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I don't own the Avengers or any characters there.
Trigger warning: abuse, torture
This story does not involve smut in any way, shape or form. It's only a little slashy at that, so if you want that, you'll need to go elsewhere. This takes place after the Avengers movie.
This entire story is already completed and edited. We have 6 more updates left. :)
Edit on 6/17/2012-Updated chapters 2 and 3. Mistletoe, not holly Felicity. #fail
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Chapter 3
Clint would probably be the first to admit that for all the other goody ways that Steve could get on his nerves, the man could make a mean waffle. Which was why he was in the kitchen so early-Steve was an early riser, and if you wanted waffles you needed to be too. The coffee maker was producing a coffee so black it looked like ink, but it wasn't yet ready to be poured in a mug, which was really all Clint wanted. Coffee and waffles, two things to try and make him feel better and make up for the restless night.
He kept seeing the room where Thor had found Loki and that particular shade of blue and the way Loki didn't scream as they shoved his body back together.
Steve was humming, though Clint didn't recognize the song. Probably something from before he was born. It sounded like it. A plate with two waffles was slid his way, and he dove on them, covering them in sticky sweet maple syrup. A mug of coffee joined a second later, and he nodded his thanks. Words and grins were a bit too much this early.
The captain joined him shortly after, a mug and plate of his own. Steve had considerably more food-waffles and eggs and fruit-but it'd be burned away before his mid morning snack. He had finished his first waffle and was contemplating if he wanted a second cup of coffee when Steve finally spoke.
"So."
Clint eyed him warily. He didn't like that voice, or that particular look.
"So?" he asked, trying to act oblivious, and got himself a second cup of coffee before he began eating the other waffle.
"Where did you take off to with Thor?"
"A place." He tried to put as much 'none of your business' in it as he could. If it had been Stark or Bruce or anyone else he just would have said 'fuck off', but Steve brought out the best in all of them.
"Mm. Something to do with Loki then. Have you thought about what I said at all?"
"Look, Steve, I'm eating breakfast here. I'd like not to get grilled over this sh-stuff first thing in the morning, thanks."
They ate in silence, and Clint filled himself a third cup and was debating if he would make it to the door before Steve spoke again. He watched the coffee pour in and he thought about it. Honestly, if he had to talk to anyone about it, he'd rather it was Steve. Well. Maybe Natasha, too, but that was different, and he didn't think Natasha had any interest in Loki other than a temporary distraction from all the other shit they did.
"We went to where Thor found Loki. I told Thor if he needed me, I'd go." He turned around, glaring at Steve. "Not because of you though."
Steve didn't say anything, and in fact seemed to not be paying any attention to Clint at all. Clint scowled at him.
"I don't like him. I still have nightmares, ok? I keep expecting him to show up and do it again, and I don't think there's anything I can do about it. But. But fucking Christ Steve-"and he ignored the eyebrow that shot up and the disapproving look-"you didn't see that room. Six months, and I don't even know if the Loki you guys want to convert is even there anymore. I don't like him, and don't even pretend to, he's caused me more sleepless nights than half the shit I've seen, but fuck, I feel sorry for him. "
"Six months?" Steve's eyes widened, the disapproval fading off like early morning mist. "Thor didn't tell us that."
"Do you honestly think we would have helped him? I wouldn't have. Stark wouldn't have, and Natasha's a fifty-fifty toss up."
"I might have."
"Yeah, but would he be here, in the fucking basement, us making sure he doesn't fall apart?"
Steve shook his head, frowning.
"Sirs, Loki is currently awake," Jarvis chimed politely. Steve looked over at Clint.
"Look, I'll go with you. Just to see how soon we can kick his ass back out with his brother. That's it. Besides, you'll American Boy at him and he'll probably snap and try to mindzap you and then where will we be? Square fucking one."
Steve just smiled at him.
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"Niece," Thor said politely, but there was a great deal of warmth behind it. Loki's children were charming, in their own way, and he knew his brother loved them dearly.
"Uncle," Hel said, surprised to see him but no less happy for it. Thor was perhaps the only uncle who treated her with kindness. "What brings you to Helheim?"
"Where is Baldr?"
"Why, he should be where he always is. Would you like to see him? You know you cannot. I was very clear about the terms with Father, you know how he twists words."
"I know." Thor smiled. "I would not ask you to break any terms. Just, please, check. Make sure he is here."
Hel frowned at him a little, and Thor tried to radiate strength and calmness, but his insides were roiling and he was worried. The mistletoe branch was eating away at his mind, and he recognized those boot prints even if he hadn't seen them in years.
It doesn't take very long and they chatted idly while they waited on Hel's servant to return. She frowned, and looked at him sideways.
"He isn't there."
Thor swore, and slammed a fist into a column, sending spider cracks through the marble.
"I am sorry niece. I can have that fixed," he said, trying to control his temper.
"No need. This has to do with Father's disappearance, doesn't it?"
Thor looked at her silently, and she smiled, eyes brimming with sadness. She put a finger to her mouth, a promise unspoken between them. He hugged his niece, kissed her hair, and left.
Baldr. Naturally.
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The noise isn't one that Clint can really place-somewhere between a sob and a howl and a whimper, all of them at once, and he and Steve freeze in the doorway. Loki isn't looking at Clint-not surprising, Clint doubts he's even a blip in Loki's bag of nightmares-but he's looking at Steve and the fear is so primal and animal that neither of them know how to react.
Loki moves first, breaking them out of their stalemate, diving for something-and Clint sees the glint of silver, the scalpel that Tony kept not putting away and not putting away and he swears. The blade isn't going to do any lasting damage to Steve, but goddammit he just woke up, he doesn't need this. Steve is moving too, though not as fast; he doesn't know what Loki's got in his hand.
Clint skids to a halt next to Loki, on his knees, and then his eyes widen as he realizes there's blood, the trickster god is bleeding all over everything-his collar is drenched in it, his left wrist pumping it out everywhere. He wasn't going after Steve, that fear managed to snap something in his mind, and he's trying to escape Clint realizes, permanently escape this fear and torment and worry that has been eating away at him for months now.
"Fuck fuck fuck fuck" he swears, and Loki is laughing, weeping, the first joyful sound he's ever heard the god make, and it makes him want to puke. "Steve fucking-"and the sheet from the bed is shoved in his hands.
"I'm getting Banner," Steve says, shortly, and fucking right he is, Loki is still laughing, and trying to slide away from Steve when he gets close, and whatever he's seen it's certainly not Steve. At least Clint didn't think Captain America inspired terror in the heart of the god.
Clint rips the sheet up, twists around and presses it down on Loki's bleeding wrist, ties it, and then the same with his throat-fuck there is so much blood-trying to press so that it helps stop the flow of bleeding. Loki is still laughing, but the sound is choking on sobs, and then he starts babbling, the joy gone right out of him, voice a broken shell.
"Help," the god begs, and he sobs, a big broken sob. "Don't let me die. I can't die. I don't deserve it," and Clint looks up at the god's face to tell him that of course he fucking deserves death, look what he had done to Clint and New York and everything around him vanishes. Blue, blue eyes, glowing blue, blue the colour of Clint's mind for that horrible period when he wasn't in control, and for a panicked moment he thinks Loki is trying to catch him again. But he isn't, because he can't get to his magic, and it's Loki whose being manipulated, Loki whose will has broken under someone else's.
Loki caught in that blue light.
Then Bruce is there, dragging Loki up, the god's eyes rolling up in his head as the blood loss gets to him, and Clint sits there on the floor, everything white noise, not even noticing the movement around him or Steve or anything. He rubs his forehead, trying to understand, to accept, to get it, and feeling the warm wetness that streaks on his forehead like a blessing or a mark or something, he realizes he's still drenched in Loki's blood, some horrible and strange baptism and he doesn't even know what for.
Fuck.