literature

Stitched Up (1/?)

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Literature Text

Steve left the diner feeling happier than he had in a long time. He had been wandering through a new part of town, when he had found this old diner with a little old lady, Delia, who ran it. He'd settled in a booth, nostalgia washing over him as he thought of the Diner he frequented in Brooklyn , back before the serum made him a super soldier. He had been reading the menu, quietly wondering why he didn't go out to eat by himself more often, when Delia had come to take his order and promptly dropped her notepad, gushing about how she remembered watching one of the Captain America shows when she was younger. Steve had signed a napkin for her, and, when closing time came around, hung around for about an hour afterwards so they could sit and talk without Delia having to help other customers. It felt nice, having someone gush over him for something he did back in the day, before the Avengers. It reassured him that he actually accomplished something during that time, even when he just felt like a show character, the fact that he had inspired this woman, lifted her spirits during the dark times of war...it lit a new fire in his heart, that was for sure.

So he left the diner elated, proud of his past and ready to face the next day, something he often didn't feel at night these days. It was dark, and it was dismal in this seedy part of town, but still he walked with a new spring in his step. He was just passing one of the darker, more foreboding alleyways when he heard it. It was a soft whimper, as though the person making the sound barely had a voice left. It was followed by light grunting, and heavy gasping. Steve turned towards the sound, hesitantly. He didn't have his shield, but he did have his super strength, just in case this turned out to be a trap. He pulled his cellphone out of his pocket -never used it, couldn't get the hang of all the buttons, but he was grateful he had it now, as a light source- and switched it on, directing the beam of light in front of him and towards the ground. He knew if someone was in that much pain, they would probably by floored by it by now.

The light hit a solid mass, a person, and reflected off the pools of blood on the floor around them. Steve dropped to his knees, using the little light he had to find the head end of the person. They were wearing heavy black leather, a long leather coat it looked like and golden...hang on. Steve sucked in a breath. The clothes were vaguely familiar...in fact, they looked almost..Asgardian.

With a sinking feel in his stomach, he grabbed the shoulder, what he thought was the shoulder anyway, of the person and rolled them to face him, stomach heaving as the face was revealed. Laying in front of him was none other than Loki Laufeyson, face white as a sheet, eyes open and glazed as they seemed to stare straight through Steve's head and to the wall behind him.  A quick scan of the God showed multiple stab wounds to his thin body, one to the leg, one to the side, multiple lacerations on the face..but that wasn't what made Steve's mouth dry and his stomach churn. No, what did that was the thick gold thread holding Loki's lips together, blood dripping from between the threads. Steve felt his eyes harden. This was torture.

As though sensing his anger, Loki's eyes snapped into focus on his face and he flinched, hard, scrambling back with what little strength he had left, until his back was pressed against the wall. His breath came in short, sharp gasps, almost hyperventilating, and a strangled cry wrenched itself from his lips at the sight of the Avenger, only to be repeated as this tore at the stitching over his mouth, causing more blood to stream down his face. Steve, startled by this adverse a reaction, lifted his hands as if to show his lack of weapons. He kept his hands clearly where Loki could see them, approaching him slowly, like you would a frightened deer. He spoke in hushed tones as he got closer, trying desparately not to scare the Trickster any more than he had already.

"It's okay. I'm unarmed. I'm not going to hurt you, Loki, I want to help. Who did this to you?" Steve mentally facepalmed as he realized that Loki couldn't exactly answer him. He reached to the groud for his phone when he heard a sharp intake of breath from the frightened man against the wall. He held the phone in front of him, making sure he was far enough away that Loki wouldn't be afraid of attack from his hands, but close enough that he could see what he held.

"It's okay, it's just a phone. I'm gonna call Tony to come and get us okay? He won't hurt you either. It's been almost two years since you attacked, Loki, you've done your time as far as I'm concerned." He gasped softly as his mind caught up with his mouth, and cringed when Loki flinched at the sound. "This was your punishment, wasn't it? In Asgard...they did this to you?" Steve asked with trepidation, heart sinking when it was answered by a timid nod, followed by a flinch, as though the God thought he would be struck for the admission.

Probably had that beaten into him, Steve thought darkly. He moved slowly, making sure Loki could see his every move as he dialled Stark Tower.

"Hey, Tony? I kind of need your help. Can you come and pick me up?"
Okay i know its kind of a rubbish title...i couldnt think of anything else, but if you have any suggestions i would LOVE to hear them :P This is the start of a story i've been mulling over for a long time. Still not sure if it will be Stoki or just without pairing..you can leave your pairing votes in the comments below ! hope you enjoy!
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