Hey guys! Here's Chapter Three. I have a little announcement at the end of the chapter.

Tony still hadn't spoken. He had barely been aware of anything. He had known there had been presences around him, but he had absorbed but a few details. The pad of paper and pen placed in front of him, the blanket around his shoulders, the carpet beneath his feet.

All of them had some link to Loki. The pen had been on Tony's bedside table the first night. Loki had played with it; teasing and taunting, conscious and subconscious movements. The graceful movements of the god's fingers, smooth and sure, had mesmerized Tony, and the Trickster knew it. He had made an effort to play with it every time he had been there, and Tony had made an effort to leave the pen there, just so. It had soon become Tony's favourite pen He had used it sparsely, but had carried it everywhere. Every night, he had taken it off his person, and left it on his bedside table in the same position that Loki always left it: the same place, the same angle, the same tilt; the logo facing the certain way. It became an unconscious thing, symbolic of the Trickster in more ways than one.

It mesmerized Tony as the god himself did. The iridescent surface of the pen, patterned in deep greens, tricked his eyes to seem black in certain lights. The ink itself was beautiful; a bright green that was shockingly easy to read. A shade that Tony hadn't seen before, and had never known existed. When he had first used the pen, in private, he had vowed to not use it in public. It was irrational, he knew, but he wanted no one to share in this piece of beauty that he knew Loki had given to him. It was all his. And now the others knew about it. And it hurt.

The blanket was a deep red, and one of Tony's most used. Loki had always accused him of being vain when he brought it out, and he would argue that it was his favourite colour. He had had it before he had made the suit, and was one of the reasons he had made the suit the colour it was, as well as the car, of course. Loki would just smile indulgently and snuggle up deeper into the warmth that it provided.

The blanket had taught Tony just how much the god loved to cuddle. On cooler nights, after some time, Loki would grab the blanket himself, drape it over the two of them, curling up against Tony beneath it, more often than not ignoring the movie that was generally in front of them. On many occasions such as those, the blanket and movie would be discarded, the Trickster's teasing ministrations getting the best of Tony. Other times, and for some reason the more memorable, Loki would fall asleep curled up against the billionaire.

Tony would lose track of the movie, staring at the sleeping god's face, distracted by the peace and calm radiating from the expression: the way his eyelids fluttered, dark lashes highlighting his sharp cheekbones, the way his hair fell across his face, framing the curvature of his brow, sweeping across his eyes, resting oh so softly and gently on his pale neck. Yes, Tony would get distracted. At the time he had thought little of how much the god had meant to him, and had refused to admit that he was falling in love; both rapidly and gently, so suddenly it was like an explosion, and so slowly he didn't even notice.

And the carpet… Loki had loved the carpet, and Tony had never quite understood why. But because Loki had loved it, by default Tony did as well. It was, as the billionaire had rapidly discovered, extraordinarily soft, and Tony could easily remember the day that he and Loki had moved the coffee table off it so that they could just lie on it. Both had spoken a lot and little that day, and the pair had drifted off, curled against one another.

And now Tony was staring at the pad beneath the pen. It was a think wad of blank paper, and so beautifully white. He just couldn't figure out why it was there. He could not, however, bring himself to give it much thought. He couldn't bring himself to feel much of anything but loneliness and longing. He ached for Loki with every fiber of his being, refusing to allow himself to truly face the memories, rather allowing his thoughts to skim the surfaces of most of them. He just wished that he could talk to Loki. Despite the presence of the other Avengers in the room, constantly moving around the space, all he wanted was Loki.

His thoughts were all Loki. Loki's hair, his hands, his eyes, just him.

And so Tony shrugged off the blanket, reached out his arm, ignoring the gasps and mutters that ran about the room, picked up the pad, and began to write.

Dear Loki,

You said you'd be watching me; watching me. If that's true, I suppose you can read this now.

Do you remember the time I took you ice-skating? It was our second date. The first one was to the zoo. I laughed so hard that evening, and I know you did too. I'd give anything to see you laugh like that again; to listen to you laugh again.

But do you remember ice-skating? We went alone; you disguised us again. You gave us the same disguises as last time. Did I tell you that you're just as gorgeous in your female form as in your male form? And you conjured us up some skates; we dressed up warm, and you teleported us up north. You never said where, but I always suspected somewhere like Greenland. We never saw anybody else; it was just the two of us on the frozen lake. I didn't ask why; the kiss you gave me when we got there vanquished all of my questions. That's a nice word, vanquish. You used it once, and I guess it kind of stuck with me.

That day was the first time I ever saw your Jotun form. It wasn't long before it started to show. You pushed a little way from me on the ice, and your skin just… went blue. It was a slow, creeping blue, reaching up your neck to your eyes last. And then those went red. And man were they stunning. They were like little rubies, standing out so brilliantly against your skin. I don't think you knew that red was my favourite colour at that stage. I'm sure you suspected, but you probably didn't actually know. You would look down, and glance up, and look down, and glance back up again. You looked so ashamed of what you were, and I didn't know why.

I don't know what my expression was, but it felt idiotic. Because damn, you were gorgeous. I think my jaw was on the floor, my eyes were falling out of their sockets, and I might have been drooling. I wasn't, was I? Because that would have been incredibly unattractive. Like, majorly so.

Anyway, the point is that you were hot. Metaphorically, of course. And when I reached out to touch you, you flinched away. And I reached out and grabbed your hand and told you that you were the most beautiful thing I'd ever laid eyes on. The look you gave me was so full of pain and hope; I think it damn near broke my heart. What kind of family did you come from, I wondered, that you would feel like this over what you really were? I wanted to do anything I could to take that pain away.

I kissed you, Loki, and it was amazing. Your mouth was cold, and it was brilliant. Your skin started going back to pink at my contact, and I asked you to keep it blue. So you did, for that whole day in the icy landscape.

Do you remember that, Loki? And that was only our second date. Sure, we had our fights. But the make up sex was always worth it. Wouldn't you agree?

Well, I've almost reached the end of the page. So I'll lay it out for you to read it, if you can.

Tony

There were tear marks staining the page, but Tony barely noticed as he gently tore the page from the pad. He reached out and gently placed it on the top left hand corner of the table in front of him.

He sat back slowly, almost afraid that his movements would dislodge the paper from its position. He marvelled at the sheet, the way the iridescent ink caught the light, his scrawl looking beautiful in the colour.

The writing had sharpened his focus a bit, or perhaps it was just because the letter suddenly meant a lot to him, but his eyes widened as he noticed a masculine hand reach out to pick up the piece of paper.

"No." The harsh word fell from his mouth, his voice hoarse, and the hand stopped in its tracks. Tony followed it up to meet the astonished gaze of… one of his teammates. He couldn't place him, but he knew him. Tony's eyes narrowed to a glare, until the man began to withdraw his hand.

"Don't touch it."

With that, Tony picked up the pad and pen again, his attention once more devoted to the task of writing, not noticing the other people in the room gathering around the top left hand corner of the table, craning their necks to read, making sure they didn't block his view of the paper.

Dear Loki,

I know I just finished a letter to you, but now that you're not here, I can't help but want to talk to you again. I miss our verbal sparring, our talks, and even our silences. I miss our arguments, too.

Aw, but here I am going all sappy on you. You never were one for the sappy talks. You remember that time you got really drunk? You'd had a bad day. We'd fought you that day, in fact. And you arrived here already drunk. I was shocked as anything, but I couldn't say anything that wasn't hypocritical. And you were almost crying.

I held you that night. I didn't comment when my shirt started getting wet. You mumbled something about it into my shirt; why you were upset. But at that point of drunkenness, you were largely incoherent.

And I just wanted to comfort you, make you feel better. It was sometime after I'd seen your Jotun form. I hadn't seen it since. When we had parted that day, you had seemed insecure in my acceptance of your form.

I probably took advantage of your hangover the next day, asking you if I could see it again. I think you largely showed me to shut me up. I doubt you expected me to jump your bones.

The Jotun sex was phenomenal. Did I tell you that? I think I might have. You didn't doubt my acceptance of it from then on in. And you still had a raging hangover.

Steve came by later. You had just left. I don't think I ever told you this. He asked me why I'd hung back. In the fight, I mean.

I told him that they'd looked like they had it covered. You know what I did while you were focussing on… whatever you were doing? What were you doing anyway? What did you do when those fights started? Just stroll down the street? Because it would be exceptionally unfair if you were attacked and you weren't even doing anything.

Anyway, during that particular fight, I saved a kitten. It was drowning, Loki. In the pond at Central Park. And I don't even like cats. But this one… he was the tiniest creature I had ever laid eyes on. He had deep black fur, and the most startlingly green eye. He reminded me so much of you. But I couldn't keep him. I gave him to some small kid, probably astonished at the fact that Iron Man was giving him something. And I told his mother to take care of the kitten. She just nodded.

I didn't tell Steve about the kitten. He stayed for dinner. He was shocked that I cooked for him. He said that I never cooked.

But I cooked for you. And then I cooked for Steve, but it wasn't the same. He wasn't YOU. No one could ever be you.

You liked my cooking. You appreciated it so much. You knew that my cooking actually meant something.

Thank you

Tony

Tony reached forward, and carefully placed the letter next to the first. He sat back and stared at the two glistening sheets of paper, thoughts and memories writhing in his mind like sinuous vines, choking his brain and overwhelming his senses. The tears welled up again, and he felt his heart break a little bit more.

But that didn't stop him from picking up the pen and pad, stretching his cramped hand briefly, and continuing writing.

Loki,

Can you read what I'm writing? Can you see the words I want you to see? And, Loki, if you can, is there some way of letting me know?

Can you tell me that you're here, watching me, looking over me, just like you promised that you would? Because even though I believe that you're going to be there, I have no way of knowing whether you are or not. Can you see me Loki? Can you hear me?

Can you feel my heart breaking in your absence? Can you feel the hole you left behind?

Loki, do you miss me? Did you really mean what you said?

Because I miss

Tony's hand was shaking to badly to be able to continue writing. He clenched his eyes shut as tears leaked out. He tore off the piece of paper, and blindly placed it on the coffee table.

His shoulders vibrated as he sobbed, mournful keening sounds bubbling up through his lips. His cries were uncontrollable as he curled up over himself, his hands covering his face as grief overtook him once more.

No one noticed the subtle shift of the paper as it slowly, painstakingly, made its way to rest by the others, nestling neatly where Tony would have put it, had he finished it. No one noticed the soft shadow, almost invisible, hunched over in the corner.

They only noticed Tony, as his shaking hands scribbled on a clean sheet of paper, his words almost illegible.

Loki,

I fell in love with you.

I love you.

Yours forever, and no matter how cliché, you are my everything,

Tony

They watched as he, with tremulous hands, carefully placed it next to the previous letter, but didn't notice the way his eyes widened, and his breath hitched.

They saw the increased flow of tears, and the faltered breathing. They watched as he, once again curled into himself, unsure whether to comfort him through gestures and sounds. Unsure whether to say anything at all.

No one but Tony saw the tall, soft shadow bend to read the letter, or the way it folded over itself, long, dark streaks running down what could, if he concentrated, conceivably be a face.

They noticed was the way his sobs increased as he stretched his hand to the other side of the table, tensing his hand as if holding on to something. But none noticed the way it fell into a darker area, or the way the shadow held onto his hand, squeezing with a force equal to Tony's own.

No one noticed the shadow, but no one missed it when Tony's exhausted tears finally gave way to sleep.

Okay, so this story will now officially be complete, but updated whenever I'm attacked by plot bunnies. I do hope, however, that I will be attacked by one that isn't related to this story.

Also, please review this one. I felt kinda detached from it, so I don't know how good it is anymore...