It was two days later when Loki was released from the hospital, and no one had been to see him. He had kept himself occupied by watching the news, Discovery Channel, and some show about a guy who escaped a mental institution. It was a comedy and he kind of liked it, he just knew none of the actors, and had no clue about the name. He had phoned Anthony to come pick him up at the hospital he was staying at, thankful that they had exchanged numbers the day before he got shot. He could have texted but, figured phoning was easier, especially since chat speak drove him up the wall. He sighed and groaned in aggravation when Anthony had basically flipped his shit, hanging up on him before the supposed genius could ask about what had happened. He was sitting in a wheel chair outside with nurse Hokape behind him, waiting patiently for Anthony to arrive to take him back. He only had a shirt, so they told him just to keep the gown and not worry about it. The EMS kind of cut off his pants, so he was left in boxers which he was finally allowed to put on, and the gown. He raised his eyebrow when the silver Audi R8 sped up beside him and came to a halt, and he listened to Krista sigh.
He watched the future billionaire close his door and rush over to him, practically throwing himself on top of him in an awkward hug since he was still in the chair. He put his hands on his chest and pushed him away while Krista braced the chair so he wouldn't go anywhere. Loki made eye contact and flinched when he saw panic in Anthony's beautiful eyes as he looked him over to make sure nothing too bad happened. He looked exhausted, like he had been up the past two days worrying, more than likely about him. Why didn't you just call? Maybe he was giving him some space, or thought he went out somewhere. He couldn't be angry at the poor thing; he also noted the redness of his eyes like he had been crying. He sighed and stood up, nodding a thank you to Krista who wished him well and went back inside. He grabbed onto Stark's shoulder for support, leaning into him a bit when they started walking over to the car. He opened the passenger side door for him and he slid in, wincing at the pain in his leg, clutching the prescription for pain killers in his hand tightly. They ordered Percocet for him to take to help alleviate the pain caused by the bullet wound. It was nice, better than Vicodin, and stronger than others he usually would have lying around the dorms. Suddenly, Stark slammed the door closed, causing him to nearly jump out of his seat, still spooked from being shot. How wonderful that it had to sound exactly like a gun firing in his direction. He was near hyperventilation when Anthony came around to the driver's seat and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.
"You okay, Loks?" The self-proclaimed genius, billionaire, playboy asked. Well, he wasn't a billionaire yet but, he still felt the need to add it into the list.
"Yeah, fine," said Loki.
"So, when were you planning on telling me you were in the hospital?"
"When you bothered to call,"
The last line he snarled at Anthony came with a glare, before he turned to stare out the window beside him. The car ride back to the University was silent, tension that was thick enough to slice with a knife hung in the air between the two. Normally, Loki wouldn't be acting like this and be angry with someone who didn't show up somewhere but, when they had the audacity to claim it being his own fault, he wanted nothing more do to with them for the time being. His parents, they haven't presented him with an excuse yet, so he was still on good terms with them. He flexed his hands in anger, resting his head on the window with a loud thunk, staring out the windshield with a stern look on his face. He ignored everything Anthony was saying to try to start a conversation, smacking his hand away when he brushed his thigh, and pressing himself up against the door. They eventually made it back, Loki storming off to the dorm with Anthony behind him, trying to get him to lighten up. He was having none of it but, turned around when an apology was offered. The pale man accepted it before going back to his journey to the dorms, opening the door to Stark's and heading in.
Loki was sitting on the bed in the dorm, head in his hands. He had just waked from an almost peaceful sleep to remember the events that happened last night and day. He got home from the hospital after a rather tense encounter with Stark who brought him back, called his mum to fill her in on what had happened, listened to her cry and want to see him tomorrow, glared at Stark who offered to take him to a party, sighed at him when he walked out to go to said party after Loki refused, and fell asleep around ten pm. Judging by the empty bed beside him, Anthony hadn't come home all night and was probably passed out on the couch of wherever he was. He pulled his mobile out of his pocket to see no new messages or calls, and read the time which was eleven am. He slept for a good thirteen hours, haven been given more time off from school in order to recover from his wound.
As he was checking the stitching and getting prepared to take a shower, he heard the door open and looked up to see Stark stumble in looking like he was beat by Lucifer himself, if he were to have existed. Loki immediately ran - more like fast walked - up to him, hands flying to his cheeks to hold his jaw and chin. He examined him closely, looking at the black eye that was forming quite nicely, busted lip, a seemingly deep imprint from an expensive ring on his cheek, swollen and puffy jaw line, and when Anthony opened his mouth to speak, Loki noticed a missing tooth that looked like it had been freshly knocked out, probably from the blow to the side of his face. His teeth were covered in blood, much to be expected, and his nose had a nice gash to accommodate the rest of the wounds. Loki looked down at his arms to notice what looked to be cigarette burns on the flesh, and a welt on his upper arm near his shoulder that was barely peeking out from his sleeve. Panicking, he turned Anthony around and lifted his shirt up to see a bruising welt in the shape of a belt going from his lower right thoracic region leading to his upper left thoracic area. He dropped his shirt down, listening to him hiss, before pulling the hurt man over to the bed and kneeling in front of him.
"Anthony, what the hell happened to you?" He demanded; worry flooding over him like a terrible rain.
"I'll tell you if you tell me why you were in the hospital," Anthony countered, looking down at him.
"For fucks sake, Stark, we are dealing with you right now!" He growled lowly, locking his gaze with the engineer before him.
"My dad and I got into a fight. What's the big deal?"
"The big deal is, you're a bleeding mess and you have a belt lash on your back. Now fucking tell me what happened or I am walking out of this dorm and never coming back,"
He knew his threat meant nothing but, he had to do what he could to get Anthony to speak. Over the past week and three days, he was slowly getting closer to this man, despite his whole big idea of things going too fast. They shared a few kisses here and there, maybe cuddled when they slept but, nothing sexual since they had oral sex. He assumed his past ideas didn't matter anymore, and he would just give something new a try. What more crap could he go through that he wasn't already in the middle of? His father blamed him for getting the car stolen, hit him, called him fat - which he doesn't honestly care about, cut him off for a month, his brother went off to training, and he got shot in the leg. Being with Stark couldn't be too much of a hassle; he was prepared for a lot of things, especially since he was a reincarnated god and was pretty dang good with therapy. He looked over the genius once more, concluding that it was more of a one sided fight with the younger Stark coming out as the loser and could be considered abuse. He sighed, sitting back so he was on the ground, moving his legs to rest "Indian Style", as he waited for his story. His friend rolled his eyes a moment before he began telling him what he was itching to know.
Anthony had just left a stubborn Loki back at his dorm, shrugging off the fact that he didn't want to spend time with him at a party. It wasn't his fault, he was planning on going there for a few days now, and he thought the man was angry at him so that is why he wasn't around. He felt bad for not calling him but, he seemed to be a bit of a diva at times, at least from Stark's prospective and he didn't want to get drama riled up. He walked down the hallway of the dorm building and headed out, going off to his beautiful Audi R8 baby, slipping into the driver's seat and rubbing the steering wheel. He smirked before buckling his seat belt, closing the door, and driving off to said party. Sunglasses, you ask? He put them on before he had left Loki behind. It took about thirty minutes to get where the fun was located, pulling up to an average size house that was surrounded with other cars. Some people standing around on the lawn watched him as he walked up to the door, letting himself in, since he knew the person hosting. He grabbed a blonde busty woman around his age by the arm, locked them together, and took her over to the host, smiling.
"'Ey, Tony! Glad you can make it! I see you've met Alice," He greeted, winking, to which Anthony just chuckled.
"I guess I have, Daulton," He winked to the woman now known as Alice, and let go of her arm, watching her scamper off to her friends to gossip about how she was right up against famed Anthony Stark.
"You want some Mary Jane? Fresh out of alcohol, my brother," Daulton offered, speaking remorsefully.
"Out of alcohol? Damn, that's a shame. Uh, I'll take the beautiful lady, though," He laughed, referring to the drug.
Daulton led him into a room full of smoke from other people who were getting high off of marijuana in bongs and blunts, blinking a few times until his eyes adjusted to the burning feeling from the smouldering pot. He cocked an eyebrow as he was pushed down onto a couch next to some guy and girl, having a bong pushed between his legs. He smiled and reached down but, before he could pick it up enough to take a hit, it was pulled from him by the guy next to him and he gave him a giant blunt instead. Anthony just shrugged, putting his mouth to it and inhaling deeply, coughing a bit as he held the smoke in his lungs. He held it in for a few before blowing out, smiling when he felt the effects of the cannabis working its way into his brain. After a good two hours of smoking, he was nicely stoned, lying back with a person draped across his lap laughing at something someone was doing in the middle of the room. He just watched the smoke fly around his face with a giant grin, eyes half closed, chuckling every so often. He was suddenly dragged off the couch and out of the room with no thought to the person on his lap who fell to the ground with a thud, watching him being pulled away.
"Tony, man, I have the munchies. We gotta get some...pizza," Daulton muttered, swaying a bit as he held onto him.
Stark just nodded and fished his mobile out of his pocket, ringing up the nearest pizza place. He ended up ordering ten pizzas to accommodate the party-goers and their hunger, along with eight two litre bottles of Coca Cola and Pepsi. When the pizza man arrived, Anthony tried his best to act sober, narrowing his eyes at the man and taking the food and drinks, setting some down on the floor before taking others. He handed the man a one hundred dollar bill, telling him to keep the change and the tip. The guy looked shocked and happy as he walked back to his car, and Anthony let out a giant yell to announce they had food. He ate about six and a half slices and downed a litre of soda, almost passing out on the ground. Daulton kicked him in the side gently to wake him up when he was almost out, telling him it was two o'clock in the morning. Anthony groaned, still high, sitting up and figuring he should go back to the dorm. He gave him a hug, stumbled out of the house, and walked down the driveway, looking around at the dark street, give or take a streetlight or two. As he headed down the road, completely forgetting about his car, a vehicle with flashing lights pulled up behind him. He stopped and turned around to see it was a police cruiser with an officer heading toward his direction with a flash light.
"Sir, are you alright?" The man asked, approaching with caution.
"Sss-yeah," Anthony replied, putting his hand over his eyes to shield the light from the flashlight.
"Are you high, tonight, sir? What is your name?" The officer asked, moving closer.
"Jack Dawson and I am from the RMS Titanic!" He laughed, swaying back and forth.
"Where do you live, son? You don't look to be older than seventeen. I will let your parents take care of you. Consider yourself lucky that I am not having you booked in jail tonight," The officer asked him, in which he gave the address of his parent's place.
Before he knew it, he was being handcuffed and loaded into the backseat of the car, the door closing behind him. He stared up at the gate that separated the front and the back for police protection, watching the cop begin to drive away. He always had looked young for his age and he was thankful for that right about now. He decided it was better to just tell them his parent's address instead of the university, worried about what Loki would think if he came back under the influence of drugs. He figured the cop knew from his potent smell of marijuana, grumbling to himself as the officer took him to the place he was given. The car stopped and he went around to the back to let him out, helping him stand to his feet, and closing both doors behind him before walking the young prodigy up the driveway and to the house. The man who had a hold of him still, knocked harshly on the door and waited for someone to answer. A person did, his father, overly drunk by the way he was acting and his smell, eyeing both of them. Howard backed up a bit at the smell of his son, blinking a moment because of the contact high. He glared a moment at him before the cop spoke, directing his attention to the man.
"This kid here says he lives with you, is that correct? He would not give me his name, sir," The law enforcement official explained, looking from Howard to Anthony and back.
"Y-yeah, that's my...uh...s-son," Howard muttered, eyes back on Anthony who had a smug look on his face.
"I found him walking the streets, higher than a kite, at two o'clock in the morning. I decided you should take care of it, seeing as how you are the father, and he just made a mistake. He doesn't need this on his record,"
"I...I'll ta-take it from here,"
"Have a nice night, sir,"
The handcuffs were removed and Anthony pushed past his dad and into the house. Once the door closed and the cop gone, Howard shoved him back. Anthony wasn't exactly sure what was going on, so he playfully batted at his father, who seemed fairly enraged at the fact that he was here and high. Maria was asleep upstairs, so he couldn't run to her for help if things got to be too much. He always hated bothering her when his father and him got into a dispute, and would usually tell her about it later after things cooled down. Howard had only gotten violent with him once before, having shoved him into a wall to yell at him. Nothing escalated from there into something worse, just yelling and a punishment of being grounded for two months for shoplifting. He was completely sober, at that time. Howard's fist collided with his face, the ring on his finger digging into the skin, and Anthony bent over, spitting a tooth onto the carpet, along with some blood. Finding himself getting angry, he ran at his dad, almost knocking the two of them over, landing a punch to his side. He was suddenly pinned against the ground and his father started beating on his face, earning him a black eye, split lip, and cut up nose. He pushed him off, groaning and kicking him in the leg, trying to run off into his bedroom. As he had his back turned, he heard what sounded like a buckle being released from its hold, and a whip-like noise cutting through the air. The pain that followed caused him to fall to his knees and cry out, hand flying to his shoulder to grab onto the currently forming welt. Howard had hit him with his belt, something he never expected him to do.