Counting Stars Chapter 24- Skin and Bones, an avengers fanfic

A/N:

WARNING: This chapter contains violence, rape, talk of depression, possibly triggering themes. So. If you have gone through any sort of trauma that pertains to anyyyy of that. PLEASE DON'T GO ANY FURTHER. Okay? I don't want this to fuck with anyone's happiness or recovery or any of that.

And of course, my usual copious amounts of 'bad words'. Only, maybe more this time.

Skin and Bones is the chapter title. It's a song by Marianas Trench.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the fucked-up plot. The beautiful characters belong to Marvel. And Stan Lee, my baby.

Depression was falling into a pit. A never-ending pit. There is no panic, even though your limbs are paralyzed and sadness consumes you. All you can do is watch the light above you slowly disappear. All you can do is see that hope slowly dissipate. All you feel is hopelessness. All you feel is empty.

Loki watched the sun sleepily seep through his window. But he wasn't getting up. The bruises scattered across his arms and legs and torso and face made it painful to walk or do anything but hug his pillow and sniff away the tears that slowly slipped down his black and blue cheeks and onto the pillow. All he wanted was sweet, peaceful sleep.

But hiding behind his eyelids, were only nightmares.

24 Hours Earlier

Tony stretched. A warm body stirred beside him, wrapping one leg around his waist and sprawling across him like a lazy cat. He grinned. There was something about waking up to the smell and cool feel of Loki that rivaled all other forms of waking up. The notion that he wouldn't feel this way for much longer made his heart hurt. Or maybe something else was fueling the growing pain in his chest. Whichever, it spurred Tony into action, slowly slipping out from underneath long, thin limbs to pull on his clothes and grab his keys.

The mansion was empty of all food, and he was out of coffee. And yeah, he kind of needed some fresh air or he might go into full-on panic mode. After last night's events- which entailed Loki getting drunk and playing strip chess with Tony- he kind of doubted the panther in the guise of a boy in his bed would be waking up anytime soon.

From the mansion, it was a ten and a half block walk to the nearest cafe. The air was cutting cold, the wind whipping, and everywhere, everything was dead. The evergreens even looked dead in the grey winter cast that colored everything in sight. But Tony loved it. He loved winter and the invigorating chill that got deep in his bones, he loved the dead look around him that screamed of the world's seasonal depression, he loved the way the wind cut through his skin like a hot knife through butter. Maybe it made him feel more alive, maybe he felt like the Universe sympathized with the dark depression that had followed him around like a dark cloud all his life, or maybe he just favored the punishing cool over the suffocating heat of summer.

Above him, the skies were a smoky grey, clouds congregating and preparing to unleash their tears on earth's unsympathetic face. They made the sun's rays look weak, as if it tired them to fight against the thick, downy wet of the clouds. With sunglasses, it was almost too dark to be early morning. But Tony didn't take them off, he didn't want anyone to see his eyes. If they did, they might see through him, they might see the secret he was straining to hold inside, under lock-and-key in his heart. No one could know. No one. Not even Loki. Not even Pepper. Not Obie or Clint or Steve or even Bruce.

That was the great thing about being alone. There was no one to tell your secrets to, no way to jeopardize everything. Just a few uttered words, and Tony could ruin everything. One slip, and it was all over. If he told a soul, this would go wrong. And he couldn't have that. For once, he wasn't going to be selfish. He was going to do this right, even if it was the last thing he would do.

Loki woke up to someone slipping out of bed beside him. Anthony. He was in Anthony's bed, under Anthony's blankets, and now, missing Anthony's comforting warmth. He blinked his eyes open and watched Anthony slip out of the room, keys in hand. Probably off to grab some coffee. Loki smiled and stretched, whining when something in his head jolted. So that's what it was like to have a shitty hangover. It wasn't like he'd ever been hungover before. Nevertheless, he seemed to forget the awful aftereffects in the course of getting drunk. But he loved it. He loved being drunk, being freed from the reticent nature he had been raised to have, he wasn't pushed in a corner any longer. When Loki was drunk, he felt capable of being everything he wanted to be inside. Fear was eliminated, and he was the most honest, true version of himself.

Of course, being that he is Loki Laufeyson, happiness is always short-lived, shot down mid-flight- a bullet straight through heart of his joy. Maybe he was cursed, or maybe the Universe just hated him. But, there was always Stark, always right there by his side to make even the darkest of times seem a little brighter. Did it mean that perhaps- just perhaps- he was getting better? Did this new-found ability to find happiness in sadness mean he was healing? Was Stark the cure to his cursed affliction of depression and self-harm and the ever-present anorexia? Or was all of this just a band-aid to hide the ugliness within him?

Loki closed his eyes, groaning and digging the heels of his palms back into his eye-sockets. Tension was starting between his shoulder blades, and it wasn't even noon. Fabulous. The thought of Tylenol and water seemed like heaven. Dragging himself out of bed, and wrapping a blanket around his bare shoulders, he trudged towards the kitchen.

It had taken him days to get this place figured out. It was huge. Huge. Like, Loki had thought his house was big. It was a dollhouse compared to this. But he loved it, because it fit Anthony. It was big and rambling and cozily warm and everything was steel or hardwood or something strong and resilient and there were hidden rooms and niches and secrets scattered throughout the whole place. In the kitchen, there was a bottle of water and Tylenol set on the counter. He smiled, unscrewing the lid and downing four Tylenol immediately. To the right of the counter, there was a wall of window. The sprawling acreage surrounding the house made a beautiful, bleak view. Full of winter gloom and the appearance of a frozen world.

Loki wrapped his blanket tighter around him, padding towards the windows and looking out at the carcass of summer's life and fall's slow descent into cold and grey and rain and snow. The remainder of the snow from two days ago still lay on the ground, dirty and stained a dark brown. It was starting to melt under the sun's dim, but relentless, shine. Shadows from the clouds' war against the sun mottled the ground and played games with the trees. An owl perched sleepily on a tree, covered by shade and tucking its head down into its breast to keep warm as it dreamed.

It was a beautiful morning.

Loki ran a hand along the hollow contour of his stomach. Anthony would doubtless bring him something fattening to eat for breakfast, and a sugary coffee- which he knows Loki has a serious weakness for, damn him- and Loki would have to eat to avoid hurting his feelings or getting that puppy dog look that melted his heart. It would ruin that inward curve of his stomach. He could already feel himself gaining weight. And as much as he fought it, the insidious thoughts that he needed to starve, that he shouldn't eat, that he didn't really need food, that the hunger pangs were only in his head, were starting to crowd his brain. Anorexia was never truly gone. Loki had never really gotten past it, or forgotten about it, or recovered from it. Because, it was always there, whispering in his ear, telling him terrible things about his body every time he looked in the mirror or caught Anthony looking at him with love and lust and desire and affection and care and all those wonderful things that seemed to fill the brown in Anthony's irises. And as much as he knew Anthony loved his body, it made him want to be better, to be thinner, to be more beautiful. To be handsomer, to be worthy. Because we all know Loki's never felt worthy of any good thing in his life since the day he walked out of the womb.

He leaned against the window, sighing and letting the cool pane of glass touch his hot cheek. Goosebumps traversed his skin. He felt the scars on his arm, running his fingers across the chill that resided there temporarily. Soon the heat would kick on and the house would become toasty and warm again.

The door banged open, and Anthony shuffled in, kicking it closed behind him. His face lit up when he saw Loki, a smile spreading across his lips as fast as lightning. "Good morning, sunshine." He greeted.

And Loki couldn't help but smile back, because there was something wonderful about Anthony calling him sunshine even though he was the human equivalent of a thundercloud. And only Anthony would smile so fast upon seeing him- hair a royal mess, naked except for a blanket, bare-footed, and probably pale as a ghost- or get that look in his eyes that translated to pure adoration for Loki that no one else had. And really, there's nothing like Stark in the morning, with his hair rumpled and his clothes askew, and just looking generally disheveled in Anthony's signature way.

And the coffee is warm and the food smells divine, and suddenly, this house has become a little patch of heaven on earth. "Good morning, darling." Loki purrs, pressing a quick kiss to Anthony's cheek and getting rewarded with a suffocating hug and a loud, smacking kiss on the lips that has him giggling.

"Clint just texted me. Everyone is meeting up around noon for a inside pool party at Natasha's house, if you want to go. I'm perfectly fine with staying in, but I can tell you're getting cabin fever." He winked at Loki adorably. Loki rolled his eyes.

"That sounds lovely." He grinned. "You'd be happy staying here? Not seeing any of your friends. Just me and you?" He sipped his coffee, feeling the warm liquid fall down his throat and land soothingly in his stomach.

Really, he was curious. He knew Anthony was a vortex of nervous energy and restless curiosity, but he had seemed so mellow the past few days- as if Loki was just enough. And really, when was Loki ever enough for anyone? When was anyone satisfied with just him? Had it ever happened?

Ahem. Thor.

Fun Fact #25: Loki tends to forget Thor's existence when he's miserable or worried or depressed. Why? Because Thor is part of Loki. They are two of the same being. Brothers, yes. Something even closer? Without a doubt. Because, when Loki hates himself, he hates Thor. When Loki loves Thor, he loves himself. They are one-in-the-same.

"Of course, I would." Anthony leaned close across the counter, their noses a few inches away. Loki can't help but smile because, god damn, his boyfriend is cute. "Have you looked in a mirror? Why would I want to share you with anyone else, when I can have you all to myself?" He pressed a tender kiss to Loki's lips. "And anyways, all the more time to seduce you, my dear." He winked.

Way to kill a perfectly romantic moment, Anthony.

Tony grinned at Loki because, um, have you seen his boyfriend? No, really, have you? He's an angel. Tony's convinced of it. And in those clothes, with Tony in that mood, they come very close to not even going to the party. But Loki's bouncy and happy and completely unaware that Tony wants to rip his clothes off with his teeth and take him right where he stands, so they go.

Clint flung the door open wide- classical Clint move- and grinned. "Finally! The party don't start until you two walk in." He winked at Loki, who rolled his eyes, and took the boy's black trench coat. "Natasha's in the kitchen, downing vodka like a real woman." He shrugged. "This was her idea."

Loki smiled. "So, you don't want me for my fantastic partying abilities, but rather my uncanny ability to calm your girlfriend?" Clint smirked. "I'm hurt, Clint. Really, I'm very hurt by this." The deadpan seriousness in his eyes had Tony cackling and Clint backpedaling.

"I'm sorr-" Clint started, making a certain sense of mischievous mirth start to glow in Loki's eyes.

"Loki Laufeyson. Your skinny, pretentious ass better get in this kitchen, right now!" Natasha's voice sounded unhinged.

Clint and Tony shared a look of alarm.

Loki grinned. "Oh, don't worry, boys. I got this." He winked at Tony, practically purring into the short kiss before he disappeared from sight in the small mob that had descended on Natasha's home.

"He's in a good mood." Bruce walked up beside Clint, Steve in tow.

Clint rolled his eyes. "Yeah, you know, they say more sex makes you-" Tony elbowed him roughly when he took in the red tinge of Steve's cheeks. "Oh please, Steve can take a little gay sex talk if I can." Clint shrugged.

Steve fidgeted uncomfortably under Tony's eyes. "Oh, I don't think he can, Hawk." Tony leaned on Clint's shoulder- Hawkeye being the one person on campus who was actually shorter than Tony- and studied Steve.

"Only because he's not the one doing you." Clint muttered huffily.

Tony hadn't thought Steve couldn't turn a brighter shade of red.

He was wrong.

"Hey, boys." Loki breezed past Steve without a second glance and straight into Tony's arms. Mmhmm, be jealous, bitches. He's got the hottest guy in the room. Natasha followed, smiling at Clint discreetly. The red in her cheeks told Tony not only had she been drinking vodka, she'd been guzzling vodka. "Why did you all suddenly get so quiet?" He arched one eyebrow, looking very much the menacing misanthrope they all knew he could be.

Oh, this was going to be fun.

Bruce looked down. Steve blushed furiously. Clint grinned wickedly. And Tony was left smiling at his irascible little boyfriend with all the love in the world.

"Yeah, Clint, why're you guys so quiet all of a sudden? Cat caught your tongue?" The tone in her voice was that of a bulldog. Tony was appropriately awed.

"We were talking about how the only reason Steve didn't like me talking about how Loki and Tony were having sex was because he wasn't the one doing him." He glanced at Loki and Tony. "Er- the one doing Tony."

Oh, if looks could kill- Hawk should've been a dead man.

"That's not true!" Steve's voice was shaking furiously. But, his eyes weren't directed at Clint, they were on Loki.

Loki, who was currently hanging on Tony's shoulder seductively- and let's not forget that Tony's...in a mood- and glaring predatory and pugnacious at Steve. This is the side of Loki that Tony is glad he's never come to par with. This is the side of Loki that Tony could never beat, could never win against. Because this is Loki at his zenith, at that point where he becomes a storm, a supernova, a wily serpent. This is the predator side of Loki, who never backs down, who never loses, who reigns over peasants like Tony and Steve.

"Oh? So you don't want your dirty little claws in my man? Really?" Loki's voice is smooth and dark like chocolate. Tony's dying. Suffering. Suffocating. "Let's be honest, here, Steve. You've wanted Tony for...ever. But guess what. He's mine. Not your's. He never will be yours, and really, he never wanted to be." Loki shrugged daintily. "And I can assure you, I personally will guarantee, that hell will freeze over before you- or any other motherfucker- get's what's mine."

Let's not even say Tony's turned-on. That would be a lie. He long ago went above and beyond being turned-on.

Let's not say, either, that Steve is angry. Steve is more like a cauldron of pissed. Cool, calm, mellow Steve. Pissed.

Clint is giggling and Natasha is smirking and Bruce looks very much like he wants to run away from the tension and confrontation. And as much as Tony has adored Steve- for years- he loves Loki for laying claim to him. And for a little while, all the pain and terror and trauma of their lives melts away.

"I'll be right back." Loki murmurs in Anthony's ear, feeling the responding nod brush curls against his jaw.

Then he's searching for the bathroom, slipping into a room at the end of a hall. He feels a wide hand shove him inside, a door closes behind him. He's whirling, his heart pounding, and getting shoved back against the wall roughly, a hand clasped tightly over his mouth. Cobalt eyes look into his, dark and full of that type of lust he's learned to fear. "You scream, you try to escape, and it'll only be worse for you." Fingers are yanking on his belt, pulling his jeans undone. But Loki can't stay still. This can't be happening again. Loki can't take this. Loki can't go through this again.

So he screams. So he struggles. So he kicks and lashes out and bites the hand over his mouth and squeezes his eyes shut against the tears. He's thrown on the bed- god damn, he was just looking for a bathroom- a hand grabbing his foot when he kicks out. His foot is twisted painfully, an agonizing wrench shooting up his leg and making him yelp. That hand is over his mouth again. "Let's put it this way, bitch. You make another noise, and it won't just be you who suffers. I know who you love." There's a terrible pain twisting in his chest, reminding Loki of that same feeling he suffered through three years ago. Yeah. He can take this. He can't take anyone else getting hurt.

"Thanos, please, don't do this." His voice is a cracked whisper, hoarse and afraid. He hates it, he hates how small and helpless he sounds. He hates being this vulnerable creature. He hates how easily he breaks and bleeds, he hates that he's never felt true love. That he's never been saved from the abuse in his life.

An evil grin crawls across the man's face and warps his expression into that of a demon. And then his pants are ripped off and god, he's wiggling and beating and trying his damnedest to get away, away, away, to just run away from this and everything beating him down and abusing him and hurting him and god, the memories are running through his mind and all he wants is to go home and never let Anthony let him go. But he's on his stomach, pulling at the edge of the bed and kicking at Thanos and god he wants to scream. But he can't. No. He has to protect everyone he loves. Because, if anyone does, he knows exactly what Thanos is capable of.

If he can just get out of this room...

His pants are getting yanked off and Thanos has a hold of his hair and tears are springing to his eyes. 'No, no, no, no, nonononononono!'. This isn't happening. It can't be. Dear god, he's been through this once. His arms are twisted behind him so tightly he's croaking out curses in a rough, tight voice that's full of all the pain and emotion in the world. A fist cracks into his side, and he gulps down a struggling cry. A rough hand flips him over, on his back again.

"Oh baby, you know how I love to see those pretty green eyes, don't you?" Thanos' voice is a terrifying growl in a dark room. And god, the music is so loud out in the main room that if Loki screamed at the top of his lungs, no one would hear him.

Helplessness balloons in his chest. "Let me go!" He lashes out, and gets rewarded with a hard fist against his cheekbone. His legs are held down by strong thighs straddling him, his wrists tied down in one big hand. His boxers yanked down to his knees, and god, no. "Stop, please. Please." His sounds pitiful, scared, small. He sounds so vulnerable and afraid and it makes his stomach churn.

He can hear Thanos' belt buckle clink when he undoes it. He can feel his own body recoiling when Thanos aligns their bodies. He can feel everything in him screaming 'RUN!' and he can feel just how weak his is in the face of Thanos' strength.

Pain shoots through him like a bullet. He bites his lip against the scream that's raging up through his throat and dying to break out of his mouth. Tears squeeze past his screwed tight eyelids. The bed is creaking and Thanos is panting and the world is spinning even though Loki won't open his eyes for the world. And god it hurts, so much. It feels like he's being ripped apart and split in two and torn to pieces and his lungs are ragged from the silent screams he's swallowing and his body is tense and he's in so much pain.

"Let me go. Stop. Please." He's begging, groveling. Anything. But he just sounds ragged and broken and hopeless.

"Open your eyes." The demand is wicked and cruel because Thanos knows Loki doesn't want to remember this sight, he doesn't want any more senses involved in this violation of everything he's tried to build up in the past three years.

A hand slams into him, and he's crying again and god everything hurts. There are going to be bruises all over his body, and how can he be around Anthony like this? And why would Anthony even want him after all this? He hasn't even told him about three years ago when this happened the first time. But he opens his eyes and spits in Thanos' face.

"Fuck you." He snarls, feeling the motion ripping him apart inside, cease. A hand smacks across his face, making his teeth bite into his lip. Blood pours into his mouth, and starts to leak down his chin and clog his throat.

His throat is encased by strong fingers like a vice, crushing his windpipe. "Now, let's lay down some ground rules. You will take this, and you will shut up, and you will stop struggling. Just like last time. I'm sure you remember, I tried to make this enjoyable for you, but you wouldn't listen to reason. Now, I will take what I want from you. Easy, or not. You might as well just enjoy it, Loki." He sneered. "And if you fucking spit at me again, I'll break your jaw."

Loki's vision is starting to swim when the pressure on his windpipe is gone and he's dragging in blessed oxygen and the cock between his legs slams into him again and he's gone, his mind swimming in pain and a dizzying desire for everything in the world to just freeze.

Ten minutes later, Loki's pulling up his jeans and dizzily trying to find a bathroom before he collapses. He stumbles into the smaller room, pulling the door shut and locking it and pushing the strangely placed chair against it and dropping to his butt like a toddler on the floor. He can't cry anymore. He can't do anything but wallow in the pain and the 'Why, why, why, why, why' plaguing his shut-down brain.

What did he do to deserve this?

Tony looks around the room, standing on his tip-toes to see over all the taller people and across the room to the walls. Loki's not here. Loki's gone. Loki's been gone for a good twenty minutes and Tony's fucking flipping his god damned shit because he saw Thanos. Fucking Thanos. And judging by the creepily satisfied look on his face and the strange bruise forming on his jaw, Tony figures Loki's not okay.

"Loki?" He darts from room to room, shoving open doors and mumbling apologies to the couples he bursts in on. But Loki's nowhere to be found.

To say Tony's panicking is a bit of an understatement.

Someone bumps into his shoulder, and the room is getting overstuffed and overheated and when the hell did so many people get here? He can't find Loki. Loki, the tall, scrawny boy who looks like he just walked out of a Tim Burton movie with his beautiful pale skin and dark hair.

"Tony?" Clint grabs his arm and hauls him to a stop. Not being in motion and actually focusing on something that isn't Loki throws him off for a second. Clint. Why is Clint here? "Looking for Loki?" There's an understanding look in his eyes and the beginnings of relief start to wash over him.

He nods. If Clint says anything but that Loki's okay, he might just punch him for halting his search.

"He's alright. Nat took him home. Well, to his dorm." Tony's about halfway out the door before Clint has him again, halting him again, stopping him from getting to his boy. "You can't go. He-He said he needs..." Clint bit his lip. "Look, you..." He sighs. "Oh fuck it. He got into some sort of trouble with Major Jackass and he looks pretty roughed up. He doesn't want you to see him like this and if you go right now, he's either going to burn me alive or Natasha's going to behead me." He shrugs. "Just, wait till morning?"

Tony's staring at him because really, really, really? Loki's not okay and Clint's actually asking him to not go rescue his princess and lock him up in a tower where no one can hurt him and they'll never leave and Tony's about to have a mental breakdown. "If I don't go see him now, I'm going to kill you in the most painful, creative way you can imagine." He snarls, something like a mean street dog rising in his chest because this is not something to fuck around with. Tony doesn't play around when it comes to Loki. He can't let him be alone. He knows Loki too well for that.

Clint sighed. "Tony, he needs this. You didn't see him. He's terrified, and you barging in there like Mr. I'm-Gonna-Save-the-Day isn't gonna do either of you any favors. Just...give him the night alone." But, Clint doesn't understand what Tony does- if Loki's alone, he'll hurt himself. Tony can't get the image of the scars on Loki's arm out of his head.

But Clint's right, god damn him.

So Tony does the only thing he can do when his life is fucked up and he's breaking inside and there's nothing he can do to glue it all back together:

He gets drunk.

But hiding behind his eyelids, were only nightmares.

A/N: Um. I'm sorry? I don't think that fully discloses how much I apologize for this emotional roller-coaster.

I love all of you guys so much. Without you all, I'd probably be pretty fucking miserable right now. So, HUGS FOR ALLLL. Thank all of you so much for reading this fic. It's like, my favorite thing of all time (not the fic, because it totally sucks, but hearing feedback and from you all).

Speakinggggg of feedback. I haven't been getting as many reviews recently. Did I do something wrong? Did I fuck up something? I'M LOST, GUYS. Is it...-horrified shudder-...boring?

Anywhoooo. Gracias. Te amo. Have a splendid rest of the weekend, and a wonderful upcoming week ;).

P.S. If any of you hate me now, please realize that I fully intend to kill Thanos. Eventually. Because I hate him too. And if any of you have gone through any sort of trauma, I love you xxxooooo. I'm here for you. I will listen if you need to talk about anything you're going through, have gone through, anything. My inbox is a judgment-free zone, and you can tell me absolutely anything.

Just throwing that out there in case anyone needs someone to talk toooo. I know it's helped me through some shit.

~xoxox, Rayn.