Notes: I LOVE JACK ATLAS: Thanks(:
ratchetsfangirl: I really, really, really (etc…) appreciate to hear that. Like. A lot. So, thank you for taking the time out of your day to sit and read my entire story in one sitting (I'm sure made slightly easier by the short chapters). Thank you(:
"White knuckles and sweaty palms from holding on too tight."
There was a faint rumble of thunder in the far off distance – a sound that, whether he wanted it to or not, always brought thoughts of his brother about his subconscious. He waved them off in annoyance, much like swatting at a cloud of gnats, taking a step forward as his eyes scanned cautiously over the surrounding area. It was a small space containing only a bed and a dresser that sat along the opposite wall of the former piece of furniture. The latter was more like a coffee table with drawers in it than it was a proper dresser. Tony had insisted that it wasn't a cell, and that it was merely just one of the guest rooms in Stark Tower. As he ran his long fingers carefully against the ornate filigree relief on the corner of said dresser, he imagined that Tony Stark didn't have many guests. His eyes trailed away from the furniture as his hand once more found its place, limp by his side. He found his gazed fixed on the rather large window that sat across the room from the dresser, giving the appearance that it was resting at the foot of the bed. The sky was dark in the distance, a sign of impending storm earlier signaled by thunder, the clouds accenting the horizon with staccatos of purples and deep reds the only indicator that the sun was setting. Drawing his lips in to a thin line, Loki slid himself up on to the dresser, pulling his legs up and folding them cross-legged in front of him. He placed his hands on his knees lightly, and drew in a deep breath, his posture relaxing as much as the wall would allow as he leaned his head back, fatigue pulling at his eyelids.
A familiar stench graced his nostrils, causing him to scrunch up his nose in disgust. It smelled like a wake mixed harshly with the pooling blood of the end of battle; of death and destruction and sickening, senseless vengeance; of dread and hate and fear; of rotting flesh and dead animals and embalming fluid. It was the definition of repulsive, Loki decided, biting back the bile that nipped at the base of his throat. He cast his eyes downward, his lip curled a bit as he eyed the rotting carcasses, taking careful steps as to not touch any of them, lest maggots crawl on him and dirty his boots. Or, at least, that's what he told himself of why he was treading so carefully. It's not that he was terrified of the being that had done this. Not that the thought of becoming one of those discarded and uncared for carcasses that littered the ground shook him to his core. Never that, because what reason did Loki have to fear anyway? He swallowed hard, pushing his thoughts away with vigor as he picked lightly at his hands; they itched beneath the wrappings.
Loki froze, his body as rigid as a block of ice (he would smirk at the comparison if not for the present situation) upon hearing movement behind him. Swallowing hard, he evened his breath out as he worked at muting his expression. His eyebrows leveled, conveying a pseudo-confidence as he turned, making sure to almost over exaggerate the steps in order to keep himself quiet as he did so. He drew in a sharp breath merely out of reaction to the brooding figure who pillaged before him. His lips parted slightly as his eyes scanned over the behemoth's body, watching as it discarded various bodies like pieces of paper in the wind, his heart trying desperately to remove itself via his throat.
"Thanos," he heard himself breathe before he had the sense of mind to stop it. He wanted desperately to just clutch the words and stuff them back in to his mouth. Whatever had managed to keep him shielded from those around him suddenly vanished. He could physically feel it leave, as if a chain snapped in his mind, dropping a sudden anchor, causing him to furrow his brows a bit against the sudden feel of exposure. A deep, nerve rattling bout of hysterical laughter caused Loki to jump slightly, his eyes scanning quickly for an escape route. Of course, it was in vain, and Loki was well aware of this fact.
Thanos turned to face Loki, his horrid laughter clinging to his tongue. Loki swallowed hard, watching the creature before him, thought he tried hard to keep his face a blank canvas. That too, was in vain, he supposed, as his eyes seemed to betray him.
"Silvertongue," he breathed angrily, meeting Loki's eyes. Thanos' size actually surprised the former. Loki wasn't a short individual, but the Mad Titan still managed to tower over him. Loki raised his brows as if to acknowledge the greeting. "You have returned." The lover of death twisted his mouth, baring his teeth with what Loki assumed was supposed to have been some sort of smile. Loki returned the gesture.
"I assure you it was not intended," he replied dryly, taking a step back as the other advanced. This, much like everything he'd done in the last minute or so, had been in vain, he found, as the other reached forward with a pallid hand and removed him from the ground, using his throat much like a wine glass stem with half as much grace.
Loki brought his hands up to the other's, clawing at them and trying desperately to slip his fingers between his neck and the large fingers that were wrapped around it, struggling as he tried to take deep breaths. He kicked his feet just barely at the realization that they were no longer touching the ground, a surge of panic clawing at his very being, causing his chest to tighten and his heart begin to race. This only caused Thanos to push out a smug laugh. Loki wouldn't doubt for a second he was enjoying this. He tried to swallow, but found it difficult against the crushing grip, and began to breathe short, ragged breaths through his nose as he gritted his teeth. His chest was uncomfortably tight, his lungs deprived of air and fear coursing through his veins. He drew in another short breath, an unfamiliar wetness beginning to tickle at his cheeks. This surprised Loki, and it was only as his vision blurred that he realized that they were tears. Tears of pain; of fear; tears that represented his last, pitiful, desperate plea for his life against the monster crushing his trachea; tears that disgusted the god. He sneered a bit against them, still struggling against the larger individual. Gripping tight against the hand around his throat, he brought his legs up, kicking with as much force as he could muster to try and push off of the Mad Titan, hoping the surprise would cause him to loosen his grip and not, in turn, snap his neck.
Tony slammed his hands flat against his bar in frustration, watching as the opaque brown liquid trembled slightly at the vibration. He took in a deep breath, licking the tingling burn of the Scotch away from his lips. His meeting with Loki didn't go as expected. He was hoping he could perhaps coax some answers out of the God of Mischief. Things like…well, why he was here, why he had the tesseract. You know, the important, burning questions. But, to no avail, as it really just ended in a battle of wits as clever comebacks, thus leaving Tony flustered as he stomped away to his bar to sulk in solitude. At least that plan had worked out to his advantage. He rolled his lips a bit, and then picked up the glass, downing the remaining contents in one swift gulp. He sunk down to his elbows, curling his hands around his chin as he looked forward.
Apparently, immersed in the cool silence of his bar, Tony had started to drift off. He knew this only because he was startled awake, his face planted firmly on the counter, as Thor burst in. Wiping away the drool that had pooled at the corner of his mouth, he furrowed his brows at the flustered Thor before him, attempting to adjust his eyesight as his brain slowly woke up. "Whuuu…" he began, examining the god's expression.
"My brother," Thor says slowly, much to Tony's dismay. "You must take me to him, quickly." The blond was now tugging at Tony's arm, leading him quickly around the bar towards the door. Tony was fairly confused at this point.
"Loki?" he reiterated, finding stride with Thor. "Why?"
Loki lurched forward, landing with a sharp cry of pain, his shoulder colliding sharply with the floor below. He rolled over a bit, the soft carpet nipping at his cheeks, comforting in the fact that he was laying in the floor of Stark Tower, and not dead. As comforting as that could be really. He let out a heavy, shaky sigh, opening his eyes to look around – they still burned from the tears as they slowly faded back in to a pale green. His frowned deepened.
He could hear the door swing open with a heavy force, making a crashing sound as it hit against the wall. He didn't move. He didn't roll over. He didn't look at them.
Thor sucked in a deep breath, furrowing his brows at his brother. He lay in the floor before the two of them – himself and Tony. He lay on his side, somewhat crumpled at the edge of the dresser, his back facing the two of them. Tony thinned his lips. He had to admit, even when he was a lump on the ground he managed to be graceful about it. Shifting his weight, he glanced to Thor, and then back to the lump in across the room.
"What?" Loki hissed hoarsely, as loud as he could muster, though it hurt against his throat.
"You called for help," Thor said in a reminding tone. He watched as the figure before them shifted a bit.
Loki's frown deepened – even he was surprised it was possible. "I did no such thing," he again choked out. He pushed his body up, back still towards the two men in the door. He held is arm out at an angle, palm flat against the floor as if to support him. He winced against the pain in his shoulder, but, it wasn't nearly as bad as it was before. He was healing, at least. Not that it would matter if Thanos once again got hold of him. He drew his lips in to a thin line, awaiting a response.
"You did," Thor insisted, his tone rising a bit in pitch – a clear sign of his frustration. Though he could not see it, Loki smirked at the sound. "I could hear you from down the hall." Thor's heart was still beating a tad bit quickly in fright. As angry as he could be at his brother – which, to anyone's surprise, could be quite a bit – he would always be concerned for his safety. And the fact that he could hear his cries for help alarmed him, regardless of whether or not Loki would admit he was doing such.
Loki furrowed his brows at his brother. He didn't remember calling out for help. He couldn't remember saying a whole lot of anything, especially considering his airway was being constricted by a death obsessed Titan. He drew his lips in to a thin line, contemplating. "I did no such thing," he insisted again, this time panged with a sense of curious confusion and annoyance. Brows coming together lightly in pain, the God pushed himself up off of the floor, standing now with his back to them. He swayed a bit as he stood, reaching out to steady himself on the nearby dresser. Drawing in (much to his delight) a deep breath, he turned slowly to face them, prepared to demand them to explain their nonsense.
Tony furrowed his brow at Loki as he turned, watching carefully as he swayed ever so slightly on his feet. The god turned, and Tony was surprised that his jaw didn't drop. His eyes moved immediately to the other's neck, his brows practically meeting his hairline. There was a small trail of crimson that traced the side of the god's neck, but that wasn't what startled him most. Against the porcelain skin of the aforementioned, large bruises, a deep purple-black in contrast to the color of his flesh, welted up around his neck, the pattern in the shape of a large hand clear as day. He scanned slowly from Loki's neck to his face, looking for some sort of reaction. His face fell with soft concern, examining the light streaks from now dried tears that adorned his cheeks, his eyes still slightly red around the brim. He'd cried. He was met almost instantly with an icy glare from Loki, his eyes shifting to Thor as Tony cast his own gaze down, as if caught doing something he shouldn't have. Tony rolled his lips a bit, and then glanced to Thor to see if he had noticed.
Watching Tony and Thor's faces, Loki self-consciously brought his hand to his neck, wrapping his slender fingers around it as if to hide it. It was almost raw to the touch, but he kept his face a blank canvas, only raising his brow curtly as he waited for one of them to say something to him.
Thor frowned at his brother, watching him for a moment. "Brother…" he said, flopping his hands at his sides as though he were at a loss for words. "What happened?"
Tony raised a brow, looking from Thor to Loki, nodding a bit. In a swift motion (he was fairly proud of himself) he kicked the door shut behind him, listening as the lock made a light click to signify that they only way they were getting out of the room was either with an override from Tony Stark, or the window to their left. He looked at Loki pointedly, crossing his arms about his chest just beneath the Arc reactor. "Yeah," he said in agreement, "do explain."
Loki frowned at first, watching as Tony closed the door, effectively trapping the three of them in here. His eyes darted around as he searched for effective escape routes, which, really, was only the window. He supposed he could probably just teleport out, but he wasn't sure he was rested enough for that. Using that kind of focus on your magic could definitely make one worse for the wear, especially if that someone is currently riddled with various injuries that aren't quite healed yet.
His eyes moved to Thor in contemplation. In all honesty, he was surprised that the oaf hadn't run home to tell Odin about this whole incident yet. And, with that thought, it all hit him like a freight train. His lips twisted in to a smirk as he looked between the two.
The reason Thor hadn't been in Asgard as of late is because he was here. On Earth. This is where he'd been since the last time that Loki had been reprimanded. Because, he felt the overwhelming need to protect the people here. With Stark; with Banner; with Rogers and Romanoff and Barton. The Avengers. He was standing in a room in the Avengers Tower. Earths mightiest heroes and all that. He wasn't sure why he hadn't realized this before, but now that he had, it was very much to his advantage.
Loki tilted his head to the side just slightly, leaning more in to the dresser. "Where would you like me to begin?" he questioned.
