Sad green eyes

11

Tony was in the kitchen making himself a nice hot cup of coffee. He'd been working on an upgrade for his suit and his brain really needed the caffeine boost.

When he finished brewing his cup, he picked it up and leant against the counter. He raised it up to his lips and took a sip, before he could swallow it down though, a certain Norse god appeared out of nowhere and stumbled into the dining table, scaring the shit out of Tony and causing him to spit out his coffee.

"Jesus reindeer games, you scared the shit out of m-"

"Loki?"

Loki was hunched over, two palms on the table, his arms shaking and... hyperventilating? He looked up at Tony, though his eyes seemed to be unseeing. He started to panic. His eyes frantically scanning the room. He stumbled backwards until his back hit the wall and he sank down to the floor. He brought his knees to his chest, wrapped his arms around them, then buried his face into his knees.

Tony knew a panic attack when he saw one. He'd had enough of them since Afghanistan to know what one looked like. He slowly approached Loki and crouched down next to him. "Loki?" he asked gently.

Loki curled in on himself impossibly tighter. "P- please don't... hurt me," he stuttered out in a quiet, pleading voice, laced with fear and desperation.

Tony felt his heard clench at the plea. "No one's going to hurt you. I promise."

At that moment Clint and Nat came running into the room but stopped in their tracks when they saw the scene before them.

The frantic footsteps seemed to have startled Loki though, as his breathing became way too fast and he started begging, "no no no please no, no."

"It's alright Loki, I told you, no will hurt you. You're safe." The words fell on deaf ears though so Tony tentatively placed a hand on his back and started to rub small circles. "Breathe with me. Breathe in, one two three four. Breathe out, one two three four. Come on reindeer games, copy me."

Eventually, Loki started to match Tony's breathing. They kept doing the breathing exercises until Loki's breaths became even. His head was now leaning against Tony's shoulder and his eyes were closed, he seemed to be asleep.

Tony looked up at the assassins that were standing a safe distance away, just observing. Clint look conflicted, like he was angry and confused at the same time, and Nat, well she was unreadable like always. Tony shifted so that he could get in a better position to pick Loki up. He was fairly sure he wouldn't be able to though, the guy was tall and built and if he's anything like his brother, probably impossible to move. To Tony's surprise though, Loki didn't weigh much at all. He scooped him up easily into his arms and began walking towards the hallway.

"Put me down Stark."

Tony's eyes snapped down to Loki, his head still against Tony's shoulder and his eyes lidded. "Sorry, thought you were asleep." He put Loki's legs down first and helped him steady himself until he was sure Loki wouldn't crumple to the floor.

"I apologise for the inconvenience I have caused," Loki said with his gaze to the floor.

"Are you going to be... ok?"

Loki froze, contemplating whether or not he would actually be ok. No response came though. After a moment, he turned around and began walking back to his room.

Tony sighed and turned to the assassins, "what the fuck was that?"

Loki returned back to his room and went straight for his bed. He lay down, slung his arm over his eyes and let out a big sigh. He was embarrassed. He couldn't believe that had just happened.

Knock knock. "Hey Loki, it's me, Bruce. I... I just want to apologise for what happened."

Loki really didn't trust his voice not to break if he were to yell out, so instead he used his magic to slowly open the door. Bruce stepped inside, his eyes widening when he realised that Loki had somehow opened the door from his bed.

"I really am sorry Loki. I didn't mean to scare you."

Loki removed his arm from over his eyes and placed it behind his head so he could get a better look at Bruce. "I know."

Bruce nodded slowly, relief plastering his face. "Hey so, I know needles are out of the question, but I really do want to treat your wounds. They must be painful and I think I can help."

"They'll heal in time."

"I know that your biology is different to ours and that your magic may play a role too, but I'm worried that your infection will get worse," Bruce countered.

"My magic will heal me."

Bruce moved to sit on the bed. "Alright, I can tell that I'm not winning this one. I've left some medical supplies in your bathroom so you can treat yourself. But if you get worse, or change your mind about needing my help, please come to me. I... I'm not as scary as I look," Bruce said with a slight huff of a laugh at his little joke.

This pulled a little smile from Loki, though it didn't reach his eyes. Loki nodded once, and with that Bruce left the room, closing the door behind him.

Loki felt exhausted. The small exertion of magic that he used to teleport himself out of the room earlier had drained him and left him disoriented. All he wanted to do was have a dreamless sleep but the images of his nightmares, of his memories, riddled his mind. He thought of how weak he was to have acted so dramatically over essentially nothing. He was a fool, an idiot. He had given himself one goal, to maintain the illusion and he couldn't even do that. The one thing he was known for, being a lie-smith, and he couldn't even do that right.

He felt useless and weak, just like He said he was and that thought only made him think back to the horrors of Sanctuary, of how this lesson was taught. His mind constantly flicked back and forth between his self esteem issues and his memories from the past year. It was all getting too much again. His chest clenched so tightly in his chest, it felt like he was drowning. He could feel tears streaming down his face and his head was becoming heavy and overwhelmed by the constant thumping in his ears. His heart beat was too loud. He hated it. It was a never ending reminder that he had failed when he let go on the Bifrost. Yet another thing he didn't do right. He couldn't even die right.

He looked down at his arm and realised that he had already pulled up his sleeve in unconscious preparation. When had he sat up? It didn't matter, he was sitting with his back against his pillows leaning on the headboard and he was ready. He felt the familiar weight in his hand as he summoned his dagger, moving the blade between his fingers, savouring the warm feeling it brought him. The feeling that relief was just a few swipes away.

He made the cut slow but shallow. Instantly the tightness eased and his focus was purely on the line of red he was creating. His raging thoughts died down to only quiet distant whispers and his heart slowed enough that he couldn't hear the drumming in his ears anymore. He felt at peace. His dagger vanished as he lay back down, head resting on the pillows. His arm was in front of him and he watched through eyes that were starting to lid, the drying red line on his arm. He watched as the drops stopped flowing and the opening started to crust over and before he knew it, he had succumb to the exhaustion and fell into an ever-longing dreamless sleep.