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Tony stretched, his muscles aching after a long session down in his workshop. (Long even by his standards; he hadn't left the shop for somewhere around five or six days.) Gathering up the new gadgets that he had made for the other Avengers, he wandered towards the door.
It was a miracle, really, that they had found him.
Perhaps that wasn't strictly accurate. After all, you couldn't really call a near-hysterical Norse god a miracle. Whatever it was, it meant that they were able to find Tony before the building that had fallen on him crushed him completely.
There was blood everywhere, mingled with the snow.
Tony stared in growing horror at Loki, unable to process his image of the god he loved in combination with this laughing maniac who knelt in the snow, surrounded by bodies.
Tony licked along Loki's stomach, relishing the bumps and ridges he had in his Jotun form.
"You're gorgeous," he remarked, glancing up to meet his lover's red eyes. Loki scoffed.
"If you insist," he muttered.