Archive of Our Own

The first time it happened, Tony would have been pretty sure he was hallucinating—if not for the weird ass taste of perfume left lingering in his mouth.

Grimacing and just barely resisting the urge to scratch at his tongue – engine grease would probably taste worse – he leaned down and poked the thing that he had just spat from his mouth with a steel-toed shoe.

It shifted. It was real.

He crouched, and poked it with his finger. 

Yep.

A flower petal. Totally normal, the right texture, fully formed and fresh as if it had just been picked from a plant. Except, you know. It was also coated in his saliva.

Because he had just.

Coughed it up.

What the hell.

Now, Tony has seen some pretty fucked up things in his life, don’t get him wrong. He’s battled aliens, been through wormholes, and even faced the sight of Thor walking out of the shower without a towel.

(Not that it was a particularly bad sight, just. Thor wasn’t exactly Tony’s type. Not in the slightest.)

Anyway, Tony considered himself pretty used to weird. But even so… coughing up flowers for seemingly no reason at all was probably cause for worry.

Then again, Tony reasoned, there could just as well be a perfectly logical explanation to it. There was certainly more than just a slight chance that the root cause had something to do with one of DUM-E’s smoothies. The bot could have just found a bouquet left by Pepper or something, and decided it looked nutritious. Weirder things had certainly happened.

So, yeah. 

It was probably fine.

The first time Loki found one, he didn’t think much of it. It was odd to see a stjarna lily petal on Midgard, but Loki simply assumed that Thor had brought a bouquet from Asgard in an attempt to win back Jane Foster.

After all, what else could it be?

Then, he began to find the petals all over the place. There was one under the couch, blown out during one of Thor and Clint’s video game bouts. There was one in the kitchen, on the ground in front of the coffee machine. A few in the bin, as if someone had been trying to hide them. Perhaps, then, Thor’s courting attempts were not going so well as he hoped they would be—but about as well as Loki had been expecting them to.

Still, the sight was a little saddening, because Loki loved stjarna lilies—they had always been his favourite of those that grew in his mother’s gardens. He’d missed seeing them, as they didn’t grow on Midgard.

Perhaps he’d ask Thor to fetch him some, the next time Thor went to Asgard. Loki could always say that he needed them for a spell.

There would be no need to let Thor know that he was feeling a little homesick for a place that he still hated—

Nor that he was half dreaming an impossible dream of being able to give a bouquet of lilies to someone himself.

But that, of course, was only fantasy.

Loki knew that his dreams would never come true.

“There doesn’t seem to be anything wrong with you.” Bruce frowned as he squinted down at the thermometer he had just pulled from Tony’s mouth. Tony thought it a little old-tech, but when he’d said so, Bruce had merely muttered about not fixing something that wasn’t broke. Honestly, it was like he didn’t know Tony at all.

“Are you sure?” Tony asked, his own frown in place to mirror Bruce’s. “Have you checked everything?”

“Everything I can with the equipment I have. What makes you so sure there’s something wrong with you?”

Tony glanced away for a moment to distract from his need to think. He’d been trying to hide the petals he kept coughing up, he really fucking had been, but it was hard when there were so goddamn many of them—and the things were sometimes hard to find after he’d vomited them up.

At first, it had just been the odd petal here and there. Now, it felt like he was coughing up a whole greenhouse every five minutes. Well, almost—it was always the same type of flower. Always white, shaped like a star, bits of gold in the middle. Pretty, if it hadn’t forced its way out of Tony’s mouth with a cough and a gag.

And as much as he wished to, Tony really didn’t think he could keep blaming this on DUM-E. Especially since the flowers were either seriously rare, or from somewhere other than Earth—since tests had given him nothing, and even JARVIS didn’t recognise the species.

So, Tony had turned to the only person he thought might be able to help him—

Well, okay, no, there was one other person who might have been able to help Tony with this, but Tony had made something of a habit of avoiding him at all costs ever since the Incident™ in the training room. So, really, Bruce was his only option.

“Tony,” Bruce sighed, clearly catching on to Tony’s half-hearted attempt at avoidance. “I can’t help unless you tell me the truth. Of course, if you’d rather go to a real medical doctor—”

Oh, fuck that.

“I’m coughing up flowers,” Tony said.

Bruce blinked. “As in… literally?”

“Yes.”

“Whole flowers? And, we are talking about the plant here, right? Not… the baking ingredient?”

“Well,” Tony began, “It started out just as petals, and not often. But then it got more frequent and now I’m vomiting up whole ass flowers, and I don’t know how to make it stop and it’s not exactly pleasant, either. I mean, what the hell?”

Bruce rubbed his hands over his face. “I don’t think I’m qualified for this.”

Tony groaned. “Yeah, I’m not either. But JARVIS hasn’t been able to—”

Tony’s words cut off as he felt a familiar feeling, that horrible sensation of having something stuck in your throat. He groaned, and slapped his hand over his mouth as he recognised what was happening—

“Tony?”

It wasn’t pretty. It never was. It had been weeks, and Tony still wasn’t fucking used to it. He didn’t think he ever would be—though he was still hopeful that he could find some way of making it stop.

As it was, it was all he could do to try and keep the tears from falling from his eyes as he hacked up the stupid fucking flower, catching it in his hand and then holding out the slimy thing for Bruce to see with his own eyes.

They both grimaced. Bruce a little more so than Tony, but then, this was far from Tony’s first time.

“I think we should get you a few scans,” Bruce said, sounding slightly out of it. “I’ll call Doctor Cho.”

“Sounds good,” Tony said.

He flicked the flower into Bruce’s bio-waste disposal.

Good riddance.

“What do you mean you haven’t been to Asgard?” Loki asked, his voice perhaps a little more strained than it should have been. He cleared his throat, and got it under control before speaking again. “How else did you get these flowers?”

“Those have nothing to do with me,” Thor replied, shaking his head. “Even if I did go to Asgard, why would I want to bring home flowers? I would certainly have brought mead first.”

“Then you aren’t trying to win back Jane Foster?” Loki was still fighting to keep his tone under control—

And from the look on Thor’s face, he knew it. “Loki,” Thor said, almost tutting. It made Loki want to reach for his dagger. “Jane does not want to get back together. She does not want to be with me, and although that hurts, it is a decision that I am going to respect.”

Loki frowned, confused—but Thor wasn’t done.

“From everything that’s been happening with you lately, I thought that was something you understood. Though of course, I do still believe you’re wrong to be hiding from him all the time.”

Loki ground his teeth together. “That is far from fair, Thor.”

“I’m just saying,” Thor said with a shrug. “I don’t actually think that Tony was running away—”

“Leave it, Thor!”

“If you wish.” Thor paused for a moment, then grinned. “You know, if this were Asgard, and we found petals everywhere, we would be having an entirely different conversation.”

“Yes,” Loki agreed—speaking sharply, now. “Except this is not Asgard.”

“I thought they were you,” Thor said—and Loki felt that like a dagger to the heart. “But if they’re not…”

And then, with a sly grin Loki definitely didn’t like, Thor turned on his heel and left.

Loki glared at his back, irritated that he hadn’t been allowed the last word. And also irritated because, well. What Thor was suggesting, that was just.

No.

Thor was a dreamer, nothing more. Loki might have his fantasies, but he lived in reality—

And reality was that when Loki had tried to kiss him in the training room, Anthony Stark had run away.

There was no other truth than that.

The scan was.

A little bit terrifying.

Tony caught himself staring at it for way longer than he needed to, but that was fine because Bruce had done exactly the same thing.

They’d tried an x-ray first, as that was the easiest to manage. But that had shown nothing – just Tony’s chest, which was only as fucked up as expected, considering the arc-reactor and all – and so they’d decided to try something a little more high-tech next.

And, yeah.

The results were fairly terrifying.

Tony was just glad that Bruce had managed to convince Doctor Cho she didn’t need to be present, and that JARVIS had already promised he’d be able to wipe any records from the machine they were using. This did not need to go any further than just them.

Except, well.

Bruce seemed to think that it did.

“I think you should talk to Loki.”

“God no,” Tony groaned. “I’d rather talk to Strange.” 

“That might not be such a bad idea, actually,” Bruce said thoughtfully, as if he were purposefully ignoring the fact that Tony hadn’t meant his statement literally. “Strange knows this kind of stuff—”

“We can’t be sure that it is magic,” Tony pointed out strongly.

“Tony,” Bruce sighed. He sounded very tired. “You have a whole plant growing inside your lungs. There are roots and everything. Even if, somehow, impossibly, it got there without magical intervention, I don’t think it’ll be possible to get it out without magic. And Strange used to be a surgeon, he can look at it from both sides.” Bruce paused. “Unless, of course. You would prefer to tell Loki about this.”

Tony pressed his lips together, holding back the glare. He knew Bruce was only trying to help—even if the memory of that absolute clusterfuck when Tony had lost his shit and almost kissed Loki in the middle of a sparring match was entirely not welcome.

Yeah. Thanks Bruce.

“Fine,” he muttered. “I’ll think about it.”

Someone was playing a prank.

It was the only possible explanation.

And Loki was sure he knew who that person was.

Thor.

Thor, who would not stop staring and winking at Loki whenever he was given the opportunity. 

The stjarna lily petals were everywhere, and the only way that could have happened was if someone was doing it on purpose. It was impossible that this many petals – and sometimes even whole flowers – could just be scattered around by accident. Even the other Avengers were starting to notice—Loki had seen Banner pick one up with a curious frown more than once. 

Loki was going to have to talk to Thor again. It was starting to get ridiculous. 

He was planning on doing it when the rest of the team were distracted—Rogers and Barton had organised some kind of competition regarding the matching of coloured cardboard rectangles, and insisted that the whole team was present. Taking Thor out for a conversation would serve the double purpose of avoiding the game. 

But just as Loki was about to ask his brother to accompany him to the kitchen—he noticed that he wasn’t the only one who wasn’t having fun. 

Anthony was looking pale. More than pale. Pale to the point that he had moved past white, sailed beyond grey, and had begun to turn a rather interesting shade of green. 

And Loki was just about to ask what was wrong, just about to overcome his own, ah, misgivings and offer assistance when Anthony had thrown out his arm and taken Banner’s hand, then dragged him from the room in a hurry.

Banner? Anthony had chosen Banner? Of all people?

Surely not. 

Loki had been somewhat tempted to follow, even though he knew the likelihood of such an action resulting in only more pain—but JARVIS had informed the Avengers that Anthony and Banner had left the tower on an emergency trip.

It was—there was something about it that didn’t sit right in Loki’s gut, something that made him feel ill. He refused to give it the name that lay on the outskirts of his mind, the emotion he wished he could blame upon Thor’s mutterings…

All right. 

So maybe Loki was jealous. 

Fine. 

Fine. 

If Anthony would rather spend his time with Banner, would rather go to Banner for help, would rather find comfort in Banner—

Loki excused himself with a growl, shoved away from the table with enough force that his chair crashed to the ground, and went to the training room.

The place might hold the memory of one of the most embarrassing moments of his life, but there were also plenty of things to destroy—

And he was certainly in the mood to destroy something.

Strange was just as lost as Tony and Bruce.

He even announced that there was no way he would have operated on Tony if his case were brought to him, back when he was a surgeon. The situation was that freaking bad.

Bruce turned to Tony with a knowing look in his eyes.

There was only one thing left for them to do. 

Well.

Fuck.

When Anthony and Banner came to him with a request for help, Loki was sure that they must have made some kind of mistake. 

They weren’t standing close to each other, so that at least made the situation a little more bearable—but Loki couldn’t imagine why Anthony would want to come to him. 

Loki could still picture the look of abject horror that had crossed Anthony’s face as Loki had leaned down—

He forced the thought from his mind. 

The pair were still watching him expectantly, waiting for his reply. 

“Why are you asking me?”

“Strange didn’t have any answers,” Banner said, his tone far calmer than the tension Loki could feel boiling in the air. Though perhaps it was only he who could feel it. 

Especially since—well, how dare they go to Strange first?

Of course, Loki hadn’t expected that they would go to him at all, but to go to that sorry excuse for a sorcerer first? 

That hurt. 

Loki pushed it down. Bruised pride hurt far less than his broken heart, after all. He was used to bearing a little pain. 

“Then what’s the problem?” 

“Ah, well…” Banner rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “That’s a little hard to explain. A little unbelievable.” 

Loki frowned. “I doubt there is anything this realm has to offer that I would find unbelievable. I’m sure you know that.” 

Banner’s frown deepened. “Well, yes. But even so, this… Tony, I think you’d better explain.” 

Anthony shot Banner a glare that should have been hot enough to burn, and Loki had to fight against a flinch. 

He still didn’t understand—Anthony did not want to be here. That was more than clear, and sure, yes, they had already been to Strange. But what was so desperate that Banner had managed to convince Anthony – one of the most stubborn people Loki had ever met, which was saying something considering who his brother was – to come and ask Loki for help? 

Then, Anthony muttered a single short sentence—

And suddenly, everything made sense. 

“I’ve been coughing up flowers, and I don’t know why.” 

Oh. 

Oh. 

Loki swallowed, and tried not to let them see how his heart was cracking. 

“Oh,” he said, a little choked. “I see.” 

Tony felt like he was about to explode—and not in the fun way. 

Actually, it was very much not in the fun way. The fucking flowers in his chest felt like they were getting bigger, like the petals were rising up his throat and making it difficult to breathe. Admittedly, it wasn’t that different from how he’d felt around Loki ever since he’d realised he was half way in love with the fucker, but that was entirely beside the point. 

Loki looked like he knew what was going on, and yet, he was just standing there, looking like he was floating a million miles away and not telling Tony what the hell was wrong with him. 

“Hey, Earth to Loki,” Tony snapped, annoyance overcoming his earlier trepidation. “What do your elf eyes see?”

Loki’s eyes snapped to focus—then to Tony. “Excuse me?”

“What’s wrong with me?” Tony asked slowly, making sure to enunciate every syllable. 

“You…” Loki cleared his throat, and his expression went cold. “You are in love.”

Tony couldn’t help the flinch back. “What?”

“What ails you is a disease that’s—well, it is not common on Asgard, but it is well known. A cruel punishment from the Norns, some say, for loving one who does not love you back.” 

Tony felt his whole body freeze over, something inside him snapping. “What the hell, that’s—that makes no sense, how can an emotion cause—” 

“Of course it doesn’t make sense,” Loki said. There was still no emotion in his tone, still no expression on his face. Nothing but a blank slate as he reminded Tony of just how freaking hopeless his situation was. “The Fates are cruel. It doesn’t have a cure, save for the one you love returning your feelings. Otherwise, the flower will simply continue to grow.” 

Asshole. 

Asshole.

Tony felt like he was tearing apart from the inside out as Loki just stood there and—

“So I’ll be hacking up flowers for the rest of my fucking life,” Tony groaned, turning away, unable to look at Loki for another moment. 

“Unless they come to love you back.” There was something hard in Loki’s voice, now. It made Tony want to make something explode. 

Just, uh. Preferably not his own lungs. 

“Tony…” Bruce’s expression was horrified. “Tony, I’m—”

“No,” Tony said quickly. “I don’t want pity. Please, Bruce, don’t give me that.” 

“Of course, you could give him something else.” This time, Loki’s voice was pure poison—

And when Tony instinctively looked back, it was to see that Loki’s famously sharp glare was laid entirely on Bruce. 

Tony blinked. 

Huh? 

Bruce, thankfully, looked equally confused. “Sorry, what?” he asked. “I’ve done all that I can, and I really am not qualified for this. I keep saying that—”

“You know that’s not what I’m referring to at all.” The words were spat from tight lips as if every one were hurting Loki to say. “You must see the way he is drawn to you, the way you spend so much time together.”

Bruce spluttered—and then, well, he must have understood something that Tony was still not getting – hello, he was the one with the fucking flower vomit, surely he should be part of the conversation – because then, Bruce almost turned green. 

“Say that again, Loki,” Bruce said. “Because to me, it sounds a bit like you’re suggesting this is my fault, when it’s as clear as crystal that you are the cause of all this mess.” 

“All I did was relay the facts,” Loki hissed. “I have no further part in this, I have no power to stop it.” 

Ass. Hole. 

Tony let out a groan, his fingers digging hard into his hair. He could feel another fucking flower coming up. 

He couldn’t blame Loki for this, it wasn’t Loki’s fault. He couldn’t blame Loki for not loving Tony. 

After all, who the hell would?

The pain grew worse—

Tony started to cough—

Both Loki and Bruce pulled from their conversations to stare at him – thanks guys, Tony always loved an audience while he was vomiting – and their eyes widened as Tony choked up not one, not two, but three full-size bloody lilies. 

And that’s not an exaggeration by the way—the white petals of the fucking flowers were stained with flecks of red. 

“Fuck,” Tony croaked. 

Loki felt the anger inside him burn hot, rising up his throat just as the flowers had been disgorged from Anthony’s. 

Did Banner not realise what he was doing? Were Loki in his position, he would have reached for Anthony long ago, would have held him close and never let him go. And yet—Banner was denying Anthony, and was causing him all this pain. 

The worst part of it was that while Loki knew that the disease wasn’t fatal to Asgardians, Vanir, or even Jötnar, he had no clue about the effects on humans, no idea of what it would do. And while seeing Anthony with Banner would be hard, it would be better than seeing Anthony dead. 

And when Loki saw that those stjarna lilies were beginning to be stained with red…

“This needs to stop,” he hissed, stepping closer to Banner, his fingers opening and closing as they ached for the hilt of a knife. “This will not end well for anyone, not unless you can pull yourself together, find the compassion in your heart to—” 

“You asshole,” Anthony cut in, voice hoarse but—more than sharp enough to stop Loki in his tracks. “Bruce is right, this is all your fault and you’re just standing there like all’s right with the world, or like this is hurting you more than it’s hurting anyone else. Well, you know what? Fuck you. Fuck you and your fucking attractive face, I can’t believe I’m suffering through all this just for you! Maybe it’s not worth it, maybe I should just—fuck, surely there’s some way to—to get rid of it all? Maybe if I reach down my throat and tear this thing out it’ll rip out my feelings for you with it because, shit, I don’t want them anymore! Take it back, take it all fucking back—”

Anthony cut himself off with a harsh sound that seemed like it might have been sob, might have been a laugh, Loki didn’t know—

But what he did know was that—

He seemed to have made a mistake. 

Loki looked to Banner. Banner just arched a brow, his eyes fire and ice and cutting straight down to the pit of Loki’s fear. So Loki turned to Anthony instead. 

The man was rubbing his hands over his face, his shoulders hunched and defeated. It wasn’t a look that Loki was used to seeing on Anthony, certainly not a look that was welcome. 

Anthony couldn’t give up, he couldn’t—

Especially not now that…

Now that Loki realised…

He swallowed, forcing down the anxious bile that rose up and stained his tongue with the bitter taste of dread. There was a chance he had misunderstood Anthony’s rant, a chance that he had this wrong—

But there was also a chance that he’d understood right, and Loki couldn’t let that go. 

He drew in a breath, and steeled his nerve. 

“Anthony,” he whispered. “Are you saying… that it’s me you’re in love with?”

Anthony’s whole body shuddered, but he looked up with another, agonised glare. “As if you don’t know that,” he said, the words tumbling out in something halfway to a snarl. “As if you haven’t hated me for that ever since I tried to kiss you.” 

“You tried to…” Loki blinked, his memory of that day when they had pressed against each other during a sparring session shifting in focus. “Oh.”

“Just, don’t,” Anthony groaned. “Let me go through the seven stages of grief in my own time, I’m not ready for acceptance yet.” 

“But, Anthony,” Loki said, still feeling like he was stumbling. “Anthony, that doesn’t make any sense at all—”

“Why not?” Anthony asked. “I need a little more than five minutes—”

“No, not that—I mean—you can’t love me—”

“Tell that to the fucking flowers that have decided my gullet is free real estate—”

“No, you don’t understand. It doesn’t make any sense because I love you back.” 

For a moment, there was a beat of silence as Anthony’s expression went completely and utterly blank. 

Then, Banner made a sound not unlike that of a choking bilgesnipe.

Uh. 

Error 404. 

User Tony Stark is not online right now, please leave a message and try again later. 

Anthony didn’t quite look right. 

Neither did Banner, if Loki was being entirely honest, but that certainly wasn’t where his focus lay. His gaze rested solely upon Anthony’s distant expression—slightly worried as he was that something had short-circuited in Anthony’s brain. 

“Anthony?” Loki asked, a little tentative. What if—what if he had read this wrong, and Anthony was reeling in horror once again? After all, what he’d said was the truth. If Anthony loved him—then he shouldn’t have been coughing up flowers. His love wasn’t unrequited. 

“You know,” Banner started—and Loki felt the urge to stab him again, at least until he heard the rest of the sentence. “There probably is some logic in this. I was thinking, earlier—Tony, you thought that Loki didn’t love you, and since there was no way of the disease knowing the truth—”

“Bruce,” Anthony said. 

“Right, yes. I’ll, uh. I’ll catch you guys later.” 

Loki didn’t look around as he heard the door to the – where were they? The workshop? Banner’s lab? What did it matter– close, unwilling to let his gaze wander lest he miss a flicker of expression, a clue to the workings of Anthony’s mind. As it were, Anthony looked a little less distant than he had before he had spoken to Banner, though it was clear that he was still thinking everything through. 

Loki cleared his throat. “Do you want me to go as well?” He certainly didn’t want to, but if that was what Anthony needed—

But Anthony shook his head sharply. “Don’t you dare,” he said. “After everything—if you go now, I think I might actually kill you.” 

Loki hoped he was joking. Not that Anthony would have been able to do it, of course, but the thought of him meaning it was—

Well, there were bigger things to worry about. 

“Then, do you want to talk?”

“That’s probably a good idea.” Anthony ran his hands through his hair. “I, uh. I have no freaking idea where to start, though.”

Loki thought about his answer. They could talk about the fact that they’d both apparently misunderstood the moment in the training room—that they’d seemingly been in love with each other for months. They could talk about how Anthony had managed to contract a disease that was near unheard of on Midgard—and how the flowers he’d been coughing up, Loki realised somewhat abashedly, were his favourite. They could have even talked about how Loki had mistakenly thought that Anthony had fallen in love with Banner. 

But… Loki realised that in that moment, there was something else he’d rather do instead. 

“I think,” Loki breathed, stepping in a little closer. “We should talk about this.” 

Anthony frowned in slight confusion, but the frown didn’t last long, as Loki was already leaning down—and a moment later his lips pressed to Anthony’s in a soft kiss. 

It was the kind of kiss he had waited months for—the kind of kiss he had imagined during those dark nights spent allowing his mind to wander. Their lips fit together softly, gently, with a touch of tenderness that washed away the poison of earlier moments. And as they parted just enough to catch each other’s eyes, Loki knew that they had finally reached an understanding. 

“You really do love me?” Anthony asked, the words on their way to being a whispered prayer. 

Loki’s lips turned upward, and he lowered a hand from where it had come to rest in Anthony’s hair to press it instead against his chest. “Well,” he asked. “How are you feeling?” 

“I feel like I can breathe,” Anthony said. “Though whether that’s because the flowers are gone or just because I have wanted to do that for such a long time—”

“We can do it again, if you’d like,” Loki replied.

Anthony grinned, and this time, it was he who leaned forward—

“Wait.”

Loki managed to hold in his groan at Anthony’s word, but only barely. “What is it?”

“Well, I just need to ask—did you really think that I was in love with Bruce?”

Once again, Loki considered his answer—

And once again, he decided that the best thing to do was to just pull Anthony into a kiss. 

As a negotiation strategy it was a little crude, perhaps—but it was simple, and rather very effective. 

Tony had more than become pretty used to weird. He’d reached the point where nothing in the world made sense anymore, but you know what? That was A-okay. 

Yeah, vomiting up flowers is gross, only one star, would not recommend. They tasted awful, and they’re just—well, human lungs aren’t designed to hold flowers, all right? They’re just not. But despite how fucking awful the whole thing was, Tony couldn’t really argue with the results—

Because kissing Loki? That was the exact opposite of gross, if Tony might say so—and he was pretty sure he could have kept on doing it for as long as he was almost doomed to choke on lily petals. 

Loki loved him. He felt like he was walking on clouds. Every touch of Loki’s hands, every press of his lips sealed a promise, and Tony never wanted to let him go—

Honestly, if he never saw another flower, it would be too soon. 

But Loki? Well, Tony would be more than happy to stay in Loki’s arms forever.