Tony sighs after Bruce leaves the room, the muffled voices of him and the rest of their teammates reaching his ears but not quite translating into coherent words. He supposed Bruce must be updating them about Loki's condition. 

Tony shoves the tray Bruce had been using during the operation out of the way. It's covered in bloodied utensils and gauze. He doesn't want to see it. Instead, he turns off the bright overhead lights above Loki's bed, checks the heart rate monitor out of paranoia, and then quickly crosses to the far side of the large room to the wall of cabinets. He pulls out a mild antiseptic cleaner, some gauze, cotton balls, and soft bandages. He then carries the supplies back to Loki's bed and places them on a different tray, wheeling it up beside the bed along with a chair which he settles himself into.

He reaches for Loki's right wrist, the closest to him, and pulls it a bit closer, his touch impossibly gentle. He douses one of the cotton balls in the antiseptic and very gently washes the blood off from around the sutured wounds. He continues to clean Loki's arms, hands, face, and neck; clearing away all traces of blood from his skin. He then pats the wounds dry with gauze and wraps them very carefully. He repeats the same process on Loki's left wrist. 

Bruce enters the infirmary when Tony is halfway finished with Loki's left wrist and pauses for a minute. He's never seen Tony so intently focused on something, not even his inventions or on his suit. His shoulders hunched and his tongue poking out the corner of his mouth just slightly, his movements very slow and deliberate; nothing like his usual charisma. When Tony finishes, Bruce very softly calls his name, but the genius still jumps a little in surprise. 

"Hey," Bruce greets him, looking over Tony's bandaging job as Thor crept to Loki's side. "You did well here. Listen, Thor is going to go home for a little while, and I was thinking with all the shit that's been going on Loki should probably stay with just one person for a little while, and-"

"I'll do it." Tony interrupts, eyes on Thor as the thunder god bends down, and places a careful kiss on Loki's clammy forehead, whispering to him as he did. Bruce nods, choosing to ignore just how quickly Tony had jumped to the opportunity. 

"Good, okay. I was just about to ask if you would. Can he stay on your floor? I don't think we should leave him alone anymore, but we shouldn't overcrowd him either. I can set things up there and I'm sure you can handle it from that?" 

"Yeah, I've got 'em," Tony assures him. 

"Okay, good. You tell me if you need me. The wounds should heal up pretty fast if we're taking the last few weeks as an example. Thor is going to carry him up and Steve offered to help take up some supplies. Do you have an extra bed?" Tony nods. 

"Cool, I'll get a bag ready." 

-oOo-

Bruce trails behind Steve and Thor as they carry both Loki and two large bags of medical supplies to the elevator. He slows his pace deliberately to match with Tony's. 

"Are you sure you're up for this? He might be very upset when he wakes up, and in an extremely fragile mental state. That applies in general, too. Not just now. He was already, this will be worse, Tony." Bruce murmurs, placing a hand on the inventor's shoulder and finding it trembling slightly. 

"I am. Trust me. He and I are more alike than you think. He trusts me, and-and I-"

"You like him." Bruce finishes for him. Tony lets out an indignant squawk, cheeks reddening. 

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about, Bruce," he growls. 

"Everyone can see it Tony, which is exactly why I'm worried-"

"Drop it."

"Tony, he's not in a good mental state. And neither are you, to be frank. I'm worried that-"

"I said, drop it." Bruce sighs, and removes his hand from Tony's shoulder, holding them up in surrender. 

"Alright, alright. I'm just a concerned friend here, man. If you need me, you tell me, okay?"

Tony nods as they reach the elevator doors. 

"Thanks, Bruce." 

-oOo-

With Loki situated on Tony's apartment floor, the others left to return to their own respective floors and Thor to Asgard. The thunder god's eyes were shining as he said one last goodbye to Loki for the time being. 

"Son of Stark," Thor's voice calls out, a smaller, cautious edge to it that had Tony's nerves doing weird dances that he'd rather not think too hard about. 

"Yeah?" he turns to face Thor, who was lingering in the doorway, expression creased with uncertainty. 

"Am I...do you believe that the choices I am making now are wise ones?" he asks, his hand fiddling with the hammer clipped to his belt that Tony's exhausted mind couldn't quite recall the name of. 

Mil..mol...something like that.

Tony releases a deep sigh, swiping a hand across his face and pinching the bridge of his nose. He really isn't the type of person people should be coming to for advice. The same selfish voice that had told him to run just hours ago resurfaces in his head, taunting him. 

This is why you avoid responsibilities, idiot.

"No. I, er. I don't think so? Listen, Point-Break, I dunno much about you two," Tony makes finger-gun gestures at both Thor and Loki, "but I know you two have more shit going on than most. From what I've gathered you haven't done great with the dude, and while I think I can see now that you love him...I'm not sure if Loki sees that yet. I think right now, Bruce is right. Loki needs some space to get back onto his feet, and when he does, then you two can work through your shit." Tony really hopes that's the right thing to say. Hell, he hopes that even came out as comprehensible, with how long he's been awake without proper caffeine consumption. 

"I do not wish for Loki to believe I am abandoning him yet again. Will you explain to him where I have gone, and my reasons for doing so, when he awakens?" Thor asks.

"Yeah, of course, I will. He'll probably ask anyway." Thor seems to consider this for a minute. 

"Son of Stark, I am aware you care...deeply for my brother." Tony isn't sure if he groans out loud or in his head. 

"Thor-"

"But I see that my brother appears to return these feelings for you as well." Tony chokes on his own spit. 

"Treat him kindly, is all I ask. It brings me great pain and sorrow to say that I do not believe he has had anyone treat him with pure kindness. Save for our mother, perhaps. But even she could not protect him from his pains." 

Tony didn't trust himself to form a coherent reply, so he simply nods dumbly, watching dazedly as Thor exits the room. He turns around several long seconds after the door had slid shut, raising his hands to his head once again but freezing when he suddenly realized they were caked in dried blood. 

Loki's blood. 

Barley resisting the urge to gag, Tony staggers to his bathroom, pulling a fresh t-shirt and sweatpants from his closet blindly as he did, and shutting the door behind him. He stripped from his bloodied clothes and tossed them in the far corner, pulling on the fresh ones before turning the faucet on in the sink. He dunked his hands underneath the hot spray and scrubbed, the water running pink as he rubbed at his skin until it was raw. 

He stares at his hands for a second, still feeling the blood yet he couldn't see it anymore. Sighing, he looks up at himself in the mirror, only to notice blood on his face and in his hair, so he cups his hands underneath the water and washes it out to the best of his panicked ability. 

He emerges from the bathroom, hair dripping wet in some places and dry in others but feeling marginally lighter than before. His limbs scream at him to collapse in his bed, but instead, he turns to where they had set Loki up in the spare room. Reaching his bedside, he takes in the scene of the heart rate monitor and IV fluid drip in Loki's hand. Bruce had wanted to give him more blood after the sheer amount he'd lost, but they didn't have Jotun blood and Thor had said that if Loki rested, his speeded healing would quickly kick in and replenish what he'd lost in time. 

Tony pulls the blankets closer to Loki. His skin is tinged a light blue, which had freaked him out at first as he'd thought Loki was dying all over again, but Thor had calmly explained that it was simply Loki's exhaustion wearing down on his most basic of magic. Loki maintains a spell that gives the illusion of his Aesir form, but it must have weakened in his injured state. With the fear and the panicked haze of healing Loki dimmed to a low hum in the back of his brain, Tony takes a moment to properly examine the sleeping god's face. He'd caught himself doing so multiple times before when he'd spend hours sitting beside him in the medical bay and doing nothing but rambling, but he'd always chided himself internally and looked away. 

Now, he observes the pale blue color of his skin, the raised white curves and lines of scars marring the perfectly smooth canvas underneath. His long, slender fingers. The sharp angles and lines of his neck and jaw. High cheekbones sculpted to perfection. His thin lips, lined ever-so-slightly with faded puncture marks from a past that Tony wasn't sure he could even bear knowing about. His sharp, upturned nose. Long, black eyelashes that hid beautiful, emerald-green eyes from the world. Arched black eyebrows that were lax on his peaceful, sleeping face. Wispy, long black hair that was greasy, tangled, and in desperate need of a wash, but still somehow beautiful. The god was, in simple terms, drop-dead gorgeous; Tony realizes. 

Ah, fuck.