When Loki first found him, Tony was neck deep in his third bottle of scotch; not even Jarvis’ frequent and steadily more worried words could stop him, nor Dummy’s frantic snatching at the bottle.
It ended up being the god who’d snatched the bottle away and dumped out the remaining half of the alcohol- Tony had screamed at him for ten minutes, demanding for it back, and Loki stood there and took it with a steely eyed, almost sad expression.
But Loki didn’t understand that Tony was falling apart and the only thing that had been able to keep him together since Pepper’s death had been his stash of alcohol.
He didn’t understand that for the past seven and a half months, Tony had barely slept four hours a night- sometimes he didn’t sleep at all.
He didn’t understand that Tony had picked up a gun (the gun, the only pistol left that Tony had made for Stark Industries; he could be the Merchant of Death once more, right?) and had never had the courage to actually pull the trigger.
But it seemed he did understand as he wrapped his arms around Tony as his screams turned to sobs and his demands melted into heartbreaking apologies.
Loki held him.
Tony broke.
He cried himself to sleep, and when he woke the next day, Loki was by his side, soft green magic dying away on his fingertips.
Loki made him promise to stop drinking.
The withdrawals lasted almost two weeks and Loki, the god who’d always left, stayed.
Tony Stark kept his promise.
Three years later, they were married.
It had been a small ceremony, with the Avengers, Phil (who, surprise, was distinctly not dead), Frigga and Rhodey.
Tony had never been happier in his life.
Loki and him made love that night with gentle touches and unhurried promises as Tony softly thrust into Loki, moving fingers rough from creating over Loki’s body, worshiping the god as he should be worshipped, mapping him out so Tony would always remember how he felt.
“Oh, my King!” Tony cried with his release and Loki had just stared at him, as if he was unable to comprehend what he had heard; unable to believe that he deserved the title any more than he believed he deserved love.
So Tony kissed him, soft and slow and perfect, pushing everything he’d ever felt into it and felt the god return it with the same fiery passion.
“Stay.” It was whispered in Tony’s ear like a gently caress.
“Promise.” It was replied with the same softness as he curled himself into Loki’s arms and hugged him like he would never let him go.
Tony Stark kept his promise.
Nearly six months later, the god proffered a golden apple.
Tony had stared at it for a good five minutes before taking it, a wicked grin lighting up his face as he bit into it.
Loki had looked so happy, his face split into a wide grin, his eyes practically bugging out of his head with how wide and shocked and amazed they’d been.
Tony had finished the apple and then kissed Loki with the same passion he had the night they’d been married.
Loki had then proceeded to ravish him until he was stupid with lust and then fucked him into the couch until he could barely breathe; Loki did that a lot- took his breath away.
Tony loved it.
“Forever?” the god had asked after as they lay together on the couch, watching the stars through the windows of the tower.
“Forever.”
Tony Stark kept his promise.
Almost a year and a half later, Loki finally showed Tony his true colors.
His skin had slowly turned a deep, dark blue with lighter, almost silvery lines appearing across his skin in intricate designs and patterns.
His eyes had gone a deep, ruby red where they stared at Tony with fear, as if the god knew he would get rejected, left because he was this.
“Oh, Loki,” Tony had breathed. “you’re so beautiful.”
That had been the first time Tony had seen the god cry.
Tony held him close and whispered sweet nothings into the god’s ear until he relaxed into Tony’s embrace, tears slowing until they disappeared.
Tony gently rubbed the pad of his thumb along the god’s high cheekbone, felt Loki lean into the touch.
He gently nudged the god’s face towards him, and kissed him slowly, their lips moving in perfect sync, dancing in a gentle embrace they’d long since memorized.
“I love you,” Tony breathed.
“Always?” Loki had asked uncertainly.
"Always.”
Tony Stark kept his promise.
Two hundred years of happiness and love later, Loki Laufeyson died.
It was a petty fight with a pathetic mortal magician who went by the name of Doom and always referred to himself in third person.
Tony had ripped Doom to shreds; tore at him until there was nothing left.
He dropped down by Loki’s side, stepping out of his suit and collapsing because his legs could no longer support him.
Tears had already gathered in his eyes and spilled down his cheeks as the blue god slowly faded away, the magic blade through his chest disappearing.
“Please.” He was surprised he’d even managed a coherent word- it felt like his throat had closed. He couldn’t breathe.
The creature of fire held the creature of ice close and begged him to return.
Tony had long ago learned magic- he’d been a skilled mage, and fire had been his main element.
But fire would not help now.
How pointless had it been, learning something so powerful but still unable to save the one who’d taught it to him; the one he loved.
Tony had stayed for the god’s forever, but forever had not been as long as he’d thought…as either of them had thought.
The color to Loki’s skin faded to a dull gray as he breathed three words into the night sky like a promise; a star dying.
Tony screamed, demanding him back, begging whoever was listening to bring his Loki back- his god, his King.
No one was listening.
Tony went home alone that night, finding himself a nice bottle of scotch. One morphed into two; two morphed into five. The seventh was almost too much.
Tony Stark broke the first promise he’d ever made.