Loki remembers one thing from the void. A strange wash of energy that passed over him like a wave. It felt foreign, yet somehow so familiar. At the time he thought little of it. He thought little at all, actually. But now his stomach drops as he realizes with sickening revelation what that sensation was.
Half of all life. Gone. Three-fifths, in Loki's case.
A burning forms in his chest that he knows isn't from any of his physical injuries as he thinks about them, gone. Taken in there prime of their lives. He knew he would outlive them all, but that always came with the comfort of actually getting to see them live, that when their time came they would have had happy and full lives. Not this.
He thinks about Clint on the homestead. Playing or eating or even just existing until suddenly all went quiet. Clint, trying to find them, learning where they went, that they weren't coming back. Loki knows he should ask about Asgard, about Thor, but right now all he can focus on is the burning pit of too many emotions in his chest.
Trembling even harder now, he buries his face in Clint's chest again and lets out a strangled cry. It hurts and he's pretty sure he can taste blood, but it doesn't matter. The physical pain is nothing.
He stays there, as is, letting Loki get it out even if it hurts, because nothing could hurt worse. "I got hold of Tasha; she came and got me. Caught me up on what was happening. Heard about you, in time."
Had what could be called a breakdown for an amount of time he doesn't necessarily want to disclose.
Loki pulls himself impossibly closer to Clint, clinging to the one solid thing apparently left to him. What kind of cruel joke is this? He's finally found happiness, only to have it ripped away. Again.
Clint. Alone. Well, not alone, with Natasha, but still without his family. Suffering through that, then learning Loki's (supposed) fate. Fuck.
"S-Sorry." It's barely a whisper. Whispering still hurts, but not as much. Clint probably doesn't want him injuring himself more, but Loki needs to say it. "Tried to stop him."
"Shh, don't. Your throat's all fucked, and you're lucky your neck isn't snapped like a twig. Just...write. I'd say use some sign language, but uh, I don't actually know much." And certainly not any Asgardian sign, if that exists. "Don't hurt yourself more."
Loki shakes his head again. He doesn't care if it hurts, he just wants to talk! The one thing that was always his, his voice, his words, taken from him. Insult to injury.
They had talked about learning sign language as a family. Clint's hear loss seemed stable, but the doctors said it could get worse at any time. They were going to start when the children went back to school in the fall, the adults taking an online course Laura had found while the children studied it in school.
So many plans. It really did feel like they had eternity.
He tries to speak again, but this time the noises truly won't come. He lets out a whine that part frustrated, part agony. His throat is so dry, yet the idea of water still holds no draw. Nothing does but staying here in Clint's arms.
"Look...can you try to drink something?" He reaches for the water bottle to hand to Loki. "If it hurts too much, that's okay, but you were out of it for a while; you're probably dry as a bone. And I'm obviously not gonna drag you to a hospital."
Loki grimaces at the water bottle, but takes it nonetheless. It's awkward from this angle, so he does his best to sit up slightly. Just enough to be able to tip the bottle up for a small trickle of water to stream over his dry tongue. Why had he been so hesitant.
At first it feels wonderful, soothing some of the burn in his throat for a brief moment. But as Loki is wont to do, he gets greedy, tipping the bottle up more for more water. The increased flow, however, forces some liquid down his throat the wrong way, causing him to choke and cough. The bottle slips from his grip, soaking the front of his shirt and blanket, assuming Clint does not catch it first.
"Whoa-" Good reflexes come in handy, and he manages to catch it before it all spills everywhere. Damp on the shirt, yeah, and a little on the blanket, but not totally upended and soaked through.
"Okay." He sets it down. "Okay. I'll help you. C'mere, I got you." Clint coaxes Loki up to lean against him while he reaches around Loki, arranging pillows. Shifting him, tender, careful. "Get you sat up nice and comfy. I'll get a towel. And a shirt. And...some easy food? Shit. Applesauce and protein shakes and sippy soups."
While Loki is grateful Clint is there to help him, he absolutely hates feeling this helpless. He isn't a child, he shouldn't need someone to keep him from spilling water everywhere or someone to fluff his pillows and help him change. Loki grimaces, but allows Clint to maneuver him all the same. It's not much, but he does attempt to help where he can, rolling to allow access, bracing as much as his atrophied muscles will allow.
Wounded pride, despair, relief- it all swirls inside of him like a solar storm ready to burn it's way out of him at any moment. He feels so raw and tired.
When Clint moves to get said towel or shirt, Loki's grip on his hand tightens for a brief second to stop him before he brings it to his lips. A gentle kiss placed on the scarred knuckles.
Of course he stops. He doesn't actually want to leave Loki's side, even for the things he needs. The kiss leaves him with a lump in his throat, other hand coming up to stroke Loki's face, tuck hair back behind an ear.
Clint hesitates, then pulls away. It's not a big place, actually pretty damn small, and even in the rare instances of disappearing from view, he's easily heard. Comes back with a hand towel to dab up the worst of the water, or try to. He's got a tee that's going to be a little tight on Loki, but as a serial shirt-stealer, he knows it won't be minded. "Lift your arms for me, if you can. Real quick." To strip him out of the top he's got on, best as they can muster, and then to help with the fresh shirt on.
"...Wasn't planning on staying in country too long, but it doesn't look like you're going much of anywhere without a hand. So, we'll stay here, and you'll rest up, okay?"
Reluctantly Loki lets go of his hand so Clint can move about the space. He watches him every step of the way and listens for footsteps for the short time he is not in view. When Clint returns, Loki takes the towel and does his best to dab up the water himself. Luckily there isn't much on teh bed thanks to the human's fast reflexes.
He doesn't think anything of the request to raise his arms, but quickly finds it to be more difficult than it should. As soon as his shoulders begin to move more pain lances across his shoulders and up his neck. Gritting his teeth against another cry of pain, he holds the position for only as long as it takes to slip the shirt onto his arms. When they're lowered again Loki finds himself panting as if he'd just run several miles.
All he can do is nod at the assentation. He can't even lift his arms, much less walk. Magic is right out of the question, all his body's energy going to repairing the copious amounts of damage.
It's about what he figured. He doesn't know what happened, but he also doesn't want to ask and upset Loki further. Sure fucked Loki right the hell up and made Thor convinced he was dead, so it's not great, whatever happened to his body after getting choked out by apparently a really fucking huge guy.
"I'll make a point to get some straws, too. When you're feeling up for something more along the lines of moving, we'll get you into the bathtub, wash you up. It's not big, but it'll do. I'll help you up and around as you need. Guess that'll be most of my day's exercise; you're always heavier than you look."
Between the exhaustion and the comfort of Clint's shirt, the withering look Loki gives him lacks any bite. At least the effort is there. He settles back on the bed, grabbing the pen and paper again.
He's stuffed his incriminating gear in a box and slid under the bed. In Loki's condition, he'll have no ability to find it, much less reason.
There's only one bed, naturally, but there's no reason not to share it. It'll be a tight fit, and Loki could really use all the space he needs. But Clint very much doubts he'll mind.
He sits up in the bed beside Loki, trying to draw comfort for at least one person he loves in his life returning to him, even if under unusual circumstances. "Still a world that needs saving, even if it's a lot smaller than it was."
Clint's right. As soon as he gets into bed, Loki does his best to snuggle up next to him without aggrivating any of his injuries too much. A little pain is a fine trade off for the comfort of the other's touch, though.
Loki's condition also means his bullshit detector isn't working quite right at the moment, but that doesn't stop him from narrowing his eyes.
Clint barks out a tired laugh. "What retirement? I don't--I didn't have anything left to retire to. You think I wanted to be in that house by myself?" A shake of his head. "World's changed a lot. Plenty of people out there who want to take advantage of that."
The already shoddy quality of Loki's writing is noticeably worse now. What little he's done since waking up seems to have tired him out as well as a full day's work. He's still gripping the pen and paper, though, not wanting the conversation to end. It's been so long since he's had someone to talk to.
Loki's eyes snap open as Clint suggests he leave so he can rest. Ignoring the pain, he reaches out and pulls himself closer, head shaking frantically. It's pathetic, Clint will have to leave eventually, but right now he doesn't care. Maybe tomorrow he'll be able to stand it, but not tonight.
"Okay. Good, cuz I don't wanna leave, either. We'll take care of things later." He breathes out slow, trying to get himself back to calm. It isn't a dream, but it feels too good to be reality. To get back something that had been taken so unceremoniously. "Haven't...slept in the same bed as anyone in a while."
"Nothing you did. Not like you meant to just up and vanish through the rainbow bridge and leave me to man the fort myself." The joke is that Laura's the one who is the one who could be said to man anything in the family.
"We're gonna have to talk about what happened to you. At some point. Figuratively talk. Not now. We'll wait until you're stronger."
The grip on Clint's shirt tightens just a little as Loki gives a quick nod. Of course he would want to know what happened. Loki has a feeling it won't be the only time he has to explain, so it's probably best he start collecting his thoughts now.
Well, 'now' as in in the morning. Thinking isn't really happening right now.
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cuttingremark) wrote2023-01-25 07:40 am
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Loki remembers one thing from the void. A strange wash of energy that passed over him like a wave. It felt foreign, yet somehow so familiar. At the time he thought little of it. He thought little at all, actually. But now his stomach drops as he realizes with sickening revelation what that sensation was.
Half of all life. Gone. Three-fifths, in Loki's case.
A burning forms in his chest that he knows isn't from any of his physical injuries as he thinks about them, gone. Taken in there prime of their lives. He knew he would outlive them all, but that always came with the comfort of actually getting to see them live, that when their time came they would have had happy and full lives. Not this.
He thinks about Clint on the homestead. Playing or eating or even just existing until suddenly all went quiet. Clint, trying to find them, learning where they went, that they weren't coming back. Loki knows he should ask about Asgard, about Thor, but right now all he can focus on is the burning pit of too many emotions in his chest.
Trembling even harder now, he buries his face in Clint's chest again and lets out a strangled cry. It hurts and he's pretty sure he can taste blood, but it doesn't matter. The physical pain is nothing.
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He stays there, as is, letting Loki get it out even if it hurts, because nothing could hurt worse. "I got hold of Tasha; she came and got me. Caught me up on what was happening. Heard about you, in time."
Had what could be called a breakdown for an amount of time he doesn't necessarily want to disclose.
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Loki pulls himself impossibly closer to Clint, clinging to the one solid thing apparently left to him. What kind of cruel joke is this? He's finally found happiness, only to have it ripped away. Again.
Clint. Alone. Well, not alone, with Natasha, but still without his family. Suffering through that, then learning Loki's (supposed) fate. Fuck.
"S-Sorry." It's barely a whisper. Whispering still hurts, but not as much. Clint probably doesn't want him injuring himself more, but Loki needs to say it. "Tried to stop him."
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They had talked about learning sign language as a family. Clint's hear loss seemed stable, but the doctors said it could get worse at any time. They were going to start when the children went back to school in the fall, the adults taking an online course Laura had found while the children studied it in school.
So many plans. It really did feel like they had eternity.
He tries to speak again, but this time the noises truly won't come. He lets out a whine that part frustrated, part agony. His throat is so dry, yet the idea of water still holds no draw. Nothing does but staying here in Clint's arms.
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At first it feels wonderful, soothing some of the burn in his throat for a brief moment. But as Loki is wont to do, he gets greedy, tipping the bottle up more for more water. The increased flow, however, forces some liquid down his throat the wrong way, causing him to choke and cough. The bottle slips from his grip, soaking the front of his shirt and blanket, assuming Clint does not catch it first.
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"Okay." He sets it down. "Okay. I'll help you. C'mere, I got you." Clint coaxes Loki up to lean against him while he reaches around Loki, arranging pillows. Shifting him, tender, careful. "Get you sat up nice and comfy. I'll get a towel. And a shirt. And...some easy food? Shit. Applesauce and protein shakes and sippy soups."
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Wounded pride, despair, relief- it all swirls inside of him like a solar storm ready to burn it's way out of him at any moment. He feels so raw and tired.
When Clint moves to get said towel or shirt, Loki's grip on his hand tightens for a brief second to stop him before he brings it to his lips. A gentle kiss placed on the scarred knuckles.
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"I missed you. So much."
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Clint hesitates, then pulls away. It's not a big place, actually pretty damn small, and even in the rare instances of disappearing from view, he's easily heard. Comes back with a hand towel to dab up the worst of the water, or try to. He's got a tee that's going to be a little tight on Loki, but as a serial shirt-stealer, he knows it won't be minded. "Lift your arms for me, if you can. Real quick." To strip him out of the top he's got on, best as they can muster, and then to help with the fresh shirt on.
"...Wasn't planning on staying in country too long, but it doesn't look like you're going much of anywhere without a hand. So, we'll stay here, and you'll rest up, okay?"
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He doesn't think anything of the request to raise his arms, but quickly finds it to be more difficult than it should. As soon as his shoulders begin to move more pain lances across his shoulders and up his neck. Gritting his teeth against another cry of pain, he holds the position for only as long as it takes to slip the shirt onto his arms. When they're lowered again Loki finds himself panting as if he'd just run several miles.
All he can do is nod at the assentation. He can't even lift his arms, much less walk. Magic is right out of the question, all his body's energy going to repairing the copious amounts of damage.
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"I'll make a point to get some straws, too. When you're feeling up for something more along the lines of moving, we'll get you into the bathtub, wash you up. It's not big, but it'll do. I'll help you up and around as you need. Guess that'll be most of my day's exercise; you're always heavier than you look."
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Bath nice.
Why are you here?
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There's only one bed, naturally, but there's no reason not to share it. It'll be a tight fit, and Loki could really use all the space he needs. But Clint very much doubts he'll mind.
He sits up in the bed beside Loki, trying to draw comfort for at least one person he loves in his life returning to him, even if under unusual circumstances. "Still a world that needs saving, even if it's a lot smaller than it was."
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Loki's condition also means his bullshit detector isn't working quite right at the moment, but that doesn't stop him from narrowing his eyes.
Retirement?
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The already shoddy quality of Loki's writing is noticeably worse now. What little he's done since waking up seems to have tired him out as well as a full day's work. He's still gripping the pen and paper, though, not wanting the conversation to end. It's been so long since he's had someone to talk to.
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But maybe he shouldn't tire Loki out too much more. "Should I let you rest? Maybe pop out to get you something to eat?"
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He can't bend his head back too much, but enough that he's able to give Clint a sad smile and mouth 'Sorry.'
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"We're gonna have to talk about what happened to you. At some point. Figuratively talk. Not now. We'll wait until you're stronger."
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Well, 'now' as in in the morning. Thinking isn't really happening right now.
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