A/N: Chapter title is I Was Scared and I'm Sorry by The Wonder Years.

Do enjoy, loviess :).

~xoxox, Rayn.

It was raining outside. Fucking New York City had been drenched in the downpour of the heavens for days. Like, nonstop, literal, days. Tony was pretty sure he needed to start building an ark or something, get a few dogs and cats and maybe some chickens- because Tony's a sucker for fried chicken. And coffee. And maybe build in a bar, and load it up with all the whiskey and vodka- because fuck, Tony's not going anywhere without Loki, and Loki's in love with vodka- and scotch he can find.

He sighed, sitting back in his chair and running his eyes over Howard's lab. Well, it was his lab now. Or that's what Obadiah told him. Obadiah had also told him that, if the company was to continue to be lucrative, Tony had to start cranking out some new and improved weapons. But, there was a small problem.

Tony didn't want to build more things that shed innocent blood.

Letting his eyes drift downward to the device in his hand, he wondered if it even mattered. Did any of it matter? What was the point? Life was so short, and who gave a shit about what happened in it but you and those you loved? Did even they care? Did he care? He made a fist around the small thing bleeping at him harshly. Fingers squeezed, making the plastic and metal warp and groan in complaint. His heart was hammering. Why was he here? What was the point? What was he here for? Anything? Anything but suffering?

Oh god, Tony was so tired of misery. Maybe this was the answer. Maybe it was over. Finally. Maybe he could leave here, and Loki could go on without Tony hanging like a weight around his neck, dragging the beautiful inky-haired teen down, down, down with him. Maybe the company would be put in the right hands. Maybe Steve would be released of his never-ending worry, and Pepper could stop fretting over him, and that frown between Clint's eyebrows would smooth away. Maybe this was the answer to all the problems in everyone's life. Because, if Tony wasn't around, the burden would be lifted.

But he would miss them. He'd miss Loki. The memories of missing Loki, and wanting Loki, and dreaming about Loki in that cave in Afghanistan seemed to haunt him. It had always been those moments of wanting cool hands on his neck and soft lips on his own that kept him moving, kept him working, kept his pulse racing and his heart beating and his will to survive thriving. If he hadn't had Loki, there would have been nothing to come back for, no reason to go on. And god damn, he had hung all his hopes and dreams on one young man. One boy who could change his life for the better, or drag him to hell by his toenails. And Tony knew, he knew he'd done all that love entails. He'd put a gun in Loki's hand, let Loki put his finger on the trigger and point the barrel to his head, and trusted him not to send a bullet through his brain. Because with a few words, with an action, with a look, with a few steps, Loki could kill him.

Now, Loki wasn't the only thing that could kill him.

But, he was still the closest to his heart.

Loki looked in the mirror and scowled. Green eyes blazed back at him, irritated and depressed. His hair was...curly. Like, those terrible kinky curls that bounced around his shoulders when it was humid and rainy outside. He looked like he was a five year old. Maybe if he punched the mirror, everything would magically go back to the way it was supposed to be, like how Loki had planned everything out in his head? Or, maybe he'd just have torn knuckles and tears leaking through his eyelashes.

Someone banged on the door. He grinned, his entire face lighting up. Natasha. His little Russian bundle of sunshine. He bounced out into the living room to open the door, smiling at a very wet, very pissy Russian bombshell. Behind him, Constantine straightened up. Nat rolled her eyes when he waggled his eyebrows at her. Honestly, Loki liked Natasha and Clint together. Somehow- against all odds- they were a perfect couple.

"Oh my Jesus, Loki. You're not even close to being ready." She scowled, putting her hands on her hips. "What've you been doing all morning?" Sounding stern was really one of Natasha's most developed talents. He felt like he was talking to his mom.

"Oh hush, you're used to it." He shrugged, throwing on a coat and pulling a beanie over his traitorous curls. "Let's go before I melt down and cut off all my hair." He stepped out the door and immediately recoiled.

Fun Fact #23: Loki loves the cold. Loves the snow. Loves the ice and sleet. But there are moments when all he wants is to curl up under several thousand blankets with some hot chocolate and marshmallows and be warm and toasty and cozy. This, right now, is the latter.

"If you cut off your hair, Tony would have a nervous breakdown. I don't think I've ever seen you two together when he wasn't playing with your hair." She shook her head. "You two are gooey. It's sickening." She wrinkled her nose cutely.

Loki smirked. "Shut up! He's adorable." A warm feeling settled softly in his stomach, sending heat through his entire body and reminding him of his furnace of a boyfriend. Oh, how he wished he could be cuddling up under a blanket with his hot engineer. And no, this fantasy is not PG-rated.

"Loki!" A hand clapped down on his shoulder harshly, stopping him in his tracks, the rain pelting down on him like little bullets.

He spun, shaking off the hand on his shoulder and scowling. He froze. Thanos. Of course, just when everything was getting better. Thanos was a curse, a three year old curse come back to bite him in the ass. Thanos was a mistake, a mistake he had made a lifetime ago, when he was young and stupid and lost. Before he found out who he was, before he realized why no one loved him, before he understood that it wasn't all his fault. Thanos had provided a source of 'love' when it seemed like the whole world had turned on him. And Loki had fallen into a well-lain trap, snapping its jaws around him so tightly that it broke skin and bruised and tore down every ounce of self-confidence within him. When Thanos first hit him, first got in his face and called him nasty things and made him scream for all the pain to just stop- everything within Loki had shattered like so many pieces of glass. He felt like Thanos had torn him apart and shattered him. He still wasn't put back together. All the glue and love in the world could never piece him back together after that. That nightmare that still haunted him.

He snarled, "Get off me." There was a feral, wolfish tint to his voice. Natasha's fingers wrapped around his wrist, telling him 'I'm here, I'm right here. I won't let this bitch hurt you.'

But it was little solace.

"Oh, baby, don't be wicked, now. I'm just trying to be nice." The tone in Thanos' smoothing, charming voice felt like acid in Loki's ears. His skin crawled nauseatingly.

"I'm the wicked one? Oh, that's rich. And I'm not your baby." His back was arched, his eyes condescending. But inside, Loki was trembling.

Fun Fact #24: Loki hates feeling weak. Even more, he hates looking weak. He would rather scratch the blood out of his veins, than show weakness in the face of adversity. And when Thanos pranced onto the scene that is Loki's teenage life, there was a lot more blood shed than just the blood dripping off Thanos' knuckles every time he beat Loki to tears. Because Loki tore his own skin apart, he tortured himself because he thought he deserved every last beating that man gave him. He would have stayed with Thanos, if it hadn't been for that last straw that broke the camel's back. Loki loved Thanos, once upon a time, despite all his flaws and faults and how he had broken Loki so much, that he didn't even understand that he deserved better- someone who loved him, who wanted him, who protected him from pain.

"Yes, you are." An iron hand gripped his jaw, making Natasha start forward. "You've always been mine, you little whore. Remember how I fucked you that last night? Hmm? How you screamed and begged me to stop, stop, stop. Ohhh, you're hurting me," Thanos mocked him, making his face turn red, making his eyes water. He struggled in the man's grip. "Oh, Thanos, stop, please, Thanos. Don't forget you're mine, Loki. I marked you." A hand shook him, rattling his bones.

"Stop! Get off me!" He shoved Thanos away. "I'm not yours! I never was! You did nothing but hurt me." He felt his fingers clenching, nails shoving into the skin of his palm. "Fuck you for that, because I was healthy, I was happy, I was confident before you came into my life and broke me down. And I hate you, you worthless dick. I don't love you. And I'm not yours! So, fuck off, and stay away from me." They were nose-to-nose, Loki's angry eyes looking straight into Thane's supercilious glare.

"Get away from my brother, Thanos." The voice that boomed behind Loki was deep and comforting. The hand that wrapped around his waist was soothing, protective, familiar. Loki felt a cocoon of safety overwhelming his senses. And he knew why.

Because this was the man that had protected him from everyone and everything that had conspired against him, all those years ago when he was innocent and happy and unmarred by his own knife and his mistaken belief in people. Before he had broken his skin, before he had been broken, there had been a person who could hold him when he cried, who could brush away his tears without being slapped at or growled at, who let Loki use him as a human tissue. That person was Thor. And Thor, the big blond brute that Loki had yelled at and cursed and hated for almost a year, was here. Right now. When Loki needed him. And Loki did need Thor, just like every little boy needs his big brother.

"This is none of your concern, Thor." Thanos dismissed the blond with a flippant wave of his hand. Loki felt anger boil in his chest. No one- and when I say no one, I mean, no one- dismissed his brother but him. "Me and Loki were just having a nice chat. So how about you go off and do whatever it is some brutish idiot like yourself does." It was only by the grace of whatever gods there were that Loki hadn't ripped out Thanos' tongue at this point- really, Thanos, say prayers of thanks.

Loki watched in disbelief as Thor squared up to Thanos, a big, strong hand- which had held him when he cried, brushed his hair when he was too fucked up to do it himself, tucked him into bed after a beating so harsh, he couldn't do anything but cry- fisting in Thanos' collar. Thor's cobalt eyes were on fire. Everything moved in slow motion when Thor shoved Thanos back against a tree, the rain still coming down like god himself was crying.

"If you hurt my brother, you-" Thor started, his voice trembling with rage. Loki was shaking and crying, the tears mingling with the rain that washed down his face.

"I never hurt your brother, Thor! I never touched that little prick. He's been lying to you." Thanos was shaking his head, the lies tumbling past his lips in a desperate attempt to save his own skin. "I never ever touched him, unless he wanted me to. And trust me, he did, a lot. I never fucked him when he didn't want every bit of it!" He was yelling, and people were staring, and there was a hole burning straight through Loki's heart.

"That is a fucking lie! I have the scars to prove it!" Loki's voice sounded strangled and small. He felt so small. So minuscule. So insignificant. God, he thought this feeling was over, years ago. He thought when he moved out and started college and lived away from Odin, that the abuse would end. Surely, surely, it would end. Surely he would be able to breathe, be able to be free, that the pain and abandonment and torture of being so very alone would stop. Surely, he wouldn't feel so small and tiny and like nothing, anymore.

But it hadn't. Nothing had stopped. And he was right here, still. Three years later, and Thanos is back. Three years later, and he's lying again, and all those feelings that Loki wanted to forget were flooding back in again like a tidal wave. It was like the whole world was turning on him, like everyone was beating him down again.

Loki was falling.

Thor's eyes were on him, his fists still holding Thanos pinned to the tree. And yeah, Loki's realizing now that Thor has seen those scars. Thor had seen the aftermath. Thor had seen him, laying on the floor of his and Thanos' apartment, bleeding and crying. Thor had been there. Thor had helped him up, carried him to the car. Thor had brought him into the ER. Thor had cried over him, Thor had held his hand when he was too scared to sleep alone. Thor had sat by his bed and watched over him when he cried and screamed and thrashed in fear of his nightmares.

Thor knew. Thor had seen. Thor, out of all the people in the world, had just as much reason to hate Thanos as Loki did. Because, it was Thor who had watched his little brother spiral downward into pure psychological torture and fear and physical pain and discomfort. And there's nothing more painful than watching the boy you believe to truly be the one on this Earth you love, fall apart.

It was like the world slowed down, stopped spinning for a few seconds when Thor's arm pulled back and his fist slammed into Thane's mouth. Blood exploded, spraying outward from where Thor's ring hit Thanos' gums. Loki stopped breathing for a good thirty seconds, watching Thanos sink to the ground, watching Thor throw his big fist into the man's face once, twice, three times. The anger in him like a coiled cobra, striking over and over again. A poisonous darkness that had been building up in them both.

Then Loki's running, his feet moving of their own accord. His hands are reaching out to Thor, pulling him back- it's like Loki's watching a movie, because those aren't his hands, are they?- pulling him backwards, them both stumbling away from the spluttering, wrathful man who's standing. And they're both out of breath, and he can feel the sobs and shaky breathing coming from Thor's chest. Loki's bundled in powerful arms, wet and disheveled and cold and shivering. And there's adrenaline pumping through his veins so hard, it's clogging his ears. Thanos is shouting, screaming at them. But Loki can't hear. He can only see.

'Faggot.'

'Fuck.'

'Never.'

'Him.'

'Wanted.'

'Whore.'

Loki's eyes close, then. Because he knows exactly what Thanos is saying, and though the words aren't true- and let it never be said that lies aren't just as hurtful as the cold, hard truth- they strike through to his core. He can feel himself shaking, trembling from the anger and adrenaline and bottled up torture that his life has been to him. Loki wants to explode. Loki thinks he is going to explode, because the pressure is too much, the words he saw are screaming at him now, berating him and telling him how awful he is and how he deserves this. Those words mean too many hurtful things to be ignored. 'Sticks and stones may break my bones, and words will always hurt me.' Because if anyone in the world is ever honest with themselves, they'll realize, words hurt. Words have the power to ruin and destroy someone. And Thanos knew all the words that broke Loki down into a hazy, fucked up, scared mess. Words that put him in a corner and turned him into a skinny, shaking, bruised and bleeding victim.

He opened his eyes. The world was spinning. Thanos was still yelling. "...a total fuck up! I never hurt him! He's lying!" The words pierce Loki's eardrums like daggers.

Pushing out of Thor's arms is like walking into the middle of a tornado. All is calm until it hits you like a vortex of pain and hatred and years of confusion piled on misguided love and misguided wrath and misguided torment. "You can say anything you want to, Thanos. It may change what other's think of you or I. But it will never change what you did to me. It will never change how much I hate you. Nor will it ever change the fact that you're a complete and utter son of a bitch. I know who you are. And so do you. And you have to live with that. I don't. Stay the fuck away from me."

Loki backed away, holding Thanos' angry eyes for ten seconds. Then he turned and walked away. It wasn't over, but Loki was done. There was no more fight left in him. There was nothing more to say. There was nothing left. He felt deflated and boneless, like all the air had been wrung out of his lungs. He needed one thing, and one thing only.

Anthony.

Tony looked up from the papers on his desk when Pepper opened the door. She smiled apologetically, the same smile she had given him an eternity ago when letting him go meet his father in his apartment. Tony winced at the memory. "Yeah?" He toyed with a weird statue that went back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. It bothered him, but Pepper claimed it looked professional and intelligent. What-the-fuck-ever, Pepper.

"Someone here to see you, Tony. Says he's an old friend?" She smiled again, and Tony wanted out of this office, out of this building, back in his home, his safety, his comfort. Can he just have Loki in his arms and some crappy hot chocolate and a corny romantic movie that Loki adored? Please? Is that really too much to ask?

"Okay, send him in." Anything to get rid of the papers on his desk that were glaring at him petulantly. It wasn't that Tony didn't like owning his own business, just everything that came along with having his own business. Reading and signing wasn't really his thing.

Nevertheless, when Tony heard 'old friend', this wasn't really what he'd been thinking of.

"Hello, Tony. Nice office. Bigger than mine, even. Fancy, spiffy." The pleasant tone had an undercurrent of plain and unrestrained hostility that made Tony tense. "This is my associate, Horace." One man gestured to the other, who wore an ugly blue suit and a crooked smile. Tony eyed the man, something stirring in the back of his mind.

"Odin. This is an unexpected surprise." He stood, asserting his dominance in the situation. Maybe everything his dad had taught him hadn't gone in one ear and out the other. And right now, he wished his dad were standing in this office making small talk with some crazy fucking senator and his right-hand man rather than him. "Is there something I can do for you?" And really, the pleasantness in his voice was so strained, he sounded choked.

"Yes, there is." Odin's one ice blue eye focused on Tony intensely. It had nothing on the sharpness of the words that fell out of his mouth next, though. "Stay away from my son." The words hit him like a slap in the face. '

He shook his head, clearing away the words that moved through his mind like smoke- hazy and unclear. "Excuse me?" The diva-bitch-hellion tone in his voice cut the air like a knife. You're on Tony's territory now, Odin.

"I will hurt him, if you don't stay away from him." The coldness in his voice made the temperature of the room drop to -30 degrees. A chill shot up Tony's spine and memories of Odin beating Loki in his dorm room ran through his mind, making an iron fist grip his stomach. "Nothing you say will change my mind. As long as you are dating Loki, he is in danger. I assure you of that."

Horace shrugged. "And you know how the media is these days, never know when they might find out you're fucking a boy." A nasty sneer had taken the place of his smile.

Tony gripped his desk, his face turning to stone and his eyes glaring at Odin. "You don't scare me, old man." But he did, he scared him for Loki. Because, if anyone got hurt in this, it would be Loki. His darling Loki.

Odin smiled. "You think on what we said, boy. And you stay away from my son. Or else, you know the consequences." He smirked, walking out. "Give Obie my best, will you?" He threw over his shoulder, the door slamming as he and Horace exited.

Tony collapsed into his chair, his eyes looking out the window vacantly at a torrent of rain and rolling thunder and flashes of lightning. What the fuck was he going to do now?

When Tony's phone rang, he instinctively knew who it was. And it isn't it a tad scary that Tony knows Loki so well, that he knows when he's calling? And that, by the tone of his voice, Tony can tell something is wrong, and that his doom-and-gloom boyfriend is on the edge, and he knows, knows, knows that Loki's on the verge of that darkness that hovers in the back of both their minds. Because they're both just masochists that really hate being in pain, and suicidal young men who want nothing more than to live. But living is so hard these days.

"Lo-Lo, what's wrong?" The cool metal of his phone makes goosebumps crawl across his cheek and across the bridge of his nose and over his other cheekbone.

He can hear a heavy sigh across the line. "I got in a fight with Thanos." His voice is soft, almost a whisper, and Tony's ears strain to catch every sacred syllable. His blood boiled at the thought of the big, handsome man who had been torturing his boyfriend for months, now. Oh, what he'd do to get his hands wrapped around that man's windpipe. "But, Thor stepped in." There was a crack in Loki's voice that tore at Tony viciously. "He- He was good. He helped me..." Oh, how badly that must've hurt to say.

And Tony understands pretty much nothing of Loki and Thor's relationship. He's never had a sibling, never even a friend he considered close enough to be a brother. And when it comes to Thor and Loki, it's not just a sibling thing, it's more than that. Because, when Tony looks at Thor, when Thor is watching Loki, he sees this abounding, unfettered love that is far beyond brotherly affection. There's this protectiveness for Loki that Thor has, that Tony has never encountered before. It's fascinating and enviable. Tony would have killed to have someone there, by his side every step of the way, someone to be on his side when he was growing up. Instead, he fought tooth and nail, became hard and bitter, built walls around his heart that only he and Loki knew how to break down. Yet, still they stood. And forever they would, because Tony's too scared to let even Loki in anymore.

It'll just hurt too much when the time comes.

"You want to come over? Spend the night? Or the week." He studied his fingers, looking at the stains left by the day's activities. Too much grease, too much sweat, too much soot. He was covered in it head-to-toe and probably smelled like he hadn't showered in a few decades.

"Yes." Loki sounded relieved. Oh. Right, because of Christmas break. Hmph. Like Tony would let him be alone.

"I'll come pick you up in thirty minutes." He thought for a second. "And don't bring anything." A smile started to form on his lips, ideas popping into his head a hundred miles a minute.

"Anthony, I'm not spending a week naked with you at your mansion." He could hear the deadpan amusement in Loki's voice. He grinned wider.

"Why not?" Yeah, he was whining like a five year old. But hey, that was supposed to be cute, right?

"Because. I just-" Loki sighed. "I'm not giving you any reasons. I'm bringing clothes. Whether I wear them or not." Not. That'd definitely be a not, Loki. Because Tony's not gonna let you hide an inch of perfect pallid skin that belonged as much to a snowman as it did his six foot plus frame.

"I love you." And yeah, no matter what was happening, and no matter the personal crisis that Tony was currently neck-deep in, he did love Loki. So very much. So much that it was consuming him, piece-by-painful-piece.

"I know." And really, that was the best response from Loki. It meant trust, requited love, adoration, confidence. All the things Tony knew Loki had never really experienced before, all the things Tony had wanted him to enjoy in their relationship.

Tony smiled. Fuck Odin and his threats.

He was Tony motherfuckin' Stark.

Even god couldn't touch him. Not when he was with Loki.

Together, they were invincible, untouchable.

Loki shoved two sweaters, four tank tops (because, when around Anthony, one doesn't get cold), a jacket, pajamas, socks, boxers (although god knows, it doesn't sound like he'll be allowed to wear them), and toiletries into a very worn backpack that had been withstanding the burden of his relentless and ever-changing social life for his entire life. Because, when Loki was staying the night at someone house, or knew he'd be spending the entire night out, he brought a change of clothes. There was something about arriving somewhere in the same outfit you'd worn the day before that Loki abhorred. Maybe it was the embarrassment of someone realizing exactly why you hadn't changed in the past twelve hours.

Constantine was leaning against his doorway, smirking at his frenzied rush to get everything he needed together before Anthony- who would doubtless be fashionably late- arrived. "You guys are really gonna work out, aren't you?" John's voice was amused, not surprised.

Loki looked up from folding a green shirt- which smelled just like a certain brown-eyed boy who'd worn it after spending the night at Loki's- and into Constantine's dark eyes, watching the smoke from his cigarette curl around his face. In a way, he looked appropriately eerie- even if Loki loved John's unique occult beliefs, Loki loved even more the darkness that could accompany such practices. "I certainly hope so." He smiled. "I wouldn't have stayed with him for this long, if I didn't want it to last."

And it was true. Loki was known for being in in-and-out relationships. He'd had too many one night stands, too many emotionless relationships, hurt too many feelings. He wanted to stay with Anthony. He loved Anthony, and he knew, as much as it scared them both, that Stark loved him just as much.

"Do you love him?" The question was cynical, typical of John, but it still shocked to Loki to a standstill.

He looked at Constantine again, a small smile playing with his lips. "Yes, yes, I do." He shrugged. "Who would've thought, right?" Loki's known around campus for being an Ice King, with an arctic soul and absolutely no interest in absolutely anyone...until Anthony came along and ruined his reputation for being a hard, cool bastard.

Anthony rapped on the door, banging out a rhythm that made John roll his eyes. He opened the door, allowing Loki to get his shoes on and his hair tied back- because the weather was fucking with his hair in a terrible way this year.

"Hiya, Johnny. What's up?" Loki didn't have to see the men to know Constantine was grimacing and Anthony had his signature jackal grin. "Where's Lo?" He could hear Stark already striding towards his room, without allowing John to get in a single word.

Then he was grabbed from behind, swept into a whirling hug. "Hello, love." He smiled, turning to kiss the grinning inventor on the lips. Kisses through smiles were the best.

"Are you ready?" He could read the desire and love and affection just emanating off Anthony. But desperation was in their clutches, the way they held to each other, fingers grasping hems of t-shirts and reaching for hands to hold. Both of them were on the brink, and they could only keep from falling by holding to each other like some sort of sick reality show situation.

Loki nodded, grabbing his backpack and trotting after the man who somehow walked faster with shorter legs. John waved goodbye, throwing things haphazardly into a beat up suitcase in preparation of going home. It was the last day, today. And almost no one had gone to class- excluding Natasha and Loki, who was the only reason Natasha went to any classes whatsoever. Everyone was busily preparing for the holidays, going home for Christmas to eat and drink and spread around cheer wherever they called home. Loki's home was in Anthony's arms, there was no special place he could return to see a mother and father, to roughhouse with siblings, and exchange gifts with little-to-no thought but a smile and a receipt.

In the car, there was the signature smell of all things Anthony. Cigarette smoke from a burning cigarette- "Want one?" Anthony proffered a pack of Marlboro and a lighter with red and gold zigzagging across cool metal, a silver 'S' emblazoned over it all. Classic.

"Between you and Constantine, I'll never quit." He breathed in the hot ghost of nicotine and tobacco.

Anthony threw him a shit-eating grin, whipping through City traffic. "Sorry, love." Honestly, Anthony, Loki'd really prefer your eyes were on the road, considering you're going like three thousand miles over the speed limit and weaving through cars and it's really close to giving him a heart attack.

Stark reached over and threaded their fingers together, offering asylum in his touch and love through the feel of fingers on skin. Loki scooted closer to him, leaning his head against a warm shoulder. "I used to love Christmas time." The decorations proclaiming annual cheer and goodwill were strung up everywhere, and lights decorated the edges of every building. The City went all out, every year trying to outdo themselves in past years, and succeeding more often than not.

Anthony's thumb ran circles against the tendons, bones, and veins on the back of Loki's hand. "Used to?" His voice was that sleepy, content, relaxed growl that Loki adored. It was the tone reserved for him and only him.

"Mmm. My mom and I would go shopping for presents together when I was really young. It was the one time a year that she let me have coffee. We probably walked the mall three or four times before going home when everything started closing, and our arms were ridiculously tired from carrying around bags, and my feet ached like I'd walked a hundred miles. But it was that good kind of exhaustion, y'know? She'd let me blast whatever music I wanted on the drive home, and we would enter the house like we had the super amazing secret between us, because I knew what she'd gotten everyone, and she knew what I'd gotten everyone." He smiled at the memory. "It was one of the few moments when I felt just as special as Thor, like I really belonged there, in that house and that family."

Anthony frowned down at him, the car thrumming beneath them and everything seemed to vibrate with seasonal joy and rare happiness. The world seemed to be at peace at last, except in the tumultuous orbit of Loki and Stark. But it would always be that way. There was always a dark cloud following Anthony and Loki, causing them unease even in the best of times. And really, when Loki's with his love, it is the best of times, the time when he can let his hair down, when he can feel alive. Stark was a puzzle piece that fit perfectly.

"What happened today?" There it was. A question Loki had been waiting for. He knew Anthony didn't want to ask, that he'd rather do anything than address the elephant in the room-er- car.

The grip on his hand tightened reassuringly. "Me and Nat were walking to class when he just appeared out of nowhere. He's always been really good at that. Uh." Loki sighed, looking down at the hole in the knee of his jeans. "He and I got into a fight. He started saying he'd never hurt me. That just made me so mad. We were really getting into it when Thor came along. I guess he just saw the fight from wherever. Him and Thanos started talking, Thanos still saying he'd never hurt me. But, it was Thor who'd seen all the damage- well, most of the damage that had been done to me! I mean, he took me to the fucking hospital when Thanos broke my ribs. So, Thor pinned him to a tree. And when he was saying all that about me, and Thor was looking back at me with those fucking eyes that seemed to be remembering everything I was remembering...he punched him. And you know that football award-thingie ring that Thor has? It hit Thanos right in the gums and there was like blood everywhere." He grimaced. It had been disgusting. "I pulled him back-"

"Why?" Anthony's eyes were hard, staring out at the traffic and the rain and the gloomy cast of grey over everything like if he focused hard enough on that, this wouldn't hurt him too.

Loki shrugged. "I have no idea, honestly." He kept his eyes downcast, not willing to look at Anthony until he got it all out. "Afterwards, he was screaming and I tuned him out. Then I told him off and walked away. Went to class, and called you as soon as it was over."

Attention focused stubbornly on the window beside him, Loki watched the Santas ring their bells outside storefronts, and people ignore the requests for seasonal charity, and the world pass by at Stark's inordinate 80 miles per hour. The whole universe was a gloomy shade of winter. All grey, and white, and black, and red. Red, seeping over everything like blood and gore instead of Christmas cheer. The fingers in his hair massaged the edge of his skull, making him sigh and close his eyes contentedly. This was what Christmas was about for Loki. Love. Affection. Human contact, and not bad contact, but good touch. Loki's been touched harshly so many times in his life, it was easy to forget what it felt like to be hugged or kissed or petted. And gods know, Anthony treats Loki like a kitten or something.

"You're safe now. You don't have to see any of them for weeks." There was an uncertainty in Stark's voice that Loki thought was unnecessary at this point. If Loki didn't want to stay with you, he would've told you by now, Anthony. "If you don't want to."

Loki glared at him as they pulled into the house-sized garages of the Stark mansion. The grandeur and shining, pristine clean room made his head spin. Anthony parked and moved to get out of the car, but Loki grabbed his wrist. "I want to be with you, Anthony. I want to spend this...holiday, or whatever, with you. No one else." And he knew that, yeah, Stark was insecure because of Thanos and Loki's history with him. But he didn't know what Thanos had done to Loki, how he had scarred and scared him, how terrified Loki was that all of that would just happen again now that he was shoving his way back into Loki's life.

A boyish grin lit up his boyfriend's face, and they were kissing, and it was just soft and warm and comfortable for a minute. Then Anthony was pulling him across the console, to sit across Stark's thighs. Arms wove around his waist, holding him close and connecting their bodies at every joint and seam above the knee. It was suffocating and warm, and the tug on his jacket was welcomed. Jacket off. Then Anthony was pulling on his shirt and Loki knows exactly where this is going, and yeah, it's kind of really hot.

Stark has one hand on Loki's ass and the other tracing his rib-cage when a voice rings through the garage. "Tony! Are you-" Loki's retreating and blushing and glaring at Anthony because he's fucking laughing. And really, he wouldn't be laughing if he knew how much Loki wants to kill him right now.

"Hi, Pepper." Anthony gets out of the car, allowing Loki time to yank his shirt and jacket back on and make his hair slightly less tousled- and thank god for beanies. "What are you doing here? I thought you were spending Christmas at your mom's." Loki got out of the car, wandering off while Stark talked business with Pepper- whom he'd heard of, but never officially met. He saw her at the funeral, taking in her mascara-stained cheeks and how she'd clung to Anthony as if he were her boyfriend. Suffice to say, Loki's a very jealous young man, and Anthony was now very aware of that fact.

Loki looked up at the high ceilings in awe. Anthony was making a drink and babbling about something Pepper had said- really, as soon as Stark had mentioned Pepper, Loki stopped paying attention. "You want a tour?"

"Hmm?" Loki looked at a picture of three people. Howard was one, but Loki didn't recognize the other two. "Who are these people with your father?" He picked up the frame, gazing down at the smiling faces and the happiness in their expressions.

Anthony came up behind him and laughed. "Oh, that's me and my mom." He took the picture, tracing his mother's face. "It's the last picture of her before she died." He shrugged. "She looked happy, right?" Loki nodded, looking down at the grinning woman who had her arms wrapped tightly around her son. "She wasn't. In fact, she was crying right before this picture was taken. She had just found out that Howie had an affair with some secretary." The bitterness and the anger of a protective son resounded through his voice. Shaking his head like he was shaking off the memories, he threw Loki a smile. "C'mon, I'll give you the grand tour. There's a lot of hidden secrets to this old beauty. My dad was a suspicious, mistrustful man. There's like ten different hidden hallways, doors, and rooms. I used to get lost in them when I was little. Dad would hear me crying and come get me, scolding me and banishing me from leaving the main house ever again." He smiled that jackal grin that practically oozed mischief. "I never listened."

Loki watched and listened curiously as Anthony laid his home bare for Loki's interested eyes, hearing every word like it was an oath or a promise. Because Anthony was being open, telling Loki stories of his childhood and revealing things about himself that no one had known. There was talk of his mother, his father, the prestigious men and woman who had played ball with him in that room, or the business partner of his dad's that he had spilled steaming coffee on, or the time he had sneaked a pony up to his room.

Loki was caught in a whirl of everything Anthony, and yet absolutely nothing personal. Stark was open, but his walls were still up.

"This was my mom's favorite room." In the middle of the room, there was a white grand piano. It was the focal point, drawing all eyes with it's artistic slant and pure, enigmatic color. White with innocence, white with mystery. "She taught me to play before she died, but I stopped playing after. It was too much, y'know."

Loki smiled, his eyes distant from Tony and this realm. "It's a beautiful piano. Has anyone played it, since?" Tony noticed Loki's reluctance to mention Maria's death, even when Tony'd brought it up. The boy realized it was too close for Tony, held too tightly.

Stark shook his head. "My dad wasn't very musical, y'know." He watched Loki run his fingers across the ivory keys. "I didn't even know you played." He sat on the edge, pulling Loki with him.

Loki smiled, shrugging. "I haven't in years. "

"Why not?" Stark brushed a lock of curling black hair over Loki's shoulder, revealing a sharp jawline and elegant, snow-white neck. He traced Loki's collarbone delicately.

"After..." He sighed, catching Tony's hand in his and tangling their fingers together tightly. "After Thanos...broke my ribs, Thor threw a shit fit. That was when he was really there for me, no matter what. Well, I told him I wasn't going to break up with Thanos, and that it was none of his business, no matter who he was. He lost it, went after Thanos..." He shook his head. "When I went home that night, Thanos wasn't there. I didn't realize that Thor was tracking him down, hunting him like he was some sort of deer or something. So, I sat down to play. Just to waste time until Thanos got home."

Tony squeezed the pale fingers between his. Loki smiled at him shakily, tears making his dark green eyes shine.

"He came home, and sneaked up behind me. I was playing some song I had written for Thor when we were younger. I was still upset about our fight. I'd told Thanos about the song in the beginning of our relationship. Hearing it kind of sent him over the edge, after fighting with Thor before he got home." Loki looked down at the keys before him, touching them softly, reverently. "He took this iron sculpture he had nearby, and started bashing my piano with it. It was a...beautiful piano. 70 years old, given to me by my grandma not long before she passed away. That piano was my baby. I kept it in shining condition.

"He destroyed it. Even with me freaking out and trying to pull him away, he ruined it. When a friend of mine came to look at it, he told me he would have to completely reconstruct the keyboard to get in playing condition again. It was all smashed to hell, the keys, the hammers, the finish on the rest of the piano, everything. And..." Loki pulled his hand out of Tony's. Pale fingers squeezed into a fist. "That night, after he demolished my most prized possession...he broke my hand, put my fingers on the keys and slammed the cover down on them." His face was ghostly white with the memory of the pain ripping across his expression.

Tony cringed at the thought, his stomach tying up in knots and a cruel fist closing around his heart. "Loki..." He brushed his fingers through the boy's curly, damp hair.

"I never played again. I jut couldn't stomach it. My right hand had three fingers broken clean through." He wiggled his index, middle, and fourth fingers. "And, my pinkie finger on my left. Thor still doesn't know the truth. I was crying too hard at the hospital." He smiled bitterly. "After that, he didn't ask questions. I guess I effectively cured him of that, huh?" A tear slid down to hide in the crook of his lips, so Tony kissed it away.

Tony said more in that kiss than he ever could have in words. Things like, 'I'm here', 'You're safe', 'I wont let you go', 'I love you more than words can ever describe'. But it wasn't enough. It was never enough. Tony wanted to give Loki the world, heal all his wounds, take him somewhere far, far away. He wanted to protect Loki. But he couldn't, no matter how hard he tried. Because, there are things within Loki that he must conquer. There are battles he must fight alone, just as Tony must battle his addictions all by himself. Some things we must do ourselves, because no one else is strong enough to do it for us.

But were they winning their battles?

Was Loki to be a victor?

When would Tony lose the battle, once and for all?

A/N: It's shit. I'm sorry. It's late, and I'm so tired, and this chapter just wouldn't be written. And OH MY FUCK. My updates have been so sporadic and random and ugh, forgive me?

Review? Pretty please with cherries on top? If you review, I will come make you a banana split, or a Sunday or whatever they're called with cherries on top. Legit.

I LOOOOOOVE YOU PEOPLE. And please forgive my shitty writing.

Plots. I must burn them with fire.

Urgh.

Have a great week, guyssss.

~xoxox, Rayn