Some Language

It took no convincing at all to get Loki to go to the hospital, despite the basic Midgardian practices of medicine there, when he realized that his wound really was more extensive than he had first believed. It was also a fairly strong selling point when you gave him a look that scared him enough that he wouldn't even consider turning down the help. When he realized that every time you heard even the smallest wince of pain from him and that it elicited a new wave of tears, he put his entire faith in physicians who had to get their medical advice from Thor when they were confused by the alien physiology.

You stayed in the waiting room just outside of the surgery department, waiting for word on either Loki or Natasha, whichever came first. Nat's wounds weren't as difficult to work on, but they were still enough to put her on leave from the team for weeks. Your pride in Loki for saving her from an even worse fate eclipsed your fear for him, which was convenient as ever; Tony was about to make sure that any fear you had left would be given to him instead.

"What in the hell do you think you were doing out there?" he hissed quietly, with a tone laden with rage. "You had no business being in that fight! You are a publicist, not an Avenger, (Y/N)! What if you got in the way and someone innocent paid the price? Hmm? Or what if you died? What then? If that happened, then I think that's on me. I don't need that on my conscience."

"Tony, I'm sorry, but I couldn't-"

"Sorry doesn't cut it."

"I couldn't just stand by and not do something!"

"Yes, you could have! Goddamn right you could have!" he continued, taking a step towards you that made you stand up in kind, pushing yourself back to get more distance. You had never once been afraid of him, but now, with that fire in his eyes and the stranger speaking with his voice, you couldn't be so sure that you were safe with him. "You knew that we were on the way, (Y/N). Don't you trust us anymore? Did you think that we wouldn't do everything we could to protect you both? Is that what you think of me now? That I pick and choose who deserves to be saved? That I wouldn't save your fucking boyfriend?"

"Tony-"

"You could have died!"

"You mentioned that," you answered as your voice cracked. "You're right, and I'm sorry. But Tony, I still ran into it because I didn't care. I had to be there with him."

"But that's the problem, (Y/N), you didn't care. That right there is what could have gotten you killed. Do you think that I go into the fight like it's just another day at the office? Like I don't give a shit one way or the other who makes it out?" Tony stopped with his lips parted and ready to say more but he stayed silent; he shrugged and gave you a dismissive wave, turning away in disgust and frustration that he wasn't getting through. "(Y/N), you need to think about what you could have lost out there. You need to take a minute to think about what I would lose. I actually give a shit about you."

"That's not what was going on," you argued. You were finally beginning to feel the rush of adrenaline you needed, after the battle had drained it all away. If Tony wanted to pick a fight at the worst time possible, you would give him one just to shut him up if nothing else. "Did you maybe stop to consider that I give a shit about you, too? That if I could help, it would be for Loki, yes, but you were there just as deep in the fight and believe it or not, Tony, you can't do it all alone. You're my best friend, and don't you dare think that I don't care about you. God, you can be such an asshole."

Dropping yourself into the chair again, fully indignant and disengaged, you crossed your arms over your chest and closed your eyes to refuse to say any more. Your focus had to be saved for Loki, until you could finally know that he would be okay. Tony would just have to wait. You could hear the cushion flatten in the chair next to you, and you prepared to stay strong in your resolve of silence, but you knew he would break you without much effort.

"I was just really scared, okay?" Tony whispered with much more control. "You're my best friend too. I'm sorry that I freaked out."

"It's okay."

"Have you heard anything about how he's doing yet?"

"No."

"I heard Steve say that Nat's in recovery and she's good," he continued, "so let me go get some info on our newest hero, alright?"

"Thank you, Tony."

He nodded, even though your eyes were still closed, but it was no longer to avoid looking back at him; now it was to keep your tears of worry and fear from spilling. If there was one thing about your friendship with Tony after so many years, it was that you never lied to each other; even if you wanted to for some reason, it didn't matter. You each had the innate ability to know, and that truth was what made you so valuable to each other, because there were no games. "Sweetheart," he began again, "he's gonna be fine. You know that I'm gonna make sure of that. I'll bring people in from the other side of the universe if I have to."

"I...I know..." you sniffled, finally looking at him, "I know."

He stood to leave, pausing to press a kiss against your hair before turning towards the nurse's desk. At that same moment, Clint returned to the room after checking on Natasha, looking as tired as you felt, so he was immediately drawn to take a seat next to you out of pure commiseration.

"Hey, have you heard anything on Loki yet?"

"Tony just went to check."

"Here," he paused, grabbing the box of tissues from the table next to his chair to hand over, "it's gotta be good that you haven't heard anything bad, right?"

"Sure," you sighed in return, taking a tissue to wipe your eyes dry. "Clint, I'm glad that you're here. I wanted to tell you that I saw what you did, and I can't thank you enough. If you hadn't been there, he'd be dead."

"Nah, I was just doing the job. He's the one who jumped in front of Nat. He saved her life, and none of us are ever going to forget that, I promise you."

"Barton, I saw it," you pressed, "don't downplay it. When we passed by the man who stabbed Loki, there was a green and gold arrow sticking out of his chest. You chose that one on purpose, and I know that you had only the one like it."

Clint smiled to himself, dropping his gaze to the floor in amusement and to avoid the slight feeling of embarrassment that came with the revelation of what you had seen. "Hmm, well...I know that I told Loki that I had an arrow with his name on it. That didn't have to mean that I would shoot him with it. Sure, that was the reason I've had it for so long, but I'm glad that I got the chance to use it to save him instead. You guys seem good for each other, even though I just couldn't get behind it right away. When he was fighting out there, (Y/N), I could see the look in his eyes. If anyone got even an inch too close to you, they were done. He loves you, and I finally saw that for myself. I just happened to have the most romantic way to let you guys know that I approve."

"An arrow through the chest is romantic?"

"When is it not?"

"You know what," you finally chuckled weakly, "you're right, Clint. Romantic as hell. If we ever get married, I'll carry a bouquet of arrows just for you."

~~~

About one more, long hour later, you found yourself sitting at Loki's bedside, listening to the soft rhythms of his breathing as he slept. He was alive, he was comfortable, and you still felt as if you couldn't relax. You hadn't seen his eyes yet, and you needed that connection to fully realize that he would be okay. You had been told that he would be, but it wasn't enough and you had to talk yourself out of shaking him awake over and over until he finally gave you exactly what you needed.

"You're staring again...my love," he whispered through a dry voice, "and I can hear...the worry in your heartbeat...even from here."

"Loki?" you gasped, standing quickly and taking his hand; you pulled back quickly when your fingers grazed over some kind of tubing or wire connected to him, but he reached out and stopped you to hold it there. "Are you in pain? What do you need?"

"You."

"I'm here. I'm right here, and I'll stay as long as you need me to."

"Hmm," he hummed into a very faint smile. He opened his eyes, finally, after you had waited so long to see, turning his head slowly with a slight wince of discomfort so that he could see yours as well. There was a moment during the battle when he was in your arms and bleeding so much that he feared that his time had come, when he looked up at you as if it could be the final time to see their color, and the final time to see your love being returned to him. It was a crystallizing moment, and he refused to take it for granted for a second more.

"Darling, what would your answer be...if I were to ask you to stay forever?"