He'd listened to every word. And he…
Truly, he doesn't know what to think.
No, it doesn't surprise him the way Tony feuds for him but…
What was said, what they'd said was…difficult. True. And he had to wonder if any of it at all had gotten to him, despite the Stark's stubborn counters, Loki's intentions that he claims to know. Never mind how wrong or right Loki finds them, never mind that when Tony had spoken them he'd believed them,
was there doubt now?
He wonders still, distressed and tormented in spite of himself, when the lift parts open on his floor and out walks Tony, towards him and he looks worn. He smiles but it's tired; the quarrel had drained him and it frustrates Loki because he knows how long these days have been for him. He finds he's smiling back for him and in response that weary smile widens, so earnest then that Loki's heart leaps in awe.
Tony makes to his side on the couch, basically falls against him and without hesitance or thought Loki puts his arm around him. He rests his chin atop Tony's head and his eyes slide shut hearing his own heart beating so fast he knows not of what precisely, but because of whom was clear, for whom it beat so restlessly.
He smiles faintly when he feels the tension fade from Tony's body as it goes slack against him. Tony marvels at how quickly, how effortlessly that all but being near Loki brings him ease, relief from problems that have gone nowhere, are still there. And all he can think of them then is why, how? Don't they see?
The way soft, slender fingers move to trace the lines of his palm. He puts his hand in Loki's and grips it tight, trying to speak and tell him he was here, rock-firm to his side if the whole world went against him.
As though he'd heard him Loki takes up his hand, to the back of it so gently presses his lips like to show him how much it meant, how much he meant to him and it's loud and he needs it louder.
He sits up on his knees and takes Loki's face between his hands, pulling him into a hard kiss.
It's in this instant then that Loki's left without doubt. The way he feels for this man, however exaggerated, is.
Be damned that he thinks he can't feel it because it's all he thinks to say every time they kiss, every time he only sees him smile, it's all he feels.
And this…Because of this…He needs to…He needs him to know that. They're wrong.
But…
He pulls from those lips and in his chest there's such pain, of guilt, remorse when he looks into those eyes that upon him gaze with such love and fondness and he must speak. So quietly then he does: "Tony. I want you to listen to me very carefully." In his greens Tony sees there is conflict, unease; he worries. "No matter what happens, no matter what." Loki's hand comes to rest over his cheek, so cool and soft, then it presses and Loki's other clenches his arm, eyes fixed steadfast, he swears: "I wouldn't willingly hurt you." Tony predicts not his words and they hit hard, his mouth parts. Suddenly then the eyes across him drop, creased brows and lips curled, a tone never has he heard Loki ever voice, it's low and shy and so full of regret. "I know I have in the past-" Tony cuts him off, finger to his lips.
Closer he leans and a face grave as stone, a voice void of hesitance or doubt. "I forgive you," he says. "For all of it, I forgive you."
It's like a wave and Loki's wholly overwhelmed. Tony pinches his chin, lightly kisses the corner of his lips, his cheek, pulls him into an embrace and Loki, he's…
…Water in his eyes he's barely holding back. There's fire in his heart, it burns like something's wrong and onto Tony he grabs on. In his mind a quarrel. He chides the man that holds him like he's worth forgiving – is he?
Is he?
Is he worth it, is he worth this?
Is he worth him – he isn't. He knows he isn't – The relief he feels that his words did bring – he doesn't deserve it. He doesn't but he holds on, to himself he swears he would never hurt him, to himself he claims that that's enough to compensate but his mind whispers smug: 'it isn't,' like it knows, like it's so sure like it's scribed in stone that one day Tony would leave him – He can't think. He won't think. Stop. What is he doing? Dramatic, he's overreacting. He's overreacting. It's stupid, it's foolish {just shut up.
Just stop talking.} He hides his face in the crook of Tony's neck and tighter Tony holds him, grips his shoulder, buries his nose in the curtains of the cool, black hair that smelled of grass and a flower he can't name, twining in his fingers.
They don't speak, in the arms of one another there they stay. Their thoughts are loud but incoherent, fogged by the touch, the smell of one another, the warmth between them flowing.
Still on his knees Tony wanted to get more comfortable and it was so very tempting to pull Loki up back into bed where from everyone they'd hide and drift off in the quiet, together.
But 'hiding' wasn't an option and the others weren't done, and he didn't wanna ask, listen in – he doesn't care. He's said what he will, he told them what will be and they can argue as they please it will still happen. For a second he wonders what he'd resort to do should they persist strongly, but just the thought makes him tired and mentally bored, drowsy.
"Let's get some coffee," he says, pecking Loki again on the cheek before taking his hand and moving ahead. Loki's led on with his hand still in Tony's and there it remains, all the way to the elevator, the ride down, the short few steps to the lab where the doors part open and in they both breathe, relieved.
They're home.