All Things Considered, This Was Unexpected

Half-Wit Mortal

"Sir, I have some information you'd want to hear," Jarvis said in his posh accent.

Tony had tried his hardest to patch Loki up as best as he could. It was a little sloppy, but it was better than nothing. Blood-covered disinfectant wipes and an excess amount of used and unused gauze pads littered the floor. Loki looked unusually pale, and Tony could only wipe the sweat that collected around the god's brow frequently, and he found it a little disconcerting.

"What's up, J?" Tony asked, now cleaning the surrounding floor.

"I have discovered a substance within his digestive system that is slowing his recovery, but ultimately won't affect his chance of surviving. It'll just take longer to recover than he is used to."

Tony just sat there a moment before deciding to respond. "That's good, I think."

He should tell somebody. Thor if anybody, but he didn't have the heart to, which was more upsetting to Tony than the initial thought.

"His internal temperature, I've noted, is significantly colder than Thor's. Though that may have to do with the illness he is sporting." Jarvis chimed in again a beat later.

"Huh," Tony said, because what else could he say?

After what seemed like forever, Tony stood up, ignoring the rush of dizziness in his head. He told Jarvis that nobody but himself had access to his workshop unless Tony specifically allowed it.

Tony paced and tinkered, then sat in front of Loki once more. Why was he even doing this, worrying about him? It made no sense, and Stark feared he was going crazy.

He stood and paced.

Well. It was basic human empathy, wasn't it? It was instinctual. Heroes help people, don't they? Tony had a feeling that even Cap would say some golden-boy-type shit like, "everyone deserves a second chance,"

Stark, what the hell are you even thinking? You've said to yourself you were no hero. And since when do you show basic human empathy?

A groan interrupted his thoughts. Tony quickly stopped burning footprints on his floor and hurried to Loki.

He was awake; he looked like shit, but he was alive. After Loki's moment of disorientation, he looked at Tony and said, "And I had hoped it was a cruel dream."

"Aw, you dream of me? I hope I didn't tease too much." Because Tony just couldn't help himself.

Loki glared but said nothing. Instead, he tried to sit up but failed horribly. It left him in more pain.

"Uh-Un," Tony told him while wagging his pointer finger, "if you want that to heal, you're gonna be bedridden for a bit."

Loki sighed, "half-wit mortal," he glared, "I am more than capable of healing myself, and your acts of service are no longer needed."

"Yeah, well, you're heavy as shit, and if you can get up on your own, then leave, but I think you'd like to know that: you're currently poisoned, sick as fuck, and won't be able to do any 'healing' by yourself."

Man. If a glare could kill, Tony would be a dead man.

"It would do you well to have respect for me before I teach it to you." He spoke cruelly.

And in different circumstances, Tony could see how that could be hot.

What?