Disclaimer: Nothing from this Marvelous universe is mine.
Summary: Three months after Operation Avengers all is well. Or is it? When Steve and Tony hack into SHIELD to find missing weapons shipments they find more than they bargained for in the form of a prisoner who should, by rights, have been sent to Asgard long ago.
Warnings: Moderately graphic torture, hints of non-con.
A/N: Hospital + Assignments = Slow updates :(( Thanks SO MUCH to everyone for sticking with this anyway, despite that! You guys are THE BEST!
(... I swear, one day I WILL get back to normal!sized chapters O.O ...)
Chapter 28: Practicality and Boundaries
Tony doesn't feel that much better when they're flying back.
He feels more in control than he had in the workshop, true. And better then he had while flying Steve through the air telling him every minute or so not to worry because of course this would work. Of course no one would have taken the phone and of course Loki wouldn't have somehow dropped it.
But he doesn't feel good.
Partly that's because he has no idea what Loki's been injected with. And partly it's because, rambling aside, he doesn't actually have the faintest clue what lies Loki apparently got 'them', them hopefully being Polt rather than a random third party, to swallow. But mostly it's because he's looking at Loki's limp, loose frame and the purple bruising and remembering the blind way he'd looked at them when they'd first come and the way his hands couldn't seem to stop shaking.
Remembering the almost dismissive way he'd talked about it all.
Like it didn't matter.
Didn't matter that he'd been tortured because they'd got a strategic advantage in exchange, and why wouldn't anyone put that ahead of his own safety?
The way his eyes sort of got that look in them when he talked about what he'd done—why they shouldn't be sorry it had happened—that made him want to sit him down and shout at him until he listened that they didn't need him to do that for them. That they weren't Asgard and they'd been bluffing things off fine up till then and he didn't need to get himself tortured just to give them an edge.
That they didn't want him to.
His arms tighten just a bit around the now-sopping Steve and Loki and he almost wishes he'd taken a cab. But a cab, while undoubtedly more rain proof, would be slower and there'd be questions and news and everything he doesn't need just now.
And then they're back.
He lands in an under-cover zone and then Steve's holding Loki while Jarvis takes his suit off smoothly piece by piece. Cuirass. Helmet. Greaves.
"Where should we take him?" Steve shouts over the roar of the rain.
Bed? Or the couch?
The couch is easier and quicker. But on the other hand, the bed will probably feel safer for Loki when he wakes...
"Bedroom," Tony calls back, after a second or so, "But we'll probably need to do something about the dripping before we put him down. Before you do, I mean."
Steve nods, and then he's heading towards the elevator.
Tony pauses just long enough to dump the syringe of blue weirdness on a table in the top floor labs. And then he heads downstairs to Loki's room to join Steve.
By the time he gets there, Steve has propped Loki up in the wicker chair against the wall and is rummaging through the bathroom cabinet for what Tony hopes is a towel. Loki's still out, Tony thinks, only his mouth is sort of working soundlessly with what might be words or what might be moans or muscle tremors.
The rest of him's still limp as a dishcloth.
Steve emerges a moment later with two towels and a bundle of clothing. He's holding the towels between him and the clothes, like he doesn't want to get them damper than he needs to, and his face is shining with water under the electric light.
Belatedly, Tony wonders if he's is cold too.
"D'you want me to grab anything for you?" he asks, "New clothes or something?"
Steve dumps his load on the bed.
"It's fine Tony. But thanks."
And then they're towelling Loki off and bundling him out of the dripping clothes and into the dry ones and privately Tony's sort of happy that his ribs aren't jutting out anymore. That his stomach is no longer concave.
He's less pleased about the purple bruising blossoming across there. Whoever had hit had hit hard.
When they've finished, Steve puts him down and propped his head up on his pillows and spread the covers over him in a way which should make him look a lot less vulnerable then it does.
"You think he'll be out a while?" he asks.
Steve looks down.
"...Yes," he says at last.
There's silence, for a few minutes. And then Steve peels off his mask and scrapes back the wet hair out of his eyes and seats himself creakily in the wicker chair he drags over next to Loki's bed. He's still wet but he doesn't seem to mind and Tony can't summon up enough concern for his furniture to care.
"Thanks for the help, Tony," the supersoldier says, and he doesn't seem to be able to tear his gaze away from Loki's prone form, "I think things would have been a lot less... I'm glad it wasn't the three months again. I wouldn't have known where to look."
Tony sinks into the armchair near the window.
"Genius, remember?" he quips, "Always thought I'd make a good detective."
He thinks Steve smiles but in the half light he can't be sure.
There's silence, for a while.
Nothing's happening now, and the room's warm and the chair's soft and he can feel his eyes shutting.
Can feel himself slipping down and down into nothing.
He's distantly aware of the supersoldier saying, "I'm right to stay with him. If, you know, you want to go to bed or anything."
But the darkness is nice and he can't be bothered dragging himself out of it long enough to respond.
At some point he realises he must have gone to sleep because it's light outside and he doesn't remember that happening. Doesn't remember fetching the green blanket that's draped over him and keeping him warm. Steve's dozing next to Loki still on the stool and at some point Loki seems to have kicked his covers back. One hand is twisted somewhere in his shirt and the other rests lightly on top of Steve's. He's snoring.
Tony wonders if he should snap a photo but he's got Jarvis and he really can't be bothered making the effort.
And then he's drifting off again, this time for real.
OoOoOoOoO
When he wakes, the first thing Loki knows is that he's no longer shaking.
He's still sore, but he is less sore than he was. Already his face is less swollen, and the bones in his broken fingers have started to knit together. Only his throat remains as raw as it had been, but that, he thinks, has more to do with thirst than any lingering hurt.
There's a rumbling sound from somewhere distant, and he frowns a little, opening his eyes.
He is in his room.
He is in his room and Tony is snoring near the window and Steve is dozing next to his bed and he can feel a sudden, inexplicable lump rising in his throat. A warmth in his chest which, if he takes the time to analyse it, might mean something close to 'they care'.
They care and they've stayed.
There's something warm beneath his good hand, and it's soft and pulsing and—alive? He looks down and it is resting lightly on Steve's. Steve who is still suited up and damp and who he now suspects has not just stayed but not left him at all.
He withdraws his hand regretfully.
It is... nice, resting there.
But he is thirsty and he wants to be able to say something if anyone asks questions and at the moment he doubts that he can.
He wants water.
He makes to sit up, and the motion tenses his stomach muscles and he winces at the bruised soreness. But it, too, is better than before and his muscles are actually working now. It is, he thinks, no worse than a training match with Thor.
Steve mumbles something in his sleep, and Loki stiffens. But the man doesn't wake, even when he climbs out of bed and pads over to the bathroom.
And then he is running the cold water down the sink and splashing it against his face.
There is no glass in here and he cannot be bothered going downstairs to fetch one. He drinks instead from his cupped hands and as the soothing wetness washes away the itching rawness in his throat— as he knows that once more he can speak— he thinks that for all that it is chlorinated tap water he is swallowing, even the wines of Alfheim had never tasted so good.
By the time he has towelled his face off and returned, he is feeling more alert and refreshed than he has for days. And it's only nine so the odds are high that neither Barton nor Romanoff has left yet to contact Hill. Which is good.
Less good is the fact that he will need to go downstairs and talk to them soon.
But he has had worse duties than this before. And it is not so very bad. They, at least, can be relied upon not to feel sorry for him. But the longer he leaves this duty, the more chance there is that something will go wrong. That they will leave or send a text or do something he has not counted on or calculated.
He leaves the room, closing the door with a soft snick behind him.
"Jarvis?" he calls softly, "Are agents Barton and Romanoff up yet?"
"Yes, Mr Silvertongue. They are in the loungeroom. Captain Rogers requested earlier I tell them to delay their departure when they woke," the AI says, and as the soothing words rush over him he feels himself relaxing.
They have not left and they will not.
He has time. Time to get dressed and slick his hair back and hope the bruising looks less badly than he thinks it might before he comes downstairs.
Turning, he re-enters his room.
The first thing he notices, when he does so, is that Steve has stirred. He's shifted a little on his chair and is blinking groggily and he smiles a genuine, sleepy smile at him that makes him somehow want to smile back.
He allows his lips to curl upwards just a little.
"You are awake," he observes.
"That," Steve groans, yawning and stretching the stiffness out of his arms and back, "Is debatable. I think 'functional' might be a more accurate term. And now I'm starting to sound like a pre-coffee'd Tony."
Loki snorts, and then reminds himself that Tony is, in fact, still asleep.
"You wrong yourself. Tony is not half so coherent," he retorts, more softly.
Steve grins at that. And then he yawns again.
"You did not sleep well?" Loki asks
Steve shrugs.
"Well. I was in the chair," he offers, "And you were unconscious. I tend to stay awake thinking about things like that. Especially when they're my fault."
Loki frowns.
He'd thought they'd dealt with this before.
"You neither wielded the needle nor struck the blows," he says.
"No," Steve agrees, "I just persuaded you to come with me outside and then left you there, alone, in the coffee shop."
Loki hesitates, frowning a little.
"You do not need to feel guilty. It was my choice that I left."
Steve rakes a hand through his messy hair.
"Tell me. Would you feel at all bad if you took me out for coffee and I was gone when you left for five minutes because a stranger wearing your face had lured me away? If I turned up tortured and bleeding and I said, when you managed to find me, that it was fine because I'd sort of hoped I might be able to properly manipulate things if I went and since I had succeeded it was okay? Would you feel the slightest bit guilty that I'd felt I had to make that choice? That I'd been put in a position where it looked like the best one?"
Loki stiffens.
He has a sudden vision of Steve in the cell with the guards and the poison and mirrors—of Steve screaming and helpless and broken—and he has to force the vision away because suddenly he feels ill.
"Oh," he says.
The supersoldier is still looking at him and so he swallows and makes himself add:
"You were... worried?"
He is not used to people worrying. Frigga worried over Baldur. Over Odin, when he slept. And he did, he knows, over Asgard and Thor and—
But only Thor ever worried, sometimes, over him.
"Of course I worried," Steve is saying, "It isn't like battle, when there are rules and everyone is prepared for the risks. This was—we were having coffee. And I couldn't even ring you because I'd forgotten to charge my phone."
Forgotten to charge my phone.
Loki snickers.
It's poorly timed, but he welcomes the distraction it offers.
"What?" Steve asks warily.
"You and your phone. Tony said—and you said you were right for emergencies."
"It isn't funny," Steve insists.
"It is," Loki counters.
"It isn't."
"You looked so self righteous too, when you said you didn't need the lessons," he adds musingly.
"It isn't—I forgot to do it. Not how to do it."
Loki grins at him unrepentantly.
Steve looks like if he weren't a mature superhero he might have thrown one of the pillows sitting temptingly beside him on the bed at him then. As it is, he just sighs and eyes them regretfully.
And then his smile fades.
"Well... anyway. I just wanted to say I was sorry."
The words are heavy but the air is clearer now. Clear enough for him to offer the supersoldier a smile and to say:
"Do not be. Even if I had had no plan, you came for me. And Tony. And I—no one comes before I ask. Before I beg. Until I do I am left to work out my own solutions. A sign of respect, if you like. Or a tool to humble me. I never could decide which. But you did not make me ask."
Steve's lips thin.
"Have you never used yourself as bait? To get information? Cause a distraction? For any reason at all?"
Steve opens his mouth, then shuts it again.
Loki takes that for the confirmation it is.
"You have. Why then is it so very different when I do it?"
"Honestly? The same sort of difference there is between being shot in battle and being bashed to death outside a nightclub at three in the morning. It was unexpected. It wasn't planned. And even if you were like Natasha in terms of having professionally signed up for it, I don't like watching my friends get tortured."
Friends.
Friends.
Always, when they use that word it defeats him.
Makes him feel warm somewhere deep inside.
"But you did not watch it," he says lightly.
"Semantics, Loki. I saw the aftermath. It was like—you should have seen yourself."
He shivers, suddenly.
He doesn't like the thought of seeing himself.
Hates the mirrors and the lights which made that possible over and over and over and-
"I confess that I am glad that you came," he manages to get out, simile fading "I was not as prepared as I should have been. And I miscalculated, at the end. I am not sure how much of the blue he would have given me to find an answer I did not know how to give."
Steve frowns.
Loki steps forward and rests a tentative hand on his arm before he can speak.
"You do not need to feel guilty. Not when you are already doing so much more for me—you and Tony—than anyone else ever has. You are dealing with SHIELD. With Polt. You do not just allow me to flounder and occasionally drag me from the deeper waters if you happen to notice I have sunk. You are stopping them from doing everything I hate. I would take more than the Chitauri's venom," Steve stiffens as he says that, and he isn't sure why, "More than a mere beating, to destroy them all utterly."
And the words are true enough. Pain is a small enough price to pay to avenge himself. To protect what he cares for. And he cares for this corner of this realm as well as himself. For the coffee shop and the tower and for Tony and Steve who should care so much less for him than they do.
For all of them, really, who should be dealing out petty humiliations and who have instead chosen so often to include him.
To make him feel like he matters.
"Just to be clear, Robbie," a gravelly voice says off to the side and Loki twists about quickly and Tony's awake, "If you're planning to make a habit of this, we need to sort out some boundaries."
Loki blinks at him.
"Deal? Because seriously, what happened wasn't cool. No offence to your macho manliness and whatever. I still fully endorse the fact that you've got balls, just so we're clear. Not in doubt."
"But I manipulated them. I got the information," Loki says blankly.
"Yeah," Tony agrees, rubbing at his eyes with one fist, "And you got tortured."
Steve, he notes, is nodding and looking oddly grateful.
"It's not that we don't appreciate what you're prepared to do for us. But... just because you can take it doesn't mean you have to. You know that, right?"
Loki frowns again.
They think he would prefer to do nothing? The idea is absurd.
"And if I chose not to help? If I just," he searches blindly, "Painted? Worked in a coffee shop? Did nothing useful?"
"Working in a coffee shop is useful," Tony says, with feeling.
"You'd still be welcome here," Steve says, meeting his eyes squarely, "I'm not saying I'd never ask for your advice. I would because, frankly, I've never met a better strategist. And I'm not saying I wouldn't like you on my team. But I'd only want you to if you wanted to. Not just because you felt you owed us or felt you had to to stay or something. I mean, if you hadn't stepped in, Polt'd be in and who knows what would be happening with the serum. You're- you don't owe us that."
They think he is doing this because he owes them a debt? And they do not wish to take advantage of that?
It's... touching.
He does smile then, at them both, as he withdraws his hand.
"I wish to help," he says honestly, "Taking revenge is not, I promise you both, something I feel in any way forced to do. But..." he thinks of Steve with Polt and the glaring brightness and almost he thinks he understands, "But I will try not to be tortured again when it is avoidable. And when it is not, I will try harder to notify you of what is happening. When I want or do not want you to intervene."
Tony heaves a sigh of what might be relief.
"Makes my day to hear that one, Robbie. Seriously, what happened was not cool. On many levels."
Steve, too, looks a bit happier.
And he'd been aware, on some level, that they liked him but it's nice to know. To have it confirmed that they value him more than the information they seem to admire him for collecting anyway.
Which, now he thinks about it, he should probably warn them about.
"We may need to alter our plans a little though," Loki says abruptly.
"Oh?" Steve says.
"I might have implied we were going to depose Fury sometime this week," Loki admits.
"You implied what Robbie?"
Loki pastes on what he hopes is a mysterious smile.
"I will tell you more later. When I tell Barton and Romanoff. And Banner. There seems so little point, you understand, in saying everything twice."
Neither of them look entirely satisfied. But they don't object when he makes his way first to his chest of drawers and then away in the direction of his shower with a bundle of clothes, so he counts that a plus.
A minute or so later, he steps under the luxurious warmth and winces as it hits a bruise.
But it's nice and clean and he wants this.
And now all he needs to do is hope that there is a convention Fury is expected to attend this week. Or things could get very awkward very fast indeed.
OoOoOoOoO
In the end, Steve goes upstairs to get Bruce and Tony walks with Loki to the lounge.
They spend the walk arguing about whether or not, since Loki is of the opinion it's possible to use magic to bypass such pesky things as passwords and security data, it's also possible to use science to bypass such inconveniences as magical wards. Tony doesn't, admittedly, understand even half of what Loki's saying but that trivial detail doesn't stop him from arguing that it is anyway.
Going by the half-friendly, half-mocking smile which curls Loki's lips through most of their conversation, Tony suspects the demigod probably knows quite well the counter arguments he's been offering him are mostly bullshit. But if he does, he doesn't call him on it.
Clint and Tasha are eating what looks to be a late breakfast when they walk in.
Or they had been. Now they're sitting straighter, food temporarily abandoned, looking professional. Or, in Clint's case, looking as though he's trying to look professional, only that's just not possible to do when you're him and eating Nutella on toast in pjs. Tasha's better off, if only because she seems to have gotten dressed and brushed her hair pre-rising. And, well, because she's Tasha. She'd probably look intimidating in a tutu and bunny slippers.
"What the fuck happened to your face?" Clint blurts out.
Loki's hand flies up self consciously to touch one swollen, bruised cheek, and he grimaces, glaring at the archer unpleasantly.
"And what are you doing up before twelve Tony?" Tasha says.
"Tell you when Bruce gets here," Tony says comfortably.
Loki, too, refrains from replying.
Instead he makes his way closer to the table. Clint, still eyeing his face, is a second to slow to react when one hand darts out, lightning fast, and steals a slice of his toast.
"Hey! That's my breakfast," the archer says, pulling his plate in protectively.
Loki bites into his stolen prize, and swallows a mouthful.
"Since you care so much, you should spend more time watching your food and less time eyeing me as though I am a rotting specimen of urban road kill."
And then Loki's eyes are lighting up appreciatively.
"This," he peers at the jar, "is 'Nutella'?"
"Yep," Clint says shortly, still scowling at him.
"I like it," the demigod declares.
He takes another mouthful and sinks into the couch, fingers tapping idly on the armrest.
Clint mutters something darkly about Loki at least having taste if not manners that gets a grin from the demigod.
And then Tony turns his back on them all and gravitates over to the kitchen.
Coffee.
He needs coffee and a proper breakfast.
When he gets to it, the coffee maker's hot already from Clint and Tasha's breakfast but he flicks it on again anyway just to be sure.
And, after pouring in some batter, he turns on the waffle iron too.
Then he settles himself against the side of the bench and waits.
OoOoOoOoO
Bruce looks tired when he walks in with Steve.
But since they all look tired, Tony's prepared to set that one aside for now.
There's silence, for a bit, punctuated by the 'ping' of the waffle iron and the coffee machine, and Tony pours himself a cup of steaming coffee and smothers his waffle in maple syrup before making his way over to the table and patting the seat next to him invitingly for the doctor.
Obligingly, Bruce takes the seat.
He doesn't look surprised by Loki's face, so Tony suspects Steve's filled him in on the basics.
"You know, now that we're all here, if any of you wanted to explain what the hell was going on I wouldn't mind," Clint remarks.
Loki rises and dusts the crumbs off his shirt.
"I was captured last night by Polt's men," the demigod starts, dramatically.
Clint stiffens.
"I thought- Jarvis? And how are you here then?"
"I was rescued by Steve. And Tony. And it was not Jarvis' fault. I went outside for coffee with Steve," Loki clarifies, "And was insufficiently watchful for shapeshifters. By the time I realised it was not Steve guiding me, it was too late to escape unharmed. I decided to gather what information I could during their... questioning."
Tasha sits up a bit at that.
"Yes?" Bruce says, frowning.
"I discovered that they have, in fact, always known I was here. That they know Banner is here. That their objective is, or was, to capture him. And me, though I am no longer needed alive," Loki adds with a thin, unpleasant smile, "I have learned that they still need Fury removed. That they have access to a venom with which you would do well to pray you are never injected. That they have no qualms about torturing myself. Or my 'kind'."
"No shit," Clint says, eyes fixed unflatteringly on Loki's face.
The demigod's eyes narrow.
"Go on," Tasha says.
After a moment or so, he does.
"I was able to persuade them that we intend to act soon to bring down Fury at a convention. Only," and here Loki flushes a little, "I do not, in fact, know about them. I seem to recall- but nothing specific. Are there any Fury would be expected to attend?"
Clint frowns for a moment.
"Well... there aren't any conventions. There are some presentations coming up, I think. Some new weapon thing that can stun you- sonic, I think. I forget who designed it. Next week sometime. We think HYDRA's going to try stealing the info it so Fury was going to be on call. And there's a presentation on the Foster Theory in two days. Something about interdimensional travel that's worlds away from getting anywhere . But it's got a hell of a lot of funding. Important people there who want to see what they've paid for. So... yep. Fury again, for damage control."
Loki's face gets a sudden sharpness to it.
"Oh shit. You're going to pick Jane, aren't you? Look, she's not even presenting it," Clint says.
"Huh?" Tony manages to produce around a mouthful of waffle, "Wait, what don't I know? Why would you- who's Jane?"
"Thor's girlfriend," Tasha says succinctly in an undertone.
Ah.
"I said we were planning to ruin Fury this week," Loki says stiffly, "And a presentation is almost a convention. And I would hate to go back on my word."
"You'd hate to lie," Clint snorts.
Why don't you like her?" Steve asks, curiously.
"I have no feelings towards her one way or the other," Loki says unconvincingly, but with an air of virtue, "I simply feel that, as things stand, the longer we leave this the more factors which are likely to go wrong. Especially now that we know they know that Banner is here. And that they want him."
Low blow Robbie.
"...So you want to plan things to ruin that particular presentation?" Tony says.
"Essentially? Yes. And if possible, what we would most like is for Polt to be there too."
"How?" Bruce says, sceptically.
Tony doesn't blame him. How is what he's wondering too.
Loki frowns thoughtfully.
"Well. Could Fury...?"
Tasha shakes her head.
"Too obvious. There's no reason but this for him to make contact."
"... True," Loki concedes.
"Does he need to be there?" Steve asks.
"Well... no. But it would be poetic justice, would it not? If we could destroy him in his moment of triumph, just when he thought it would be Fury who would truly fall," Loki says.
Bruce's lips twitch.
"Can we do practical first, poetic later?"
Clint snorts again and Loki sighs, deflating a little.
Steve coughs, a bit, awkwardly.
"Is there any real reason to change the original plan? Can't we still talk to Fury and get him to arrest him? Now we know he's guilty and they're not expecting it? I mean, I know you said you would but do we really need to worry about deposing Fury when we don't really want him gone at all?" Steve asks.
There's silence for a bit, while Loki digests that.
"But this is neater. We would depose Fury in public, watch with feigned joy as Polt was elected, and then, once we had dealt with whatever hold he has over Fury, if he does have one, we would wait for him to make a mistake. His guilt would be assured, for he would not be aware we knew to watch for whatever act he takes to confirm his guilt. He would be unwary. And then we would confront him. Perhaps record it, before we killed him. It is neater than relying on Fury," Loki repeats. "That plan is distressingly simple."
"Okay, well, I call for a vote," Tony says, "Because, no offence Robbie, but plan A sounds better to me. I'm with Steve."
Loki looks hurt.
Steve visibly wavers. Tony, made of firmer stuff, doesn't.
"Bruce?" he says.
"I'm with Tony," the doctor says apologetically, "No offence, Loki, but I don't see Fury getting back in if what happened while he was in charge is made public. And I'm not sure I'd trust whoever got called in to replace him."
"Yeah. I'm with Bruce. And don't even try that face on me. I'm immune to the puppy-dog look," Clint says.
"I prefer the original plan. Going to Fury through Hill," Tasha agrees, "Your new plan has too much room for error. But we should act sooner, I think, rather than later, if we don't want them to call your bluff."
Loki scowls.
"Very well. But Romanoff? Ask Hill questions to which only the true her would know the answers before you tell her anything."
Tasha nods.
And then she's disappearing upstairs with Clint.
When they're gone, Loki rounds on Tony.
"If the plan fails, Tony, I blame you," he says, unfairly.
And Tony isn't a superstitious man but he really wishes that the sun hadn't chosen that exact moment to disappear behind the gathering clouds.
