Ancients

In Which Loki is a Bad Liar

Loki screamed, a strangled, choking sort of sound. Pain reverberated around his bones and his mind, he scratched at the tile and vaguely felt the handle of the glass shower door crumple in his grasp.

He couldn't do it as smoothly as he usually did-although, to be fair, he was slightly inebriated and rather tired, and he was pretty sure the tool he chose was well due for a sharpening. He sighed, getting used to the feeling of the blade, the way his body begged for mercy with every breath.

He grinned, a little worried. It didn't excite him as much as it used to; he might need to find a new hobby. Loki laid there, his abdomen bleeding furiously before wrenching it out with a cry. He was lying on the ground-when did he get there?-and he lifted the dagger up to look at it, for some reason. His hand just sort of gave up halfway and the blade fell on his chest with a heavy thump. He groaned half in annoyance, half in pain as the wound in his stomach bled even more. Loki swore, sobered up and sat down on the shower bench, still dripping blood obscenely. With a wave of his fingers, the blood all over his shower disappeared. He replenished what little remained in his body and forced the wound to stop bleeding. It was still there, though. It still hurt. Which was on purpose.

Loki turned off the water, dried off, wrapped himself in gauze just in case he bled a little-y'know, normal post-shower stuff. He pulled on a shirt and some joggers and padded barefoot out into the hall, heading straight for the kitchen.

There were no coats hanging by the door and nobody appeared to be home so he relaxed a bit. He scooped up some of the stew Natasha had made the night before and popped it into the microwave. It spun around on the turntable, he leaned against the counter and winced. The wound in his stomach burned.

"You look like shit."

Loki nearly jumped.

"What-Wanda?"

She was perched on the couch with a hot mug of cocoa in her hand and a book. How had he not noticed?

"Good evening?" he said.

She hummed in acknowledgement.

"I didn't know you'd left the gala."

"Slipped out an hour in."

"Why?"

"Why would I stay?"

"True."

He rapped his fingers against the counter while the bowl kept spinning.

"You know they're still angry with me. For Lagos."

"They always will be, it's the only big mistake of your career. They need something to complain about."

"I know. I just..."

"Really want to make their heads explode?" Loki offered helpfully.

"Why stop at heads?"

He smiled, retrieving his food from the microwave and snatching up a spoon. Loki crossed the room to join her, settling in an armchair by the sofa, poorly hiding his wince. His stomach twinged as he sat, but it was too late to go back. When he looked up, Wanda was eyeing him suspiciously. He slurped his stew, she turned back to her book. Loki knew she'd stopped reading it.

"I heard you scream," she said.

"I beg your pardon?"

"In my mind. I heard your pain."

He nodded.

"'Kay."

Wanda frowned.

" 'Kay?"

"Okay."

"No, it isn't."

"Isn't it?"

"What happened, Loki? What happened to you?"

He put the spoon down with a splash.

"I stubbed. My toe."

"Really.''

"Yes I did. It was painful. I apologise if my agony was broadcasted over psychic wavelengths."

She shook her head softly.

"No, it wasn't that kind of pain. It was amplified by something. It wasn't that it hurt, it was a sort of dissonance, between your body and mind. It hurt, but part of you didn't know why it had to."

Loki sighed and casually took a bite of potato.

"Well, you're the expert."

"What did you do to yourself?"

"I dunno, I mean it wasn't that bad. Worst case scenario, my toenail turns purple-"

"Loki."

"Listen, I am fine. I can take care of myself."

"I'm sure you can."

He rolled his eyes. The stew suddenly didn't interest him anymore.

"You know what, I'm gonna go to bed. Enjoy your book," he said, sounding only a little miffed. He stood to leave-and that was where he fucked up.

- - -

"No, no it wasn't that bad. Okay yeah it was pretty bad. But it didn't go on as late as I thought."

"Where are the others?"

"Barton and Barnes went out for a drink, but we called it a night. They're young. Well, one of them is."

"Tony-"

"Yeah Cap, I know. Hey-Wanda, what's his deal?"

"Oh-he fainted."

"He-"someone was giggling. "He what?"

"Fainted. Tried to stand up and he passed out." Wanda sounded tired.

"Why?"

"I don't know, ask him."

"He's asleep."

"No he isn't."

Damn.

Loki cracked an eye open and glared at the Avengers standing in the living room, still wearing their clothes from the gala. Natasha was glittering in a long black gown, but her lipstick was gone and her shoes were in her hand, and all the boys' ties were loosened or gone. Bruce had left his jacket in the car and Steve was the only person who still looked appropriately formal. Loki squeezed his eyes shut, Tony stooped down to see him.

"You still feeling shitty?"

"I'm fine," he mumbled.

"Fine people don't pass out."

"Well this one did. How'd it go?"

"Oh, you know. Boring as hell. Are you just dehydrated? Steve, could you-yeah, can you get him a glass of water?"

Loki groaned inwardly.

"I'm not dehydrated, stop mothering me."

"Well you're passed out on my couch, so..."

The demigod sat up, combed his hair back with his fingers and got up to leave. Steve handed him the water which he took gratefully even though he didn't want it and tried to go to his room when someone caught his wrist.

"Loki, I think...I think you should probably take a seat."

"What?"

He followed the engineer's gaze to his shirt, which was now stained red.