A/N: Physical abuse warning because I don't know if I should put it here so I am just to be safe; also I would like to apologize in advance for this chapter, the next one, and the one after that.

Sorry, sorry, sorry.

As happy as Tony is with Loki, he knows it won't last.

It can't, not the way they've always been, the way they still are now. They are going to fight, Tony knows, and one of them is going to push it too far, and then it's going to be over again. And Tony's not sure if he's going to be able to pick up the pieces and restart a second time.

He's not sure if Loki's going to want him to.

Even so, he can't help enjoying the time he has with Loki, can't help but pretend like he thinks that it's going to last a lifetime. On mornings when they have rehearsals—the only time Tony ever gets up early—they wake up at the same time and usually shower together, laughing about the lack of space and sliding hot, wet hands over each other's bodies. On mornings when they don't, Tony wakes up to find Loki already gone to class, but there's always something waiting for him on the table between their beds—a fresh pack of cigarettes (and Tony will never not appreciate that because he knows Loki doesn't exactly approve of his smoking), or the name of the restaurant Loki wants to eat at that night (though usually they don't eat out except on weekends), or just a little note, reading something along the lines of invent something today or good luck on your physics paper. During the day, if they can manage to meet up between classes and study periods, they do—stopping in coffee shops for a drink and some cake, or just sitting on a bench on the quad, or heading down to the gym for a quick workout session that leaves both of them sweat-soaked and wanting the other. Nights are, of course, the same as they've been all semester, but there's something different about the sex now, something more intimate. Often, afterwards, when they're lying in each other's arms, not saying anything, Tony will try and put a finger on the feeling, but he never can.

He still doesn't do emotions, after all.

(There are moments during the day when it enters Tony's head that he might actually be in love with Loki, but there's something final about love that he's not ready to deal with, so he ignores his thoughts.)

But Christmas draws closer, and they're still together, and Tony's starting to think they might make it this time. He's only a little worried that Thanos hasn't made contact with either of them, not once, since his phone call to Loki during Thanksgiving. Occasionally he sees the guy walking around campus, wearing one of those weird, dark shirts of his, headphones running up through his shirt and into his ears. Once, just once, he and Thanos made eye contact, and it was the scariest five seconds of Tony's entire life. He spent the rest of that particular day wondering why Loki ever went out with Thanos to begin with. Still, he's staying out of Loki's way, like he said he would, and that's all Tony really cares about.

About three days before the Macbeth performance—three days, fourteen hours, and thirty-five minutes to be exact, not that Tony's counting down or getting nervous as fuck about forgetting his stage directions or his lines or anything—they have a particularly strenuous rehearsal that lasts an hour longer than usual, mostly because they're using their costumes now and not everyone understands the concept of Shakespearean dress. When it's over, the drama instructor calls Tony over to discuss one of Macduff's scenes, and Loki goes backstage by himself to wait for his boyfriend.

He's just finished putting his regular clothes back on and is about to head over to the water fountain when an all-too-familiar voice calls out behind him:

"Loki! Wait up, just wait for a second."

He doesn't want to turn, but his feet stop of their own accord and he finds himself looking over his shoulder at none other than Thanos, who is walking up to him with a barely suppressed smile on his face and his head slightly tilted, like he's curious about something. Loki notices he's wearing one of the shirts he designed while they were still together—before all the shit started—and though he doesn't want to, he grows almost wistful.

"Thanos," he says, nodding his head in acknowledgement and thinking, almost subconsciously, that there's no way Thanos can hurt him here, not with all these people around. Even so, he takes a step back, fingers brushing the brick wall behind him.

Thanos steps forward—of course, Loki thinks, annoyed—and cranks his smile up a notch. "It's been a while, huh, Lo'? How are you?"

"I'm okay," mutters Loki, staring at his feet and wondering why Thanos is acting like this and hating himself for reverting so instantly to the passive state he was usually in around his ex. "You?"

"I've been getting by," says Thanos, staring into Loki's eyes, looking just as cold and almost-dead as he ever did. "Been missing you, though."

"If you hadn't treated me like shit, I wouldn't have broken up with you," Loki replies, still looking at his feet but instinctively flinching back, half expecting Thanos to hit him or at least start screaming at him.

Instead, Thanos just sighs. "Again, Loki, I have seen the error of my ways. I'm ready to try again whenever you are. In the meantime, however… I have finally decided that I'm okay with you dating Tony. That's not to say that you won't always be first in my heart, but if you feel the need to use him as a rebound while you're trying to figure out your true feelings for me—"

Loki snaps his head up. "Tony is not a rebound—"

"—then I'll have to be okay with it. I respect your decision, Lo'."

"I don't need your consent to date Tony, Thanos. Nor is he a 'rebound' from you. He and I—" and here Loki pauses, because honestly, he's not sure what he and Tony are, aside from 'happier than either of them have been in two years'. He's in love with Tony, he knows that for sure—and it's one of the rare moments when he's not even going to bother denying his feelings to himself so he hopes Stark knows how damn lucky he is—but he's not one hundred percent positive that Tony feels the same way (although he has, occasionally, caught the older man looking at him over their coffee or their dinner or in the early hours of the morning, and the expression in his eyes is always raw and tender and completely unlike any other emotion he ever shows). Loki falters, and Thanos grabs onto it like a lifeline.

"Lo', I swear, I've changed. I'll be better; it'll be like it was in September. I still love you. I'm not selfish like Tony." He reaches out and tucks his fingers under Loki's chin, and Loki winces. "This is your last chance to see what a huge mistake you're making."

"It's not a mistake," Loki says automatically, because it's not, not to him anyway, and something clouds over in Thanos' eyes and grows dark. His hand slides down from Loki's chin to his throat, and suddenly he's choking him, or nearly, pushing him back against the wall hard enough to make the brick dig through his thin green shirt and into his skin.

"Tony Stark is a mistake!" he yells, and because they are pretty far from the food table, there aren't any other people near them anymore—and damn, Loki wishes he'd noticed that before; he always seems to get himself into these sorts of things. The younger man flinches, shutting his eyes, and suddenly a pair of hot, slightly chapped lips are pressed to his, the familiar taste of spice and apples and something else, something darker and less identifiable, filling his mouth. Thanos keeps one hand on Loki's throat but slides the other over his arm, down to his hand, thumb encircling his palm. Loki doesn't kiss back, but that doesn't deter Thanos, who just keeps biting Loki's lower lip and occasionally pushing him harder against the wall.

Finally, though, he does pull away from him—though he leaves their faces less than an inch from each other—and licks his lips, sneering a little. "Tony is a mistake," he repeats, softer now. "You just proved my point."

"I never kissed back," Loki replies, and is surprised at how shaky his voice is. Thanos slides his hand up a bit so he can dig his thumb into Loki's wrist, applying a slight bit more pressure to his neck.

Loki thinks he won't be breathing pretty soon.

With an effort—because Loki is pretty well-built, despite his sinewy appearance, but Thanos is incredibly strong—he manages to jerk his head out of Thanos' grasp. "Fuck off," he snarls, and it's then that Tony, who is finally done talking to the teacher and was starting to wonder where Loki was, comes up, red-faced and furious. He grabs Thanos and hauls him off Loki, slamming his fist into the side of his face.

"You fucking liar," Tony snaps. "You said you'd leave him alone."

"And so I have, Stark," Thanos replies, his voice taking on a snakelike quality; all slippery and smooth and completely damaged underneath. "I was just making sure that he didn't want to return to me. That's all."

"Well, he obviously doesn't." Tony fixes his eyes onto Thanos' and immediately regrets it, because the guy isn't just masking his emotions, he doesn't have any—except maybe anger and hate, and even that's buried underneath layers and layers of pure ice. He swallows, but keeps his gaze, and after a few seconds Thanos laughs, and steps away from both of them, in the direction of the exit. A dark bruise is beginning to develop on his cheek, and Tony wonders how he's going to make it through the performance without sweating off all the cover-up he's probably going to need.

"Obviously," Thanos repeats. "Well. Goodbye, Lo'. Goodbye, Tony." He pauses, like he's thinking, then that sneer returns. "I look forward to seeing you both on the night of the play." He walks off, and Tony tries to ignore the chill that runs up his spine.

Once Thanos is out of sight, Tony turns to face Loki, who is alternatively rubbing the hollow of his throat and his wrist. He walks forward two steps and takes Loki's arm in his hand, lifting it to his face.

"Let me look," he says. Bruises—faint, but obvious—mar the pale skin. It's like it was before, and Tony hates himself for not coming sooner. "Jesus, Shakespeare."

It's what Tony always says when something bad happens to Loki—and usually it's amusing or endearing or a number of other at least slightly positive adjectives, but today it just grates on his nerves. "It's fine," he mutters, pulling away.

Tony frowns. "Hey," he says. "I'm just trying to be here for you. You know, moral support, take a little of the edge off—would it help if I took you back to the dorm room and blew you in the shower?" He's not sure why he's being so snarky all of a sudden—except that Loki's attitude is confusing him, and when Tony Stark gets confused, he gets angry.

"I'd prefer not, Stark," Loki murmurs coolly. "I can take care of myself."

"Yeah, well, that's debatable," snaps Tony, without thinking, and Loki, who had been on the verge of walking away, stops, his spine stiffening.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Just what it sounds like." Tony moves so that he and Loki are facing again, and anger battles for a second with concern on his face before the former wins out. "You claimed to be over Thanos, and yet just now you were talking to him again, letting him treat you like shit, the way he used to… Face it, Laufeyson; you can't get away from him. You don't want to."

Loki narrows his eyes. "How dare you accuse me of not having control of my own life?"

"Think about it, will you? Every damn time Thanos tries to pull some shit with you, it's always either me or Thor that has to intervene. It's almost like you want him to stay in your life."

"I don't," hisses Loki. "You do realize, I suppose, that our conversation just now wasn't voluntary on my part?"

"Yeah, but you let it happen, Loki." Tony's fists clench inside his jacket; he's furious, seething, and it's a few minutes before he realizes that he's not angry at Loki, he's terrified for him. He's seen the effects Thanos has had on Loki—the way the darker haired man flinches if Tony moves too fast near him, the way he's still extremely hesitant about letting himself be taken (not that Tony minds, really, it just makes him sad), the uncertainty he exhibits if he has to make his own choices—and Tony's afraid that the hold Thanos has might still be there, lingering just below the surface, and if Loki doesn't fight it, it will never go away. "You let it happen; you let him think he's still got some power over you—"

"I have never given Thanos any reason to think that. I made it very clear to him just now that I never want to see him again—"

"Which is why he was walking away from you so quickly, right?"

"Stark—" Loki starts, a warning.

"All I know is that what I saw didn't look like you getting him away from you at all; it looked like Thanos was fucking you up again and you were just taking it. If you really had gotten the message across to him when you broke up, he wouldn't be speaking to you now at all—"

"Yes," Loki interjects coolly, "just as effectively as you got your message across to him back in November, correct?"

Tony opens his mouth, then snaps it shut. His jaw works; his throat is clogged and bitter with the words he's holding back.

Finally, he says, "He left you alone for a whole month, Loki. You can't say what I did wasn't… well, that it didn't have an impact on him."

"Yes, it did affect him in some way, I will allow you that. However, you cannot tell me what I said was any less effective than what you said—"

"All I'm saying is that you're letting him back in too easily," Tony snaps, and thinks, and I'm fucking scared for you, Shakespeare, I don't know what he's going to do to you now.

They are both quiet for a while. Loki's gaze turns cold, calculating; a small sneer twitches the upper right corner of his lips.

"You're jealous, aren't you, Stark? That's your problem, isn't it?"

As always when confronted with something that irritates him, Tony immediately goes for his sarcasm. "Yeah, jealous, that's right; I'm jealous of your emotionally and physically abusive ex, the man who basically ruined your entire first semester as a sophomore in college and who probably would've killed you if given half the chance—"

"You are jealous of the hold he has on me; something you cannot even begin to comprehend or hope to achieve yourself." This is a lie, of course; Loki regrets it the instant it comes out of his mouth. He's pushed too far and he knows it; he can see it in the way Tony's eyes shift and darken, in the way his jaw twitches. They are quiet again, but it's slightly different this time; heavier, more definite. At last, Tony turns, so that Loki can't see his face anymore.

"Maybe we should take a break, then," he says. "See what kind of hold one of us has on the other in a few days."

Loki flinches, because he can hear the raw pain and hurt in Tony's voice, buried beneath the arrogance and the sarcasm. He reaches out a hand; hesitantly puts it on Tony's arm. "Stark, I didn't—"

"Just don't, Loki," Tony interrupts, jerking away from his long-fingered grasp, and when he walks away Loki lets him.

Backstage is completely silent; the only sound penetrating through the thick walls is the faint ringing of a class bell upstairs. Loki sinks back against the brick wall, his head in his hands, and lets the tears come as his self-hate begins to manifest again.