifting a hand up, reaching slowly to take Loki's hand, noting the soft stain of blood where he ripped out his IV. The god scrutinizes him for a moment with almost as much strength behind his look as he had when commanding an army. Coming to the conclusion that Tony is still trustable he offers up his hand, all tension bleeding from his body as Tony soothes his thumb over the pulse fluttering on his wrist.
Tony resists the urge to offer condolences and excuses that will bring no comfort to the chaos god, letting the man ground himself and stable out on his own. Tony acting as a wall of comfort and warmth. It doesn't take long for Loki's trembling body to be pressing against his, the god all but climbing into his lap like Tony had invited him to do that first night.
Gently wrapping his arms around the trembling deity Tony closes his eyes and burrs his nose in the inky, dirty hair.
"Sorry." He breathes out, his fingers tracing figure eights along Loki's spine, the sheet making hushed noises between their skin.
"I needed sleep, buddy. You need- Fuck. I can't keep staying in here, I can't keep you here. It gives me the creeps. I'll take you up to the penthouse but there is no way in hell I'm keeping you here for another hour."
Loki's eyes flit to up him and he nods his head. Swallowing a few times and flinching as his throat injury must flare up. Seeming to come to the conclusion that talking is still a no go his head nods fast. Untangling himself from Tony's hold and shifting to his knees so he can rise.
"We can get your naked ass some clothes. You've got a great body, mind you a little skinny, but there's only so much pasty white ass I can handle." He offers with a wolfish grin, standing to his feet and taking Loki by hand and elbow to help him up.
After a hesitant moment Loki rises to his feet. The deity teeters like a baby learning to walk, only he's a hundred plus pounds and already injured. Reaching out fast as Loki tumbles over his own coltish legs and they end up chest to chest again. Loki's warm breathe ghosting against his ear and he can swear he almost hears words there, whispered, half spoken. Undecipherable.
Grinning to hide his blush Tony holds tight to Loki as the god trembles and tries to get his feet back on solid ground. He's failing miserably as his bare feet do more skidding on the floor than standing; Tony's arms the only thing supporting his weight.
"Come on. Don't worry about it. I've got you. Here… arm here-" He loops one of Loki's arms about his shoulder and bends his knees before Loki can voice any style of protest. Barking out a laugh at the startled croak from the god of mischief as Tony picks him up off his feet bridal style.
Loki's warm body presses tight against his again and already his body is learning the fine curves that fit against his, the poke of ribs and whisper of breath on his skin. Not flinching from it as he tends to do. He doesn't take the time to contemplate that. Not now. Not here.
Tony feels very clothed and Loki feels very naked in his ill fit sheet and nothing else. The gods lanky arms wrapped tight around his neck and shoulders and his green eyes are wide, swirling debts of peridot and silver.
"I've got you." He says softly, swallowing and turning his attention from the god in his arms to navigating out the door.
"Jarvis tell the dumb-shits to move from the door." He grumbles, already feeling the strain of Loki's lean weight on his back. It's going to be a long trip up to the penthouse, that is if he can figure out how to get the door open with his hands full.
"Okay. We need to get you walking again soon. This is going to get tiring." He protests, glancing down to Loki who looks just as enthusiastic about being carried as Tony's spine is on the situation. "Don't give me that look. I'm the one carrying your ass."
Loki wrinkles up his nose for a second before a smile takes over, resting his head against Tony's shoulder.
Bravo. The deity has housebroken his very own Tony Stark and the sly bastard knows it.
The door opens for him as he approaches, thank you lords.
"Jarvis says- Oh." Clint's concerned face melts into a cool smile. The archer letting his eyes slide over how Loki is melted into Tony.
Steve peeks over Clint's shoulder with a perplexed look before smiling too, only his is far more innocent. "You found him." Rogers says, almost sounding as happy as a kid that found their lost puppy.
"He's being moved up to the penthouse. I can't keep staying in the fucking medical rooms."
Banner cuts though between Steve and Clint's shoulders. Loki's relaxed mass tensing slowly as the three men gather close. Their very proximity making the god anxious.
It's a bad situation made even worse and Tony's not ready yet to test if Loki really does have a secondary pheromone that causes fighting. They do enough of that on their own thankyouverymuch. "Move please."
Tony's ready for someone to argue, to say some bullshit line about how incredibly unsafe it is for him to let the murdering deity into his private rooms.
"You should try to get him to eat something. Soup would be best. Liquid diet for a while if you can." Bruce says, stuffing his hands in his pockets and tilting his head to look at Tony over his glasses. "I'm sure Steve would be willing to bring you up something for him."
Steve nods mutely by Banners side.
Huh.
If it wasn't for the fact the back of his neck itches of a hidden agenda the change of attitude would be viewed really nice.
"That would be nice. Thanks."
Left with nothing but odd silence between them Tony turns away with his bundle and carries Loki to the lift. The tickle of Loki's breath a mind numbing distraction the whole way.
"All I see is ankles." Tony laughs, watching Loki standing on shaking legs in front of the bed, one hand holding the California king's edge for support. His green eyes narrow in a mirthless frown that Tony can only smile at.
He's sure that Thor's seen that look a thousand times over, it just smacks of 'shut the fuck up'.
The black watch pants hang low on his hips and still come up well above the god of chaos's ankles. His bare chest still swathed in bandages and the he smells of betadine and antiseptic. In Tony's fine opinion he can use a good shower but Bruce cut that off quick. Apparently the good god of chaos isn't water proof at the moment.
Loki huffs softly, and sets himself back down on the edge of the bed with slow movements. Excepting the socks and cotton top that Tony tosses to him.
"Steve just buzzed, Soups coming up. Chicken noodle. Hope you like that. You seem like a tomato soup kind of guy to me but Banner said something about no red coloring in food for a while? I'm not even going to ask why." Tony babbles, watching Loki pull on the socks and struggle with the shirt. His bound wrists not bending right and must be causing him pain when he tries. The god hissing in a sharp breath before clutching his injured wrist to his chest, his free hand a white knuckled fist around the shirt. Strangling the life out of it.
"Can I?" Tony asks, holding out an empty hand and offering a smile that's sweet as cream.
Loki's eyes lift up slowly; his cheeks have a healthy color to them when he blushes like a high school girl. His lips twist to the side before holding the dark shirt out.
"When I first got the magnet in, I couldn't lift my arms above my head for days. I'm missing a healthy chunk of ribs and breastbone you know; the muscles needed to heal. It was a bitch. Not that I had fancy clothes to be changing into, Yin-" He stops, his mouth snapping shut with an audible click as he pulls the neck of the shirt over Loki's head.
The god emerging from the cloud of black perplexed, his green eyes soft and questioning, brows drawn and nearly meeting in the middle. Tony makes quick but careful work of helping Loki ease his arms though the shirt sleeves before backing away. The deity trying to rise back to his feet, still wearing such a perplexed expression.
Loki doesn't know. He can't know. Even if Barton had told Loki everything he knew about each of the team members, it was all information the archer had gotten from Shield files and in the context of Tony Stark; Shield files are largely incomplete.
It tastes like he's been sucking on a god damn battery as he realizes just how much and how easily he'd said everything to Loki.
Hissing in a breath, Loki steadies himself on his feet, Tony tensing to catch him if he face plants again like he did the first time he tried to stand and get dressed. Caught up in his own self absorbed fuck-mess or not, he still has to keep Loki safe.
Watching Loki sway on his feet he see's how tired the deity looks. So very fucking tired. A little ironic considering he slept the last few days away. "You want me to shut up, don't you; I really need to shut up."
Loki shakes his head slowly no, his hair falling down into his face as he comes around the bed. His throat works under the bandage and he croaks out a single syllable that could be 'no' or 'bo'… maybe it's not English. Maybe it's Norse for 'suck my cock.'
The deity grimaces and rubs his fingers to his tender neck, feeling the bandages there before letting out a gravely groan.
"Oh. " Tony scrubs his hands though his messed hair, pitching it in every direction as he catches their reflection in the darkened window.
Night time again, wow. Its odd how time hasn't been relevant since Loki dropped into his lap, like being around him puts Tony into a different dimension. One that can interact with the world but is separate; alienated by a fog that holds nothing but he and Loki and the toxic thoughts between them.
They both look like hell. Apt considering it's the flames of perdition that they both have been drug from.
Shifting through his scattered thoughts for a conversation he waves a hand to the bed that Loki's still leaning against on wobbly legs.
"You can take the bed. I'll crash on the couch. It's more comfortable than that damn hospital table and a lot better on my back than the chair. Fucking chair. I never want to sit on that chair again. I should have it burnt."
Loki arches a questioning eyebrow at him but Jarvis stops them from having to play charades. "Rogers is at the door, Sir."
Tony rubs his hands together and bounces on his heels, "Food! Let him in!"
He doesn't wait to see if Loki follows him, the god is a big boy and he's sure able to handle himself, Clint clearly an example of that.
Stroking his chin he pads barefoot across the pent house and finds Steve sitting a tray down on the stone bar. The super solder only looks up to him and bunches his jaw.
Shit. That's full on talk mode. People around here are just way too into sharing feelings. "Don't say it."
Confused Steve looks up from were he's fixing the steaming bowl of soup, making sure it's perfect. Fidgeting. "Why did you think we'd drug you?"
"Fuck, I said don't ask. It was a bad call. I thought- drop it okay. Tell Bruce I forgive him. Water under a duck and all that." He says, taking the warm bowl in his hands and looking away as the super solder reaches out and grabs Tony's wrist, Loki watching silent and pale at the mouth of the hall.
Swallowing the lump in his throat he glances to the hand holding onto his just to break away from Loki's stare. "Don't. Okay. Don't push me right now Steve."
After a pregnant moment the grip loosens and Rogers lets him take his hand back, cradling the bowl close and careful.
"Bruce is taking off. Clint too. He just got called in for a mission an hour ago." Rogers says, smoothing his hands over the marble bar. His cornflower blue eyes are down giving Tony no clue to what emotions are on his face as the overhead lights cast everything about the man in shadow.
"You?"
"Do you want me gone?" Rogers asks, Tony a little nauseas from the déjà vu, he's pretty sure his first opinion is still standing though.
"Not really. Loki might starve to death if I have to cook. There is plenty of space down in the lower floors. The extra rooms you guys have been in, I just request you give us space." He says shifting the warm bowl in his hands as it gets too hot.
Pepper would be proud of him for communicating like an adult.
Steve nods his head slowly. "I can respect that. More or less, I just need a place to stay. The apartment Shield set me up with is-"
"Lacking? I don't question that. Have a field day, stay out of my R and D." Tony says, glancing to Loki but he's gone, hopeful back to the room and not back into some supply closet to hide. "Go on Steve. Tell them- whatever you want too. Yeah." Ye says on an exhale. "Thanks for the chow."
Steve offers him a waning smile before turning away, disappearing behind the lifts doors the same time Tony takes for the hall.
The bed is empty of Loki and missing a pillow and duvet.
Breathing a sigh out his nose he sets the soup bowl down on the bedside table. "I'm going to find a bell for you. Like people get for cats so they know where they are." He says, catching sight of gray thick blanket on the other side of the bed and going around to it.
Loki doesn't react, doesn't move at all from where he's curled up in the corner of the room. Wedged tight into the space with his back to the protective barrier. His lax fingers still loosely curled around the silk lined duvet, his nose buried into the folds of it giving him more a look of a sleeping small child than a mass murdering alien.
Tony contemplates waking him up to eat the soup. The god is skin and bones and sustenance will probably help give him the energy he seems to be lacking but Tony's not that heartless. He can eat in the morning.
Backing up till his thighs bump into the bed he sits down, watching the sleeping deity. Tomorrow they can work on getting both their lives back in order, he's optimistic about it. It's not like the situation can get much worse than it already is.
"Jarvis, the lights please." He requests softly, pulling himself into the middle of the bed as the room plunges into darkness, only lit by the comforting glow of his arc and the city outside.
Even with how weary he is sleep doesn't come the moment he lays himself out like it did the last time he was in this bed. His mind a swim with theories of what kind of things will help Loki get his feet under him again.
Heal the body and the mind will follow?
Shit, he still wishes Yinsen was here. His soft voice offering guidance and instruction though everything. The man was more of a father in that cave than Howard ever was in all of Tony's life.
The tower is silent, devoid of the nightly creaks and groans of older buildings but even in the nothingness he doesn't hear Loki move till the bed dips.
Holding his breath till his chest aches he slowly turns his head on the pillow to see the black silhouette of Loki outlined by the stars out the window, the arc's blue glow offering the barest of details and making the god look more like an ethereal ghost. The duvet being used like a cloak only adds to the foreboding look.
Daring to take a breath he offers a weak smile that feels as fake as it probably looks, unsure if Loki can see it, the gods normally green eyes reflecting the arc blue in an entrancing way. "Hey."
At the sound of his voice Loki's eyebrows dip down, black slashes across his ghostly face. Eyes sharpening to look to him- actually look- like a moment before he was lost in a waking dream or trance. The deity takes in everything he can see in the dim glow of the arc with tactical precision.
Tony's pretty sure his life in in the balance here, what ever Loki is calculating is lost though as the god gives a full body shiver that knocks a gasp from his mouth.
"You're not well enough to contemplate murder again. Come, lay down. I pinkie promises not to tell anyone." Tony says, covering a jaw cracking yawn behind a fist and sitting up to scoot a bit to the side. Loki gives him a positively malicious look before laying down, curling up at Tony's side with a weary sigh.
In all the memories of his time in Afghanistan, he can find none when Yinsen let him climb into his cot like a scared small child…