Only Speak When It Improves the Silence

Chapter I

Tony was still a little bit buzzed, his vision was blurred around the edges, and his head would feel as if Thor was punching it when he turned it too quickly. He made his way towards the stairs that led to his lab, having to put his hand on the wall to support himself—which didn't really help, since he tripped and had to jump down five steps to save himself from falling and breaking his neck. Once he had managed to get into his lab, it didn't take longer than a minute to assemble the Mark VI; in less than two minutes he was flying out of the mansion. He had bumped into the walls a couple times, but had managed to exit the tunnel like pathway without any major damages. Tony was certain there were some laws against flying while intoxicated, but what's another broken law in his book, right?

"JARVIS, did something come out of that… that thing?" Tony shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts of the alcohol that had taken over. "Whatever it was." Tony grumbled a bit under his breath as he flew higher into the clouds, thankful that no one had heard his drunken stupidity, other than his trusty AI.

"Yes, sir. Something fell into the ocean by Paradise Cove." JARVIS's electronic British accent rang out in Tony's ears, and Tony was sure that he heard a scowl of disapproval from his AI, but he blamed it on the alcohol.

"Give me the coordinates, JARVIS."

"Right away, sir."

Not long after JARVIS had said that, Tony's screen flashed with the direction of his destination. He began flying towards it, but it would be some time before he got there. "JARVIS, can you give me some visual?"

"The images aren't clear, sir."

"Show me anyway, Jarv."

The AI pulled up a small screen to the left of Tony's helmet with what looked like a typical night view of the ocean. Trees swayed in the soft breeze as waves rolled over the sand. Tony could see a couple people by the edge of the water, screaming at each other as two men tried to swim deeper into the ocean. At firs Tony didn't see what they were swimming to, but as the image on his screen disappeared and the actual view appeared in front of him, he saw it.

Someone was drowning.

"JARVIS, is that what fell from the sky? A person?" Tony asked in disbelief.

"I believe so, sir."

"Damn it." Tony cursed softly under his breath, knowing this couldn't be anything good. He automatically thought it was some evil alien creature that was planning on taking over the world again. "JARVIS, full powers to the thrusters. He's not going to make it if I don't get there in time." Tony said, debating on actually saving the man or not; Iron Man would look bad if he just let someone drown while he watched though, so he was going to save this person-alien-thing.

"Already done, sir."

In seconds Tony was over the water, leaving the two men attempting to swim to the drowning man, in the dust. The one that was drowning was thrashing his arms wildly, his black hair pulled over his face so Tony couldn't see who it was. He could see what appeared to be chains around the man's wrists, and something shimmering on his face when the raven strands of hair would move out of the way.

"Shit." Tony cursed again as he dived down into the water. He wrapped his arms around the man's body and pulled him up, lifting him out of the water quickly.

Loki didn't know how long it took him to fall; it felt like he had been falling for an eternity. His body felt as light as a feather; colder than anything he had ever felt. It surprised him. The cold never bothered him. In fact, he usually welcomed it. He felt at home in the snow—of course he did, he was a Frost Giant. How could he forget that little fact?

It wasn't until he hit something that his train of thought broke. All the air was knocked out of his lungs; he struggled to breath, trying to claw his way out of the sticky wet substance he had fallen into. The liquid rushed into his nose, making its way into his lungs and suffocating him. Loki couldn't see—couldn't breathe. He thrashed and struggled, trying to get to the surface of where he had fallen.

Every time he would break the surface, he would be dragged back down; waves crashed into him, knocking the little bit of air he managed to get out of him. The chains dragged him down, tangling themselves with his legs, making it harder for him to kick to the surface. The metallic gag made it difficult to breathe, because he was not able to take air through his mouth, he had to struggle with the little bit of oxygen he could manage through his nose—which was usually filled with salty water.

Loki knew he wouldn't last long; God or not he would die if he could not breathe. He shut his eyes tightly, his wet hair clinging to his face and gag, making it hard to see anything to begin with. Loki felt himself get heavier as darkness surrounded him. He began to sink back into the dark water, the liquid filling his lungs again. Breathing in one last time, he allowed himself to fall into the darkness. Maybe now he would be welcomed in Hel and given eternal paradise.

Tony held the limp body in his hands as he flew back to shore; the man's long black hair was clinging to his face, still making it difficult to identify him. There was something about him that deemed familiar though, and it troubled Tony. He had a bad feeling about all this that had nothing to do with the alcohol he had consumed; he felt completely sober now. Once he reached shore, he landed on the sand with a heavy thud and laid the man down; sand stuck to his wet armor and the man's torn rags.

Tony's face plate slid up, allowing him to see the man with his own eyes now. He quickly brushed the man's raven black hair away from his face and froze.

"Loki?"

Tony all but screeched as he saw the God's face. Loki looked paler—lifeless even. The gag that he last seen the God in was still in place; chains were wrapped around his wrist, binding them together. His leather armor was gone; all that was left were dirty, torn, undergarments that Tony was sure weren't used since the medieval ages; a long gray shirt that came up to Loki's knees and long loose pants that ended just above his ankles.

Tony quickly snapped out of it as he moved a hand to the back of Loki's head and quickly removed the metallic gag, throwing it away somewhere. He turned to look at Loki, ready to do some CPR, when he noticed the black thread tying Loki's lips together. The stitching was done wrong; Tony could clearly see the ragged edges where the person had stabbed the skin multiple times to try and get it right. The wounds were still fresh, and there was blood covering the God's lips. The gag had been on place so tightly that Loki's lips were dry; a clear dark imprint of the gag remained on Loki's pale skin.

"What the…"

A crowd began to form around them, and Tony began to panic. He realized that if he didn't get Loki breathing soon, there would be no way to bring him back. God or not, he was sure they needed to breath to live. He quickly looked around, trying to find something sharp enough to cut the thread off. When he found none, his panic level sky rocketed.

"Does anyone have a knife!?" He shouted, looking at the crowed. "Something sharp! Anything!"

When no one spoke up, Tony cursed loudly and turned his attention back to Loki. He would have to rip off the thread and that would probably tare Loki's lips—

"I have a knife!"

Tony quickly turned his head to where he had heard the voice. A man was pushing his way through the crowd, a small pocket knife in hand. Tony quickly took it and thanked the man. He pressed the blade gently against Loki's lips, trying his best to keep his hand as steady as possible as he severed the thread. Blood began to drip down Loki's pale wet chin, but Tony ignored it for the time being. He threw the knife down beside him and pulled the bloodied strings out of Loki's abused mouth, then took a deep breath and pressed their lips together, pinching Loki's nose in the process.

It felt weird—kissing a God that is. Tony had to remind himself that he wasn't exactly kissing Loki as much as he was trying to save his life. He blew air into Loki's mouth, pulled away and repeated the process. His own mouth was covered in blood and he wasn't sure which taste he hated more—blood or salt water. After the sixth time that he tried to breathe life back into Loki's limp body, he began to press Loki's chest.

Once.

Twice.

Thrice.

Loki's eyes snapped open and he gasped loudly, coughing violently as he sat up, spilling water that had filled his lungs from his mouth. To Tony, it looked as if Loki was emptying his whole body, throwing up water and blood and water. When Loki was done, he fell back against the sand, panting, flushed, and shaking from the force of trying to breathe.

"Loki…?"

Loki's green eyes looked towards Tony, not registering who was kneeling next to him. It took him all of two seconds to realize that this was Iron Man, Anthony Stark. How…? Was he in Midgar? Of all the realms he could have landed in, he landed in Midgar?

Oh the Fates do have a sense of humor.

"Hey, Reindeer Games. Can you hear me?"

Loki groaned at the nickname. He opened his mouth to speak but when nothing came out, he thought that his lips were still sown shut—but that couldn't be. He felt his lips moving. He tried again, and again no sound came out.

"Lokes? Are you trying to get feeling back in your mouth or something?" Tony asked, clearly confused as to why the God was simply moving his mouth and not speaking.

Stark… Loki wanted to say. I can't speak. I have no voice! But the Man of Iron could not understand what he was saying—Tony didn't read lips.

Tony was getting frustrated with the God, and it wasn't until a woman behind him spoke that he realized what was going on.

"Is he a mute?" She asked softly. "He's mouthing that he can't speak; that he doesn't have a voice."

Tony quickly glanced at the woman, then back at Loki and cursed loudly. The faceplate slid back into place. "Alright, Reindeer Games. I'm gonna pick you up and take you somewhere safe alright? So don't fight me. I'm only trying to help you."

Loki wanted to argue that but he felt too weak—too pathetic—to fight against Tony. He felt his body being lifted, and he closed his eyes. It felt as if he was fly through the air, with strong arms wrapped around his cold, fragile body, and it felt nice. He was too tired to open his eyes, and he ended up falling asleep in Tony's arms as they flew.

Perhaps he would be able to speak again once he recovered his strength; perhaps his vocal cords were just raw from no use. Perhaps…

A/N: Ehhh. I didn't like the ending to that chapter, but oh well. Sorry it took so long to update guys! I'll try to be faster next time! Promise!

This chapter is dedicated to my lovely Anthony Stark, I love you hun!

You guys are welcome to point out any mistakes, I won't bite.. hard~

And you're always welcome to leave a review~!