Work Text:
“How much longer are you going to keep this up?” I ask as you walk swiftly from the kitchen to the bedroom, hardly even glancing away from the newspaper clenched in your fist. “It’s been two weeks and you haven’t spoken a word, Lokes. I know— I know what I did was bad but come on. How long are you going to be angry with me?”
You exit the bedroom, coffee in one hand, sweater in the other. Your newspaper has been abandoned. You look like you’ve been crying. “Loki, please. Just talk to me. Let me explain. Let me properly apologize …”
But no, you don’t slow down, you don’t even look up. You’re focused on one thing alone, a meeting with someone you refused to reveal the identity of. Loki, it’s been two weeks, how are you still this mad at me?
The elevator chimes and two people step out into the penthouse: Thor and Rhodey. “Hey, guys,” I call with a sarcastic warmth that only I could pull off. “Can you please talk some sense into him? He’s still holding the bathtub thing against me.” Just like you, however, they refuse to acknowledge me. Just like you they’re dressed all in black. Rhodes has pinned on a small loop of gold and red ribbon to his shirt. Thor also looks like he’s been crying. What’s the deal, guys?
“You ready, Loki?” Rhodey asks. I glare at him. “Happy’s downstairs waiting. Everyone is, really.”
You nod and sigh deeply as you set down your coffee and pull on your sweater.
“Wait a minute. Everyone? What’s going on? Guys, can one of you talk to me, please ? I’m sorry , okay? How many times must I say it?” You and Rhodey walk right past me as I beg, and soon the three of you disappear onto the elevator. I sigh and throw up my hands dramatically. “Can you believe them, JARVIS?”
Strangely, you’re silent, too, JARVIS. I head back into the bedroom to get ready for my day, and that’s when I notice my name on the section of the paper that you’d been reading.
Anthony Edward Stark lost a long battle with depression and ptsd at the end of May. He is survived by his husband…