Okay, it's official. You guys are the best! Thank you for the reviews and the views! Getting a review seriously like makes my year! AH. I love you guys! ;)

Now, this chapter is...kind of a rollercoaster of ups and downs. Grab a box of tissues. Oh, the title of this chapter is a song. It's by You Me At Six. I love it.

I hope you enjoy! xoxox

Loki almost jumped out of the bed.

What.

Was.

Going.

On.

His heart was hammering. This was not okay. This was not his bed, or his dorm room, or his normal smells, or his bed, or his t-shirt, or his environment, or his bed. He had no clue how he had ended up here or why he was here and oh my god, he was hungover. The room was spinning nauseatingly and brown eyes were looking at him in mirrored shock and where was the toilet because he was about to puke.

"There. Go." Stark's husky morning voice went unappreciated as Loki dashed- this was humiliating- for the door to his left, which Anthony had graciously pointed out.

Praise the gods. He retched, feeling the acidic contents of the former night's festivities come back warped into practical poison. Silently, he apologized to his vocal cords. If the world would just settle down and stop shifting beneath him, maybe he would stop feeling so sick. But no. The Universe just wasn't that kind. And feeling Stark silently and, yes, sweetly, hold his hair back just made everything worse. This was gross. If he wasn't currently the color of a ghost, maybe his cheeks would've been red.

"Are you alright? I thought you had gotten all this out of your system last night." A long, calloused hand rubbed his back comfortingly. For a moment, he didn't feel the urge to stab someone's eye out. That was drastically opposite from the way Stark usually made him feel. Interesting.

"Yeah?" Oh, his voice actually sounded like his throat felt. Fabulous.

"Yep. Which is, by the way, why you're wearing my t-shirt. In case you didn't remember. And, judging by the look you were giving me back there, you don't remember anything." The implied smile in his voice brought back all those familiar feelings of wanting to scratch Stark's eyes out with his perfectly manicured nails.

Loki sat back on the hard, cold tile floor and looked up at Stark. He felt a bit pathetic, looking at the young man smiling down at him with disheveled hair and wrinkled clothes. Those caramel eyes brought flashbacks of dancing with him at the club last night, and drinking with him, and smiling at him. Dear gods, what had happened? If he found out Stark had taken advantage of him...he was siccing Thor on him.

"So, what exactly did happen?" Ew. His voice was scratchy and rough and ew.

Stark lowered himself to sit beside him, facing him with his legs crossed 'Indian style'. He took a deep breath. "Well, we were slow dancing and you kind of got all relaxed and sleepy on me. You looked like you were gonna fall asleep right there in my arms. So, I, like a gentleman, was going to walk you back to your room. Y'know, make sure you actually got there and shit. But, we were barely out the door of the club before you threw up in the bushes and begged me to let you go to sleep right there. I practically carried you here, shit-faced myself. I don't know why I came here. But I helped you put on that shirt," He nodded once towards the shirt that hung loosely on Loki's shoulders. "And then we were both out." He shrugged.

Loki was silent, remembering little bits and pieces of the forgotten walk/stumble to Stark's room. He cringed remembering begging the boy to let him fall asleep where he had sat on the pavement, holding his head and halfway to tears. But there was a smile playing with his lips when he remembered Anthony coercing him to change out of his dirty shirt into the one he now wore- which was blazoned with a very faded 'Metallica' on the front. For a second, he toyed with the hem.

"Th-Thank you." He smiled shyly.

Stark grinned. "Hey, no need to thank me. You helped me as much as I helped you." He shrugged, suddenly starting to fidget. Loki's eyebrows furrowed, he didn't remember helping Stark. "You look like you need some breakfast and water and probably some Tylenol. I can make you some pancakes? I've been told I'm a master pancake-maker." He winked. Loki restrained himself from rolling his eyes, the young man must have had a massive hangover, yet he was still flirting.

"How did I help you?" He leaned forward, catching the warm brown eyes that seemed to be looking anywhere but at him.

Stark chewed on his lip, staring at Loki blankly. Then he grinned, so fake Loki almost wanted to cry- he had seen that same expression in the mirror too many times to count. "I'm gonna make us breakfast." He stood and started to walk out of the room.

"Anthony." The boy spun to look at him with a genuine smile and puppy-dog eyes. "If you don't tell me exactly what you meant by that statement, I'll leave. And everything will return to as it was." He forced himself not to feel guilty when the bright expression on Stark's face crumpled.

Stark let out a deep sigh. "Fine. But let's go in the kitchen. You need water." He held out a hand to help Loki stumble painfully to his feet. He groaned at the pain that flared in his head. "And Tylenol."

"I don't- oh!- take medication." He murmured lamely, his sentence interrupted when his first step was met with a sharp complaint from his burning brain. Even his eyes hurt.

"Sure." Stark chuckled.

"Perhaps I can make an exception this once." Loki muttered, sending a scathing glare at the giggling boy who handed him a rather extraordinarily large bottle of pain killers. On the counter he saw several other bottles, one of which was labeled Adderall. There were also several other labels he didn't recognize. "What is all this?" He picked up the bottles to examine them.

Chlorophyll. Chlorophyll. Now that one he had heard of.

"Just my meds. Some for ADHD, some for migraines, some for sleep, some for other stuff." He shrugged, mixing pancake batter and watching Loki with eyes that looked deep and dark in the dim light of the room. Loki belatedly realized this wasn't a dorm. It was an apartment.

"You still have to explain yourself to me." He eased onto a stool sitting by the counter, sipping his water delicately.

Stark sighed and put down the mixing bowl. He leaned on the counter and placed his chin on his fist. "Last night I was really close to doing something...stupid. I mean, nothing I haven't done before. But I didn't really want to go down that road. You, and your dancing," He winked salaciously. "Kept me from it. So, I owe you a thanks, too."

Loki narrowed his eyes, regarding Stark intently. He wasn't lying, but he wasn't being completely honest, either. "And? What was this something stupid?" He ran a hand back through his hair, his fingers catching on several tangles. Gross. He needed a brush, but considering the general state of Stark's unruly mud-colored hair, he doubted he even owned one.

Anthony stared at the batter with a tight expression on his face. Loki eyed him. This wasn't easy for the young man, as Loki imagined it wouldn't be for he himself. But he still demanded answers, or he'd be out of here so fast Stark's head would spin. Loki Odinson never made a threat he didn't keep.

Fact #3: Loki rarely lies. He merely twists the truth to suit his desires.

"Well, I was going to down more alcohol and pills than was really...necessary." He shrugged, something dark and stormy entering the brown eyes Loki was finding himself becoming fond of. Loki felt that what he had experienced of Stark was the medicated calm of that brewing storm.

"Why?" He picked at a growing hole in his jeans. He needed to go shopping.

Stark sighed. "You sure do ask a lot of questions, Frosty." Loki glared. "Okay, okay. Turn down the megawatt glare before I burst into flames." Loki had to remind himself not to smile, that wasn't cute, Stark. "My dad and I had a really bad...well, he told me he wasn't going to be 'funding my screw ups' any longer." The brunette shrugged, obviously trying to play the indifferent card. Loki wasn't buying it. "I was pretty pissed." He smiled, trying to charm Loki out of asking more questions. Like Loki would be so kind. -snort-

"Is this because of your incident the other day?" He rubbed circles into his miserable temple with his thumbs. Being hungover was probably the worst pain he had felt in years. It was like being shot. In the head. With a sawed-off shotgun.

Stark looked at him so fast he must have gotten whip-lash. If it wouldn't have hurt, Loki might have let out that evil laugh that always scared Thor into submission. Likely, it wouldn't have had the same effect on Anthony. He sighed, cringing at the disgusting sensation that had seemed to seep into every nook and cranny of his lithe, tall body which, at this moment, was entirely too large for comfort. His stomach rumbled hungrily, but the idea of food made him want to head back for the bathroom.

"Yes. Somewhat. Me and my dad haven't really ever gotten along. Especially since my mom died." He shrugged, filling Loki's water glass up again. "Drink more. You've gotta be dehydrated as fuck. I've never seen someone get so sick before." He patted Loki hand soothingly.

Loki looked at him askance. "Probably because you are normally the one getting that sick." Stark laughed, making his head thud extra hard. "Shut up." He laid his forehead against the table and groaned, sounding completely pitiful.

"I'm sorry, Lo-Lo. If you eat, it will help. I promise. You gotta get something on your stomach." He shoved a plate in the direction of Loki's head. If he got syrup in Loki's hair, he would die a slow, painful death. "Come on, sunshine." He nudged Loki with the clean end- luckily for him- of his spatula.

"Call me that again. I dare you." He growled, sitting up and eyeing the fluffy breakfast explosion of calories. He was fairly sure he gained ten pounds just looking at it.

"What would you prefer? Darling? Baby? Sweetiepie? Cupcake?" He dodged the fork Loki threw at him. "Honeybun? Boo?" He laughed when Loki just glared at him silently.

"Call me any of those, and I'll have your head hung above my fireplace." He snarled, sounding completely feral. The light in Anthony's eyes gave him an unexpected spark of satisfaction. Nevertheless, he refused to be charmed even if it would be totally acceptable in his mental state. As in, state of complete debilitation. He was afraid to move for the ceaseless pain that refused to abate.

"Since you asked me twenty questions, do I get to ask you some?" The pure innocence in his eyes put Loki immediately on guard. "It won't be anything so probing as your Inquisition, cross my heart." He batted his eyelashes playfully.

Loki narrowed his eyes. "No. We made no such agreement, so my life is off limits."

Stark pouted. "But then you can ask me more questions." He proffered. Loki smiled, little did the inventor know he had played this game many times before, and was therefore King of such situations.

"I can anyways. I never asked for permission." He smiled innocently in the face of Stark's irritated glare. "What did you think of my father?" He leaned on an elbow, pushing his pancakes around on his plate. His stomach was growling like a lion, but the idea of eating wasn't quite bearable yet.

Stark sighed, flipping a pancake before he answered. "Well, I don't know. I kind of tuned him out once he started droning on about Thor. I mean, your brother is cool and shit, but I don't really care to know how he won this game or that. I was more interested in you." Loki thought the young genius's cheeks turned a little pink. Interesting. "And, well, he was reluctant to talk about you and my dad was glaring at me for even asking about you, so I figured I'd drop the subject and let the man get the whole Thor saga out of his system while I drank myself to oblivion." He shrugged his broad shoulders. "Too, he didn't even mention you at first, I had to ask. That wasn't too cool, in my opinion. But I don't know, maybe he just thought I would know only Thor 'cause he's popular and some shit. And I'm all space-agey and you're all classical, and usually the two go down separate paths." Tony brought his wrists together then pushed his hands in opposite directions. "But anyways, yeah." Eyebrows pushed down over Stark's caramel eyes. "Did I answer your question?"

Loki blinked.

So, Odin, as usual, had pretended like he didn't even exist. Not a surprise, in the slightest. So why was he feeling that usual pang in his chest that reminded him that oh yeah, he actually cares what his family thinks about him. Unfortunately, all that had ever brought him was pain and the miserable question of what he had done wrong to make them dislike him. The mirror always answered his question, remind him of his pale complexion and dark hair and green eyes in comparison to their golden skin and flaxen hair and sapphire eyes. They were big and strong while he was thin and intelligent. It was like he wasn't even part of their family. He saw the looks he got when Thor introduced him as his brother. People could tell he wasn't normal, he didn't fit, he was in the wrong puzzle.

"Yes, yes, you answered my question quite efficiently." He waved a dismissive hand, ignoring the perturbed glare he got for treating Stark like a peasant. "So you really have no opinion?" His eyes found Stark's again. Oh, he did like those warm eyes.

Stark shrugged. "I don't really know enough to have an opinion. Thor seems to adore him, and you're your usual impenetrable wall of calm neutrality. So, I don't know." He cocked his head. "But, I could take your indifference as a masquerade to hide how you really feel. Usually people don't hide positive emotions, only negative ones. So, I could conclude that your father is a hard bastard whom you hate. Then, I would say I dislike the Senator. However, were I wrong..." He gave an indifferent gesture of his hands. "What difference does it make? Not like you'll give me any reaction to-"

"Dear god, you talk too much." He buried his face in his hands, idly wondering why Stark's voice didn't hurt his head like it should when he had such a massive hangover. He looked up. "You know, by your own reasoning, your indifference to your own father and his recent treatment of you means that it actually does effect you on some deeper level." He leaned forward. "So tell me, Stark, what's the real story between you and your father?" He could feel the curiosity just eating away at him.

The man grinned. "You're deflecting, Lo-Lo." He piled more pancakes on Loki's plate and ignored the flesh-eating glare he got for it. "You need to eat more, you're too skinny." He shrugged, eyeing Loki's thin form in his t-shirt. And Loki would never admit it, but he was starting to love wearing the inventor's t-shirt and the pungent smell of gasoline, grease, and smoke that emanated from the fabric. "Alright, do you really want to know all the nasty, dirty, awful secrets between me and my big, bad dad?" He leaned on the counter, eyes locked on Loki in a way that made the young man feel almost naked beneath those big brown eyes.

He smiled mischievously. "Yes. I do so love dark secrets." He winked. Yes. Loki winked. Will wonders never cease?

Stark's grin got wider. "You gotta promise not to tell a soul, though." He held out his pinky.

Loki laughed freely. A pinky promise? It was like they were in grade school again. But, he reached out and twined their pinkies together, despite how juvenile and young it made him feel. Maybe it wasn't such a bad feeling around the devil-may-care teenager. "I promise, Anthony." He purred.

Stark's face melted into a warm look of appreciation. "I really love hearing you say my full name. I've always hated it, but somehow you make it sound okay." He let Loki's finger go. "Well, the big secret is..." He sighed and sat down on a stool, leaning on the counter heavily. "When my mom died, I was devastated and felt a lot of it was my own fault. Like she had died because of something I did. My dad alienating me essentially just made that guilt a lot stronger. So, the night after her funeral, while he was drinking himself senseless, I was as well. But for a purpose." He spoke slowly and bit his lip, dropping his forehead to his arms on the table. "So that I could end my own life. You know, a life for a life. Maybe if I killed myself, I could be relieved of all sin. I don't know what was really running through my head. But I was fourteen, and I've never been known for one to have the best ideas. I grabbed a bottle of Vicodin and downed about twenty pills." He looked up, his face weary and drawn and almost old, for a moment. "Stane found me passed out on the floor, halfway dead already. He called an ambulance and I got my stomach pumped and a therapist trying to help me sort out my issues." He shrugged. "It was all swept under the rug like it never happened, and my dad never visited me while I was there. For about three years, I couldn't even stand to be in the same room with him. I got out of there as fast I could, entering college about two years after all that." He smiled shakily. "There you go. All my hidden secrets bared before you. You've seen my soul, Loki." He told him with mock solemnity.

Loki stared at him in silence for a moment. Well, Stark had certainly surprised him. The young, cocky inventor obviously had a destructive streak, but suicidal? That wasn't what he had pegged him for. He had considered him a rich and spoiled brat, blowing money just because he could. The girls, drugs, and alcohol had seemed only natural considering his financial status and popularity. Many in his position fell to the same vices. But hearing this...it changed his mind about the teenager entirely.

Loki left not long after Tony's confession, leaving his head a spinning maelstrom of thoughts. He was currently a brooding wreck.

His attempt five years ago had left him a shaking, skinny mess with a wild side that was really nothing but a death wish. And that drew people to him, the loud desperation to drive his life straight off a cliff. It was a spectacle, and teenagers were drawn to that like flies to honey. Tony was their walking, talking reality TV show. He was rich, famous, and losing his god damn mind. It was just a matter of time until he imploded in on himself.

At first, he had fully believed these kids were his friends. That they had only pure intentions in hanging out with him. Until the night they had begged him to steal his dad's vintage 1940's convertible, and go bar hopping with them. He didn't realize at the time that he was merely their free alcoholic ride. Because being friends with Anthony Stark meant as much free booze as you could drink, no matter your age. He had returned home at noon the next day, breezing home with a scratched car and a hangover. He had laughed in the face of Howard's fury all on his own. He had taken the punishment, standing with a straight back as his father ranted at a completely unheard-of decibel, alone. He had withstood the hell his home life had become all by himself.

It was then that Tony realized he was completely and totally alone in life.

It wasn't for nothing that he became the lone wolf he was now. And no one understood, because no one had been through what he had. But that was just another aspect in which he was alone in this big, wide world.

Tony was snoring through his physic's class when something slammed. He sat up with wide eyes and his heart hammering. Beside the professor's desk, there was a pretty girl in a flawless black suit. He sniffed, eyeing her with mild curiosity. Totally the type of girl that would drown in his destructive, 'bad boy' behavior. So, why wasn't he interested? Normally, he would start acting up in class, making snide remarks that would have Professor Bettany rolling his eyes and ready to shoot himself in the foot just to get out of teaching the rest of the class.

"Alright, that's fine. Tony?" Bettany waved him over.

Feeling his eyebrows shoot up into his messy bangs, Tony got up and half-stumbled his way to the front of the classroom. "What?" He rubbed his eyes sleepily.

"Mr. Stark, your father sent me to fetch you. He needs you at the office." She smiled politely. He didn't fail to notice the curiosity in her curt voice. Ah, she was one of old Howie's new 'flames', which was more like an ember that went out in a month or two. Like father, like son.

He raised one eyebrow. "Has he ever heard of this new space-age technology called 'cellphones'?" He grumbled, completely unwilling to bow to his dad's commands. I mean, the dude had sent him on an addiction spree less than a week ago by telling him he was on his own in this lovely world. He was still looking for a damn job.

She shrugged. "He said you wouldn't answer his calls." Valid point. "Besides, he said you were going to want to come. This apparently involves you and your future." She smiled a fake apology.

Sighing deeply, Tony turned on his heel to grab his laptop- which he had been drooling on mere minutes ago- and followed the pretty blonde out of the room. Her walk was fast and long-legged, which made it hard for him to keep up while rubbing the sleep out of his eyes groggily. So, he settled for trailing behind her like a boy following his mother in the supermarket. She had a nice ass, so it wasn't a terrible view. Nevertheless, he found himself looking around the campus as they strode towards Happy in his father's black Mercedes. A tall, pale teenager standing beside a mountain topped by a blonde mop caught his attention.

"Hey, Thor, Loki." He slapped Thor on the back in that overly affectionate, brotherly way all men have. "What's up?" He ignored the burning green eyes that made him feel like he was on fire.

"We were just talking about going out for a repeat of the other night's festivities." Thor smiled down at him with what seemed like his own personal sun. Tony blinked. "Would you like to come?" The kindness in his voice made it sound like anything but a polite gesture.

"Thor." Loki sounded like a demon. A stern demon. "You have a test to study for." His eyes were boring holes into Thor's head.

Then, Thor poked his bottom lip out in a pout that rivaled any child's. Tony almost melted into a big, doormat of a little puddle right there. "Please, Loki? You can come make sure I'm home at a considerable hour?" Thor pleaded, big blue eyes almost shining with entreaties.

Loki put his hands on his hips and cocked his head with absolutely no sign of expression or emotion anywhere nearby. "No." Tony was beginning to think the Lit student had a surprisingly limited vocabulary...

"Oh, come on, Loki. I'll make sure you don't drink yourself into the carpet again." Tony winked at him. "I had no idea you could party like that, Britney." He teased.

Thor looked confused. "Britney?" But he went largely ignored. Tony and Loki were completely caught in each other, and this little game they were playing. Because, don't we really know what's inevitable here?

"Comparing me to Britney Spears? Why, I thought I was more the Angelina Jolie type." He smirked. He took it all so smoothly that Tony almost fell over.

"They tell me I'm the next Brad Pitt, y'know." He winked at the almost burning individual smirking at him. Fuck him, he was a goner now. He just didn't really know it, yet.

Loki snorted. "I'm sure. Nevertheless, I wont be going tonight, brother. I have an unavoidable report that I must work on." He shrugged a half-hearted apology at the hulking teen. "And, Brad, don't have too much fun without me, darling." He winked charmingly. Really, Tony was close to having a full-on heart attack. Stop, Loki, it's too much for Tony to handle.

Tony watched him walk away, watching the swing in his hips and the confidence in his stride. He was entranced, forgetting Thor and his dad's assistant, until a throat cleared. He jolted back to the present.

"Can we leave now?" Miss Flawless had a petulant look on her face that made Tony want to claw his eyes out.

He nodded, following her like a man walking the green mile.

Tony walked into Howard's office without knocking. The man sitting across from his father gave him a look just filled to the brim with contempt and distaste. Tony rolled his eyes and felt his lip curling. Why had he come again? Oh, yeah, a moment of bad judgment. No? Perhaps because he hoped his dad would repent of his ways and let him back into his bank accounts. Warmer. Maybe it was him giving Howard yet another chance to be the dad he had always wanted and needed. Ah, yes. That's right.

His foul mood only got worse when the man left and Howard ignored him. Ignored him. He had come all the fucking way down here, only to be ignored. It felt like his entire childhood all over again. Hadn't he gone to college to get away from all this? Why hadn't he chosen a college further away? Oh well, it probably wouldn't have deterred Howard, he was a multimillionaire, after all.

Tony picked up an expensive glass paperweight and juggled it for a moment, pacing. His father was shuffling through papers, signing stuff and reading contracts. But soon, it became too much. "Why am I here?" He whipped around to look at his father. "I thought you were disowning me or some shit." Howard looked at him calmly. Tony wanted to scream. Would someone fucking react?!

"I never wanted to disown you, Tony." Leaving out the inevitable 'But I had to since you're such a fuck up.' "I need you on a project of Obadiah's." His eyes were those of a hard businessman, not a father.

Tony almost threw the paperweight. "You- You called me here to, what?, hire me?" His voice was shaking and high, on the verge of hysterical.

"Yes. You'll get paid for your time and contribution." There wasn't an ounce of emotion from the man in front of him.

Tony laughed. "Oh, I'll get paid. That's rich. I'm Tony fucking Stark, Howard. I don't need your goddamn money to get all the booze I need to make your life hell." He snarled, slamming the paperweight down on Howard's desk. It dug into the wood, carving off an inch slice of mahogany off. "You underestimated me. I'm the son of Howard Stark. I can be cold, I can be calculated, and I can ruin you." He snapped. "No. I won't bow to your will and help you with your fucking death machines. I am not you."

Howard sat back, looking at him with dark brown eyes. "No, but like you said, you are my son. And you are cold and calculating and just as much a businessman as I am. So, where's the difference?" The cold inflection in his voice made Tony's blood boil.

"I wouldn't leave the only family I had left." He stood, brushing off his t-shirt and smiling grimly at Howard. "I'd give a shit more than how much money my son could make me. But hey, that's just me." He shrugged.

Howard snarled. "You took away the only family I had left." He growled.

Tony's heart screeched to a stop, trainwrecking on his father's words. His eyes went wild and he dropped the paperweight. It hit the floor with a dull thud.

"You took Maria away from me. It's your fault. And then that stunt you pulled after her funeral?" He laughed. "You're a selfish child, Tony. You always have been." He shook his head, looking away from his stunned son.

Tony blinked. "Y-you don't mean that." His voice was barely audible, his throat constricting.

Howard looked at him again. "Really? She got in that wreck because of you, Tony. If you hadn't been acting out in school, she wouldn't have left the house. She wouldn't have been driving in that condition." He leaned forward, mouth twisted by the most emotion Tony had seen on his father's face since he was in elementary school. "She's dead because of YOU." His voice had dropped to an almost menacing tone.

"Sir, your ten-"

"GET THE FUCK OUT!" Tony thundered, turning to face the pretty blonde. "Get out." His eyes were on fire. When the door closed, he turned back to his father.

"Nothing like me, huh?" Howard chuckled and shook his head.

"I'm the selfish one? How can you sit there and tell me it's my fault my mother died? I loved her, you bastard. She was my mother and she loved me. She gave me what you refused to. You just sat there day after day, watching me like I was a parasite! What did-

"Aren't you, Anthony? Isn't that all you are? You sucked the life out of your mother, and you'd do the same to me if I bowed to your every whim like she did. You'll do it to everyone you know, because you're just a leech. A tick. A tiny, insignificant parasite."

Tony backed away. "Go to hell." He snarled.

Then he was out the door and racing down the hallways, dodging people and flying past Pepper without a glance. He didn't look back when she called his name. He had to get out of there. He needed- he needed someone. Anyone. Someone who knew what had happened. But there was only one such person, and he doubted they'd give a shit. But it was worth a try.

His car screeched to a stop in the parking lot of the college, tires screaming. The students still milling around on the green looked at him when he flung the door open and got out, pulse still racing. His hands were clenched around his keys so hard he was fairly sure his palm was bleeding. He could feel every nerve on end, high-powered and raw.

As he started for the dorms, it began to rain. Softly at first, but quickly turning into an all out downpour. People began rushing for shelter, but he didn't run. If he started running now, he wouldn't stop until he got to Canada. So, he walked, feeling the pelting rain run down his face and neck, slipping under his clothes, drenching his shoulders and hair. By the time he got to the dorm, he was shaking cold. Chills ran across his skin like little spiders, crawling over him like a plague. The tears were welling up in his chest, and sobs were starting to shake him as he knocked on the door.

The door flew open and there stood Loki, hair wet and t-shirt adorned. "Stark?" Confusion drenched his features.

Okay. So. It's soooooo long. I'm so sorry! This chapter was a BITCH to write, my friends. A total bitch. And it got so far away from me. Ugh. Sorry. I HOPE YOU ENJOYED MY SHITTY, LONG ASS CHAPTER! Review, pweez. XO