Chapter Text
Tony should have known that the day was too good to be true. For the past twelve hours he had seen not even a whisker of the little black, green-eyed, demon who had decided to invade his home. Around hour three he had grown suspicious, when Jarvis couldn’t find anything, he had grown even more suspicious. At hour ten, Tony had gotten tired of being suspicious and decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth.
In this case, the horse turned out to be Trojan, and he really should have looked the shit out of the thing; because Tony, in the process of trying to set up a rather nice dinner for him and Steve (to celebrate, in Tony’s opinion, the absence of the Hellspawn) had turned around to see a lobster. Ordinarily this wouldn’t alarm him. Lobsters were tasty, and looked nearly as red as his suit which made them pretty looking once boiled. Except this lobster? Was staring at him. And it was creeping the fuck out of him.
“Jarvis, what are the life signs on this lobster?”
“The lobster appears to be deceased, sir.”
Tony could read an underlying, would you like anything else , sir? Perhaps some medication? In Jarvis’ tone. No, didn’t matter that Jarvis sounded absolutely serious. Tony knew he was being laughed at. So, glancing suspiciously at the little beady black eyes of the supposedly dead, boiled, and killed twice over lobster, Tony turned away from the kitchen island and back to the sink.
Then spun around.
Like all dead lobsters, it didn’t move.
“Okay,” He said aloud, “Obviously, Steve’s stupid cat has me on edge. The lobster can’t be alive….it’s been boiled.” He reached out a finger and poked the lobster. When it didn’t move he let out a relieved sigh and, feeling a bit stupid, patted the dead lobster.
Which apparently wasn’t so dead after all, because the moment his palm came in contact with the shell, his fingers were caught in the death grip of one of the claws of doom. The other one was snapping at his nose. Yelling, Tony pinwheeled around the kitchen, flailing as the lobster gripped with the tenacity of a certain missing kitten out for blood.
“Okay. I’m going to come back later.”
Tony turned around in time to see Clint backing out of the kitchen, phone in hand, and just caught the words, “-your boyfriend’s losing a fight to the lobster zombie. It’s hilarious shit, I’m going to find my camera.”
“What are you after, Loki?” Tony hissed, and he thought he saw the dull black eyes flash a poisonous green, “Are you a vampire?”
The claws just tightened their grip, and Tony stifled a shriek of pain and resorted to the most mature response he could think of.
“If you don’t let go, I’m going to… gift wrap you when Steve isn’t looking and give you to Thor.”
The next time the door opened. There was no lobster. Just a little black kitten, scampering out of sight.