Archive of Our Own ^beta

“It can't be much further, right?”

Loki squints against the biting wind. Snowflakes obscure his vision, hiding the distant mountain range they have been using to navigate behind a wall of white.

“I don't know,” he replies. “But we didn't stray from our path. We should be there soon.” 

He tries to put some encouraging cheer into his voice, but he isn't sure he succeeds. Tony just grumbles something under his breath and carries on waking.

The snowstorm hit them by surprise. What was initially nothing but a thin coat of snow has grown to a layer so thick that every step they take makes them sink to their knees into the freezing cold. It doesn't help either that rocks and bumps are hidden underneath the surface, and next to him, Tony stumbles into exactly one of such traps. The snow crunches as he falls to his knees, but Loki is next to him in an instant, pulling him back to his feet.

“Are you alright?” Loki shouts. 

The howling wind is so loud that it overpowers Tony’s answer. He is bundled up in a thick winter coat, a furry hood framing his face with the lower half hidden behind a scarf. The bit of skin visible is sickly pale.

“Tony?”

“I am fine. Just keep going,” Tony tries to shout back, but his voice is thin and weak. 

He is exhausted, Loki knows. But he also knows the man would never admit as much. All Loki can do is bite his tongue and continue onward.

Mere minutes later, Tony has fallen to his knees again.

“Tony!” Loki rushes over to him. His head hangs low, and for a moment he looks so lifeless, like just another obstacle the snowflakes wish to bury under their coat. Loki shakes him by the shoulders, and unfocused brown eyes find their way to him.

“‘m fine I said,” Tony mumbles, but it sounds all too much like the delirious ramblings of a man about to fall into a sleep they might never wake up from. Panic claws at Loki’s throat, and a terrible realization pulses like poison through his body. 

If they continue at their current pace, Tony won’t make it. 

Loki looks around, but again, he finds nothing but a white desert. No trees they could seek shelter under, no rocks that would shield them from the wind and allow for a brief rest.

The only hope they have is to make it back to the quinjet. Fast.

Loki pulls off his gloves and presses his warm hands to the sides of Tony’s face, hoping they would bring some life back into him. “Listen to me. You have to stay awake.”

Tony blinks at him lazily.

“Anthony,” Loki urges, a fight against both the howling wind and the trembling worry he can't keep out of his voice. “Stay awake, alright?”

Tony nods. Snowflakes have started collecting on his eyebrows, making them look like little grey hairs. Under normal circumstances Loki would have gladly made fun of the sight, but as it is, humor is the last thing on his mind.

Loki’s fingers have already started to go numb, but he doesn't hesitate to rip off his scarf and wrap it around Tony. The cold air hits his throat and sends a shiver through him, but he doesn't let it deter him either. When he takes off his jacket to layer it over Tony, the man frowns slightly, but it is far too weak of a gesture, and the possibility of him not making it, of him freezing to death out here because they had not checked the damn weather before heading out on a stealth mission in the middle of the arctic tundra, would be a mistake Loki could never forgive himself for. 

Loki’s teeth chatter. Having bundled Tony up, he is left in nothing but his last thin layer of clothing. He takes a deep breath, feels the snow biting at his skin, the numbness of his freezing limbs. He closes his eyes and concentrates on the magic resting deep within him and – yes, much better. 

He picks Tony up in his arms and cradles his head to his chest, shielding him from the wind. The layer of snow has grown so thick that every step has him sinking into it up to his thighs, but the freezing temperature doesn't bother him anymore. He marches on for a while before the bundle in his arms stirs.

“Lokes?” Tony’s voice is unbearably weak.

Loki swallows down the tight knot of worry in his throat. “Don’t speak. Spare your strength.”

“You’re blue.” 

He says it so casually. Like it's nothing special. He says it in the same way as he said you’re pretty several weeks ago, when they had spent the evening together and gotten drunk and his fingers had traced the lines of Loki’s face. And just like back then, Loki doesn't know what to make of it.

“I had not noticed. Thank you for telling me.”

“No worries.”

Tony falls silent again. His eyes are still clouded and weak, his blinks far too slow, but his breathing is steady. Loki pulls him tighter against his chest and continues onward.

When the quinjet comes into view, Loki all but weeps. Half of it is covered in snow, but the tailgate opens as soon as they approach and closes once they hurry inside. For a moment, it is too dark and too quiet, and the panic from earlier threatens to come back in full force. Then the control panels light up, and the whirring sound of the heating system fills the air. 

Loki sags with relief. He brushes the snow off Tony and puts him down on one of the small beds. The hood of his coat shifts a bit, bringing his closed eyes and pale skin back into view. Loki knows he needs to peel Tony out of his clothes and give him something warm and dry to wear, but he is still too worried to leave his side.

Loki grabs Tony’s shoulder and nudges it. “Tony?”

Tony’s eyes open a slit. They are heavy with exhaustion, but there is awareness in them.

“Loki.”

“How are you feeling?”

It takes a moment before Tony answers. He just looks at Loki like he can’t quite believe what he’s seeing. His fingers reach out and meet Loki’s cheek, first lightly, then with a bit more pressure before his hand drops again. He smiles.

“Freezing to death has been postponed for now, I think.”

Reassured by Tony’s words, Loki shifts his attention to their luggage. He pulls out dry clothes and blankets and puts a water bottle close to the heater before he turns to Tony again.

“Take off your clothes.”

“Not even asking me out for dinner first?” The quip comes from a voice so thin that Loki cannot derive any amusement from it.

“If you stay in those clammy clothes, I might not get the chance to do so.”

Tony stills. He frowns, and maybe the panic has pushed too much of the truth into Loki’s voice, but Loki cannot find it in him to care when the man that made a life among the Avengers go from bearable to enjoyable is this weak, and the sheer thought of losing it, losing him, makes any secret worth spilling.

“Take off your clothes,” Loki repeats, more forceful this time.

Tony clears his throat and shifts on the bed. “Alright, alright.” 

He moves unbearably slowly. His limbs must ache from the cold, but even now he is trying to hide it, biting his lip to stop from wincing. Loki watches for a total of two seconds before deciding that even Tony’s arrogance would not be enough to push him away.

“Lift your arms,” Loki commands.

After a short moment of hesitation, Tony does. Loki helps him out of his clothes, from his sweater to his socks to even his underwear. None of what he sees underneath captures Loki’s attention. Not because he isn’t interested – he has spent many nights wondering what it would feel like to run his fingers over Tony’s skin and see what is only reserved for those the man shares his bed with – but because there simply is no time to indulge in his attraction. All that matters is that soon, Tony is wearing dry clothes and safely huddled under a mountain of blankets.

Loki crouches down beside him and pushes his hand against Tony’s forehead. “You’re still too cold.”

“You’re not much warmer like this,” Tony mumbles, and there’s still that distant wonder from earlier in his voice.

Loki’s eyes dart to his hand. Right, he hasn’t shifted back to his Asgardian shape yet.

Blue turns back to pale skin, and Loki realizes that the warm air coming from the heater may have felt sufficient in his other form, but like this, it’s barely enough. He quickly changes into dry clothes himself and returns to the bed.

“Move,” Loki says and motions for Tony to make space.

Tony just looks at him. His brows are furrowed like he’s thinking very hard about something before his eyes widen with a realization Loki had hoped the man wouldn’t come to. 

Not like this, at least.

But Loki ignores the excitement and dread that fight against each other in his stomach and instead repeats his plea. “Move,” he says and prays his voice comes out steady. “It’s the quickest way to warm you up.”

Finally, Tony scoots to the side. Loki doesn't hesitate to lie down next to him and wrap the blankets over them. The bed is small, designed for short naps during travel and not two men lying next to each other, but they make do. Loki pulls Tony close, chest to chest, tangles their limbs together, and presses his face into the still damp brown hair. He brushes back and forth over Tony’s back, hoping to create more warmth.

“You’re alright,” Loki sighs, and only now, the tension truly leaves him. 

It is terrifying how fragile mortals are and how fragile it in turn makes Loki to carry this deep affection for one of them.

“You…” Tony begins, but he doesn't need to finish his words for Loki to know what he is trying to say.

“Yes,” Loki confesses. His heartbeat quickens, and he fears Tony may feel it where their bodies are pressed against each other. “I care for you.” He shifts back slightly to look at Tony’s face. “Deeply.”

“Oh,” is all that leaves Tony’s mouth. He looks a little confused, still so much more sluggish than usual, but then his lips stretch wider and wider until a smile greets Loki, soft and affectionate. Now he is certain that the man can feel his heart racing. “That’s nice.”

For a while, they simply lay in silence, limbs entangled with warmth returning to their frozen bodies.

“Are you feeling better?” Loki asks.

“I think I’m past the worst,” Tony says. He doesn't push him away though, instead, he presses himself tighter against Loki and laces their fingers together. “So, you’re gonna take me out for dinner?”

Outside the quinjet waits a cold wasteland, but Loki feels impossibly warm. He smiles and presses a kiss into brown curls. “I will.”