A/N: I don't own The Avengers or anyone else of the Marvel Universe.
There will be some m/m-romance and definitely slash in later chapters. If you don't feel okay with that, better stop reading.
This is my first fanfic and the first story I write in English, so don't be to harsh on me. ;)
Update: I just moved this story from the comic- to the movie-section.
Tony Stark had to walk a couple of feet away from the lithe frame lying still on the ground - just to scream out all his frustration and desperation. Then he listened to the ocean waves washing away his noise, returning back to the peaceful sound of a late summers night. He couldn't stand that peace and he didn't feel any better, so he screamed again, until it hurt.
A few hours ago Tony stood in the middle of an apocalyptic chaos. An unknown giant half-mechanic creature had attacked the city and the Avengers came to fight it. Metal seemed to fuse with it's flesh and vice versa. It's five tails swooshed around like whips. Where it came from or who had sent it nobody knew at that moment. All that mattered was to stop it from destroying everything in it's reach.
Tony remembered having trouble even aiming at this thing. It moved unearthly fast and was constantly shooting strange looking energy blasts out of his head at each and every direction. He eventually got hit by one of them and found himself flying in a nearby car. Instantly his suit went out of power, leaving him blind and vulnerable in the middle of the battlefield. He called out for JARVIS several times, but never got an answer. His com to the other Avengers was down as well. For a split-second he tried to figure out, what energy could possibly be that powerful to sent his suit offline, but then he thought it more useful to regain some eyesight for a start. The analysis had to wait until the fight was over. It took a lot of strength to lift his hands to his mask and pull it open. All that metal was now dead weight on him. Tony had to laugh darkly at his choice of trying out his new heavy suit today. How ironic. The creature busied itself attacking someone to Tony's far left side, and then a green flashing light rushed over Tony's head and right into said creature. The thing gave a deafening howl and whirled around.
Out of nowhere Loki came into Tony's view and he watched him walk almost casually towards the half-machine. The trickster god looked like shit, Tony noted. His face was worn out, dark shadows under his eyes, his armor covered in dirt and dried blood. And still his gaze was determined, his movements graceful, green cloak floating behind him like a second shadow. For the blink of an eye, Tony wondered, what Loki was up to, why he was here in the first place, if this creature was one of his possible allies, that seemed unable to be tamed after all, or if Loki had fought it before and therefore looked so awful. He decided he wouldn't find that out by lying around in the rubble.
Tony tried to stand up, but couldn't. Getting out of his suit wasn't a good idea either, leaving him without protection at all. He was trapped. So he decided to wait and watch.
The fight went on for long minutes and both sides fought with unleashed power. A few times Tony almost got hit again and he would have started to pray, if he would believe in any god he hadn't seen with his own to eyes – and the gods he knew were real, he wouldn't pray to.
Behind him something big exploded, if the loud noise was any indication, and he had to cover his eyes from the cloud of dust and rubble.
When finally most of the dust settled and Tony could see again, he saw the creature towering over him, just mere meters away. From somewhere Mjolmir hit the thing at it's head and it reeled to the side. And then there was Loki flying right towards its face. With a blood-curdling cry he rammed his scepter into one of it's eyes and right through it into its scull. All went silent and the creature started to slump down. Slowly it fell face down. And Tony's heart stopped. He couldn't get away, could only wait for the inevitable impact. He called out for someone to help him. Did anyone even register he was there? His eyes fixed on Loki, who still held a firm grip on his staff and fell down together with the lifeless creature. The god looked down, making no attempt to get away. Their gazes met and Tony wondered if that was fear in Loki's eyes.
Then there was only green fog around him, sending his senses on a weird trip. His world seemed to topple over again and again until it came to a sudden halt.
He found himself lying on his back, trees above him swaying softly in the wind, sun and shadow playing with each other on his face. He smelled the salty scent of an ocean, heard the waves crawling over the sand, heard something slump down. He blinked a few times against the light, collecting every piece of memory and putting it back together to the picture of what had happened. When everything kicked in again, he hastily fumbled himself out of his suit and got to his feet, taking a look at his surrounding. All of this was wrong in so many ways. There where only trees and bushes and a short beach full of rocks. No streets, skyscrapers, cars, people – no Avengers, no monster-creature. What the hell was going on here! He ran his hands through his hair and tried to think of something useful. A soft hiss caught his attention and he whirled around to see where it came from. His gaze fell upon a shade of green, that was clearly different from it's surrounding. A familiar green. Tony froze and waited for something to happen, anything. The seconds ticked by agonizingly slow and Tony kept on staring for any kind of movement. When nothing happened, he found the courage to step closer. Loki's green cloak covered half of the still form of the God of Mischief. His helmet lay a few feet away. Blood painted red patterns over the surrounding plants, more of it pooling right under the lifeless body in the grass. Tony pondered, if Loki played possum, enjoying one of his sick games. But his mind said no, not after what had happened, after Loki fought on the good side for a yet unknown reason, after the look he gave him, right before he … teleported him? Was that it? He crouched down next to the god and hesitantly brushed a few ebony strands out of his face to get a better look at him. His eyes were tightly shut, his breathing shallow and uneven. Tony tapped the god's shoulder with a shaky hand. "Loki?"
"Loki? You awake?"
A small movement of a bruised hand. Tony took that as a yes.
"Good. Well … can you, you know, heal yourself or something? 'Cause you're makin' a mess here, buddy." Tony knew, that wasn't smart, but the whole situation was creepy and he was defenseless. No one could expect him to be reasonable right now. Loki did only respond with a barely audible sigh.
"Come on, now! I'm so not in the mood for this! You brought us here, so get up already!" Tony tried to anger the God, 'cause usually that would do the trick. But not this time.
"Okay then, let me see, how bad it is," Tony said with a groan and carefully turned the lithe body around. The trickster's face contorted with pain. And Tony became aware of a large metal shred sticking way to deep in Lokis side. "Oh shit..." was all he could say. He put two and two together and understood, that Loki's condition was serious. Tony remembered a particular talk he had with Thor, about if it was possible for gods to die, and how the Thunderer laughed in his typical way and declared almost proudly, that, of course, gods had the ability to die like anyone else, and Tony had to laugh then at his choice of the word ability. Tonys gaze fell upon the large puddle of blood, deciding that he had to help, because if he didn't, he would have Thor killing him the moment he found out Tony had his little brother left to his fate. Then he got to his feet again and took a look around, searching for any kind of shelter. "Hang on. I'll be right back. Stay where you are," he said over his shoulder and walked off to find a safer place. He found a small cave eventually, maybe twice the size of his bedroom and wide open to it's surrounding, but it would keep the wind and possible rain out. He hurried back to the trickster god, finding him in the same position he left him a while ago. Tony considered pulling that damn shred out, but came to the conclusion that it would do more harm than good, causing more bleeding, if Loki would be unable to close the wound.
He scratched his neck and took a deep breath. "I need your help now. I'll bring you somewhere … more comfortable. But you'll have to work for that." Tony pulled at Loki's shoulders, lifting him to an upright position. The god hissed dangerously, but did nothing else. So Tony wrapped one of Loki's arms over his shoulders and lifted him slowly to his feet. The trickster leaned heavy against him, chin resting on his chest, eyes shut tight. Tony guided him to the cave and Loki stumbled from one foot to the other, almost tripping every now and then.
It felt like an eternity for both of them to reach their destination. Tony lay Loki carefully to the ground. As soon as he let go of the god, Loki's fingers searched for the metal-piece in his body. Tony took a few steps back, not sure, what to expect. Loki was like a wounded wild animal to him, almost helpless, his eyes constantly shut, but maybe even more dangerous. Long finger's wrapped themselves clumsily around the metal and pulled. The shred did only move an inch or two. A small frustrated sob left Loki's lips and his fingers trembled, but didn't let go.
Finding his courage, Tony moved forward and knelt at the trickster's side, putting his hands over the blood-covered one. He looked at Loki's face and was greeted by two emerald eyes, barely open, but piercing nonetheless.
"Are you sure you want this thing out? It's going to bleed like hell," Tony asked.
The trickster blinked twice.
"I hope that means yes," Tony sighed helplessly and lifted Loki's hand to the side.
He took a firm grip on the metal piece and looked into those green orbs for any sign of doubt or reassurance. Loki closed his eyes and exhaled audible, determination written all over his features. Tony dearly hoped, that the god had a plan. He didn't want to die, right? He saw a turquoise misty flame suddenly spread over Loki's hand and stay there. He got the message and pulled. Loki's mouth opened for a silent cry. The metal slid slowly and with a nasty sound out of the trickster's body, sharp edges cutting at the flesh. Tony had trouble keeping his stomach in check. Thick blood oozed out of the ripped armor. Turquoise flames tried to find their way to the wound, as if having a mind of its own, but the hand wouldn't move. Tony let go of the metal shred and lifted Loki's hand on top of the injury and held it in place. Within moments the blood-flow died down and with it the flame went out. The hand was put down carefully. The god's face fell into some kind of peace, leaving him motionless except for the occasional rising and falling of the chest. Tony stumbled back on his feet and put his hands over his face, trying to block out some of the stress that was building itself up inside of him. It was to late for him to recognize his hands where covered in blood as well. When his sticky palms touched his brows and cheeks, he could smell the iron scent – causing his stomach to make a somersault. He all but ran out of the cave emptied himself in a bush.
And then everything was clear to him. He was stranded. Possibly anywhere in some fucking wilderness, on some island even. He had to find this out, though. More important, there was an injured god, who's well-being depended on him. And there was nothing he could do. He was good with machines. He was no freaking doctor!
He remembered his suit. It was still lying around somewhere near the beach. Maybe he was able to get it back to work, to call for help. Maybe he could do something without the tools he didn't have. He started to run, his eyes fixed on the ground, searching for something red and golden. He had no difficulty to find it, with the sun already so low that it bathed his suit in an orange light that made it look like a ripped holy statue embedded in grass and ferns. Tony examined every single part of it for anything he could get back to work, but after an hour he had to give up. Tony Stark had to give up. Frustrated to no end he kicked against the useless metal, causing pain to shoot up his foot and leg. And he was good with that, because somehow the pain covered everything else he felt right now.
He stared out at the ocean, at the sun sinking down to the horizon, coloring itself blood-red. He remembered his own face still being covered in the same color and stepped to the water to wash himself clean. The cool liquid calmed his mind and he decided it was time to make a plan.
On his way back to the cave he made a priority list, starting with finding fresh water and making a fire. He had taken his helmet with him, in order to fill the water in it, when he found any. In the morning, he would have to find out where they were exactly. He hoped they were on mainland, so it would be easier to find back to civilization. If the vegetation was any hint, they were somewhere in the temperate latitudes. The fauna was rich and untamed. The birds sang in melodies Tony had never heard before. Everything felt foreign for him.
On his way back he didn't find any source of fresh water, which made him come back to number one on his list. He checked on Loki once more, finding him fast asleep. Or at least, that was, what Tony told himself. He was there with his eyes closed and he didn't move - that had to be enough information right now.
The sun had almost sunken behind the horizon. Tony had to be fast. He could still hear the ocean from here, but listening closer, he heard something else. Was that the soft murmur of a small river? He followed the sound and was pleasantly surprised to find a small watercourse flowing a few feet down into a small pool. Tony gave himself a mental high-five and climbed down his way to the new-found water-supply. It tasted wonderful, even if Tony's tongue was used to liquids with a different flavor. He cleaned his helmet and filled it with as much water as possible. Then he went back to the cave.
The twilight drew the warm colors out of everything, leaving all in dark shades of gray, green and blue. Tony built a ring of stones, keeping the helmet from tilting to the side. Then he started to collect as much wood as possible and made up his mind of how he could make a fire. He had no idea. There was that movie with Tom Hanks, that he was forced to watch when Clint suggested an Avengers-movie-night. He remembered this particular scene, in which the protagonist was making his first fire. So he tried it that way. But no matter how hard he rubbed the woods against each other, nothing happened. He tried it for what felt like hours. Until it was pitch black outside. Until his arms and shoulders wouldn't move anymore. Until his hands where raw and blistered. Frustrated he threw the stick somewhere into the dark of the cave. It clacked a few times, until it lay motionless, like the god.
Tony got to his feet and walked off. Somewhere. Anywhere. Just away.
He tripped and fell. Something cut a small gash in his hand.
He got up again and screamed. Again and again. Until it hurt.