A/N: So, this actually got erased several times. So, if it sucks or seems fragmented or sounds off, I AM SO SORRY. I was literally about to start crying. Or, take a sledgehammer to my computer. Or both. I was really at the end of my rope. But I do hope you enjoy it and it isn't too awful.
Also, warnings for some triggering stuff. There's some self-harm, drug abuse, mentions of anorexia, as well as some mentions of any of this bothers you, go no further.
Also, just a reminder, I don't actually own any of these characters. I wish I did. I wish I did very much. But I don't. It all belongs to Marvel and Stan Lee, that gorgeous, brilliant, magnificent man.
The title of this chapter is a song by All Time Low. It's sad and beautiful and I'm not sure if it really fits the chapter, but...you decide.
xoxox
Word count: 10, 174
Tony stretched slowly, taking his time and letting the slight tension ease out of every muscle in turn. He was on a mattress, his mattress, for the first time in six months. Everything was warm, and he was in clean clothes and had taken a shower. His stomach was comfortably full and nothing smelled like cave- or caveman, which he was fairly sure he had come to resemble. His pillow smelled wonderful, like winter and mint...wait. Wait. Wait.
Tony opened his eyes to a mess of black curls and white neck. He grinned, feeling his mouth stretch across his face from ear-to-ear. Loki. Loki was here. With him. Curled up against him, a cool little being he could touch and feel and smell again. He had been dreaming about this for fucking months, and now, here it was. A dream come true. His heart skipped a beat.
Loki stirred, rolling onto his stomach and burying his nose in the pillow with a sweet whine. Curls were everywhere, across his face, fanned out on the pillows, cascading down his back like spilled ink. It took Tony's breath away, the perfect contrast between raven hair and winter skin. And then there were those red lips and that elegant nose and those cut-like-a-razor cheekbones. Long fingers curled in front of his face, gripping the pillow with the vise of a dream, working his knuckles to bone-white. Tony had a pretty good idea what he was dreaming about.
He frowned and looked over the teenager in a new light. His ribs were evident through the long-sleeved t-shirt he was wearing. His hair was tangled- Loki and tangled hair? Two things that never went together- and much, much longer. The perfect waves that had been layered around his chin now hung closer to his collarbone- which was just a tad too evident for it to be healthy. His skin wasn't just pale, it was grey, like he had been sick or not taking care of himself- ya think maybe?- and there were dark circles around his eyes that promised he hadn't been sleeping. Normally, it would've thrilled him that Loki had actually worried about him, but this? This wasn't healthy.
Loki stretched again, obviously starting to wake up. His arms stretched above his head, the sleeves drawing up his arm when they snagged across the blanket. Tony's breath caught in his throat and his every muscle went rigid at the sight of that snowy skin. "Mmm." Loki growled sleepily, his back arching as he relaxed from the stretch. But Tony was still frozen, eyes locked on perfect white wrists. "Good morning, Anthony." Loki smiled, but Tony didn't see it. "Stark?" The hint of worry in that smooth, satin voice brought Tony back to earth. But his heart hurt. Bad.
"Loki, why are you wearing long sleeves?" He pushed himself up, sitting cross-legged beside the sprawling, long teenager who was blinking up at him with perfect emerald eyes and a slowly melting smile.
"What?" His voice shook slightly. Tony's heart beat a desperate staccato.
"Why are you wearing long sleeves?" The edge in his voice wasn't lost on either of them, and he could sense Loki's tension building. Just like his was.
"Uhm. I'm on this diet. And, you know, wearing long sleeves helps you burn energy by like, getting hot and trying to cool yourself off. So, I've been wearing long sleeves like 24/7. It's ridiculous." He laughed nervously, sitting up and fidgeting with the blanket that had been wrapped around them mere moments ago. Tony noticed that his sleeves were conveniently pulled down to his palms.
Tony stared at the abnormally stammering boy. Loki was lying to him. "Are the cuts on your arm part of that diet too?" His voice was rough with- dare he say it?- concern.
And no, no, no, no, no! This wasn't how it was supposed to be! He was supposed to return back safe and sound and find his tentative new love perfectly safe and healthy and welcoming him with warm, unblemished arms. But no, the hits kept coming. He and Loki couldn't have a split-second to breathe before life sucker-punched them again. How could this even surprise him? How could he have let Loki fall like this? How could he have not been there for him when the boy hit rock bottom?
He had failed the one person he cared about.
And it hurt like hell.
Loki didn't know what to do. What was he supposed to do? He obviously couldn't lie, that was futile. He should have known better, Stark was actually his equal to some extent- unlike Thor who believed every word that fell from his lips. So, he went to Plan B.
Every trace of emotion slipped away, and Loki became numb. Because that his shield, his comfort-zone, his precautionary measure when the sky is falling and everything is about to go to hell. So, now, the shield was up, the warrior hunched behind it. "No, they aren't." Simple, laconic, to-the-point. And no, he didn't have an excuse to give for the red lines running across his arms like the lines across notebook paper. He never had. And with Stark, he never thought he would have to, because he knew this boy knew the pain he was in, the feelings that ran like white-hot embers through his veins.
He was shutting down, putting everything on auto-pilot. Something in his body was screaming that they needed to batten down the hatches, this wasn't a type of storm they'd never weathered before. This was something Loki had plenty of experience in. He still remembered the look on Thor's face all those years ago. So pained, so hurt, so betrayed- just like Stark's now. And it killed him, because who gave them the right to fucking care so much? Who said Loki was some lost little boy who needed people! He didn't need anyone. He had been alone all his life, and he would be for whatever years were left of it. And god damn it if he wouldn't go through it head held high and with all the pride of a panther.
Stark frowned down at Loki's now perfectly still hands. Inviolable, frozen, silent. A 'Frost Giant' as one of his brother's lecherous friends had once called him. "Why?" The weakly uttered word nearly made Loki explode from incredulity. Really? Had Stark not actually been gone the past six months? Had Loki dreamed it all, made it all up?
"You were gone. Disappeared. I had no clue where you were or if you were even alive!" He stood, shaking his head, his curls tumbling across his shoulders and down his back in tangles- tangles. Could Stark not see? He was a mess! And all because of some silly, utterly irritating engineer who just happened to be holding his heart in those dirt-stained, chemically-scarred fingers of his. "You know, I've been worried sick about you, Stark. Me. Loki. The cold bastard who cares about no one." His voice was low and growling. The tears were threatening but there wasn't a way in hell he would let them fall. Muscles were rigid beneath skin that stretched tight over his anxiety-emaciated form.
Stark looked up at him with wide brown eyes. They were glassy with unshed tears as well, but for some reason, it didn't give Loki any of the sick satisfaction that he normally got when he made someone feel bad. I mean, it wasn't like he went around popping little kid's balloons and kicking puppies, but he liked twisting words and bringing out the shame in someone who hurt him. And Stark was very close to wounding Loki deeply. He had always been sensitive about the scars on his wrists, even when he was 'recovered'. -snort- so much for that wonderful recovery. But it wasn't like he had ever truly believed that he would never self-harm again. He knew, deep down, that he was never over it, that he never stopped destroying himself, ripping apart from the inside out and the outside in. Maybe it was hereditary- like he'd ever know, now- maybe it was his favorite sin, that one thing he couldn't give up. Or maybe he was just too fucked up to get better.
"I don't care if I was burned at the stake in a prison in Iceland. I don't want you to hurt yourself, Loki. You're too precious and perfect for that." Stark stood, cupping Loki's pale, white-as-a-ghost face in harsh, strong palms. "I would take all the pain in the world for you." Those brown eyes were burning, gazing like lasers straight to Loki's tender, bleeding soul. A tear slid down his cheek, unbidden. Fabulous. He was crying.
Suddenly, Loki's knees were giving out and he and Stark sunk to the floor together. Shoulders hunched inward, knees to his chest, the tears were wrung out of Loki harshly and painfully, feeling like each tear that fell down his face was a little piece of his soul escaping the tragedy that is his life and now, his body. Every scar that would be left on his arm was a reminder of this- this fuckwad of events and tragedies and uncertainty and betrayal. It was like a scrapbook of the past months, which had trampled him like a stampede of elephants. He was beaten down and angry and confused and desecrated by his own hand, holding that pretty little blade.
He was here because of him.
He was here because of his damned choices.
He was here because he wasn't good enough.
He was here because even he hated Loki Odinson.
All Loki knew was,
#1: It was close to 3 am.
#2: He had fallen asleep somewhere in his dorm.
#3: His nose felt smushed to his face.
#4: Someone was gently trying to shake him awake.
#5: He really, really didn't like fact #4.
Waking Loki from any type of sleep is not acceptable, not for anyone. Well, unless that someone wished to die by being mauled by a skinny, six foot tall bear. Unfortunately, several things quickly became apparent. This cursed human being trying to wake him, was not going away. His nose was smushed against his mythology textbook, because he had fallen asleep reading it. Or taking notes or some such nonsense- really, he should've been safe and warm in his own bed eons ago. During the week, Loki was by no means a nocturnal creature. His classes were too early and too demanding and of course, coffee is disgusting. Not to mention, that one time he took pills to stay awake...well, Thor wasn't happy being woken up quite that early. Or that rudely. Really, Loki would've never jumped on Thor's bed in the middle of the night without being under the influence of something. Duh, Thor. Or if it was Christmas. There's an exception to every rule. Even Loki's rules. Sometimes.
"Go. Away." He growled, groggily batting away the hands on his shoulders. Familiar hands. Hands he would've welcomed under any other circumstances. Really, he would've tolerated these hands right now, if they had been wrapped around him and keeping him warm and encouraging sleep.
"C'mon, you gotta see this, Lo-Lo." A gentle tug on his hair. "Please? For me?" That cute puppy-dog tone that Stark has to a T? Yeah, Loki hates it right now. Purely hates it.
Stark, go away, Loki doesn't want to play right now.
When he doesn't respond, arms wrap around him and he's suddenly hoisted up in Stark's embrace, being carried bridal-style. Not ok. Loki digs his nails into a very strong shoulder tightly, but Stark doesn't notice, because he's talking a thousand. miles. an. hour. Fabulous. "Right about now there's about to be a meteor shower outside. Everyone is camped out on the lawn outside, and me and you are going to go. It's the most fascinating thing you'll ever see. Really. I promise. And I think you're a little mad at me still, but I miss you and want to be around you, therefore I'm kidnapping you." Oh yeah, great way to smooth things over, Stark. Fantastic idea. Loki's thrilled. "When I was about seven, my mom took me to see a meteor shower over Lake Tahoe. It was stunning. I think she regretted it afterwards, because I didn't stop talking about it for two weeks." He smiled softly at the memory. No, it's okay, Anthony, melt Loki's heart like an ice-cube in the sun.
So, instead of resisting and grumbling and being his usual irascible, lovely self, Loki relaxed, letting his arms loop around Stark's neck and resting his head on his shoulder. If he had to endure Anthony's somewhat delusional ideas of fun, he might as well settle in for the ride. And his favorite engineer- not to mention, one and only favorite human being right now- was warm and cozy and smelled really, really good- to the point of ridiculousness. Loki curled a long brown lock of hair around his finger. Stark needed a hair cut, he hadn't done anything but shower and shave since he had gotten back from Afghanistan. Not that Loki was complaining, certainly. It had a strange effect on Anthony's features, it kind of softened them, pronouncing the crow's feet at the edges of his brown eyes- evidence of long nights squinting at little pieces of equipment, and even longer nights filled with drunken laughter and whole-hearted smiles. Loki liked it. Just a little.
He carried Loki all the way down the stairs and out onto the front lawn of the college. Blankets and people were strewn out everywhere below the dark night sky filled with the most beautiful array of stars Loki had ever seen. The entire campus was blacked out, everyone having snuffed out or covered or turned off any lights that might interfere with the display in the sky. It was breathtaking. Loki smiled, maybe Stark wasn't as insufferable as he seemed.
"Do you want me to put you down, or are you okay?" A warm breath close to his ear sent molten lava through his veins.
He shook his head, nestling closer to the teenage boy's chest and pushing his nose against a warm, Old Spice scented collarbone. It was all he could do to keep from letting out a contented sigh and falling asleep right where he was. Stark headed towards the edge of the camp-out, where Loki saw a familiar red head and a tow-headed man sprawled out beside her. Natasha and Barton. He stifled a snicker, seems he wasn't the only matchmaker, although, by now, Loki was curious as to why Barton wasn't lying in a pool of his own blood. Natasha despised the pint-sized art major, not that Loki really felt much differently. Well, there were only about two people on this campus he could tolerate, one was carrying him, the other was a flaming red head who was probably as misanthropic as he was.
Before they reached the rest of the crowd, Loki pressed a lazy kiss against Stark's throat, breathing in that hazy spicy smell that always made him lose a little piece of his mind. The boy froze, which only allowed Loki to bury his face in the man's skin more, driving them both up the wall just a teensy bit. And why Loki feels so extraordinarily brave and decides on taking this risk where anyone could see it is beyond him. But getting that reaction and feeling that fire sweep through his best friend- who is ever so much more than that- is something he suddenly can't get enough of. And he isn't breathing anymore and Stark is completely still accept for the fingers digging into Loki's side and leg, and the heart beating like a banshee in his chest. Loki can feel that heartbeat, wants it synched to his own, wants to memorize it till he can pretend it's there even when they're apart.
"Wh-what are you doing?" And his voice is soft and quiet against the hum of the hundreds of teenagers excited and anticipating the arrival of rocks from outer space in front of them. Loki can feel it against him, vibrating in Stark's chest, like another piece of the symphony of sounds that make up a human being. He can feel the uncertain tremble of the body holding his, the desire and want emanating off him. He can feel so much it's like a sensory overload, but it's an addiction too. There's not a thing in the world Loki wants more than this feeling of feeling Stark's every reaction and emotion. It's like cocaine, for god's sake.
"Nothing." He whispered, sultry and seductive and where in the hell is this suddenly coming from? Let it never be said that starry skies and dangerous situations and long absences don't make the heart grow fonder. Not that Loki is just going to forget every doubt and worry and objection to getting tangled up with Stark, but it certainly makes him just a tad more daring.
Fun Fact #10: When Loki's last relationship ended with him in the hospital, Thor on a furious rampage for blood, and his dad a red, raging mass of bitter wrath, Loki kind of-sort of vowed he wouldn't get into another relationship until after college. A year in and he's precariously close to breaking that vow.
He can feel Stark start slowly breathing again when Loki pulls back, smiling up at the engineer with a mischievous glint in his eye that he knows sets Anthony's brain on a vicious rampage of love. The brown roiling in those adoring eyes turns Loki's heart into a burning flame because he's never been looked at that way or felt this kind of love or cared about anyone this much. And for as many one-night stands as he's had, and the abusive relationships he's been surrounded by and the hurt he's been buried jugular-deep in for years, Loki finds himself wanting to trust Stark and wanting to be right where he is, in his arms, feeling that strong, resilient heartbeat that he just knows is saying his name. And even though Stark would never admit it, Loki knows he's fallen so much harder for Loki than either of them ever would have dreamed he could.
And Loki knows, knows like he knows there's blood in his veins, that Stark would move heaven and earth for him. And he knows, just fucking knows, that if there's a being in this world that he can trust, it's Anthony. And even if life is hell and even if they want to murder each other, Loki knows Stark won't leave his side. And those words are running through his head again 'I would take all the pain in the world for you.' 'I don't want you to hurt yourself, Loki. You're too precious and perfect for that'. And the tears are on the verge of falling again because it seemed like it had been forever since someone cared for him deeply enough to stick around when he was like this, when he couldn't seem to say the right words, or do the right things, or think the right way. And when Loki was breaking down and having an utter fit of insanity, no one ever hugged him or loved him or brought him to campus camp-outs to watch meteor showers. Never before had he had a knight in shining armor to sweep him off his feet and pretend like he wasn't a damsel in distress, even if he was, because he refused to think of himself as needing anything or anyone.
They're really two incredibly lonely people, who hate everyone and feel more pain than there actually is to be felt at times and it's amazing how somehow they haven't killed or wounded each other beyond repair yet. Loki's pretty sure that's probably on the horizon though, yet he can't bring himself to care or to build up the walls of his soul against this somehow perfectly flawed human being who looks at Loki like he has the world in his palm, like Loki is the sun his world revolves around. And Loki's pretty sure that if anyone else gave him that look he would be overwhelmed or unhappy or discontent for some fantastically stupid reason, but it isn't, it's Anthony, and it's okay, and it's safe, and he wants this. He wants Stark to love him, even if it's completely selfish and even if he isn't particularly certain he's ready to say the same yet.
Gently placing Loki back on his two feet for the first time since he woke up, they walk over to Natasha and Barton. There's the slightest glimmer of a smile on Stark's face, and a bit of an incredibly puzzling haze over his eyes that Loki knows he should be upset about but isn't sure why. And above them, the sky is erupting into an explosion of little shooting stars and big blazing comets and Loki feels the breath sucked out of him and an arm snaking around his waist to hold him close even though they're already sitting close enough to share the same oxygen. And Stark is entwining their fingers and the moment is perfect in and of itself and Loki is starting to believe that everything might turn out okay. It might be okay. Everything might turn out and maybe the scars he's carrying around in his soul will fade to be barely visible reminders of the past and the good times and the bad instead of just everything that hurt him so deeply it marked him forever.
Then that happy little world he had conjured up in the perfection of the moment dissipates into thin air when he sees a big golden mess of hair and a white-haired man wearing a eye-patch coming through the crowd of teenagers staring up at the sky where he wishes he could place his eyes again. Why isn't this a dream- ahem, nightmare- why is this real life? "Stark, I need to go." He murmurs, not even moving because he knows Anthony is so tuned into him that he could hear him if he whispered it.
He can feel the reaction of the boy beside him without even looking at him, not like he can actually tear his eyes away from the two men heading his way. He quickly retracts his fingers from Anthony's and stands, feeling himself start to shudder uncontrollably. Stark is looking up at him and quickly scrambling to his feet and Loki takes a moment to realize that this is probably partially necessary for Anthony's classes like it is for most scientific majors. "What's wrong? What happened?" The worry exploding in those perfect muddy eyes makes Loki almost want to cry because he had felt that before and it hurt. It hurts to know someone cares about him as much as it makes him feel all warm and happy because he knew that worry was the most awful feeling in the world and tears you apart when you least expect it. He knew it was like a frenetic electric shock, making you twitchy and rigid and stiff and incapable of doing anything but thinking about that pulsing sensation running through your veins uncomfortably and making you a mess of a human being who does stupid things like self-harm and anorexia.
He didn't know what to do, so he grabbed Stark's hand and pulled him with him, running through the dorms and up the stairs till he got to a small door that no one had ever really noticed but him that one night he was drunk right after Stark disappeared. That night he had wandered up the stairs to the roof and looked up to the moon and wondered if it was looking down at him with as much pity as he felt for himself, having seemingly lost the one good thing in his life forever. If it felt sympathy because he missed Anthony as much as the moon must've missed the sun. He realized that round and round the sun and the moon were mirroring each other and chasing each other and trying to catch each other. It was an unrequited love story, or maybe a tragedy like Romeo and Juliet. He had gulped down whiskey and wondered what it would be like to launch himself off the edge of the building and fall to the sidewalk below. Would it hurt? Would he die? Would it cure all his pain, or just add to it? Would it just be another scar he added to the millions he had given himself over the past nineteen years?
"Where are we going?" There was a bemusement to Tony's voice that made Loki smile. For once, he was the one flushed and excited because he was calling the shots and doing something to surprise the boy that never failed to catch him off-guard and yet be totally expectant of everything he ever did.
"Somewhere special. Hush." He glanced back over his shoulder, wondering if Thor and Odin would wait for him to stop hiding, if they were even here to confront him. All he knew, was that he didn't care. Because right now, it wasn't about Odin and Thor, it was about Anthony and Loki.
He climbed to the top of the stairs, suddenly feeling a little more alive and a little out of breath and a little like his heart was beating maybe too fast for it to be healthy, and threw the door at the top of the stairs open. Voila. The roof of the dorm. Which, really, if he remembered correctly, that door was supposed to be locked. But, guessing by the fact that 1) teenagers are ingenuitive enough to find their way around any and all rules, and 2) there wasn't a padlock in sight, Loki assumed that the lock had been broken long ago and stayed that way. A few million beer bottles that had to be a decade old were scattered around here and there, and Loki warned Stark not to step on any glass shards.
Side-by-side, in perfect, consuming, pleasant silence, they sat on the roof and looked up to the raining heavens, watching fireballs race across the sky. Loki felt a sense of awe. A sense of beauty curling up in the back of his brain and settling there to be further analyzed over the years when he would think back to this night. And he knew he would, he innately knew that this night would be one that would never fully leave his memory no matter what happened through the weeks, months, and years to him and Anthony.
"You saw them, didn't you?" A quiet voice by his side shocked Loki out of his musings.
"What?" He frowned, confused by the question and his mind a little muddled by its maunderings.
"Thor and Odin." Brown eyes were focused on the crowd of teenagers below them. Loki followed his gaze and realized he was watching Odin and Thor walk around- looking for him, no doubt. "They're looking for you?" He asked, letting his eyes leave the mass of people to rest on just one, Loki.
Loki frowned, watching the white head and blond brute weave around people and blankets and even the few tents that had cropped up all over the place. "I think so. Eventually, they'll find me. I'm pretty sure when John found me up here, he told Thor about it. John was worried because I was pretty on edge." He shrugged, glancing over when Stark's lighter flicked to life and he lit a cigarette.
The boy offered him a 'cancer stick' but he refused. Now that he had his nicotine-drenched boy home, he wanted to stop smoking. And suddenly it all clicked into place. Why Anthony's eyes were hazy, why he reacted so strongly, why he seemed so happy. Adderall. For the first time in six months, Tony had all his vices back in his grasp. Drugs, cigarettes, alcohol. Loki's heart clenched in disappointment.
"One time, my dad came here to visit me." Tony's voice was soft, but his eyes were a maelstrom of bitterness, anger, and fire. "I was pretty drunk and he was...in a bad mood. It was a few days before the two year anniversary of my mom's death. Everything was upsetting me, from the TV, to my music, to people breathing nearby. And he walked in and I felt pretty sure my world had collapsed on me. I couldn't breathe, couldn't speak, couldn't think. And he laughed." Loki felt his heart constrict. "He told me that I didn't deserve to grieve. I mean, I didn't get it then. I didn't understand what he was saying. Or what he meant by that. Now I do." The cigarette trembled when Tony brought it back up to his lips. "Tomorrow, she'll have been gone six years." He laughed, but it wasn't that warm, burgeoning sound Loki had first come to tolerate, then to cherish like it was the air he breathed over the months, no. It was something hard and bitter and fleeting. "I guess I don't fucking deserve to feel that, eh?" He shook his head. "But you do deserve to feel pain because of how Odin's treated you. You deserve to sit up here and pretend like that motherfucker doesn't exist for as long as you need to, baby. Til the moment you march down there and tell him whatever your heart needs you to. You get to grieve. You deserve that."
Everything was silent for a good ten minutes. Then, Loki fitted their fingers together slowly, smiling at the way their hands fit together perfectly and made it feel like sunshine-sharp warmth spread through him just at the other boy's touch. He plucked Tony's cigarette out of his mouth and replaced it with a short, chaste kiss. "You deserve to grieve too." They weren't a centimeter apart. He was looking directly into Tony's eyes. "Your dad doesn't get to decide that for you. You had nothing to do with your mother's death. It was an accident, Anthony. An accident." He leaned their foreheads together, letting the boy run a hand around his neck, a soft thumb resting against his jugular and feeling his pulse beat frenetically.
For a moment, the world was perfect.
Too bad it doesn't stay that way long.
Tony smiled against the lips that just barely brushed his every few seconds. They were so close, breathing each other's air and staring into each other's eyes. Green eyes that made his heart explode, gazing at him like he was the cure to everything that made the bubbling sorrow hiding behind his irises manifest itself. For a split second, it was like the world stopped, like everything suspended in time. Maybe it was all the Adderall he had taken, or that whiskey he had drank with it, or maybe it was the nicotine slowing the world down on its axis. But it felt good, it felt like he could sit here on this dirty roof with this gorgeous boy beside him for eternity. Maybe they could lock themselves away and forget all the things and people that stabbed them in the back or broke their heart. Maybe.
A cheer went up from the crowd below, tearing Loki and Tony apart to stare up at the large comet that rocketed across the sky. A grin turned his lips up, and Loki's fingers dug sharply into his. It made him feel like Howard and Odin and family didn't exist. Like tragedy was something William Shakespeare wrote about, instead of being a very real part of their own lives. He knew Loki was feeling the same way. And right now, everything was comfortable and sweet and a little gooily happy between them. It was a nice change. But, it wouldn't last for long. Eventually they would end up at each other's throats again, snarling like the feral, narcissistic wolves they were. Because as much as they got knocked down and end up crying in each other's arms, Loki and Tony are anything but weak, anything but soft and sweet and meek. They're both tough. A special breed of predator who've been taught by circumstance and been forced by life to take a much lower road than they were meant for.
Tony wallows in a sea of Adderall and whiskey, while Loki roils in his muck of razors and empty stomachs and harsh words. They've been betrayed and broken down piece-by-piece until they're mismatched limbs and have a heart too small and a brain too big and their soul is a tad fragmented by all the rough manhandling they've been through. But that's why when things get rough, Tony turns to Loki, and Loki turns to Tony. Because Tony understands Loki. And Loki understands Tony. And somehow, there's not a soul on earth other than those two who understand them, really. There's people who will listen and placate with nods and mmhmms and I'm sorry's. Maybe even a hug here and there. But not what they needed desperately. Someone who had actually been where they were, and knew, inside and out, exactly what they were going through.
He leaned back, sprawling out on the roof and staring up at the sky. The stars were a spider's web of blinky lights and falling rocks. In the middle of his chest, the mini arc reactor thrummed powerfully. How would he tell Loki about it? How could he begin to ask the boy to accept him, now that he was even more of a freak. He was by no means a catch as it was, but adding in that he was practically Frankenstein, a monster, not even a real human...
"Stark, do you think there's anything out there? Like, a supernatural being, who cares about us and loves us?" There was a decades' old bitterness in Loki's voice. He had heard so many tones used concerning religions and god, wistful, angry, indifferent. But Loki was bitter. Really, what wasn't he bitter about? What weren't they bitter about?
"No." He smirked. "You're talking to a scientist, love. God is a bad word." He ran his free hand back through his hair. God, it was so long, almost to his chin. And, y'know, his hair is a being in and of itself, unruly and rebellious. No amount of hair gel or conditioner or anything tamed the damnable curls.
There were a lot of other reasons Tony didn't believe in god. It would've been a shorter list to name all the reasons god could, possibly- if he were another man and this were another world- exist. Religion had never treated him right, it irked him like a cat rubbed the wrong way- and let's face it, if Loki's a sleek panther, Tony's a swaggering lion. And all the people who had come to 'comfort' him and Howard after his mother died had said things like 'she's in heaven' and 'she doesn't feel any pain now'. But how did they know! Where was the proof! Where was the evidence that his mother felt a thing? He wanted to see it, to know she was happy, to know she wasn't just gone. He wanted to know his mother was looking down on him and caring about him and maybe smiling when he got shit right for once. He wanted that so very badly.
Loki looked down at him from where he was sitting, still. His green eyes were shadowed in the pure darkness that enveloped the campus. Even the lights from the city didn't reach them. Loki looked a little like a dark angel, like he was something from another world that Tony was privileged to touch and feel and talk with. "I used to think there was a possibility. I wanted to think so, at least." He flicked his hair over his shoulder and stared up at the now calm sky. "But now, I look around me and see nothing that inspires me to believe that anything bigger and smarter than me loves me or anything in this ball of shit." He kicked a pebble, sending it skittering across the roof.
Tony agreed. Even if he didn't want to, even if he wanted the illogical, dreamer side of his brain to conquer the logic in this situation. Even if he was a man set in proof and evidence and steeped in science, he wanted to believe in what most people he knew called a 'fairytale'. Because there was comfort in it, in that unshakable belief in something bigger than oneself. But he couldn't.
"My mom used to tell me and Thor stories when we were little, about how, far, far away, there was another world. And that world was ruled by gods, named Loki, the god of mischief, and Thor, the god of thunder. And they were mighty, strong, and they had their good sides. Loki was intellectual and knew magic like the back of his hand, and Thor was a powerful warrior, that could command lightning. She would tell us all these stories about these gods, and how they would band together and fight and reign side-by-side. Especially if it was storming outside and I was too scared to go to sleep." He curled up close to Tony, making him smile down at the minty black locks brushing against his shoulder. "Those are probably the best memories I have of my adolescence. It was the one time when I actually felt like I was just as important and worthy as Thor. But in the morning, I'd wake up to being ignored by Odin and feeling Thor on guard beside me like a pitbull, just waiting for someone to say or do or even look at me wrong. Inevitably, they usually did." He frowned down at their intertwined hands. "No one used to think I was good for anything." Not for the first time, Tony wanted to crush Loki in a hug till he couldn't breathe and laughed again, like he should've been. He should've been happy.
"One time, she told me that Thor and I were one in the same. That we were two sides to the same soul. I was a lot older then, and scoffed at the idea that I could be part of the same being as that neanderthal. But maybe she was right, maybe she had a point there. Me being the intellect to his brute force." Loki shrugged. "I guess I'll never know." There was a sorrow in Loki's voice that Tony identified as homesickness.
Tony thought for a moment, drawing on the limited knowledge he had of siblings. Having been an only child, it was hard for Tony to understand all the levels and layers and anger and resentment and love and homeyness that made up Loki and Thor's relationship. It seemed to be a precarious thing, but something Loki had adored and carried close to the heart. The only thing Tony had ever carried close to his heart was a bottle of Jack and his robotic intelligence project, Dum-E.
"What else did you guys do together?" He wrapped an arm around the boy curled up tight to his side. Loki relaxed under his touch.
"Mmm, there was that time we found a stray dog." There was a hint of amusement in his voice.
"Tell me about it." Tony rested his chin on Loki's head, feeling silky curls brush against his skin like a touch of heaven.
"Well," Loki began.
"Thor, I'm tired. Why did I let you talk me into this?" Loki's voice was that of a petulant five year old. But hey, he was ten years old and he was pretty damn sure they had walked a whole ten miles by now. Where the hell was this place?
"Yeah, yeah, me too. But Baldr's house is close, I promise." Thor smiled at him brightly. Loki was gonna rip his blue eyes out of his face if they didn't get there soon.
"Damn, you were always a little ferocious, huh?" Tony teased, nudging the form that had draped itself across his lap.
"Shut up, or I'm gonna go to sleep and never tell you this story." Loki threatened good-naturedly, even though Tony was pretty sure being interrupted was one of the many things that got under Loki's skin and turned him into a homicidal psycho. And Loki tried to blame it on his family that he was all cuckoo. -snort-
"Yes, dear." He deadpanned. And he could practically hear Loki's eyes roll.
"Loki, do you hear that?" Thor stopped on a dime, Loki almost smacked into his back.
Loki huffed. "No. Thor, come on, let's go. I'm tired and it's hot." He shoved at his older brother to get him moving.
"Be quiet!" Thor shouted, making Loki stiffen. He hated it when Thor acted like because he was just a teensy bit older he got to be the boss all the time. Um, hello, Thor, Loki is the smart one. "Listen." He whispered, stealthily moving closer to the crop of trees by the roadside they were walking on. Loki stood stock-still, ears straining.
Then he heard it. A short, pitifully weak whine. It sounded like a dog, or a wolf. Either way, it was probably domesticated if it hadn't jumped out and attacked them yet. Loki inched closer to the sound, following it to some thick bushes. "Thor, it's over here." He murmured, keeping his voice even and soothing. Thor visibly relaxed, but Loki had always had that affect on the older boy. "I think it's a dog." He crouched down, peering into the bushes at yellow eyes.
They eased under the bushes, foregoing any sense of safety and precaution for the idea of a hurt dog that gets inside every young boys' heart and makes him forget that injured creatures are dangerous and not something a boy should deal with on his own. It growled softly, making the hackles on the back of Loki's neck rise, but he didn't stop. He inched his hand closer to the injured animal, making cooing noises softly. The ears that had laid back on the dog's head raised slowly, twisting and turning to better hear the nonsense he was murmuring at it. Gingerly, it leaned forward to sniff his hand, then his arm, then his curly black hair. He giggled when it snuffed his face, breathing over his nose and forehead. Then, he was rewarded with a huge kiss across his face.
He and Thor slowly and with the extreme patience of children with a hurt animal, helped the dog out from underneath the bushes. "Now what?" He asked Thor, sitting on his butt in the dirt, covered from head-to-toe with leaves and a few twigs and a lot of dirt. Mother was going to be so happy.
"We have to name it first!" Typical Thor. That boy wouldn't survive a day without Loki and his wonderful common sense.
"Yeah, Thor, we should definitely name it before we take it home where it can get food, water, and mom's medical experience." He rolled his eyes. Thor didn't get the sarcasm.
"I was thinking-" He started off enthusiastically, pleased to peaches that his brother was finally agreeing with him.
"Thor! I was being sarcastic! We have to take him home!" He exclaimed, exasperated with the idiotic child he sometimes chose to claim as his sibling. Now was not one of those times.
"Oh. Do you think dad'll let us keep him?" He queried, helping Loki help the dog.
Loki snorted derisively.
"Wait, Odin was a dick even when you were little?" Tony interjected. Storytime had never been a good time for him when he was little, and even now, no amount of Adderall would keep him still and silent throughout any anecdote, no matter how interesting it was or how invested he was in the narrator.
Loki shrugged, looking up at him with faraway forest green eyes. "He's always been how is he now. Well, I guess things have gotten a little worse over the past year or so." He stretched, carding one long hand through his long curls. Tony swallowed hard.
At home, Frigga welcomed them at the door, worried sick because they had disappeared to go on their trek without alerting a soul to where they were going. Yeah, kids. "What's that?" She smiled, patting the dog gently on the head, then moving to kiss her two boys' muddy cheeks.
"Momma, we found him by the side of the road! He's hurt!" Thor cried, always the dramatic one.
Fun Fact: Loki was never dramatic until he became a teenager. Thor was always the diva before puberty. He still is, really. Loki's the quiet, reserved, melt-into-the-shadows-and-pretend-to-be-invisible type.
"I see that, why don't you two bring him into the kitchen, then go get washed up for dinner before your father gets home." Looking back, Loki always wonders if his mother feared Odin, or just preferred to have as little fighting as possible between her fiery sons and her raging husband. Loki generally ends up thinking it's the latter.
They did as they were told and flounced down the stairs to hear Odin raising holy hell over, "There is a dirty, flea-ridden dog in the kitchen, Frigga! We decided a long time ago, no pets! Especially not some ugly mongrel they picked up off the side of the road! It'll probably die in a few days anyways." He spouted thoughtlessly.
Loki and Thor exchanged tear-filled glances of terror. "He's gonna die?" Loki asked, a sad, broken sound to his voice that really only someone under the age of thirteen can effect. Thor's pout mirrored his. A small, pudgy hand slipped into his, because he and Thor couldn't go through trauma without each other.
"Aww!" Tony cooed. "You sound like such a cute little tyke." He tweaked Loki's nose, getting a cross-eyed glare in return.
"I'm not going to even dignify that with an answer." He purred contemptuously. "Frigga sent us out, then, reassuring us that the dog was fine. I thought she was going to murder Odin for scaring us like that. I'm not sure what they talked about after we left the kitchen, but the dog 'ran away' a few days later. Me and Thor were heartbroken, pretty much glued to each other in grief for the next few weeks." He shrugged. "It was the first and last pet I've ever had."
Tony ran his hands through silky curls rhythmically. "That's awful! You were kids and he wouldn't even let you keep a dog around?" Tony scoffed, whatta dick. He was really starting to abhor Odin. I mean, his dad hadn't been much better, but who the fuck is so heartless as to say that shit around kids? Jesus.
"Nah. I mean, it wasn't that bad comparatively." Oh, well, he knew what that meant.
"Spill it." He demanded, he was kind of starting to like this. He was finally learning about the boy he had been fucking curious as George about for centuries.
Loki chuckled, launching into a story smoothly.
"Loki!" Odin sounded pretty much like a rage machine on roids. Joy.
Reluctantly, he trotted downstairs to the garage, where a beet-red Odin was standing beside a rather guilty Thor. Uh-oh. "Yes, sir?" He responded respectfully, strolling over to where they were standing by one of Odin's antique cars- in other words, his pride and joy that, if you got a fingerprint on, you would get your hand chopped off. A bit belatedly, he realized the car was scarred on one side by a huge gash in the paint.
"Uh-oh." Tony murmured.
"Yeah. Exactly." Loki agreed, nodding.
"Thor tells me you took the car last night without my permission." Oh, had he now? "Yesterday, this gash was not here. Now, it is. You were the last to use it. So, why don't you tell me what happened." The angry undertone in Odin's voice made him want to start running for the border. Thor was keeping his eyes carefully drilled to the floor at his feet. Loki was going to scalp him like a bitchy squaw. Oh, that boy was going to wish he had kept his pretty little mouth shut.
"Um. Well." Loki was a skilled liar. This was really not a question of if he could come up with a believable story, more of whether he wanted to stick his neck out for Thor. He was really leaning towards a 'no' on that, but then remembered Thor's upcoming game. And knowing Odin's penchant for punishments and taking away what one loved most, he decided to be the angelic little brother everyone knew he was. "I was pissed at you, so I went out and took the car. While I was in a store, someone ran up against the car. I came back, there was no one around and...this." He gestured towards the eyesore.
Odin turned almost purple. Oh, how Loki wanted to swallow back every word he had just uttered. But, before he could turn back time, a big, meaty fist slammed into his nose. He fell back, falling to the ground like a toddler just learning to walk. A shocked hand on his profusely bleeding nose and eyes the size of Texas. That same fist dragged him to his feet by his collar. "Don't you ever touch my car again, Loki." His voice sounded like the grim reaper reincarnate. Loki would've gulped if he wasn't afraid of a stomach-ful of blood.
As Odin walked away, Loki stared down at the floor and let the feelings of anger, pain, sorrow, and that creeping sense of self-deprecation that every victim of abuse gets. It all washed over him like an emotional tsunami wave. Why, oh, why had he taken the blame? Maybe because, deep down, he knew it would get ugly, and the last thing he wanted was for Thor to have to feel this same burning shunning, this hurtful spurning he dealt with day-in and day-out. He was the castaway, now. And he would be until Frigga came running down to hug and kiss all his burdens away and fix up his nose and tell him how Odin hadn't meant it, even though Loki would know better and not believe a word she said. Loki was a fantastic liar, even when he was lying to himself. This wouldn't be any special exception.
Tony wanted to go down to that party below them and find Odin and break his face. He couldn't wipe the expression of disgust off his face, even if abusive fathers were nothing new to him. "He hit you. For scratching his car, which you didn't even do." His voice sounded like a lion's angry growl.
Loki smirked. "That's what I get for helping my brother out. He made it up to me, though. It was the first time my dad ever hit me, and I swear I think Thor just about got into a physical confrontation with him over it." He shrugged. "It wasn't the last time. But I knew it wouldn't be when it happened. Odin's a bully, even with his own children. He has Thor so scared of crossing him, that he isn't supporting me like he used to when we were younger." The hint of sorrow was back in his voice.
Tony sat silently for a moment, scanning the crowd for people he knew. The meteor shower had slowed, only a shooting star or two every thirty minutes or so. He stared up at the sky, wondering what he could say to make the sting of being a victim fade away a little. But there wasn't anything. He knew that from experience. It makes you feel less than worthy, like less of a human being, because someone you love hates you enough to bring you actual pain.
Finally, he rested his forehead against Loki's. "I'm sorry, baby." And he wasn't just talking about that first punch or all the ones that followed, but he was talking about leaving him for six months, for not being there to catch him when he fell, for getting upset about his cuts, for having a freaky thing stuck deep in his chest to keep him alive, for understanding everything so deeply that it intensified even Loki's agony.
He had enough sorrys to fill the world from the stars to the grass below.
Loki looked over at where Stark was finally sleeping, snoring softly. Tonight, he had shared a bit about himself that he hadn't ever really told anyone who hadn't been there when it was happening to witness it themselves. And it hadn't been like it usually was, like stripping the marrow from his bones and the veins from his 'neath his skin. It wasn't pleasant, sure, but it came easier. Maybe everything was easier when it came to Anthony.
He stretched out beside the sprawling engineer, pressing his face against Stark's neck, nuzzling his nose against the boy's shoulder when he stirred and wrapped a comfortably heavy arm around Loki's thin torso. It pulled him close, into the warmth that seemed to rise off Anthony's skin even in the coldest weather. And they both smelled a little like a late night, and cigarettes, and faded whiskey. But they had a canopy of stars above them, and the ability to fall asleep wrapped in each other, happy, content, warm.
Loki's eyes closed as the last shooting star of the night dissolved in the sky above.
"Are you kidding me?" Loki's voice was high-pitched and hurting his own ears. And in about ten seconds, he was going to start breathing fire. Dragon-Loki enters the stage.
In his living room, sat a sleepy Thor and a very unhappy Odin. Stark's hand tightened around his own, and he could hear a groggy growl break loose from his throat. This was not going to end well, he could already see it, not with them all here, not with Anthony being edgy from last night, not with Loki wanting to rip someone's head off because he was dirty from spending the night under the stars, and because his hair looked like a literal bird's nest. Not attractive. At all. Someone shoot him before he massacres everyone in the world. Single-handedly. Maybe with Stark as his assistant.
"Goodmorning." Odin's voice was curt, and Loki really wanted to claw his ears off his head because that voice was not something he could tolerate this soon after waking up.
Today was going to be a bad, bad, bad day.
Stark grumbled something unintelligible. "Look, Odin, I don't know what you think you're doing here, but you aren't welcome here. You are trespassing." He snapped, something in his brain screaming and ripping out it's hair and rocking back and forth- essentially having the mental breakdown he should be currently going through. But he's not, he's acting relatively sane. Relatively being the operative word.
"I was invited in by your dorm-mate. And that's what I came here to talk to you about." Oh, shit. Loki's seeing motherfucking red. "I found out that you and Thor sharing a dorm would cut costs in half for your boarding. You'll be moving in with him by the end of the week, and no later." There was a tone of no-surrender in Odin's voice.
Something nasty and wrathful and PMSing bitch-wolf rose up in Loki's throat like bile. And he wanted to scream so many things at the man in front of him, already standing like the issue had been settled and there was nothing more to discuss. Oh, contrare, my dear old man. Loki is not even close to being done with you. He is going to chew you up and spit you out. "You aren't my dad, and you will not order me around like I am any less than you or Thor. I won't take this shit from you any more, old man." He growled, his voice deadly low. "And I will not be moving in with Thor, because you made an agreement with me that as long as I went to this college, I would not be staying with anyone I was remotely related to. You promised me that, Odin."
The man regarded him coldly. "And I also promise you, that if you refuse to move, I wont be paying your tuition any longer."
Loki's blood started to boil.
A/N: Oh, hi. Did you survive this monster? If you've made it all the way to this point, I congratulate you and sympathize with you. This chapter was a beast. And it also kind of sucks. And it's only part one of this two part thingie. I do hope you paid attention though, because some minor details are going to be blown out of proportion and made into major details eventually. (Especially about Loki's last relationship.)
This was a happy, pretty, rare gem of a nice chapter. I had to almost stab myself in the eye with a pencil to keep from angst. And I'm not sure I even achieved that goal. BUT I figured you guys deserved it after all the angst I've put you through. Also, there will be some bad-guy shit going down eventually. So, yeah, this might be the last of true happy chapters you see for a while...
Please review? I mean, all of the reviews I get make me smile so big. You guys are so amazing! I have the best viewers/reviewers/followers on the site. LOVE Y'ALL. -Oh my gosh, I've never said y'all-
xoxox, till next time, loves.
(P.S. I forgot to mention that the idea for Loki's excuses at the beginning of the chapter are all credit to The Soul Soldier ;). Thanks, lovey!)