I need an editor. Not a beta, just someone to double check my grammar. I know what I want this story to say, but this goes directly from my WordDoc to two websites without any other eyes on it. If you have a gmail and would like to correspond with me through GoogleDocs please shoot me a PM. Thank yo.

Tony Stark was an extremely light sleeper. His subconscious distrusted his environment, expecting trouble to spring upon him and gag him, or worse. Only the feeling of a breathing body in his arms calmed his raging nerves. He woke instantly when Loki rolled away from him. The pale god was whimpering and sweating and muttering in a pained, whispered voice. Tony called his name and a few of the many nicknames that the trickster despised, but Loki didn't respond to him. A tan hand came to rest on icy flesh, carefully dragging the body back to a warm embrace.

"Come on, Lokes," the billionaire whispered. The god gasped in his sleep, back arching. Tony tried to hold him tighter, wrapping his arms around the other male until the god of mischief began to scream. It wasn't from the embrace; milky arms wrapped around a rounded abdomen as if to hold it there, keep it from moving. Tony was calling his name in earnest now, shaking him.

Loki finally awoke with tears streaming down his face and buried his head into Tony's warm chest. The arc reactor was digging into his forehead, but the god didn't seem to care. The human couldn't do anything but drag them both into a sitting position and rock them as Loki sobbed.

"Don't take them," Loki chanted into Tony's skin. "Don't take them. Please, Father, don't. I need them, Father. I don't want to leave. Let me stay with them. Don't take them…don't take them…don't take them…"

The billionaire didn't know if the god was talking to Odin or Laufey, but the sheer pain in the Silver Tongue's plea broke him. He petted the black locks, dropping a kiss on the crown of the Asgardian prince's head. Suddenly Loki's lips were on his, the god's weight pressing him back into the bed. Tony could taste the tears on his lover's lips as Loki tried to deepen the kiss. It was so forced that Tony had to pull away to look into the green eyes of his lover.

The trickster was distraught, pale cheeks flushed with anguish, eyes swollen and red. Unsure of what else to do, the genius laid soft kisses on Loki's lips, whispering words of comfort. "Jarvis, what time is it?" Tony called after Loki finally dozed off again, pressing his face into Tony's neck like a kitten.

"It is nearly five minutes past three o'clock, sir," the personality simulator replied. For once, he didn't seem to have a hold on his sarcastic wit; Tony chalked it up to the scene the AI probably just witnessed.

"Wake us only if all the team enters the kitchen before we do."

"Of course, sir."

The couple didn't even bother to shower that morning. They dressed in sweatpants and took the elevator down to the kitchen shirtless, hair still ruffled from sleep, hands clasped loosely as they tried dozing on each other's shoulder. The team ignored the blatant bite mark on Tony's arm which was obviously from the night before, but no one could tear their eyes away from Loki's drained expression and the dark circles under his eyes. Evidence of crying was clear on the god's face as he pour himself a cup of tea and left for the lounge area without a sound.

Tony watched him for a bit, grabbing two apples, and then joined his lover. The Avenger's stared at the two males as a quiet, bitter argument started when the shorter man tried to hand the trickster one of the apples. It continued for several minutes until Tony rose and walked back to the kitchen, glass apple in one hand.

He handed the remaining edible one to Bruce with a "make sure he eats" before slumping his way to his workshop. After nearly twenty minutes of coaxing, Loki finally took a single bite of the apple, glad that his back was turned so no one else could see the tears streaming down his face or his arms wrapped around a barely rounded stomach.

Natasha picked the glass apple off the counter, giving the two friends a bit of privacy. It was cold, red seeped into it like a foreign dye. The spy shifted it in her hand, and the color moved with the change, creating patterns in the clear orb. The stem was a brown stone connected to the glass in a peculiar, seamless fashion. Clint looked over her shoulder at it, not bothering to reach out and touch it, knowing that his overeager personality could easily break the beautiful device.

Steve looked to Thor to ask what could have caused this, but the Thunderer was shooting worried glances at his brother and heated glares towards the workshop.

Suddenly Loki looked around, when he didn't see Tony still in the room, stood, uncaring if the others noticed the tears in his eyes or his slowly swelling stomach, and ran towards the man. Bruce watched on with a gaping mouth. There was silence then a crash of metal on metal on glass. The rest of the team rushed to check on the two, stopping only to watch as the god collapsed in the billionaire's arms. The force of their meeting had caused several shelves to fall into each other and the glass wall of the shop.

"I'm here. I'm here. I won't leave."

Loki hated appearing weak in front of his former enemies, but he couldn't bring himself to lift his head from Tony's lap as the human talked with Thor and Bruce about the aftermath of his nightmare. The Liesmith had not spoken all morning, and he didn't feel the need to. He knew the others watched him. He could feel their eyes burning into him; into his arms that he clamped around his bare stomach; into Tony's hand that rested on his head, combing through black hair absentmindedly.

Tony repeated his plea to the doctor and the Asgardian in a hushed whisper. Both knotted their brows tightly, thinking over the words. Thor opened his mouth to speak but caught the despair in Loki's eyes.

"Brother," he began, leaning forward, but Loki didn't listen. He stood, still cradling his stomach and teleported away. Thor closed his mouth at once, staring at the spot where Loki had stood. Bruce stood to find the god while Tony stared at his hands.

"I've never seen him like this," the billionaire admitted. "I've seen him angry, annoyed, even in tears, but this…this…is…" Suddenly he shook himself, glaring heatedly at Thor. "Explain now." His tone was bitter, icy, so similar to Loki's when the brothers had spoken before his rehabilitation that the god backed away ever so slightly.

"I do not mean any harm, Son of Howard. Know this," Thor began.

Tony tried to speak to Loki over the following three days, and though the Frost Giant clung to his side, the green eyed one refused to talk. Yet when Thor entered into their presence, the God of Myschief would teleport away, leaving Tony feeling a bit colder than usual and Thor stricken. On the night of the third day, the genius had had enough.

Loki had retreated to their rooms after a run in with his adoptive brother and was preparing for a bath when his short lover stormed in. His cotton, white t-shirt (one he had stolen from Tony) had inched up, revealing the delicate, growing curve. The human's foul visage softened at it; his anger and frustration turned to sadness as he reached to cup the womb.

"I want you to stop moping," Tony demanded, staring at the proof of their creation. "I want you to explain to me why this child is under the same threat as the others." He finally lifted his gaze to Loki's, staring into glowing green eyes. "I want to hear your voice."

"Anthony…"

The noise from Loki's throat was choked, strained. The billionaire nearly had to lean in to hear him. There was a ripple in the image before him, and Tony blinked it away, thinking the lack of sleep was finally catching up to him. Both had stayed awake for three days; Loki didn't want to dream, and Tony didn't want him to suffer alone.

"I will not be commanded again," Loki warned, though his glare was only halfhearted.

So the god confessed his fears to the human.