Avengers Sick-fics

Loki on Midgard - Loki/Clint

This had the unfortunate effect of making the migraine even worse. Now, Loki was able to recognise it and wished he had his magic back for what felt like the millionth time. The new, doubled pain was awful, intolerable, and Loki found himself vomiting into Stark's toilet again.

Clint, somehow managing to escape the barrier, finally found himself at Loki's side. He pulled back the sweaty black hair and waited for the man to move from his hunched position over the toilet.

"What's wrong with you?" He asked eventually. Loki winced at his loud tone and Clint finally, finally, understood.

"Oh," he whispered.

Loki retched over the toilet a few more times, without anything coming up, before slowly leaning back. His eyes were closed against the light and he was completely ignoring Clint.

The archer in question sighed, stood and began attempting to guide Loki to stand up too. "Jarvis, lights," he whispered and the pink behind Loki's eyelids began to fade as the lights dimmed. He opened his eyes in a squint and then slowly widened them.

"Hmm." Was his response.

"You should get some rest, Loki. See if you can sleep this off," Clint was whispering. But Loki's head hurt and it was all too painful and he couldn't even remember how to get to his room. After a few moments of Loki's silence, Clint sighed and began leading him to his room, his hand firm on Loki's arm as they made their way through the darkened hallways.

Loki was all but staggering, leaning into Clint like a drunk and completely unaware of his surroundings despite his dilated pupils. Loki's rooms were, as per usual, pristine and Clint led the frost giant to his bed. He reached to pull back the covers to help Loki get into bed but touched nothing.

"What..." he tried again. This time, the room flickered.

"Oh for- Loki this had better not be an illusion," Clint growled, temporarily forgetting why he was in Loki's room in the first place. Loki, for his part, winced, ducked his head and the illusion disappeared.

The room was a mess. Everything was strewn everywhere, as though... as though Loki had had some sort of temper tantrum. Loki let out a whimper and raised a hand to massage his temples, eyes shut again.

"Right, right, sorry," Clint whispered and helped the giant onto the bed, removing his shoes before gently placing the blanket, which had been bunched up at the end of the bed, over Loki.

Loki seemed too weak to move, paler than usual and sapped of all his strength. Hints of glue showed through his skin which Clint assumed could only be bad news. He let out a sigh, wishing he could do something else for the pained god.

———

Loki's whole head ached. It ached with such intensity that his neck hurt and he felt like he was going to throw up. How mortifying, throwing up in front of a mortal, even one like Barton. Ordinarily, Loki would be even more embarrassed but he was simply in too much pain to care. He was missing half the vision in his left eye and couldn't tolerate sound or light so there was absolutely nothing he could do to distract him from the unending, unrelenting pain.

Even worse, the permanent illusion over his room had failed when he'd arrived. He simply didn't have the tiniest amount of focus left to keep it up. The whole world was just narrowed down to this narrow corridor of pain. Dimly, he was aware of the archer saying something to his left and then a brief prick of his arm. Loki focused on that sharp pain, brief though it was, as a temporary distraction from the unending blur of pain in his head.

He squinted at it but whatever it was, it wasn't in his remaining spots of vision. His neck was too sore to move his head so the source of the prick would remain a visual mystery.

"What...?" He asked, ending in a wince at the sound of his voice.

"An IV. For dehydration," Barton responded, in greater control of his voice's volume than Loki.

The frost giant nodded, his eyes closing.

———

Loki woke up with what felt like a hangover. He had a dry, old taste in his mouth as well as a slight headache. It took a moment to remember the unrelenting pain of the night before. At least, he assumed it was the night before. His bedroom was so dark there was absolutely no way to figure out the time.

There was also an IV in his arm, Loki remembered. He reached out his right hand and conjured a small ball of light, one of the only tricks left to him. Slowly, gently, he removed the needle. A crimson dot of blood began to form on his arm but he ignored it.

There was also a glass of water by his bed. Loki drank the entire thing without thought for what poisons could be in it. Surely, if someone had wanted to kill him, they would have done so by now.

At least, that was what he tried to tell himself.

Shockingly, it was not Thor who opened the door a moment later, but Barton. The archer appeared dishevelled, his blond hair mussed and his t-shirt crinkled, as though he had been sleeping. That made a lot of sense, actually.

"How are you?" He asked, slowly entering the messy room.

"I am," Clint raised an eyebrow and Loki decided it would be prudent to tell the truth, "still not well. Thank you, for assisting me."

Clint had the audacity to widen his eyes slightly, quickly covering all traces of shock a moment later. "No problem. What's wrong now?"

"Just a minor headache. It will fade."

"And you got the migraine because...?"

Loki sighed. "Because my father took away my magic and I exert myself too much to access it anyway."

"So should you be holding that right now then?" Clint asked, eyeing Loki's ball of light.

"This is one of the few tricks not barred to me. It requires such little magic, it would be impossible to take without putting me into a coma."

Before Clint could ask another question, Thor came barreling in, flopping onto Loki's covers and his legs underneath them.

"Ow! You bear of a man, get off me!" He hissed.

"Loki! It is good to see you are well!" Thor responded, his voice as loud as ever. Someone whimpered as Loki raised a hand to his, now throbbing, temples and he realised it was him.

Clint placed a hand on Thor's shoulder, guiding him off the bed. "Loki is sensitive to sound right now, Thor. He still needs rest. He'll come to you when he is well."

Thor looked between the two men in the room, Loki, cautiously watching the exchange as Clint attempted to protect him from Thor.

Thor gave a short nod and stage whispered "oh."

"Thor, please, I am tired. I shall request your presence when I have rested," Loki sighed, slipping into formal language to give Thor the prod he needed to leave him alone. The blond nodded and his oafish face lit up at Loki's promise to meet with him soon.

The minute Thor left, Loki slid down his bed head, which he had been using to sit up, and fell straight back into sleep. Clint kept the rest of the Avengers from checking on him and when Loki woke up, had a hearty broth ready for him. A curious response, warranting further investigation, Loki was sure.

———

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