My Best Friend's the God of Mischief // Peter x Loki

float like a feather in a beautiful world

Quentin did expect to see Loki on the Saturday morning with what he required for. The individual walking through the door to see him on the Saturday morning was not who Quentin expected.

///

Tony knew the guy was nut the moment he fired his ass. Well, as a matter of fact, not the moment he fired him. He saw the signs - all the red flags, the second he hired him. But Tony told himself he was overthinking things; that the signs and red flags weren't actually signs and red flags but... passion. It was a good thing that the guy was different. Tony was different, too. That meant they could make something great together. He knew better, there was only so much Tony could take until he could no longer turn a blind eye to the madness anymore. Quentin Beck was unstable, and if there was anywhere he belonged to it wasn't Stark Industries but a mental institution.

What Tony didn't know was that Quentin wouldn't simply stay gone. It was Tony's fault he underestimated him. Oh, Tony learned his lesson the hard way when Loki walked right up to him and started telling him things - the things that made Tony feel sick. He thought he had taken Quentin out of the picture, he was wrong and that mistake he'd made came biting him in the face like a venomous snake burying its fangs in his skin.

"I'm sorry," Loki wouldn't look at him now, his head held down, his voice cracked like he was fighting back a sob. "If you - if you want me out. I understand,"

"What?" Peter interrupted. Then he whipped his head to Tony's direction, "you're not actually making him leave, right? You heard what he said. He's the victim -"

"Peter," Tony cut him off, holding out a hand in a gesture that meant, 'please shut up' Peter opened his mouth, but he didn't continue his protest. Now the kid's gaze shifted back to Loki, and it looked like Pete had so much to say it was a struggle for him to remain silent. At least Peter was staying silent. Tony was sure he would have had a migraine, if anyone were to speak a word right now.

Tony rubbed his temples tiredly before running a hand down his face with a huge sigh. He wasn't quite looking at Loki or at anybody. In the matter of ten minutes that Loki managed to tell him everything, Tony suddenly looked a great deal older, like there was a whole world weighing him down. It took him... a long while (hopefully not too long) to realize his silence only made it worse. Loki, who was already hurt, thought he was going to kick him out. Peter thought that, too. And Barnes, who knew what Barnes was thinking, his expression showed nothing.
(If there were any emotions here, they were fear from Loki, anger from Peter and... what Tony was feeling, Tony himself wouldn't know. He was tired, hurt and he was pissed, sure, but not at Loki)

"Loki," he broke the silence eventually, and almost winced when Loki flinched. Tony never remembered the God looking so small. There was no trace of the man who fought him in Germany and proceeded to throw him out of the window left. He thinks you're going to kick him out. Of course, he's small and scared. "Loki, listen to me," God, what am I supposed to say, Tony wondered. Because he was just as speechless as everybody in this room.

"Look at me," Tony didn't mean for that to sound like an order, but it did. And he hated himself when Loki's head jerked up until their eyes met, and it looked like Loki expected a slap across the face.

"I'm sorry," Loki said again. Though this time it was barely a whisper. "I - if you don't want me here anymore,"

"Loki, just... stop."

Loki's lips pressed together as he picked at the palm of his hand nervously. "Stop. Stop saying I'm gonna throw you out. I'm not gonna throw you out, all right?"

"You... you won't?"

"Why would I do that?"

By the look on Loki's face, Tony knew immediately Loki thought it was a trap, a trick question and fuck. Loki thought this was some sort of a test. Fuck. Tony was really bad at comforting a traumatized individual. So he tried to recover himself, this time choosing his words more carefully, "I am not mad at you, Lokes."