Chapter 8
“Loki, are you coming to lunch?” Thor asks.
“I’m in the middle of a chapter, Thor,” Loki sighs.
“It’s rude to ignore our friends!” Thor is so very loud, and Loki’s head throbs.
“Your friends, Thor.”
Loki can feel the Avengers watching them, which is rather rude. Family disagreements are supposed to stay in the family. But there’s nothing he can do about that now.
Begrudgingly, Loki puts the book aside and stands up. He sways and immediately sits back down.
“Give me a second.” His vision has gone fuzzy and does not seem to be clearing. “I’ll be right there.”
He breathes in for a minute then gingerly makes his way to the table. Thor passes him food but he doesn’t even try to pick at it. His nausea rises up and it’s all he can do to not throw up.
“What is this, a hunger strike?” Tony jokes. Loki just blinks at him.
Tony has never seen Loki pass up a chance to make a witty retort. “Seriously, kid, are you okay?”
Loki cocks his head to the side. They have to know why he’s acting like this? Thor must have told them.
He turns to Thor. His voice is soft, weak even, but it carries. “They don’t know?”
Thor has the grace to look a little ashamed. “I didn’t think it was important.” At the rest of the Avengers’ looks, he explains. “The cuffs make Loki sick. But worry not, he can endure it!”
Tony remembers how Loki flinched when he put the cuffs on before the physical. And how he fainted during his blood drawing. Across the table, outrage flickers across Steve’s face.
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Steve asks, voice terse.
Thor just looks confused. “I thought it mattered little? He is a prisoner, is he not?”
Loki usually loves confrontations — from an academic point of view, that is. He likes gauging who is siding with who, the small details that win or lose an argument. But he feels so terrible, and the quiet darkness is so inviting, that the most he can do is keep from passing out.
“We don’t torture people,” Steve grits out. “These cuffs? They were meant to be a precaution, Thor, not a punishment. Otherwise we’re no better than the people we fight against.”
“Do you even care about your brother?” Tony asks. Which, yeah, he probably shouldn’t have said. But when has Tony let something like that stop him. But Tony knows what it’s like to be young and painfully smart and ignored.
“Of course I do!” Thor bangs his fist against the table and Loki twitches in his seat, too tired to suppress the flinch.
“Loki,” Steve asks, voice gentle. “Why didn’t you tell us you were hurt?”
Loki scoffs, his bloodshot eyes meeting Steve’s. “And you would have believed me?”
Steve looks away. Loki smiles grimly — that’s what he thought.
A realization comes to Tony. “That’s why you wanted to stay in the cell?” He asks. “Because it doesn’t cut you off from your magic?”
Loki does not even bother to correct him. It’s seidr, not magic, thank you very much. He just nods tersely.
“How long does it take for the cuffs to start hurting?” Tony asks. He didn’t put it together soon enough, and he feels bad about that. But if he’s good at one thing, it’s finding solutions to bad situations.
Loki shrugs. “A chill sets in pretty quickly. But all the rest of the symptoms usually start after a couple days.”
Clint notices the “usually,” which seems to imply that he’s been in these cuffs for multiple days before. He files it away but doesn’t say anything, because he doesn’t particularly care about Loki’s wellbeing. It’s petty, yes, but he thinks he deserves some pettiness in this situation.
Tony nods slowly. “If we used the cell twice a week instead of the cuffs, would that help? We can spare enough time for that.”
Loki nods slightly. He’ll still feel weak and cold — but it’s better than nothing. And Loki has long ago learned not to push his luck.
“Do you want to go right now?” Tony asks. Loki nods again.
Natasha pushes herself away from the table. “I can watch him.”
“I really don’t mind,” Tony says.
Natasha stares him down. “I can watch him.”
Natasha leads Loki back to the cell in silence. Loki doesn’t mind that she glares at him like she wants to take him apart. Because the second she takes the cuffs off and locks the cell door, Loki can feel his seidr humming underneath his skin again. His headache recedes and he summons a single knife, feeling its comforting weight in his hand, before sending it back.
Natasha’s still watching him. “Was that a threat?” She asks.
“No,” Loki sighs. “I was just checking.”
“I know you think you’re very clever,” she says.
Loki blinks at her. “I am very clever.”
Natasha steps closer to the glass until Loki takes a step back to keep some space between them. Loki knows that she’s trying to intimidate him. He also knows that it’s working.
“You put one foot out of line, you even fucking think about it, and this mewling quim will make sure it’s the last thing you ever do.”
Loki flushes. “Who called you that… name?” He asks. “Was it Thor? Because our mother raised us better than that.”
Natasha raises an eyebrow. “You did.”
Loki’s eyes go wide. “Oh.” He swallows harshly. “That was a crude thing for me to say to you and I sincerely apologize.”
Natasha doesn’t acknowledge Loki again. Instead, she sits down and takes apart her gun then puts it together again. Over and over. The rhythmic sound is probably meant to be a threat, but that’s nothing new. Loki lets it lull him to sleep.