#strck

It’s something that’s gone through Loki’s head over and over for weeks? Months? Possibly even just hours. He’s not entirely sure at this point. There’s no clocks, people just seem to know when its time to be somewhere, something he’s just starting to get the hang of. 

When was the last time he saw someone he actually knew? When did the faces at the grandmaster’s parties start to become familiar yet strange? Some so similar yet different every time he saw them? He called them the same names, they always responded to those names, but they were different somehow. Was be being drugged? Was his face changing too?

He sipped at the blue liquid in his glass, looking slowly around the room as usual. Another party that would devolve (evolve?) into some garmentless writhing mass of limbs at some point. He’d managed to avoid the orgies, feigning a headache that the Grandmaster seemed to buy for now. He’d been given new clothes, started to be groomed for something more. Something he wasn’t entirely sure he would want. He couldn’t. Wouldn’t. Use his magic until he was sure he was ready to leave. If he could. 

Eyes locked with someone across the room. Was?

He stood suddenly, leather creaking a little as he moved. Tailored suit, something unseen on his planet yet. Sunglasses, another oddity in a room of oddities. He grabbed the man by the shoulder, turning him until he could see the other face to face.

“Stark.”

There was a great deal of care that had to be taken sneaking back into the Avengers Tower while not alerting Tony to his presence, which was near impossible with JARVIS dutifully watching every inch of the building. Almost every inch. Clint had discovered a certain lapse in security when crawling through the vents on afternoon while trying to hide from a rather enraged redhead. There was the complete temptation to use it whenever he wanted a moment of privacy or to pull the occasional prank but it came with the risk of losing the advantage so he kept the knowledge in his back pocket for a rainy day.

Which this was.

The recon mission had been anything but recon. It was an ambush, one he had almost not walked away from. Clint had waited in the shadows, rain pouring down relentlessly, until the hour was late and he was sure Tony was asleep in bed, probably not even noticing he hadn’t returned yet. If Stark saw his injuries before he had the chance to patch them up, he would never hear the end of it. The crawl through the vents took far longer than he had expected, his clothes soaked through and caused him to keep slipping back down the shafts then scrambling back up again, before after long last he slid out of a vent and into the bathroom off Tony’s bedroom. In retrospect, he should have gone for his own but it was further away and he lacked the energy to continue on.

Shutting the door almost all the way so not to wake his sleeping boyfriend, Clint flicked on the light and set to work of slowly peeling off his shirt so he could get a better look at his injuries. The reflection in the mirror was not kind in the slightest. If anything, it was borderline offensive. His skin was pale, most likely from the cold and waiting in the rain for hours. There were several cuts and scrapes littering his torso and face, things he could easily explain away. But there was going to be no hiding the large blossom bruise over his ribs. Or the split lip...or the bruise forming over the bridge of his nose, that if it was broken - again - he would be sporting two black eyes in the very near future.

“Shit!” Clint leaned in close to the mirror in an attempt to get a better look at his nose when his eyes landed on Tony in the mirror standing in the doorway, looking not too thrilled with him. Mouth falling open in shock, he couldn’t bring himself to turn around and face his boyfriend, instead opting to talk to him through the mirror like a damn coward.

“This isn’t as bad as it looks...in fact, it’s...it’s just a dream. You’re dreaming...sleepwalking, even.” Barton started then paused for a long pregnant moment before sighing.

“Fuck, I’m in trouble, aren’t I?”

T. Stark

Bucky had been dreading the moment it would be time to scratch the name off his list and as it drew nearer, he realized he couldn’t avoid the inevitable any longer. Sneaking into Stark’s home was probably the absolute last way he should go about this but he was afraid if he tried going through the front door or booking an appointment with him there would be guns pointed at him in the end. That wasn’t a road he exactly wanted to travel down. So he sneaked in late in the evening when Tony seemed to be alone. Sliding in through a window was easy, he had done it countless times before but it was only once he was inside did he realize how insane this plan actually was.

“Tony?” That sounded too casual. “Stark?” Way too casual. He ran a hand through his short hair anxiously, biting down into his bottom lip. “Tony Stark?” This was a horrible way to start this odd apology, standing in a doorway with no clue what actually call him. Hell, he must have looked like an idiot. A small huffed out breath and he moved on, still making sure he gave the man a very comfortable distance between them.

“I’m not here to hurt or attack you. I want to apologize...”

Gonzalo MD - Northern Lights (Strck Remix)