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Avengers/Thor AU

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Something clearly struck a chord with Loki at that last remark, probably due to the fact he assumed Barney to be Clint's brother, or at least something close to that. Ignoring the strain the archer clearly had just by resisting the lingering control he had placed over him, Loki aimed a sharp kick at his chest. Him? Manipulative? He'd admit to that but he had never wanted to hurt Thor. He had only ever wanted to stand on equal grounds as him. The very implication that he had ever done something like that to his brother was insulting! Why couldn't anyone ever understand that he had loved his family? They were the ones who had forsaken him when he had only tried to earn their approval! "No, not like me," He replied, seething now. "Don't even pretend to know anything about me."

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Clint fell to the side with a dull thud as soon as he was kicked. He was too drained to fight back physically. Glowering from where he lay, he struggled back to his knees. Yeah? 'Cause yer brother sure said a lot. You ain't had any harships. Yer father didn't love you? Try gettin' beaten by him on a nightly basis. Your brother was better than ya in yer dad's eyes? Suck it up, you

pompous crybaby. I loved Barney. All I ever did was stand up for what I believed, 'n I was beaten nearly t' death. Now that he had spilled some of his nightmares, he wanted to say it all. You lived a comfortable, loving family with people who loved ya. My dad killed himself n' my mom when I was seven. When we ran away from our foster parents, we were roped into a circus of catburglars n' cutthroats. I fought fer enough t' eat every. Single. Day of m' life and ya know what I got for it? In a near fit of rage, Clint tugged his shirt off from over his head and threw it on the ground. A gruesome story was displayed in a canvas of scars. Not only were there identical scars on Clint's forearms, but the same marks were on his shoulders, his neck, and several places in his chest. Knotted, silvery scars showed the brutal beatings he had taken over the years. He hated me. All I ever wanted was fer us to stick together, side my side, n' he wanted me dead! So you shut yer censorkip.gif in' mouth!

Edited by shadow_claw

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Loki glared down at the archer, having resumed leering over him instead of trying to communicate peacefully. He was absolutely furious. "Thor knows absolutely nothing," He replied, glaring at the archer, ignoring the obvious marks on his skin. Scars were nothing. They could be covered by clothing or easily dismissed. His wounds ran much deeper than that, to the point where he had to use magic regularly in an attempt to appear normal. Appear like what he had always been told he was.

Mimicking Clint's actions, he removed his vest, then his shirt. He tossed both to the side and did his best to steady his breathing. "You could not possibly understand my burdens," He declared, as his skin began to ripple. Blue began to appear starting first at his stomach and rapidly moving outwards towards the rest of his body, traveling up his neck and down his arms. His eyes closed as various markings formed across his body as well. As soon as this all changed, he opened his eyes to reveal they had been dyed a dark red in color. "Your scars only run skin deep. Mine exist all the way to my core. Do not think you can understand what it is like to be me. Everything I was taught was a lie and it came crashing down at once."

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Wow! Ya were adopted! That must be so hard t' be adopted into a family that loved ya! Clint climbed to his feet, his blue eyes blazing as he glared at the man before him. He stalked forward, stopping only to give Loki a rough shove. 'Cause foster families suck! They never wanted two kids who were used to bein' beaten by an alcoholc! Lotsa times th' foster parents were jus' as bad as m' dad! Don't you dare tell me what I do n' don't understand! I see their dissappointment in their faces every time I close m' eyes! I was never enough for them! It don't matter that I can never miss a shot, or that I fought tooth n' nail not to starve t' death n' trained jus' as hard as th' rest of 'em! I was never good enough! Clint's cheeks had flushed a brught red in his rage. Raw fury had flushed out any of the struggles he had been dealing with earlier. The reminder of how much he really hated Loki was enough to snap him out of it. Edited by shadow_claw

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Loki didn't respond to the shove because he didn't need to. Now that the magic keeping his real form at bay was gone, his cold body natural responded to the warm touch by attempting to leech out onto it, freezing it. Thor and his companions saw a demonstration of this ability during their attack on Jotunhiem and Loki himself nearly suffered from it. That was when he first realized the lies. Growing tired of the bickering, he turned away and picked up his shirt and vest. His skin returned back to its normal hue and his eyes turned back to the green color they usually were. He blinked a few times then slowly put his shirt back on, followed by his vest. "It seems like that makes two of us," He replied, brushing dust off his jacket from the floor. He quickly shouldered the vest on, sighing faintly. "That's enough of that, then. I guess we should resume where we started." He reached into his vest and pulled out the knife he had taken from the floor earlier.

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((THERE'S SO MUCH CANON I CAN PUT IN THIS I LOVE IT))

 

Fine. Before Clint allowed for the fighting to continute, he raised a hand. Carefully did he pluck two small, skin-colored devices from each ear. Hearing aids. If he was to fight, he needed to rely on his sight. Anything Loki said to him would get into his head, and that was the last thing he needed. Ya talk about havin' mental scars, try this fer permanant damage. The hearing aids were tossed in the god's direction after speaking. Nobody wants a deaf kid and his alcoholic older brother. Clint then shuffled around in his pants for his spare knife (because he was too paranoid not to have a spare). I'll kick yer ass, with or without m' hearin'

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Loki caught the two objects almost absent-mindedly, not realizing what they were until they looked down at his hand. Even then, he was still confused. Communicators of some kind? He tossed the two objects aside after a moment and flicked the knife open that he had stolen from Clint, holding the blade down near his stomach. Making the first move had never been his strategy. He relied more heavily on gaining the upper hand after being surrounded. "Come, then. I'll settle this with you first then repay all of the debts. I believe I'll move on to the monster next."

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Clint flicked his spare knife open and made a face at Loki. He tapped one of his ears for emphasis. I'm deaf, moron. I can't hear a single word yer sayin' without those little things ya tossed across the room. He and Loki had never had an actual fight. Loki hadn't really fought with anyone other than Cap. And Cap played fair. He was a good guy, a soldier. Clint...wasn't. Loki had only gotten a taste of what he could do, and even then, he was able to defeat the god in a matter of seconds. As soon as he was ready, Clint charged at Loki as if he was going to swipe at him. Instead, his slash stopped short and he instead slid to kick at the pale man's legs. Although he was an expert archer, he was just as skilled fighting up close.

 

((What do you say happens? If Loki wins, he'll kill Clint, but if Clint wins, he'd do the same. Shall we say a bloody draw?))

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((Works for me. Loki's weak just from escaping and a tie seems best.))

 

Loki immediately shifted the knife to one hand and swiftly ducked to the side, twirling on one foot with the grace of a dancer. The knife was brought up close to his chest as he aimed a slash at Clint's arm, aiming deliberately for the joints where there was not as much muscle. Really, though. A deaf hero? That was unusual. He never would have guessed, especially considering gods rarely dealt with such a thing. The deaf usually died early in battle, as did the weak. Loki survived only based on his wits and that was very frowned upon.

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((You got it))

 

Clint recovered quickly from his miss, and forcibly jerked him arm away as Loki sliced it open. Damn. That was gonna hurt a lot more later. As blood oozed from the joint, he shook his arm. Scarlet droplets scattered throughout the already soiled kitchen and spattered onto any surface it could. Fine. He'd allow Loki the first hit in battle. Clint came at Loki again, this time moving with quick, precise jabs at the arms and chest. He wasn't as graceful as Loki, but made up for it in accuracy and precision. Each jab was unpredictable, as he threw in the occasional feint to try to make up for the one wound he had already received. He wasn't going to die to this...this loser. No way.

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Loki started to aim another attack at the archer when he suddenly found their roles reversed. He used his knife-weilding hand to try to block a few of the attacks but found the speed and unpredictable nature of the jabs overwhelming. Wheezing and battered, he finally managed to distance himself from Clint by jumping backwards, over a table behind them. Breathing heavily, he eyed the archer with slight uncertainty before switching the knife to his opposite hand and hurling it at him, aiming for his lower abdomen. He was much better at using throwing knives anyway and at this point, a little knife was only so good.

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As soon as Loki ran by putting a table between them, he was after the god. Clint leaped over the table in pursuit of Loki, knocking over what had been set down there previously. He was gonna win. He was gonna kill the censorkip.gif*** once and for all. And then, pain exploded in his stomach. He looked down to see a knife hilt sticking out of his lower stomach. What...The archer looked up at Loki, confusion and fear flickering across his face. Rage quickly replaced the initial emotions he felt. The knife in question was torn from his stomach, and both knives were settled in the knuckles of his hands. Clint hurled both knives at his opponent, before losing his balance and collasping onto the floor. That...that didn't feel right...

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Loki paused slightly as the knife burrowed itself in Clint's stomach. That was the end of that, right? Wrong, apparently. Before he knew what was happening, he suddenly stumbled backwards, holding his own stomach in clear pain. Both of the knives had embedded themselves into his skin. The first one had landed low and slightly to the left but the second had found a much more dangerous place between his ribs. Thankfully, the wounds were shallow but that didn't stop him from teetering backwards before sinking to the floor. He lost? Impossible! How could that be? But he collapsed to one side anyway, his hand digging into the floor as the pain eventually led him into unconsciousness.

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God knew how long he had been laying there. When Clint opened his eyes, he felt as if he was going to be sick. Lucky stood over him, the dog's mouth opening and closing as if it was barking. Why couldn't he...Oh, right. He had thrown his hearing aids. Luckily, the wounds seemed to have clotted themselves after some time of bleeding. Clint carefully dragged himself to his feet and inched towards the bathroom. Dental floss. He needed dental floss and his first-aid kit. SHIELD had issued him a rather large medical kit, because he had a knack for getting himself into trouble. As he threw the cabinet open, he snatched the dental floss from it a tore off a long piece. Minty fresh, and sterile enough to be used as sutures. It's have to work.

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Being a god, it was only natural for Loki to be on his feet first. Bloodstains lead to the corner of the room where he had managed to drag himself, his hands fumbling over the knives in his chest. His left hand sparked with green energy as he held it over the knife in his ribs while the fingers of his right hand wrapped around the hilt of the knife. Slowly, painfully but methodically, he pulled the blade out of his chest while using the scraps of magic he had recovered during his time unconscious to heal what he could of the injury. He had a hunch Clint wasn't dead but he couldn't see from his hiding place in the corner of the room. Either way, he had to heal himself and get out. He wasn't in any situation to be fighting at the moment since he still had one more knife in his chest.

The magic in his left hand suddenly flickered out. Scowling, Loki moved his left hand to his mouth instead and bit down on his wrist with his teeth. Using this as a slight distraction, he yanked the knife out of his lower abdomen as quickly as he could and tossed it away, immediately slumping over in pain.

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Shaky hands carefully closed up the wounds Loki had inflicted. Loud cursing and growls echoed from the bathroom as he struggled to stitch his wounds. By the time he exited the bathroom, Clint's two main wounds were stitched and bandaged. His left arm was tied up in a makeshift sling, as it was a bit too easy to tear open a joint again. In his free hand, the archer clutched a first-aid kit. Upon returning to his living room, he scowled at the dark figure in the corner. Loki was a lot stronger than he had originally assumed. A few, slow steps, and he sank down to sit beside Loki. Hold still, yer makin' a mess. His apartment was already owned by a russian mafia of some sort (maybe they were itallian?) and the last thing Clint wanted was an excuse to be kicked out of his low-budget home. And Loki had already stained the freaking carpet red. The moron. Clint would just clean the stupid god up himself. That way, Loki wouldn't bleed all over the place. Snapping open the first-aid kit, he took out a bottle of peroxide and stuggled to open it. I'm gonna kill ya a couple times if the tracksuit draculas kick me out 'cause o' yer mess.

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Loki was not at all familiar with human medication. He rarely suffered from illness and injuries usually fixed themselves. Considering he had just been in a fight with Clint, it was only natural for him to assume the strange bottle he was trying to open was something deadly. After all, why would the archer help him? Struggling to move but still bleeding, he tried to move away from the archer, bringing an arm up between them at the same time. He couldn't stand at this point but he could inch away from him. "I did not understand a word of that," He replied. Even when injured, he couldn't keep his mouth shut.

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Clint stared at Loki blankly for a few seconds before continuing to unscrew the bottle. Eighty-percent hearing loss, remember? He muttered after a moment or so. Tearing the cap off of the bottle with his teeth, he turned away from Loki and spit the plastic lid out. I'm gonna make this real simple: until you can get th' hell outta my house, I'm gonna take care of th' mess ya made. That involves cleanin' up all yer blood. He gave the bottle in his free hand a small shake for emphasis. This stuff? Dissolves bloodstains. And disinfects wounds. Use some. With the bottle now open, he offered it to the injured god. Although he hated Loki, he wasn't like Loki. He killed people when they could fight back. It was really the only sense of chivalry he had.

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Very reluctantly did Loki decide to take the bottle. Not understanding the directions so much but seeing that Clint did not seem to be handling it with the care one would exert with a more dangerous substance, he shook a little bit of the fluid onto his finger. The liquid seemed harmless enough so he poured about half of the bottle on the two deep gashes on his body.

Immediately, a horrible sensation rose up where the cuts were, causing Loki to drop the bottle. What was this which burned him? It hadn't felt like that when exposed to his finger but not it burned like acid! Dropping the bottle, he curled in on himself, cradling his chest as best he could. That had really hurt! Clearly, the archer had lied to him about it being good. But what was the point when he could hardly move himself? He wasn't going to accept any more bottles from him so they were clearly at a stalemate now.

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Jeez man! Ya don' use th' whole bottle! Peroxide is toxic in massive doses! Coulson used to get on him for doing that. Apparently Peroxide disinfected because it killed the living matter in the wound. So the pain was the liquid trying to eat away flesh. But hey, it was a cheap way to disinfect wounds. Even it it hurt a ton. Shaking his head, he shuffled around in the box for another clean needle. This 's where 's gonna start hurtin'. As he approached Loki, he stopped to string the clean needle with dental floss. Don' make me knock ya out, I'm gonna get this over with as fast as I can.

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Asgard never used barbaric practices like needles and thread so seeing a small pointy object following being deceived into pouring painful liquid down his front was not a very pleasant thing. Especially considering his own experience with needles was not a very good one. Even if he had grown up learning how to do things like sewing, after that run in, he had absolutely refused to have anything to do with needles and thread. Deaf mostly from the pain and blinded by worry, Loki managed to scramble to his feet, one hand covering his bleeding wounds while the other covered his mouth. His eyes were focused on the needle entirely as he stumbled away from Clint, his breathing erratic.

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Clint glanced at Loki, then at the needle in his hands. Really? What did Loki think he was gonna do, sew his lips together? Look, it's to help the wounds close. Leavin' 'em like that only makes 'em fester. I'm gonna ask you once nicely to let me sitch up yet wounds, and then I'm gonna pin ya down n' do it m'self. Sticking the needle in his pants for safekeeping, he tugged off the gauze around his stomach to reveal one of the two largest wounds Loki had inflicted. It had been cleaned and sitched up clearly by himself, but it didn't look horribly done. He had a lot of practice. Look, I know what I'm doin', and I ain't gonna let'cha mess yerself up even more.

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Absolutely not! There weren't many things that made Loki back away in such a manner but with past experience, he was more than just wary around needles. He did not feel the need to impart that information upon anyone, of course, but he also didn't feel the desire to get anywhere near a needle again. Hesitating, he took a few more steps backwards, only to trip over Clint's dog where it had been resting on the ground. He crashed back down to the floor, deliberately biting his tongue to prevent crying out in pain but cradling his injuries anyway. Looking up at Clint and immediately forgetting his deafness, he scowled. "If you take one more step, I shall make sure everyone you have so much as looked at dies in the most brutal way you can imagine," He hissed, clearly not pleased with his current situation.

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As soon as Loki fell, Lucky whined and squirmed out from under him. He wagged his tail at Loki, however, and stooped his head to lick the god's face. During all this, Clint walked towars the two. The agent scowled at Loki, before shaking his head. Thor said ya were smart, but'cha keep tryin' t' talk to a deaf guy and expect him to know what'cher sayin' Only when he was close enough to Loki did he jump to pin the other man down. He had a bad habit of tearing wounds back open, but he could always re-stitch them. Clint was just lucky Loki was in bad shape or he wouldn't have been able to even tackle the black-haired man.

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Loki stared up at Clint, unsure of what to say. What could he say, after all? He wouldn't understand him anyway. His head bashed against the ground as the archer jumped on top of him, pinning his already weakened body to the floor. His arms were pinned to his sides as he struggled briefly under Clint. But he couldn't escape from under him. He was just too tired. Finally giving in, he let his head fall back to the ground and closed his eyes. He couldn't hide his trembling, however, and his body continued to shake nervously under Clint's body.

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