Yeah, here's the second 'short' update….sorry about this! But I've currently got first drafts up to Chapter 8, and there is a lot more dialogue and plot development and words to come in those. And, I'm getting quite into this daily update thing, so there won't be long to wait!
Also, although I have plans for this fic to go a certain way, after a comment yesterday I started imagining including the missile bit from the film (I was going to leave it out as it didn't fit into original plans….) so do people think that's a good idea? I haven't finalised stuff yet, I've got two possible endings to chapter 8 that could go either way, so I'm currently torn!
More to come, you fine people, I want to squish all of you for R+Ring.
(^.^)
Disclaimer: As much as I would love to, I own none of these characters!
Chapter 6. Acquiring Comprehension.
Loki continued to stare up at the ceiling, unblinking, pure and utter bewilderment plastered over his partially maimed face.
Tony continued to stare at Loki, unblinking, not-having-a-fucking-clue-what-to-do-next plastered over his wholly overwhelmed face.
The dust continued to swirl.
The battle noises outside appeared muted against the suffocating, silent roar filling the penthouse, and only the odd intermittent scream made its way up the 93 floors to the penthouse.
Loki had stopped whimpering.
Tony's heart was still hammering painfully fast.
Whether this was due to the sudden alarm at having the Hulk appear, the relief at finding himself ignored and unscathed, or the distress at having his majority of his upper floor effectively obliterated, Tony had no idea, but he was grabbing on to all three of these options and wrapping his brain around them, tightly. There was no alternative, this was just shock, this was normal - yes, he was usually brilliant, fearless, effective in battle, but NOT when it quite literally burst in on him, suit-less, not when it flung itself through his window and tore right through an already obscure and unstable situation.
'This' was NOTHING to do with the waves of sympathy and understanding that were suddenly crashing around his brain, rolling into every crevice and alcove that he'd fenced up for years, that he'd tried to forget. He knew he was lying to himself, but he had to. Because those areas didn't exist anymore. They didn't hurt him anymore. He was beyond that, he was fucking Iron Man, he was a lifetime away from the Tony that had seen his whole life burn and twist in front of him, lies and betrayal tearing at every memory he of everyone, everything, every damn circumstance that he had met since then, Loki was not the one who had managed to excavate all this - THIS – that he was suddenly dealing with. Loki's words shouldn't have caused this, Loki's manner shouldn't have reminded him of this. Loki lying in front of him, battered and defeated, should NOT BE CAUSING THESE FUCKING FEELINGS.
Tony was rooted to the spot, deafened by the force of his own thoughts, furiously trying to get his brain straight, so he could do something, say something – get his old, own mind back, because this new one had an attack of the crazies – but all he could focus on was Loki's eyes; shiny, round as saucers, dazed and startlingly green.
Green.
Why the fuck were they green. And why the fuck did Tony get the feeling this was of crucial, pivotal importance?
The more Tony stared, the more he realised that this wasn't the only thing that was different about Loki. Granted, yes, he was lying practically pulverised in the floor – IN it, not on it – as opposed to strutting around the penthouse like he owned the place, flipping between 'unhinged batshit crazy bastard' and 'snarky dangerous impossibly smooth supervillan'; but that wasn't quite it. He looked….more human, smaller, more exposed…he looked as if a mask had been removed from his entire being, as if he'd just woken up from a particularly distressing dream. The fight had been knocked out of him, literally and metaphorically speaking. Tony always had been excellent at reading people within 30 seconds flat, he'd needed to be. It was his thing. And now this 'thing' had made him start feeling other 'things' that he wasn't entirely sure he was capable of processing, let alone understanding or coping with.
Scrap that. He was definitely sure he wasn't capable of any of the above.
What the fuck is wrong with me, he thought desperately. And what the fuck is wrong with Loki? And why the fuck are these two things even related? He'd had a hard enough time grappling with the idea that he and Loki shared some…stuffwhen Loki was doing his 'evil invading mentally unhinged son of a bitch' act, let alone now, when Loki just looked like, well, like a wound. A splintered, open wound, bleeding confusion and pain and fragility and whatever the fuck other adjectives apply when someone's been used as a human bludgeon by a genetically modified giant monster.
Loki had been Hulk'd, and now suddenly, inexplicably, he just didn't look like the enemy anymore.
And Tony was left thinking just how much easier it had been when he did.