It's like sleep paralysis, intoxication, and autoscopy coming together in a cocktail of smug sadism. It's feeling detached from a body that you shouldn't have but you remember possessing. It's watching yourself watching your surroundings and not quite knowing if the drooling, emaciated body lying in the mud is you or not.
It's feeling the senses return to your being and realizing that for all the running you've done, you've wound up right back where you started.
His eyes pulse, and the lights dim. Loki's head lolls, and he finds himself staring at the ceiling, where a purple man stands with a sneer. The man flicks his fingers against the bars keeping Loki within the pit.
"Did you really think I wouldn't find you", he says, and he's suddenly in the pit, dragging a finger up and down the crook of Loki's neck. "Make no mistake, little one. I will always find you. And you will always be mine."
The man, he's gone again, but Loki's still here, immobile and without his wits. He groans, and the sky does, too, dropping torrents of water and white fissures. The water gathers around him, and he thinks, I could drown in here. But the water rises, and his body floats, determined to keep him alive for whatever torture the man has prepared.
Who is that man? And why does he frighten me so?
Loki whimpers and tries to get his fingers to move, to flinch, to twitch, something, anything, but there's nothing. There's just the stubborn beating of his heart and feeble workings of his lungs. He can't do anything, can't even conjure up how he arrived here. All he can do is stare, and even that is a difficult task. He's only been awake for a few minutes, but a burning liquid's slipping into his veins and pulling him under, and, well, what's the point of fighting when you can't even move?
He goes under, and it's even worse because there's no burning here, which means he can move and make better sense of things. And under, he knows who the purple man is. And he knows why he's afraid.
Thanos. He who means Death and who would be quick to disperse it. Loki knows this man, and, arguably, this man knows him better than anyone else. He's stood at this man's side and beamed with pride but also stood beneath him and cried in terror because there was never one without the other. Loki doesn't know how Thanos found him. He doesn't know what he plans to do with him, and he doesn't know what toxins he's pumping into him. But he knows this much: whatever Thanos wants, he's going to get it, and he'll kill Loki before he lets him escape again.
Norns. He can't go through this again. He barely survived being Thanos's pet, he can't, and won't, live as his prisoner. There has to be someway out of this, but he knows there isn't. Because he's been on the other end of this. And there is no way out.
"Wake up, Odison. You have a guest."
The sound of metal slamming against hard rock startles Loki out of unconsciousness. Not even a moment later, there's a body being tossed into the pit and, more importantly, onto Loki. Once they've gathered their bearings, the person groans, pulls away, and squints down at him.
It's him. That human. The glowing one.
Stark.
"Loki", he sputters; he stands, only to slip in the watery sludge of the pit and crash back to the ground. He presses a protective hand to his chest and narrows his eyes. "What the hell are you doing here?"
"I could...I could ask you the same." He feels better than before, but better still isn't good. It must go beyond feeling because Stark is staring at him like he's grown a tail.
Norns, it's not his tail, is it?
"Are you...drunk?" He says it like he's in awe, like the thought of Loki being anything but sober goes against any and all forms of reality. Needless to say, it does take quite a bit to get him drunk, but it's not impossible. Especially not when you've given the drugs to a madman.
Before he can answer, Thanos slams the gate of the pit and slides its locks into place. Loki stiffens, presses back against the rock he'd been sleeping against, and clenches his fists. Thanos just smirks. Stark looks between the two and raises an eyebrow, but he doesn't say anything. Thanos also isn't saying anything, but, then again, he's never really had to.
He leaves again, and then it's just Loki, Stark, and the rain. Stark brushes his hair back, spits out some water, and searches for who knows what. He purses his lips, then turns to Loki, tugging his feet close to his chest. Loki just glares.
"Don't give me that look", Stark says, holding his hands out to him. "I wanted no part of this."
"Right. And that makes me feel...feel...so much...better." Loki's eyes rolls back into his head, and he finds he's falling again, falling into memories, nightmares, he'd long since suppressed, and they're all just coming so fast and so hard, and they just won't stop and-
"Sir!"
Loki gasps and jolts up, kicking his blankets off of him and crawling out of bed. He stumbles into the nearby bean bag chair, wraps his arms around him, and curls into a bawl, shivering and whimpering as the dream clings to him like a parasite. All the while, someone's calling for him, at first softly and patiently, then loud and insistent.
"Mr. Laufeyson."
"Loki. Loki, wake up!"
"Sir, I don't believe shouting will help, and he is already awake."
Loki peeks through the space between his arms. Someone's flicked the lights on and, for lack of a better word, shattered his door. It's too bad. He kind of liked that door.
Loki lowers his arms and stares up at the person gripping him like an ailing child; he's pressed against someone's chest, and that someone is rambling on, arguing about something nonsensical with the Voice. Against his better judgement, Loki pulls the plain white tee within his fingers and presses his face further into the person's chest. "Thor", he says shakily; he sounds just like he did as a child on Asgard, crawling into his elder brother's bed after enduring night terrors of the Garmr and the Lyngbakr. Any other time, he would recoil at the thought of being so close to Thor. But the dream is still too close, still too vivid, and Thor had always been able to keep the monsters at bay.
"Loki", Thor says, sounding relieved to have finally gotten through to him. "What's wrong? Do you need emergency care? Is it your wounds? Are you-"
Loki digs his nails into his chest and shakes his head. "No, no, I'm fine. I just-I just, I can't-"
Understanding passes across Thor's face. He nods, tightens his arms around Loki. "Okay", he says quietly. "Okay."
Loki could hate Thor. He hates how easily he gets on with people, how easily he gets on with life. Everything he's ever wanted, he's received or obtained with little effort. He finished the race and got the trophy, nevermind having barely lifted a finger, while Loki's had to bleed and scratch just to get to the finish line and realize that after all this time, he was never even a contestant, never even had a chance. Loki could hate Thor if Thor could be detestable. He's loud, boisterous, prone to tossing that hammer around without an apt assessment of the situation. But these traits, aggravating though they may be, aren't enough to draw Loki's hatred.
Because when Thor is loud, it's only because he's happy. When he is boisterous, it's because something so wonderful, so lovely has gotten him in such good spirits that he can't contain himself. And when he's reaching for Mjölnir, it's because he's been hurt deeply. Thor's never really understood him, but he's always tried, even when Loki pushed him away and hurt him to his core, he was still trying. Thor may be a lot of things, but the object of Loki's hate is not one of them.
"How are you fairing?"
It's later now. No longer dark but not light either, just that weird space where the faintest touch of day spreads across the night sky. It's usually a comforting sight, but now, all he feels is fatigue and the urge to go back to sleep.
"Fine", he murmurs. He doesn't pull away, and Thor doesn't push. He just brings a hand up to comb it through Loki's hair.
"Tony says you won't leave your floor", he notes, staring at the stacks of books occupying the room.
"I have no need to."
"You're lonely."
Loki scowls. He stiffens within Thor's arms. The terror and legarthy of sleep is fading, and the current state of their relationship is returning to him. This is not how they are. It hasn't been, not in years, decades if he's being honest. He pulls away, turns his back to Thor, and wraps his arms around himself.
The silence between them, once a comfort, now stretches thin like a rubber band between an unsuspecting toddler's fingers. Thor tries to place a hand on his shoulder, but he shrugs it off, putting even more space between them.
"Voice", Loki calls out, closing his eyes. "Why is my brother in my room?"
"He heard your cries and wished to provide you comfort."
He clenches a fist at his side, prepared to launch into a tirade, but Thor's crawled out of their chair to sit before him. Loki falls silent. He breathes and watches Thor stare at him with unconcealed worry.
"This is not Asgard", he tells Loki, placing his hands in his lap. "You don't have to hide. Not here, not around our friends."
"Your friends", Loki corrects. He rises to his feet and walks over to the window, to stare out at the city he'd once attempted to conquer. "To them, I will only ever be the man that means them harm."
"Can you blame them?"
"No." Blue bleeds across his cheeks, and he huffs, pressing his palms against them. "I know my actions have caused...unpleasant sentiments. I just don't see the point in dredging them up once more. I'm only meant to be here for a few months, correct?"
Thor sighs. He brushes a hand through his hair and shakes his head. "Yes but-"
"Then why should I interact with them?" He turns around to glare at Thor. He can feel the golden tendrils burning into his skin, the arctic chill tainting his color. It's the first time in a long time that he's lost control like this, but he can't find it in himself to be surprised. No strength means no magic, and no magic means no cloaking spells. Loki takes his head in his hands and laughs bitterly. "My apologies will have no merit."
Thor blinks. He steps closer, watching transformation afflicting his brother. This time, when he grabs his shoulder, Loki doesn't recoil. He just grits his teeth.
"They did with Tony."
Right. Because his experience with Anthony is so replicable. Whatever he has with Anthony, it's abnormal, and it's something that even now, months into the relationship, he has trouble comprehending. Just the thought of pursuing something beyond enemies with the Avengers is disconcerting, stealing him of more energy than a jog up the Tower's staircases ever could.
Thor must sense this. And because Thor's not nearly as stupid as people would like to believe, he senses everything that this implies. "Your feelings for him", he says softly. "They are not of a...platonic nature?"
"I don't want to speak of this." Outside the window, the city blinks to life; businesses flip their signs to "Open", radio stations stir, and civilians stumble out of their homes and spill onto trains. It's noisy and busy, and busy is good. Busy keeps him distracted. "Anthony is a good friend, and that's it."
"He is a good man", Thor continues. He's got a smile on his face, the one he always wears when Loki struggles to admit something of himself. "Kind, considerate, humorous, brave. He would be a good partner."
Loki narrows his eyes. "Then why don't you court him?" The moment the words leave his lips, his face contorts with horror. Almost everything he's ever wanted, Thor has gotten. That's never been the case in terms of romance, for a number of reasons, but the thought is something he can't bear. He whirls his head around to face him, but Thor is smirking, pushing down a chuckle as his shoulders bounce in amusement. Loki shoves him away and pouts, crossing his arms over his chest as he murmurs, "Shut up."
"Brother", Thor says between giggles. "I would never-"
"I said, 'shut up'!"
Thor just keeps laughing. He reaches out, pulls Loki into his arms, and embraces him in a bone-crushing hug. "Oh, brother. You're going to be all right."
Loki exhales and resigns himself to the hug. "You're insufferable."
"And you're adorable."
"I could kill you if I wanted."
Thor rolls his eyes, then rubs his knuckles into Loki's scalp.
All things considered, it's not the worst way to wake up.
. . .
He doesn't promise anything, but morning comes, and Captain Rogers walks into the Main Floor's kitchen to make a pot of coffee, only to find a pot already brewed.
No one admits to it, and an argument breaks out to find the do-gooder. Someone threatens someone with a banana, a fork gets stuck in the marble cake sitting on the counter, and a week's worth of eggs splatters against the floor. Anthony just stands in the corner, drinking his coffee with a fond smile, and Thor pretends he doesn't notice, hiding his grin behind a powdered doughnut.