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Note to Self: Super villains are possessive bastards

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“Jesus Christ, Tony. What the hell did you say to him?”

Tony pressed his lips into a thin line and diverted his eyes to the ceiling, the embodiment of petulance.


“Nothing!” the billionaire bit back suddenly, smacking the mattress mid-tantrum. He slumped back against the pillows and glared sullenly at the crowd of Avengers surrounding his hospital bed. Steve was looking particular distressed as he fussed, and Tony sulkily swatted him away from fluffing his pillows yet again.

Clint on the other hand looked far too amused by his pain as he doodled on his leg cast, and he didn’t trust Natasha who hovered too close to said broken leg for comfort.

“He threw you out of a window, Stark,” Coulson cut in from his left. “Whilst that isn’t unusual for Loki, he did it sans your suit, so you must have done something.”

“The psycho is trying to take over the world! He threw me out of a window and you’re asking me what I said to upset him? Like he needs encouragement?” Tony balked, ignoring the sudden wave of eye rolls around the room as he deepened his scowl and sagged further into his pillows.

“We all know Loki is hardly trying for world domination anymore, unless you know how turning streetlamps into jelly and making traffic cones waltz down the street contribute towards the enslavement of the human race.”

“Slidey roads! Mass pile-ups and destruction! Irritatingly talented roadwork equipment!” Tony argued, (those traffic cones did a mean salsa), as he threw his arms up for emphasis; only to gasp and whine when he pulled his bruised shoulder and disturbed his fractured arm. He heard Bruce snort and, great, he was doodling on his cast now too…was he writing ‘Iron Wang’ on his foot!?

“St-Steve!” Tony spluttered, gesturing at the obscenities being scrawled on his leg. The Captain thankfully came to his rescue, swatting the two men away and confiscating their markers; all while blushing a lovely shade of pink.

“Stark,” Coulson warned.

Tony groaned and laid an arm across his eyes. “Ok! Fine! I told him I was banging Thor, alright!? I told him I was banging Thor, and he threw me out the window!”

He was met with silence; then someone snorted. Tony lowered his arm to glare, only to find it was Thor himself who had laughed. Where had he been hiding, anyway?

“You said that to Loki?”

No one had the right to look that amused. “Then you are very lucky, Stark, that my brother knows otherwise. He can get very…creative when jealous,” Thor grinned, the perfect image of boyish charm and rugged handsomeness.

Tony hated him right at this moment.

“You should keep your brother under control, is throwing people out of windows the norm at Asda!?”

“That’s Asgard, Mortal,” cooed the cool, sneering voice of someone Tony really didn’t want to see when he was currently mortally wounded and lacking in gifts, sympathy and morphine. “And first and foremost you should learn to leash your tongue,” Loki murmured as he drifted forward and slipped his arms around Thor’s bicep like a snake coiling itself around a tree.

Tony sucked in a breath as he was pinned by poison green eyes that looked far too hungry and a smirk that was far too sharp and devious. Loki’s thumb massaged firm circles into Thor’s muscles and his entire presence hissed ‘mine!’ as he lay his head on Thor’s shoulder, not an inch of space between their bodies.

At least Thor seemed pleased.

Tony waggled his uninjured arm indignantly in Loki’s direction. “Why is he here? Why is no one arresting him?”

“Loki has done nothing to warrant being detained …today, at least” Thor hummed with a lopsided grin.

Tony nearly choked on the indignity as he turned to Coulson, good arm flailing furiously. Coulson sighed, seemingly able to decipher the incensed floundering.

“He claimed incitement.”

Tony stilled, then he sagged bonelessly onto the bed. He gave up. Fuck it. He needed alcohol. And morphine. Lots of morphine. And a card. Were Get Well Soon cards so hard to come by nowadays?

His eyes focused mutinously on Loki as the trickster made a show of twirling a long lock of Thor’s hair around a slender index finger and giving it a testing tug.

“I could bang a god if I wanted to,” He felt inclined to announce to the silent room, if only to stoke the flames of his dowsed ego. Loki laughed shortly, smirk drawing wider to show predatory teeth.

“I don’t think so, Stark,” He murmured, heading for the exit as he pulled Thor long by the lock of hair wound around his finger. Thor followed like a fucking puppy, and Loki’s eyes glittered mischievously. “That’s my job,” he said as he left, guiding Thor like a lamb to the no doubt pleasurable slaughter.

Steve had to wrestle Tony’s pillow off of him when he tried to smother himself with it.