Avengers 1. Chapter 1

The god is practically unconscious when someone finds him. He is battered and bruised, body and soul; simply exhausted, too world-weary to hold his eyes open anymore. So when Someone finds him, he doesn't protest when that Someone scoops him up in strong steady arms and holds him close against a warm solid body. He thinks he maybe slips into sleep for a little while.

The certain Someone carries his oh so precious delicate cargo to a bathroom. He works out how Loki's armour comes apart and relieves him of it, then strips the thin cloth of his undergarments away as well. Loki is too tired to care about modesty, too far gone to really care. He is too pale and too thin beneath his clothes, ribs pressing against his skin like they're trying to break out, ridges of his spine too easy to count as that Someone's warm careful hands lift him and lower him into warm softly scented water. Everything is warm, he's surrounded by steam, seeping into his skin, into his bones, into his tired tired aching muscles and drawing out the pain buried in them. The water takes the weight from his shoulders and carries it for him. He doesn't have to think.

Tony Stark sits on the closed lid of the toilet with his chin on his hands and wonders what could possibly push someone this far out of themselves.

Before the water can get cold Tony is hauling him out again, and Loki is practically a ragdoll, slick skin making him slippery and difficult to manage. He falls against Tony's chest and his hoisted up over Tony's shoulder, making the dark cotton of his t shirt damp. Then he is wrapped in such soft thick towels, and he sits huddled on the ground with his bird-boned arms wrapped around himself while Tony rubs another towel through his hair. When he's dry Tony takes the towels away and leaves him shivering despite the warmth of the room.

Loki is taller and so much thinner than this someone, but the god's own clothes are too dirty and tattered for him to wear again, and so Tony manages to manoeuvre Loki into a clean pair of boxer shorts and drag a faded old Metallica shirt over his head. It practically drowns him. He's still shaking. Tony sighs and scoops him up once more and bears him to a living room, wraps him up in several blankets and sits him on the sofa. He presses a mug of tea into the god's long icy fingers but Loki just sits and holds it, staring into the hot liquid.

Tony sits on the edge of the coffee table with his fingers steepled under his chin and watches him.

"You're supposed to drink it," he says finally, his voice ghosting into the silence of the room like a puff of smoke. Loki makes no move to put the mug to his lips, but starts shaking, harder, and Tony has to take the mug away from him before he drops it. Loki still shakes, and finally he shows that he might just be alive, as hot salt tears build in his glass green eyes. Once the first falls another chases close behind and they don't stop coming.

For a moment Tony hesitates, but only for a moment, and then he is leaning forwards and pulling Loki into his arms and holding him tight enough to stop his shaking, letting him soak the shoulder of his shirt with salt water. Loki cries silently, until he's exhausted himself and can do nothing more than sleep, so Tony carries him to bed and stays with him to keep him warm.


	2. Chapter 2

So, I found the motivation to continue this. In all honesty.. I couldn't resist, haha. Updates will probably be slow, and short, like this one, for which I do apologise. I hope you enjoy it anyway, and I hope the AU I've contrived makes a bit of sense. Reviews are extremely appreciated - let me know if there's anything in particular you'd like to see here. Thank you for reading. - CW

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Loki wakes up slowly and alone, but warm, wrapped in so many blankets it is almost suffocating. He turns over gradually, confused and groggy with sleep, surrounded by the soft clean whiteness of Egyptian cotton sheets. It takes great effort and a long time, but he untangles himself, and with a soft moan as every muscle in his frail body protests, pushes himself into half-sitting, half-leaning against the headboard. He takes several long, steadying breaths, fingers pressed against his chest. Mere moments later, he bites back a gasp as someone taps on the door.

"Only me." Tony's voice is carefully breezy as he steps round the door, and pads softly to the bed. "JARVIS told me you were awake.." he murmurs, simply using words to fill up a silence he'd be afraid of, "So I brought breakfast. Hope you're hungry." He perches on the edge of the bed, and drops his bag of doughnuts on the mattress between them.

Loki has barely reacted, gazing down at his own bony hands. "Uh, are you gonna eat?" Tony presses, nudging the bag closer. When Loki still doesn't respond, Tony allows his composure to slip, and he sighs in something like weary exasperation. "Okay," he mutters, shutting his eyes and rubbing at his temples, "I'll leave this here, then." He gets up carefully and runs an anxious hand through his hair, "Just, ah.. ask JARVIS if you... need anything..." He's gone from the room a lot faster than he realises.

Tony paces his corridors for a good long while, combing his fingers through his hair over and over until it starts to come out in his hands. Stress, he decides, and brushes it off with a grimace.

For a few hours he fidgets on a sofa in front of the television, but he can't concentrate on shitty daytime shows when his mind is clear, much less when he has a catatonic god in his bedroom and is desperate to work out what drove him to such a state. Loki, Thor's brother. Tony had met him before, not so long ago. A terrifying race of creatures called Chitauri had found their way to Earth over a bridge that had something to do with Asgard. Thor, a prince of that realm, had aided SHIELD's little group of 'Avengers' greatly in driving the invaders back from whence they came. But at the final, critical moment, it had been Thor's raven haired brother who had stepped in and used his powers over magic to seal the Chitauri away for good. The efforts had exhausted Loki, but he'd had more than enough time to recover, especially by a god's standards.

Tony can hardly imagine what in Hell could have happened since then to break Loki so completely.

After another half hour of self-torment, mind reeling with possibilities each more disturbing than the next, he shakes his head sharply and gets up off the couch. He's made it to the guest room in a heartbeat, but pushes the door open slowly, forcing himself to be calm. Or at least look so, outwardly. Inside, he doesn't know how he's feeling.

Loki is exactly where Tony left him, and so are the doughnuts. But as Tony sits down carefully on the edge of the bed, he notices that Loki is crying again. An icy stab of something painful jolts through his veins. Tears are coursing unchecked down his cheeks, dripping over his lips and off his chin. All Tony wants to do is pull the man into his arms and hold him close against his body until he cries himself to sleep, again. But he knows he can't just keep doing that. He has to find out what happened to Loki, preferably sooner than later, so he can do something about it.

But when he opens his mouth to speak, he's interrupted by a choking sob from the man in front of him, and as Loki's face crumbles, all of his resolve melts away. He shifts closer and slips an arm around the god's shoulders, and when Loki doesn't make any sign of protest, he tugs him gently into a warm embrace. After a moment cool, thin fingers curl hesitantly into Tony's shirt, and then his grip tightens as Tony runs a warm soothing hand up and down his spine. He makes soft shushing noises into the man's dark hair, which he notices has lost some of its shine. "What happened to you," he murmurs, a spoken thought more than a question. He doesn't expect any kind of reply, and does not get one. That's okay, he thinks, for now.

After what feels like hours of Loki's tears soaking the shoulder of Tony's shirt, he finally places his hands on the god's forearms and eases him back. Loki's emerald eyes are downcast, puffy and rimmed pink, but the rest of his face remains paler than death, but salt stains his cheeks. Since he seems to be making no move to dry his eyes himself, Tony takes his face gently in his warm hands and brushes the corner sleeve under Loki's eyes. "Shush," he breathes quietly, slipping his fingers under Loki's chin and tilting his face upwards. The prince still seems to be doing his best not to look at him. "It'll be okay. Whatever it is. It'll be okay." He isn't sure if he's lying. He hopes he isn't. Finally, he lets go of Loki and shifts away a little so he can retrieve the bag of doughnuts that had been abandoned sadly near the end of the bed. "First, though, you have to eat something," he says, opening the bag and pulling out a jam doughnut. With his free hand he lifts one of Loki's, and presses the pastry into it. For a few moments Loki stares at it, expression blank, then something like confused. "Go on," Tony prompts, already having started on his own breakfast. "Please. Eat it. You'll feel better."

At last, Loki finds it within himself to put the sugary thing to his mouth, and he eats. Crying quietly into his doughnut, but eating it nonetheless. Tony lets out a sigh of relief and licks sugar from his lips. It's a start, at least. It's a start.


End file.

Avengers, Hurt-Comfort