I'll Have That Drink, Now

What if Loki got that drink he asked for, had a few more... and got quite drunk, in the process? Also, what if Thor had to escort an inebriated Loki back to Asgard? XD

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2. Chapter Two

Loki, flung his glass gracelessly into the sleek, kitchen tiles. The object burst into a thousand glistening shards, littering the floor with jagged glints. The Avengers flinched - simultaneously - at the impact.

Steve darted forward and began to sweep the contents of the shattered glass, tentatively, into his trademark shield. Barton rolled his eyes, sardonically.

The God smiled lazily, as he flung his scrawny arms, outward, dramatically:

"Anoootheeeeeer!" Loki burst into a fit of impish giggles, amused at his own slurred command.

Thor frowned with hurt toward the blatant mockery and Steve - no longer pouting - swore he could hear Natasha's palm slam into her own forehead, behind him.

Tony shifted, uncomfortably - his scathed and scratched suit clinking, quietly. He swallowed, audibly, before attempting to authorise the now-intoxicated God:

"Um... I think you've had enough, buddy."

It was Loki's turn to pout. His bottom lip plump and slack with disappointment:

"C'mon, just one moooore." He groaned and psychically punctuated his sentence, as he, suddenly, flung his head into the smooth marble of the bar top. The entire building shuddered, as if the God had enforced a small earthquake.

The Avengers flinched, again.

Tony sighed, defeatedly and reluctantly retrieved another glass. The Hulk glared - with animalistic rage - as Tony, sheepishly, poured the God another round of the poisonous concoction.

He slid the new drink, cautiously, towards the drunken trickster and took a sharp step backward, waiting in trepadation. Loki's battered head, still, remained compressed into the marble surface. His greased and matted tresses of ebony, fanned outward; small shards of rubble nested themselves amongst the black. Without lifting his leaden head, Loki snaked a slender hand around his drink. Natasha could sense the drunken smirk of satisfaction; she could feel it, concealed amongst the ragged, charcoal locks.

Then Loki lifted his head.

Thor gave a quiet gasp, as he spied the trickle of blood, which stained the God's usually-pristine façade. With a pale hand, still, clasped, protectively, around his drink, Loki wrinkled his pointed nose in comical discomfort. He'd, now, acknowledged the metallic odour of the garish liquid which continued to drip from his nostril, like a crimson tear.

Thor was about to intervene and play nurse, when Loki wiped his bloodied nose, languidly, upon the sleeve of his tarnished jacket. The scarlet stain glistened upon the patch of frayed leather, basking in the warmth of the evening sun.

With re-kindled defiance, Loki snapped his chin outward, haughtily and lifted the glass to his cracked and bloodied lips. He began to drink; consuming his potion, ferociously. He omitted a brief moan, as he gulped greedily, throat springing with every desperate swallow.

"Down in one, down in—"

Clint's jovial chants died, abruptly as Natasha shot him a murderous look. Tony snorted, quietly, as Clint clamped his lips shut and threw an ashamed gaze to his hobnail boots.

However, Loki still preformed his assigned task, as he drained the glass and slammed it downward - this time, upon the counter, much to Tony's relief - with childish pride.

The others gaped at him, in bewildered silence.

His rigid form, suddenly slumped; his aching back crunched, as it slouched with exhaustion. He propped both elbows upon the shining, marble surface and brought his quivering hands to his sickly visage. He, then, buried his deft fingers into eyes; his sockets hollowed and zombified. He groaned with comical despair:

"Oooh, noooooooooo." His words were dragged, parallel to his steps but-thirty-minites-ago. "Thanos is gonna kill meeeee." He, then, flattened his dirtied hands and compressed his gaunt facade into his bloodied palms, muttering incoherently to himself.

The others threw each other uncomfortable glances, amidst the silence; except for Thor, who stared, vacantly, into the abyss bearing a guilt-ridden expression.

Loki, then, began to recite his lament, voice leaden with melancholy:

"All those days, weeks, months..." - he began massage his sunken eyes with his skeletal fingers, compressing his vision into his skull - "Aaaaaall, that monumental torture! It's all... wasted, gone... immaterial!" He spat his words; they tore at his throat, as they dripped with unadulterated venom.

He prised away his still-quivering hands and, finally, exposed his eyes; clouded entities of exhaustion and woe. He looked half dead, like his deeds and experiences had, suddenly, pounced upon him... showing little mercy. Steve and Natasha shared a glance; they silently agreed it wasn't just because of the alcohol.

"And all..." - Loki turned, slowly, on the stool - careful not to lose his balance - glazed eyes burning into his brother's bowed, blonde head - "...because of you." He flung an accusing finger toward the God of Thunder, shuddering with suppressed rage. However, he performed his gesture of judgement with a little too much vigour. Loki, promptly, collapsed, inelegantly, from the stool.

Clint and Tony exchanged a smirk - they couldn't keep it hidden - but the Hulk shattered the silence with his own booming laughter. Steve shot him a look - or, perhaps, another pout - and the beast, quickly, fell quiet.

Loki lay, motionless, for a while; a tangle of lanky limbs and matted hair. He groaned, again; wincing in anguish, as he pushed himself upward:

"You always... always..." - he panted rapidly, breathes heaving with dangerous frequency - "...always ruin... everything. I never... " - he pressed his bloodied fists into the ground, arms shaking violently as he attempted to raise his enervated self from the floor - "...get to have my... my moment." He wretched, dramatically and proceeded to vomit all over the kitchen tiles.

Tony sighed and rolled his eyes in disgust; as if he didn't have enough shit to clean up.

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