Tony sighed as Bruce left the room, the muffled voices of him and the rest of their team reaching his ears but not quite translating into coherent words. He supposed Bruce must be updating them about Loki's condition.
Tony shoved the tray Bruce had been using during the operation out of the way. It was covered in bloodied utensils and gauze. He didn't want to see it. Instead, he turned off the bright overhead lights above Loki's bed, checked the heart rate monitor, and then quickly crossed to the far side of the large room to the wall of cabinets. He pulled out a mild antiseptic cleaner, some gauze, cotton balls, and soft bandages. He carried the supplies back to Loki's bed and placed them on a different tray, wheeling it up beside the bed along with a chair which he plopped himself into.
He reached for Loki's right wrist, the closest to him, and pulled it a bit closer. He doused one of the cotton balls in the antiseptic and very gently washed the blood off from around the sutured wounds. He continued to clean Loki's arms, hands, face, and neck; clearing all traces of blood from his skin. He then patted the wounds dry with gauze and wrapped them very carefully. He repeated the same process on Loki's left wrist.
Bruce entered the infirmary when Tony was halfway finished with Loki's left wrist and paused for a minute. He'd never seen Tony so intently focused on something, not even his inventions or on his suit. When Tony finished, Bruce very softly called his name, but the genius still jumped a little in surprise.
"Hey," Bruce greeted him, looking over Tony's bandaging job as Thor crept to Loki's side. "You did well here. Listen, Thor is going to go home for a little while, and I was thinking with all the shit that's been going on Loki should probably stay with just one person for a little while, and-"
"I'll do it." Tony interrupted, eyes on Thor as the thunder god bent down and placed a careful kiss on Loki's clammy forehead, whispering to him as he did. Bruce nodded, choosing to ignore how quickly Tony had jumped to the opportunity.
"Good, okay. I was just about to ask if you would. Can he stay on your floor? I don't think we should leave him alone anymore, but we shouldn't overcrowd him either. I can set things up there and I'm sure you can handle it from that?"
"Yeah, I've got 'em," Tony assured him.
"Okay, good. You tell me if you need me. The wounds should heal up pretty fast if we're taking the last few weeks as an example. Thor is going to carry him up and Steve offered to help take up some supplies. Do you have an extra bed?" Tony nodded.
"Cool, I'll get a bag ready."
-oOo-
Bruce trailed behind Steve and Thor as they carried both Loki and two large bags of medical supplies to the elevator. He slowed his pace deliberately to match with Tony's.
"Are you sure you're up for this? He's going to be very upset when he wakes up, and in an extremely fragile mental state. He was already, this will be worse, Tony." Bruce murmured, placing a hand on the inventor's shoulder and finding it trembling slightly.
"I am. Trust me. He and I are more alike than you think."
"He trusts me, and-and I-"
"You like him." Bruce finished for him. Tony let out an indignant squawk, cheeks reddening.
"I don't know what the hell you're talking about, Bruce," he growled.
"Everyone can see it Tony, which is exactly why I'm worried-"
"Drop it."
"Tony, he's not in a good mental state. And neither are you, to be frank. I'm worried that-"
"I said, drop it." Bruce sighed, and removed his hand from Tony's shoulder, holding them up in surrender.
"Alright, alright. I'm just a concerned friend here, man. If you need me, you tell me, okay?"
Tony nodded as they reached the elevator doors.
"Thanks, Bruce."
-oOo-
With Loki situated on Tony's apartment floor, the others left to return to their own respective floors and Thor to Asgard. The thunder god's eyes were shining as he said one last goodbye to Loki for the time being.
"Son of Stark," Thor's voice called out, a smaller, cautious edge to it that had Tony's nerves doing weird dances that he'd rather not think too hard about.
"Yeah?" he turned to face Thor, who was lingering in the doorway, expression creased with uncertainty.
"Am I...do you believe that the choices I am making now are wise ones?" he asked, his hand fiddling with the hammer clipped to his belt that Tony's exhausted mind couldn't quite recall the name of.
Mil..mol...something like that.
Tony released a deep sigh, swiping a hand across his face and pinching the bridge of his nose. He really wasn't the type of person people should be coming to for advice. The same selfish voice that had told him to run just hours ago resurfaced in his head, taunting him.
This is why you avoid responsibilities, idiot.
"No. I, er. I don't think so? Listen Point-Break, I dunno much about you two," Tony made finger-gun gestures at both Thor and Loki, "but I know you two have more shit going on than most. From what I've gathered you haven't done great with the dude. And while I think I can see now that you love him..I'm not sure if Loki sees that yet. I think right now, Bruce is right. Loki needs some space to get back onto his feet. And when he does, then you two can work through your shit." Tony hoped that was the right thing to say.
"I do not wish for Loki to believe I am abandoning him yet again. Will you explain to him where I have gone, and my reasons for doing so, when he awakens?" Thor asked.
"Yeah, of course, I will. He'll probably ask anyway." Thor seemed to consider this for a minute.
"Son of Stark I am aware you care...deeply for my brother." Tony wasn't sure if he groaned out loud or in his head.
"Thor-"
"But I see that my brother appears to return these feelings for you as well." Tony choked on his own spit.
"Treat him kindly, is all I ask. It brings me great pain and sorrow to say that I do not believe he has had anyone treat him with pure kindness. Save for our mother, perhaps. But even she could not protect him from his pains."
Tony didn't trust himself to form a coherent reply, so he simply nodded, watching dazedly as Thor exited the room. He turned around several long seconds after the door had slid shut, raising his hands to his head once again but freezing when he suddenly realized they were caked in dried blood.
Loki's blood.
Barley resisting the urge to gag, Tony staggered to his bathroom, pulling a fresh t-shirt and sweatpants from his closet blindly as he did, and shut the door behind him. He stripped from his bloodied clothes and tossed them in the far corner, pulling on the fresh ones before turning the faucet on in the sink. He dunked his hands underneath the hot spray and scrubbed, the water running pink as he rubbed at his skin until it was raw.
He stared at his hands for a second, still feeling the blood yet he couldn't see it anymore. Sighing, he looked up at himself in the mirror, only to notice blood on his face and in his hair, so he dunked his head into the sink as well.
He emerged from the bathroom, hair dripping wet but feeling lighter than before. His limbs screamed at him to collapse in his bed, but instead, he turned to where they had set Loki up in the spare room. Reaching his bedside, he took in the scene of the heart rate monitor and IV fluid drip in Loki's hand. Bruce had wanted to give him more blood after the sheer amount he'd lost, but they didn't have Jotun blood and Thor had said that if Loki rested, his magic should speed his healing and replenish what he'd lost in time.
Tony pulled the blankets closer to Loki. His skin was tinged a light blue, which had freaked him out at first as he'd thought Loki was dying all over again, but Thor had calmly explained that it was simply Loki's exhaustion wearing down on his magic. Loki maintained a spell that gave the illusion of his Aesir form, but it must have weakened in his injured state. With the fear and the panicked haze of healing Loki dimmed to a low hum in the back of his brain, Tony took a moment to properly examine the sleeping god's face. He'd caught himself doing so multiple times before when he'd spend hours sitting beside him in the medical bay and doing nothing but rambling, but he'd always chided himself internally and looked away.
Now, he observed the pale blue color of his skin, the raised white curves and lines of scars marring the perfectly smooth canvas underneath. His long, slender fingers. The sharp angles and lines of his neck and jaw. His thin lips, lined ever-so-slightly with faded puncture marks from a past that Tony wasn't sure he could bear knowing about. His sharp, upturned nose. Long, black eyelashes that hid beautiful, emerald-green eyes from the world. Arched black eyebrows that were relaxed on his peaceful, sleeping face. Wispy, long black hair that was greasy, tangled, and in desperate need of a wash, but still somehow beautiful. The god was, in simple terms, drop-dead gorgeous; Tony realized.
Fuck.