"I think I finally found an antinausea drug that works on Loki," Bruce said and poured some batter into the waffle iron.
Natasha wondered why Tony had waffle irons in his secondary kitchen in the lounge, just for a brief moment, before she dismissed it as "just billionaire things". Besides, he looked just as surprised with that fact as she did. "You did? That's good, right?"
"Yes, and no. On one hand, he might be actually able to hold the food down for longer than ten minutes, which has got to amount to something. On the other, it throws the theory it's all a heavy onset of symptoms from post-traumatic stress out the window."
"You think he has PTSD?" Tony mumbled, chewing on a piece of waffle. Natasha regretted devouring hers so quickly. It turned out Bruce could make god-tier waffles too and the organic maple syrup he ordered somewhere was a thing to behold.
"Uhm, that part is non-negotiable. He displays a textbook array of symptoms: panic attacks, depression, and loss of the will to live, anxiety, nightmares. The question is, what else is there? It doesn't look like any sickness known to humankind, and I got to some very obscure positions. Like, one person in ten million obscure. His body seems to be functioning fine for all I can tell, but the fever lingers, and so does the fatigue. Until he fights it off, I can't even put him on a proper dosage of antidepressants, because I have no idea what they might interfere with, and god knows he needs those."
"How is he today? Like, mentally?" she asked. She had promised to visit Loki again today, and it would be best if she timed it so he could actually remember she kept her promise.
"Not sure, he was still sleeping when I went to check up on him."
"You want me to swap you today as well?"
"It's my turn," Tony said. "I want the god's favor too, once he gets better and I can use sitting at his sickbed as a trump card."
She rolled her eyes. It was obvious it wasn't what Stark had truly meant, but the notion still felt repulsive.
Bruce nodded. "Sure, I'll make some food so you could take it up."
"You know what, if you're displaying your mind-blowing cooking skills just because our resident alien is down with a sickness, I kinda don't want him to get better. Seriously, where did you learn to make those?" He pointed at a ruin of the last waffle on his plate.
"In Alaska, where I lived in a camper for six months, eighty miles away from the closest settlement," Bruce said, matter-of-factly. "I had a lot of free time at my disposal."
"Forget I even asked."
Loki's mind has been drifting in and out of consciousness for the best part of the… Morning? Yes, it could've been morning, the sun was still low in the sky. Or was it sunset? It could be a sunset, too. It was awfully hard to tell, here on Midgard, with their quickly changing weather and planet tilt and seasons… He tried to recall the knowledge, he knew it was in there somewhere, but his brain refused to focus properly. Just like his eyes.
"Good morning, Sunshine!" Stark exclaimed, stepping into the room. Loki closed his eyes with a grunt.
A morning then.
Stark put the tray away carelessly, knocking pieces of equipment aside and almost tipping the glass of water on it. Loki strained to see what else he brought but couldn't see from where he was lying. The idea of food no longer felt completely repulsive, courtesy of the new medication Bruce came up with yesterday. He could perhaps try eating some, if Stark thought about bringing him something. If not, well, the water would be a prize too. Loki's throat was constantly dry and the awareness there was water in the tap, just a few steps away, and he was too weak to even get there on his own didn't help.
Stark grinned, apparently noticing his glare, and raised the glass. "Water?"
"Yes, please," was all he was able to say. Or croak, rather.
"Sure thing," Stark chirped, leaning in.
Loki tried to push himself up, but his arms failed him, and Stark had to keep his head up as he drank. It didn't matter, the shame didn't burn any hotter than the fever and the water was a wondrous, worthy gift to receive in return for it.
"You want some more?" Stark asked and Loki nodded, as eagerly as he could, which probably wasn't too much.
Stark went into the bathroom and a heartbeat later he heard the water running. Oh, how great it would feel to be able to stand under the cold current, let it flow down his body and into his throat, quenching the thirst and washing away the sticky sweat…
"Before you act all outraged, the tap water is running through a system of filters designed by yours truly and it's as good as any bottled water," Stark said and Loki just waved his hand, because, at this point, he would gladly drink the water from the Asgard's bay. Or at least he tried to wave his hand and ended up only wiggling his fingers, the muscle in his arm burning up and refusing to function.
Stark seemed to get his meaning anyway because he brought the glass to Loki's lips again. It was just as good, perhaps even better, as it had no time to warm up to the room's temperature.
In the end, Stark made two more trips before the burning thirst abated and Loki laid back with a sigh. Drinking that much would host its own set of problems, but perhaps it wouldn't be before the doctor returned with his weird apparatus…
"Thank you," he managed and hoped it sounded enthusiastic enough. He shouldn't be forgetting himself like that, when his life depended on the mortals' kindness so utterly.
"Do you have some space left for food?" Stark asked, presenting him with the plate.
There were two squares of something that could be weirdly shaped pastries. They didn't look like any food Loki had ever eaten but smelled edible and Loki's mouth watered at the very thought.
"Yes," he whispered.
Stark smiled knowingly and tore a piece of the food and brought it to Loki's lips. Loki wished he would use cutlery, as Romanoff or Bruce did, but he couldn't afford to be picky, even if being fed with the master's hand like a stray mongrel wasn't high on his list of things to wish for. Perhaps it would be a little easier if the man weren't wearing a self-assured smirk though.
At least it tasted good. Not like anything he ever tasted, but good.
"So, what's up with this whole wanting to die bullshit?" Stark asked and Loki choked on the bite of food in his mouth. Stark held his shoulder and gave him some more water to wash it down. "So?"
"It's not a matter of yearning death. That day has passed a long time ago."
"Mhm, then what is it?"
"I'm growing weaker every day," Loki said, trying to keep his voice from wavering, with a relative success.
"But…"
"I know it, do not lie to me, Stark."
"Okay, so it's some sort of sickness, I get it. I also get it you don't know what it is either, or else you'd tell us, right?"
"Yes," he admitted.
"The question is, why can't you heal it with magic?"
Loki bit his lip. He was dreading the question, but by now the answer lost any significance anyway. The mortals would know soon enough. There was no point in prolonging the inevitable. "I cannot use my magic."
"How so? I've seen you cast those ghost illusion thingies just a few days ago. Is it because of how shit you're feeling?"
Loki shook his head and even that small movement sent a wave of needles up his nerves. He would be better off sticking to talking from now on. "What you saw was magic I used the power of the scepter to perform. I had a small pool stored, but it went into healing the worst of my injuries, after I knew I wouldn't be able to hold the illusion in place for much longer. It's empty now. My weakness is draining everything my body is able to recover on its own and I'm too feeble to even control it." He stopped, panting. Even that exhausted him. He wasn't used to speaking that much, lately, and now his jaw was hurting too.
"Mhm. Is there any way to get that energy from elsewhere?"
"Not when I'm this weak. It could be possible in places holding great and easily accessible magical energy, like Asgard, but I'm bared from that realm and even if I weren't, I wouldn't be able to travel the secret paths to get there like this."
"Mhm," Stark hummed again and scratched his chin. "But you said you used the scepter for that before, correct?"
"Yes, but you think SHIELD would ever allow me anywhere near it again?"
"Probably not," Stark said with a small huff. "They'd think it's a fake-out, more likely than not." He scratched his chin, then tapped his fingers on his jaw. "How about the Tesseract."
"Thor took it to Asgard, did he not?"
"He did, yeah, but there's something…" The mortal paused, unzipped his jacket, then started to take his shirt off.
Loki glared, confused.
There was a light in Stark's chest. The reactor, Loki remembered. The Hawk told him about it. The energy source that kept Stark alive and powered his suits.
Stark leaned in closer and now Loki could feel the faint power… No, not faint, he was just too worn out to sense it properly. It was flowing and swirling and glowing, both a threat and a promise. He should have detected it earlier, if he could identify the tingle in the air, he could feel when he was around Stark. If he wasn't so oblivious. If he wasn't so pathetic.
"You think that this could work? I designed it based on my father's research on the Tesseract and it shares a lot of its capabilities, including the source element."
Loki blinked, then tried raising his hand to feel it and it ended up just like his last attempt. Stark frowned, grabbed Loki's wrist, then placed his palm over the light in his chest. Loki's arm protested and he hissed in pain.
"Sorry," the man said and lessened his grip on Loki's wrist, but didn't pull his hand away.
The power flowing within the source prickling Loki's fingertips, as if begging to be taken, calling Loki to draw from it, fill the emptiness gaping inside his mind…
Loki yanked his hand away from Stark's fingers.
"So, is that a 'no'?"
Loki gritted his teeth. "It could work. But I can't do it."
Sharing one's magical power with another mage was an act of ultimate trust, as a union between two people, more sacred than any nuptials, any bond, blood or oath alike. Maybe it wasn't exactly the same, but it was close enough. Loki might have done many despicable things in his life, but he wasn't going to do this.
He couldn't think of a way to even begin to explain that to Stark, so he simply said, "It's wrong."
Stark rolled his eyes. "Wrong, like morally wrong?"
"Yes."
"For you or for me?"
"Me."
Stark waved his hand in dismissal. "Let's not worry about that, okay? We're two reasonable adults and I'm officially consenting. You think it could make you better?"
"I don't know for sure," Loki said carefully, "but it's a possibility."
"Then let's do it!"
"What if I take too much? Wouldn't it kill you?"
"Nah, it's a power source. It generates more power than I need to keep me alive for days, in seconds. Even if you burned through all of the fuel, the residue in the capacitors would be enough to power my electromagnet for days, and I can throw together a replacement in less than that. So?"
"You wouldn't be able to use your suits."
Stark shrugged. "I can live with that. And I feel like by now you're just coming up with empty excuses."
Loki bit his lip. Stark seemed adamant to try and it would be foolish not to do it. "Okay, let's try."
Stark grabbed his wrist again, a bit more gently this time, then guided his palm back over the reactor. Loki allowed the energy to flow, slowly at first, and the whisp of power shimmered and sizzled inside him, like the first drop of rain after a drought. Then more came, tingling in his fingers and spilling a wave of comforting, numbing cold along his arm and chest. Then the power source burst to life and Loki squeezed his eyes shut against the brightness. Tears ran down his temples, but the light didn't go away, burning under his eyelids now, strange and eerily familiar at the same time, flowing through him, swirling in his mind and filling the aching darkness in his core with dancing sparks.
Then his inner vision blurred, the light faded, and his mind slipped away, drowning him in darkness.
When Natasha came to Loki's room later in the afternoon, she found Stark, sitting on the edge of Loki's bed, naked from waist up, with Loki's limp arm resting in his lap.
He looked up at her and brought his index finger to his lips.
"What the actual fuck, Tony? What the hell is going on here?" she asked, keeping her tone low but not any less furious.
"I'm doing what I do best. Fixing things."