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"Why me?" Tony whined.
"SHIELD offered to take him but I don't feel comfortable handing him over. Don't know if I'll get him back in one piece."
"You probably won't get any piece of him back," Tony agreed. "Which isn't terrible."
At the look of dismay on Stephen's face, Tony retracted his previous statement. "Yeah, I agree with you one hundred percent. SHIELD's probably not your best solution."
"Yeah, I don't trust them."
"And you trust me?" Tony eyed the stuporous demigod critically. "What am I supposed to do with him?"
"Just keep an eye on him till I'm back from my trip," Stephen pleaded. "It's…really time sensitive."
"Don't you wizards have special dungeons for that?" Tony protested. "Peter told me all about your secret underground oubliette."
"Yes, but Thor doesn't like the idea of me keeping his precious brother in a dark and dank cell, especially not when he's dying again," Stephen complained, his voice dropping to a mutter. "For the infinitesimal time."
Tony did a double take. Dying? "What's wrong with him? Is it contagious?"
"It's a febrile illness no modern medicine on Earth can touch," Stephen said. "It's some kind of infection that feeds off his magic, stops him from healing himself."
"Can't their Healers help?"
"They're all dead. There's no one left," Stephen said.
"Oh."
"Yeah, I didn't feel like pressing the issue. New Asgard's been pouring cats and dogs for weeks. Thor's emotions are all over the place."
Tony still looked unhappy. "I mean, I'd love to help, don't get me wrong but…the last time we met, I was nearly defenestrated, remember? I still get nightmares about that, you know."
Stephen winced. "Sorry. But I'm really running low on options here."
Tony gave a resigned sigh. "The things I do for you, Strange."
"I'll make it up to you, I promise."
With a snort, he shooed the sorcerer away. "If you gotta go, just go. And please don't feel obliged to bring me back any souvenirs."
"I doubt you would appreciate anything from where I'm going," Stephen said dryly. "Plenty of ice in your freezer, why would you need more?"
Tony chuckled uneasily. "Where are you going, Antarctica?"
"You don't want to know," Stephen said ominously, boom-boom-whooshing a portal open. "You really don't."
Without another word, the Sorcerer Supreme vanished into the portal.
"Fantastic."
"It smells."
Tony frowned. He knew he smelled great, as many articles written about him had pointed out. It can't be his house either; it was immaculate, with a top-of-the-range air purifying system in place. "I'm sorry?"
"No, I'm sorry," Loki said. "It is the stench of rotting flesh." A pathetic cough. "Mine."
"That's not good," Tony said mildly, flipping the pages of his magazine. "I'm supposed to be keeping you alive until Stephen gets back."
"Were I so lucky," Loki gave a dramatic sigh, before closing his eyes again.
"Are you lovers?"
The question came out of the blue that night when Tony thought Loki was asleep.
"Why do you ask?"
"So that's a yes, then."
Again came the dramatic sigh, before unconsciousness beckoned once more.
It was only a matter of time before Loki would reawaken, with another outrageous question. Or statement.
Or an apology, long overdue as it may be.
"I'm sorry about your window." Loki's voice was hardly more than a rasp.
"Apologise again later when you're done not dying." Tony held the straw to his mouth. "Drink."
But the stubborn bastard wouldn't drink, so Tony just physically prised the lips apart with his fingers and shoved the straw in. "Drink, damn it."
"Why do you care?"
"I don't."
"Okay." Loki took a paltry sip. More spilled down his shirt then did his throat.
"Mother," Loki mumbled, over and over and over. "Mother."
Tony wished he was anywhere but here, but there would be no one left to hold Loki's hand, would there?
You don't let go of a dying person's hand, his own mother once told him.
______________
Tony felt the pressure of someone's lips brush the top of his head.
"You're back," he said, blinking the sleep out of his bleary eyes.
"I'm back," Stephen said. He looked the worse for wear, his tunic torn and stained in places with what could only be blood. He held in his hand a vial.
Tony nodded at it. "Is that the cure?"
Stephen nodded.
"Is he worth all this effort?" Tony asked.
"Is he?" Stephen politely returned the question.
There he was, the Sorcerer Supreme, the Keeper of Secrets, who with every new spool of destiny threaded into their lives, walked the fine line between saying too much and saying too little.
Deep down in his heart, Tony knew there was no right or wrong answer; only that it felt right.
They were just going to have to figure out the arrangements later.
"Yes," Tony answered, unwavering. Forgive me.
The kiss Stephen thanked him with was just as apologetic.
Together, they helped sit Loki up and tipped the miracle cure into their beloved's mouth.
Together, they waited for the sun to rise.