A/N: It's so short. I'm so sorry.

WARNING- Pretty much the same as always. This chapter is a little dark. Definite talk of addictions. So, if you're going to be triggered by anything, please don't read this. Being triggered sucks serious ass.

xoxox

p.s. Heaven's Gonna Wait is by Hedley. Check em out. Good band, mi amigos.

Tony glared out the window, staring at the huge clouds accumulating at the edge of the horizon. It would rain soon. A real thunder-boomer for sure.

He took another swig from a whiskey-darkened bottle.

Lit a cigarette.

Breathed the smoke.

It felt good, the burning in his throat and the protesting of his lungs. His head swam, his vision blurring for a second. Everything became just the tiniest bit sharper, and he could see the faces of the people walking on the sidewalk outside. People that were stories upon stories below his apartment. He wondered for a second what it would be like to fly down to them from his balcony. Just one step off the railing, close his eyes, and everything would be over with a crack on the concrete. Funny how fast things can change, when you take matters into your own hands.

Funny how badly you can fuck your life up with one insidious thought.

Fourteen years old, and he tried it for himself. He tried to end it with a little too much booze, a few too many pills. It had seemed so simple at the outset. Like, if he had really wanted to, he could rewind and it would be like he had never taken those pills. The strange part was, he never wanted to. He never wanted to rewind, backtrack, travel back through time and reverse his then-recent past. And then Obie had run in and done it for him. He had knelt above him, calling 9-1-1, something a little unsteady in his voice. Tony had almost laughed.

It was all just so fucking funny.

And now, he was here. His life was ruined by a desire he had finally gone through with. A dream- or nightmare- he had finally followed through til the end. An end that wasn't the end. Five years ago, and it was still fucking with his head. Five years ago, and he still couldn't get past it. Five years ago, and it was still haunting him. It crouched in his mind, waiting to pounce on him and drag him down, down, down into a deeper and more unfathomable depression.

So funny.

Maybe he'd laugh till he cried.

Or maybe he'd cry until he laughed.

Tony woke up on the floor, something pounding in his head like a jackhammer. He looked around blearily, feeling a tight coil in his stomach about to jump up his throat and out his mouth. He scowled at nothing. But the pounding didn't stop, and he realized it wasn't inside his head. It was someone knocking on the door. He might murder them for the pain they were causing his poor brain.

He stumbled, tripped, fell fifteen million times, and knocked into about fifty different things (including his own two feet) just to get to the god damn door and rip someone's head off. He yanked the door open (and nearly broke the doorknob) to see Steve's somber face. Steve. Seriously.

Fuck. His. Life.

It wasn't that he didn't completely adore Steve, because he really did. It's just that Tony has come to the realization that wreaking of alcohol and looking like what was probably a fabulous imitation of a ghost, was not the best idea around Steve. Because saying Steve was a mother hen was probably the understatement of the year. And Tony was his project. He wanted to fix Tony, to make everything all better like it was a boo-boo you could just kiss away. But it wasn't. It wasn't just a boo-boo. It was a gaping wound that had become infected and was starting to poison Tony's lifeblood. It was seeping through his veins and turning him into a ticking time-bomb. One day, it would kill him. And there's not really anything anyone can do about that.

"Are you drunk?" Steve asked, peering at him in surprise. Why would it be a surprise?

Oh, because it's 8 am. On Monday. Whoops. So much for class. Not that Tony cares. He's Tony Stark. He'd like to see the fucker who'd fail him.

"No, ociffer. I swear I ain't been drinkin'." Tony teased, throwing a smile over his shoulder as he gracefully- ha ha ha- stumbled back into the apartment. Suddenly, he noticed the stench of the alcohol that had spilled somewhere...

"Jesus, Tony. This place looks...terrible." The astonishment in Steve's voice wasn't new. This wasn't the first time he'd dropped by after Tony'd trashed his apartment. Fits of rage run in the Stark bloodline. He remembered his dad getting drunk, and the memory ran a shiver down his spine.

He just shrugged in response. In two days, Tony was going to be evicted. Suffice to say, he didn't care if the place burned to the ground. Bitterness coiled tightly in his chest. But no, he wasn't going to think about Howard today. He was already depressed and angry enough. Let it lie, Anthony. Just let it go. That's what Loki had told him, once, about their fathers. But hell, neither of them had very much luck with that. He shook his head, focusing on the newly poured glass of Scotch in his hand. He resisted the urge to throw it at the wall, and watch the faded white paint weep alcohol tears.

"So, how're you?" Steve looked him over with a searing gaze that Tony felt could see all the dirty things he was keeping locked up in his soul. It was poisoning him. Throwing him deeper down a fatal rabbit hole he'd tripped into when he was fourteen.

He gave the man a disbelieving look. "Oh, I'm just peachy, Steve." Brown eyes rolled. Focused on the landscape outside. Took in the rain and lightning flashing with the wrath of the gods. His fingers clenched.

"Loki's worried." Steve ran a hand back over his short blond hair. Tony's jaw almost dropped. Steve and Loki talking? What the fuck. "Yeah, he was so worried he came to me, Tony." Because now Steve can read his mind. Fuck yeah. "He told me you haven't been answering his calls. What's going on?" There was an exasperated tint to his friend's deep voice.

Tony just kept staring out the window. What could he say? He had been ignoring his phone, completely dismissing the idea that Loki might get worried. Loki? Worried? Well, it wasn't entirely impossible- especially considering the whole Afghanistan fiasco, which still haunted him every sleeping and waking moment. There was something bone-chilling about getting kidnapped that kind of stuck with you. Sometimes, he wondered if those days would ever leave him alone. If he'd ever stop waking up panting and covered in a cold sweat that had him shivering under his tangled blankets. Right now, he felt as if that fear and desperation would stick with him forever.

"I'll go see him later." Once he'd sobered up and taken a shower, he'd go see his boy. He had missed him. But he didn't want the frail, oh-so fragile-looking teenager to see him like this.

Sure, Loki seemed so strong. But inside, he knew that kid was breaking just as badly as he was. And he hated that. Hated it with every fiber of his body. But there was nothing he could do to change it, just as there was nothing Loki could do to change his pain. At the beginning, Tony had believed they could fix each other. But now, now hope was gone. Hope was something for the weak. Hope was disappearing faster than that light at the end of the tunnel.

"Tony, why're you doing this?" Steve put a hand on Tony's shoulder, and for a second, he thought the bigger, stronger man might shake him. He knew he wanted to. But Steve would never do that, he would never hurt him. Tony wished, just this once, that he would. He wanted someone to hurt him. Wasn't that what he deserved?

"Why not?" He smiled out the window, looking past his reflection to the storm raging on the sidewalks and rooftops across the street. "Why not? I mean, gotta die of something."

We all fall down. Even Tony. Even Steve. Even Loki.

Loki looked up from his homework lying across the grass when a long shadow fell across the page of his book. A man's shadow. Tall, well-built, lean. It was a form he knew as well as the back of his hand, even warped by the sun. Because, he had seen this shadow before. It had been in the form of flesh and blood, holding him in a tender vise while they kissed beside a picnic. It had been summers ago, when he was tan and full of smiles- even if the darkness within his soul turned them into fake masquerades- and when his heart wasn't quite broken yet. That flesh and blood which had bruised him with hard fists and nasty words that still rung in his ears and spun round and round in his head.

He looked up. Dark cobalt eyes burned his.

Thanos.

"Hi, Loki." He sat down cross-legged in front of him. Loki regarded him with an arctic gaze.

He was determined not to be intimidated. At least not from the outset. Sure, he would probably fold like an old suit in thirty seconds, give or take, but he would try. It was more than he had ever done with Thanos. He had always folded, always given way, always caved immediately. Their relationship had been so centered around Thanos, sometimes Loki wondered if the man had really been in a relationship with himself, and Loki was just a casual fuck on the side.

"Hello." He let his voice ring strong and fearless. But he was already quaking. Shaking hands balled into fists in his lap. The edge of the page crinkled in his book. A knot formed in his stomach. Something constricted his throat.

A smile spread across the slightly older man's face. "I'm glad you've finally gotten over that petty hostility. I knew you still loved me." And from the beams in his eyes, you'd think he'd won the lottery. But Loki was not a prize to win.

"Yeah," He smiled fallaciously and shook his head. "All that hostility was so unnecessary. You know, there was only one thing I've ever really needed to say to you, Thanos."

And, let's be perfectly honest. Loki knows that what he's doing is so, so, so magnificently stupid. This was just not done around Thanos, and anyone who happened to have the balls of steel necessary to do it...well, things never necessarily worked out well for them in the end. But guess what. Loki didn't care. Because sometimes, our lives need to be changed so drastically, that we must go through a moment of complete insanity- or what doesn't make us stronger, will kill us.

"Tell me, baby." It was almost sickening to Loki that a man so cruel and uncaring, could look so loving and full of adoration.

That man had raped Loki.

And that's what he used to give him this unusual bravery. If he didn't remember that, he would cave. He would be sweet and cowardly. And one thing Loki could never allow himself to be, was a coward. He could be a diva, he could be a drama queen, he could be a punching bag. But he would never stand by and take whatever someone else dished out without some sort of fight.

"Go to hell." He stood, leaning down to look straight into Thanos's eyes. "I do not love you. And god help me, I may have once, but that's over. That's done. I hate you. And I don't hate a lot of people. But I hate you with every fiber of my-"

A fist smacked into his mouth.

Ow.

Ow.

Owowowowow.

He stumbled backward, his hand going to his gushing lip in surprise. I mean, hell, it wasn't the first time the man had hit him. God, no. But he'd never been so...public about it. And maybe that's what started the fire in his gut, or maybe it was that finally, finally, all that inner rage he should've been feeling, was catching up to him. Maybe this was what happened when you played with fire, because god knows he had been. Loki has that damning tendency to let those he love get away with murder. And he'd certainly spared no costs when it came to Thanos.

So perhaps, Loki straightening his back and charging for Thanos, had been a long time coming.

Alas, things are never as Loki wishes them to be in his ridiculously imaginative mind- wherein he envisioned himself tackling Thanos and pummeling all his anger into the man's pretty face (and any truthful soul will acknowledge that this would never happen because Loki is an atheist David up against a religious Goliath, here)- because a strong arm hooks itself around his waist and hauls him to a halt against a strong chest with something pretty hard and painful in the middle of his chest. Something that tells him this man has a heart, and also tells him that this is the man that has been completely absent without a known explanation for a whole week.

Suffice to say, Loki's not the most warm, cuddly being right now.

"Loki, calm down." Stark's voice isn't warm and tender. It's harsh and ground down to a deep bass, and it really sounds like someone just woke him up. Only now, he's not all up in Loki's face, nuzzling him and murmuring sweet nonsense in his ear even though he woke up about two hours earlier covered in cold sweat and dreaming things he will never tell Loki about. "I'm here." And yeah, Stark, that would've worked if you'd been there the past seven days. But no, you disappeared off planet fucking earth and Loki doesn't trust anyone who's vanished for that long. God only knows what you've been up to, and Loki plans on having a good long discussion with you about that after he kills Thanos.

Loki would go into a homicidal rage on the ass of any motherfucker who dared to say he had an easy life, right now.

"Let me go!" And yeah, his voice is verging on the bitchiest it's ever been with Anthony. But hey, Loki's not known for being a kind, gentle soul, either.

"Yeah, let him go. He can't hurt me." Thanos leers.

It is possible for Loki to get more enraged?

Yes, yes it is.

And the warm, fiery hand on his ribs- right over that god damn scar, which may or may not be driving Loki's senses into overdrive because he hates/loves it when Stark touches him there and pretty much makes all his fears poof into blissful oblivion- is suddenly gripping him with all the strength of an iron fist. The gasp that escapes his mouth takes even him by surprise- it hurts, Anthony- but what shocks him even more is being pushed behind the inventor that's really a few inches shorter (although he'd never mention that to a certain pint-sized engineer). "- even look his way again, I'll castrate you." And although Loki only came back to earth for the tail-end of that threat, he's pretty sure he heard the same thing come out of Thor's face a few times two years ago when Loki's world exploded into the fucked-up supernova it is now.

When, and only when Loki's about to fucking explode from rage and fear and hatred and love and a little disappointment, do they leave. And it's really not leaving for Loki, because he's more like being dragged away by a strong hand on the small of his back that promises to grab him again if he makes a break for it. Although the thought that he could probably outrun Stark has crossed his mind, he know's the man has lightning quick reflexes made even faster by the muscles Loki can actually feel bunching under the engineer's tanned and burnt skin. And even if he loves getting swept into those strong arms most of the time, today he's just too pissed at the world to want anyone's embrace.

Fun Fact#19: Loki is a touchy-feely person. When he's affectionate, he will be all over you like a kitten who is over-zealously wanting attention. On the other hand, he can be the frostiest son of a bitch to walk planet earth, in which touching him can result in the highest level of frostbite.

It doesn't take either of them by surprise when Loki does a whipping one-eighty on Stark when they get to Loki's dorm room. "Where the fuck have you been?"

Tony needs a drink. A strong one. Right now. Because, judging by the look in those verdant eyes he absolutely adores, he's in deep, deep shit with the one and only person he truly cares about anymore. And if that's not enough, he's already about to explode from the fury all bottled up in his veins. Thanos is a very lucky motherfucker. Very, very lucky.

"Where the fuck have you been?" Loki's voice is the deepest and most cracked and broken he's ever heard it. His pale face is shadowed by the light shining behind him in the kitchen, and it makes his hollow cheeks and deepset eyes even darker. Not for the first time, he wishes the tiny teenager would eat more.

Tony's at a loss for words. He looks down, scuffing the toe of his shoe against the floor uncertainly. Telling Loki he went on a week-long binge and drugfest probably isn't the best way to get himself out of this conundrum. Then again, lying to Loki isn't gonna get him anywhere good, because the boy can tell lie from truth like a god damn polygraph.

Decisions, decisions.

A/N:So, this may be the most unsatisfactory chapter ever. I do apologize.

Life has been a little...ugh, lately. So, I request your patience. I'm going to definitely try to grind out some longer, better, more quickly updated chapters now. I don't know what's wrong. Writer's block, I s'pose.

Anyways, please review, even though it's short. Tell me what's good, what's bad, what I can improve on. It'll help me a ton.

I LOVE Y'ALL. And thanks for the patience.

xoxox, Rayn.