He felt like crap.
When trying to harm himself, to end that worldly hell that he called life, Loki hadn't considered the fact that if he survivedall those wounds would hurt. He would be all right, eventually but he took longer to recover. And then longer and then longer.
His lungs hurt from the shot and the drowning, his chest ached, his stomach was sore from so much throwing up. All of him was complaining and had been so since his near-deadly encounter with the man of the white teeth in Central Park. His head hurt too, from too much crying, or too much holding back tears, or too much sleeping, or not enough food or too much thinking. He couldn't tell anymore. Or maybe too much alcohol. Stark was always offering and he couldn't help accepting.
So there he was, Loki, god of mischief and chaos, son of a king, raised by another, brother of the god of thunder, Asgard's bane... wearing a faded green cotton tee shirt, black pyjama bottoms, mussed black hair. He didn't look like a human being, much less a god. He covered every mirror, not wanting to see that pale, bony reflection.
He felt too crappy to even walk out of the bed and into the shower. Everything was bloody awful.
So when someone knocked on the door, he yelled "I'm not presentable!" and hoped they would leave him alone. No such luck.
Stark came in, looking as cocky as ever, if slightly more well dressed than usual.
"You look like crap." The inventor assessed.
"Why, thnk you, Stark, for such uplifting words. I hadn't noticed."
"Go to the shower and put on something nice. We are going out for lunch."
"You mean you are going out for lunch."
"Pepper's here and I don't want Bruce to feel like a third wheel. And you don't either, I know you like the guy."
"Take Rogers."
"Steve's with his Falcon buddy, I don't know where. And before you suggest it, Clint and Natasha are doing sexy things, so they aren't an option."
"Surely you have other friends. That driver of yours, or that Rhodes man."
"Rhodey is on holiday and Happy already has a lunch date."
"What of Thor?"
"He would come with Jane, and we'd have the same problem. It has to be you, pal."
"It won't. I feel too unwell for restaurants."
"Nonsense. We're bringing your doctor to lunch, you'll need a better excuse."
"Stark, Im not in the mood. But there is no choice. And I'm not having Bruce looking at us with sad eyes all lunch again. You're coming, pal."
"What about the lady Pepper's friends? Get the doctor to mingle with a someone new, everybody wins."
"Nah, he's wary around strangers and they are around him. A lot of people can't see past the Hulk and are too scared of making him angry. He doesn't need that. What he needs is a friend, and you are available."
"I can't eat. My belly hurts. I should just rest to get better."
"I told you, that ain't working. Getting out without getting blown up will do you more good that this bed. Now, no more chit chat and go to the shower. Get yourself looking pretty, we're going to a really expensive place. I'll pick you up in twenty."
"And if I am not ready then?"
"I will go have to go the shower with you and clean you up myself."
"All right, all right."
And so Loki went to the shower, stayed there for a while and then got out and dressed himself. Elegant and dark, as usual. Black suit, black shirt, grey vest, green silk tie. He conbed his excessively long black hair back, not liking his face, but pretending he did. He was still too thin, his face hollow and sick-looking but at least he looked more like a person.
So, when Stark came back he was startled.
"Wow. Looking dashing there, mischief. I'm gonna regret putting you and my lady in the same room."
"Let's get this over with."
And so Loki went to to the car, that enormous luxurious car of Stark's. There they were, inside the carriage, the Lady Potts - looking still wary and holding tightly her purse after their last encounter and Doctor Banner who smiled and waved at the both of them. There was an awkward silence, until, surprisingly, Pepper broke it.
"So, Loki, is Tony treating you like you deserve?"
Loki looked at her with surprise, not used to being treated as something else that a monster (and a mentally ill one at that by strangers). But he appreciated the normalcy with which she had approached him, specially after their previous encounter. He managed to draw a small smile.
"Hardly, milady, hardly. Thankfully we there's the good Doctor and Captain Rogers to make up for him."
"Hey!" Tony said, with mock offense "Don't gang up on me, I'm a vulnerable, sensitive soul."
The limo suddenly exploded in laughter and even Loki found himself smiling.
They went to an elegant restaurant on the Upper West Side and ate some fancy food that Loki and Bruce thoroughly criticized.
And then they went back home. It was a nice evening out, with people who reated him in a friendly manner. So why wasn't he feeling any better? Why did he still feel so hollow, so utterly useless? So unable to produce joy? Why?
He threw himself in the large bed not able to even cry properly. The minutes lasted centuries. It was all too long. So long and so horrible and Loki didn't want, he didn't want to be him, didn't want to be there (or anywhere) he just wanted that stupid voice in his head to shut up and be gone... He sighed. He was big on sighs these days.
He opened the window, while the thought of jumping played in his mind. The air was cold. Just the way he liked it. But of course, he always prefered cold. He was a fucking frost giant. And it was so terribly disgusting.
Natasha found him like that, enjoying the cold and simultaneously being disgusted by it. By himself. She hadn't talked much to the god the time he'd been there - if she couldn't get anything out of him then she wasn't interested. There was no point. She wasn't interested in his well-being like Banner or Rogers seemed to be, but she didn't hate his presence either, like Clint did. She thought about it for a bit, leaning on his poen doorframe drinking from a box of apple juice.
She was some sort of middle ground, as usual for her. Not exactly good, not exactly evil, not exactly trustworthy not exactly untrustworthy. Just many different degrees of everything. And Loki - he seemed stuck in some place he didn't beolg to. Spent his days with no light in his eyes. Numb.
Natasha understood the feeling (oh yes, she'd been there too) and didn't envy the trickster god. Not even in the slightest. It was a horrible state to be in.
"Sneaking up on me again, Agent Romanoff?" Came a soft voice from the other side of the room.
"It appears I am."
She went into the room, still holding her juicebox. The place was clean but messy, the sheets thrown in every possible direction (from trying to sleep and not fining a comfortable position, no doubt) and books scattered. Loki was pale and thin, as if he were the survivor of some terrible ordeal that had just been released from hospital, or jail. He looked at her, then back at the window.
"You do know that Jarvis is programmed to not let you jump out, right? Besides, you would probably survive the fall."
Loki looked melancholic. He always did, these days. Tired and saddened by everything.
"Is there something you want, Agent Romanoff?"
Maybe. Maybe she wanted to mess with his head. Maybe she wanted to help. Who knew.
"There's nothing wrong with enjoying the cold, you know?" She started, and Loki wondered how had she known. She truly excelled at reading people. She continued, after a smalll pause. "I do too. Not that I would ever want to go back to Russia, but it's nice feeling it, sometimes. Even if it can bring back some painful memories."
Loki looked at the woman, wondering why she was there saying all that.
"You are a woman of more... let say lax morals than most of you team mates. Could I convince you to help me? In my mission, you know."
Natasha smiled. That guy, always trying to get his way. It was almost admirable.
"I'm not helping you kill yourself. You're right about the morals, but I wouldn't get in trouble with Steve for your sake. And you're not in any condition to make any deals right now - none that would interest me."
Loki nodded and turned back to the window, looking at the city beyond it. Tired. Tired of being tired.
"The days are simply so long, Agent Romanoff. And the night are even longer - and can't see an end to it. Only misery."
Natasha just nodded in agreement form the edge of the bed where she was sitting, still drinking apple juice. Delicious. Not offering any words of comfort. She was sure Loki had heard a million times that things would get better and that he hadn't believed it once. That he even hated their kind words because he didn't believe them to be true. That he would rather have someone who agreed with him about the horrors of things, the horror of life.
They stayed in the room, in that comfortable silence for a while.
Loki looked at the celing, broken.
"It's kind of amazing." Natasha said, out of the blue.
"What is?"
"You survived the Hulk, you survived the void, you survived jail and I don't know how many dangers... and in the end, it's your own treacherous mind who is defeating for good. And as much as you think yourself a monster, that is oh-so-terribly human."
Loki felt something, intensely, even if he didn't know exactly what it was. Gratitude? Confusion? A different kind of sadness? He hastily wiped the tears that threatened to fall. Damn that woman - she could play him like a violin. She stayed there a while and then rose.
"I'm leaving you the rest of my apple juice. Treat yourself."
Loki smiled, despite himself.
"Thank you, Agent Romanoff."
When she left, Loki took the apple juice.
It was the first thing that tasted good in a very long time.
Hell, it was delicious.
A/N: Wow, so much weird, so much bad. Hope you enjoyed! Reviews are love! Action and more angst will happen in the future (sometimes you just need a break).
You know you want to review!