Chapter Text
Tony Stark was bored.
Clint and Natasha were on vacation, Thor was in Texas visiting Jane, and Steve and Bruce were at S.H.I.E.L.D HQ debriefing with Fury, something about a minor incident in New Orleans, so he had the place to himself. He had kept himself busy as best he could; he had fixed everything that needed fixing (and a few things that didn’t), he had tinkered with everything that could be tinkered with, he had added a few extras to some of the newer Iron Man suits, he had even upgraded the toilets (don’t ask), and now he had nothing to do.
TV was dull. Right now he was watching a girl in a blue dress warbling her way through ‘I Will Always Love You’ in front of a panel of smug-looking judges in the hope of getting a recording contract. She was good, but she was kinda chubby and her nose was slightly crooked, so Tony was pretty sure she wouldn’t get through. They’d picked that blonde girl though. She had murdered Tina Turner’s ‘Simply The Best’ but she looked good in a crop top and skinny jeans.
“All about the music, my ass.”
Tony stretched and levered himself off of the couch. “JARVIS, I’m going out.”
Very good, sir, which car will you be taking this evening?
“No car, JARVIS, I’m going for a walk.”
There was a pause. Walk, sir?
“Yes, JARVIS, walk. It’s this thing people do when they put one foot in front of the other and propel themselves along.”
I am aware of the meaning of the word, sir, I was merely expressing my surprise, since you have not partaken in that particular activity for quite some time.
Was it his imagination, or had JARVIS just implied that he was unfit? It was certainly indispensable, but sometimes Tony regretted making the artificial intelligence so... well, intelligent.
“You’re about one more insult away from me deleting you and creating a new AI, a far less snarky one.”
I am not familiar with that particular term, sir, is it a form of teenage slang?
Tony pointed a finger at the ceiling from where the disembodied voice emanated. “That right there, JARVIS? That’s snarky.”
I would advise taking a car, sir, the weather is somewhat inclement this evening, and I would hate for you to slip and break a hip.
Tony grabbed a jacket and left before he really did end up pulling the plug on JARVIS.
It felt great to get out of Stark Tower for a while, even if it was raining. The street lights and neon reflected wetly on the asphalt, making the place seem somehow brighter, even though it was beginning to get dark.
Tony pulled his jacket more tightly around himself to keep the rain off his neck. The breeze was picking up and it was getting colder. At least the rain wasn’t too heavy...
As if some cruel God had read his mind, the heavens suddenly opened.
Cursing himself for jinxing it, Tony looked around. There was an open doorway about fifty yards away, the flickering neon sign above it proclaiming it to be 'HARRY’S B R'. Guessing that the missing letter was A, Tony hurried across to the open door and ducked inside.
He found himself face to face with a huge man with a bald head and a t-shirt with SECURITY emblazoned across the front. He scowled down at Tony as if pissed off that he had the temerity to come in and drip on his floor. To most people he would have been intimidating, but Tony Stark wasn’t most people.
“Hi,” he said brightly. “If you would excuse me, I was rather hoping I might partake of a drink in this fine establishment.”
The man continued to glare at him. Tony looked down at the puddle of rain water he was standing in. “Sorry about that. I’m sure if you ask nicely someone will bring you a mop to clean that up with. A good scrub and this floor could be as shiny as your head.” He strode quickly through the inner door before the big man had time to realise that he had been insulted, and into the bar.
The place was such a dive that Tony felt like he should be wearing a wetsuit and scuba gear. The heavy fug of cigarette smoke stung his eyes and cast a gloomy shadow throughout the bar. He could feel his feet sticking to the floor. There were several young couples (mostly underage, by the look of it) holding hands across tables or playing pool. The rest of the bar’s clientele seemed to consist of middle aged men with no necks and two days worth of stubble on their faces, and women with brassy blonde hair, smudged red lipstick and low cut tops that showed far too much drooping cleavage. At least the jukebox in the corner was playing AC/DC, so it wasn’t all bad.
Since the alternative was going back out into the pouring rain, Tony crossed to the bar, behind which a young woman with greasy hair was reading a magazine and chewing gum.
“Excuse me,” he called politely. The woman ignored him. “Hello?” he called again. The woman carried on reading her magazine. Tony gave up being polite. “Ding ding, service please!” The woman looked up at him with narrowed eyes. “Is there any danger of getting a drink in this place?”
The woman slammed the magazine down and stomped over to him. “What’re ya havin?”
Tony ordered a bourbon, which the woman shoved across the bar at him before going back to her magazine.
Tony stood leaning against the bar, deciding that this was not an establishment that he would be frequenting on a regular basis. As he drank, he happened to glance along the length of the bar at the small group of men sitting there.
It couldn’t be, could it?
He peered through the gloom at the familiar figure. It had to be him, there was no mistaking that long, thin face, or those green eyes that seemed to glow faintly in the dim light of the smokey room.
Loki was chattering animatedly to two men who stood either side of him at the bar. He was swaying unsteadily on the stool he was sitting on, and even at this distance Tony could see that he was blind drunk. What the hell was he doing in a place like this?
Loki must have said something funny, because the two men sitting with him started laughing raucously, and the taller one put a possessive arm around his shoulders. Tony felt a small, inexplicable flash of annoyance. Loki drained his glass and the tall man called for another. As the gum-chewing barmaid irritably handed him the glass, the shorter of the two men slid off of his barstool and sidled around to the taller man.
Tony slid nonchalantly along the bar, drawing closer so that he could hear their conversation.
“Well?” Shorty asked. “Whaddya think?”
The tall man turned his lumpy, pockmarked face towards him and grinned, showing at least two missing teeth. “The amount he’s drunk, I reckon he’d take both of us at the same time. Just depends which end you want.”
A small, angry burn started in Tony’s brain as he realised what they were talking about.
Shorty grinned too; he had all of his teeth, although most of them were black. “I got dibs on that pretty mouth. So, we taking him back with us or what?”
Ugly shook his head. “Nah, little whore’s not worth the cab fare.” He pointed at a door at the far end of the dingy room, which Tony guessed led to the restroom. “In there’s as good a place as any. Got no lube, but what the fuck, if you’re screwin’ his mouth no one’s gonna hear him anyway. I’ll go make sure that we got the place to ourselves, you bring him in in a couple minutes.” He got up and headed for the restroom, while Shorty went back to sit by Loki.
After a few seconds of quiet seething, Tony picked up an empty beer bottle from the bar and followed Ugly through the restroom door.
“I thought I told you to wait...” Ugly turned and frowned when he saw Tony. “What the fuck do you want?”
Tony wrinkled his nose as the man’s sour breath assaulted him. Up close, Ugly smelled like some diseased animal that had crawled into a trashcan and died. “Well, I wasn’t going to bring it up straight away, but since you ask, let’s start with two hundred dollars.”
“Two hundred... what the fuck for?”
“For the use of my boy, of course,” Tony replied smoothly. “I really should charge extra since there’s two of you, but I’m feeling generous.”
“Your boy? You ain’t no pimp.”
“I just dress better than the rest of them.”
“He ain’t worth two hundred dollars.”
“Aw, come on, a pretty boy like him? Two hundred’s cheap! Plus, there’s the added hassle of having to wash your stink off him after you’re done,” he added.
Ugly’s face turned bright red as he advanced menacingly on Tony. “ And what the fuck are you goin’ to do about it if I refuse?” His mouth dropped open as he felt something cold and hard press against his stomach.
“Then I’m gonna put a bullet in your gut and leave you dying in a puddle of your own shit and blood. You want that?”
Ugly shook his head.
“Thought not. Now get out of here, and take your loathsome little friend with you.”
Ugly bolted out of the restroom, and Tony watched with satisfaction as he grabbed Shorty by the collar and pulled him off of his stool. That had worked better than he thought it would. He’d have been screwed if Ugly had looked down and realised that the ‘gun’ he’d jammed into his gut was in fact the neck of an empty bottle; Tony hadn’t had a plan B.
He waited until the tall guy had dragged his protesting companion out of the door, then sauntered casually back to the bar to stand next to Loki. “Hey, Reindeer Games,” he said, as if noticing Loki for the first time. “Long time, no see.”
Loki turned to face him, peering blearily at Tony as if trying to place him. “Anthony Stark,” he said eventually, looking rather proud of himself for remembering Tony’s face. “I’ss been a while. Have you met... oh, they’ve gone.”
He looked around him, searching for Shorty and Ugly, Tony guessed, and seeming a little disappointed when he couldn’t find them. He turned back to the bar, the movement causing him to teeter on his stool.
“So... how’re you doing?” Tony asked.
“Oh, you know, can’t complain.” Loki’s naturally pale skin had a greyish tinge to it, and there were dark circles under his unfocused green eyes. Add that to the faded black shirt and blue jeans that he wore, and the lank, tangled hair, he looked as if he had plenty worth complaining about.
“How many of those have you had?” Tony asked, as Loki picked up his glass of Scotch to take a drink, and missed his mouth. He hadn’t been planning on asking right away, but he didn’t think it would wait.
Loki peered into the glass as if he might find the answer floating around inside. “Three or four... or eleven... maybe twelve, I don’t know, I haven’t been counting.”
This was not good. OK, Tony got that life couldn’t exactly be a picnic for the guy, but what had happened to cause Loki—vain, aristocratic Loki—to allow himself to fall into this state?
It had been almost two years since Thor had called everyone together for a meeting at the Tower. Tony had had mixed feelings about this, the place may have become a sort of impromptu Avengers HQ, but it was still mostly his place, and if anyone was going to call a meeting it should be him, dammit!
He had been even more perturbed when Thor had walked in, propelling a rather dazed looking Loki before him. He’d only just finished rebuilding!
Not half as perturbed as the others had been, apparently. Clint had been on his feet in an instant, screaming obscenities and describing, in graphic detail, what he would do to Loki if he got within ten feet of him. Steve, who was holding Clint back, had looked... well, confused mostly, but that was nothing new. Natasha was shooting the god a look that would have frozen lava, and Tony remembered thinking, not for the first time, that it was probably a good thing the girl didn’t have any superpowers. She was scary enough without them. Only Bruce, sitting on one of the cream couches, seemed to maintain any semblance of calm, although whether that serenity was genuine or if he was concentrating on holding back his rage, Tony couldn’t tell.
“It is his punishment,” Thor had explained once everyone had calmed down. “Mother could not bear to see him executed, and while the dungeon kept him secure, it did his mind no good. An eternity locked up in the dark bowels of Asgard would have driven him mad.”
Tony could see why that could have been a problem. Loki in charge of all his faculties was dangerous enough—an unpredictable, unhinged Loki would be a potential disaster. “That doesn’t explain what he’s doing here,” he pointed out.
“That was my doing,” Thor had sounded apologetic. “I suggested an alternative penalty, which Father was gracious enough to accept. From this moment, Loki is stripped of his magic and banished here to Midgard. He may never return home.”
Thor put both huge hands on his brother’s shoulders and pushed him gently down onto the couch opposite Bruce. Loki put up no resistance, he simply sat where Thor had put him, staring straight ahead as though looking through space. He looked... destroyed was the only word that could really describe it.
“And you honestly thought it was a good idea to bring him back here?” Natasha hissed. “He’s already proved he’ll ally himself with anyone who offers him a chance for power, someone says they’ll give him a planet to rule and he’ll turn on us in a second.”
“There is no danger of that happening. Loki’s magic has been taken from him. Aside from an abnormally long lifespan compared with most of Earth’s inhabitants, he is essentially mortal. He would be of no use to anyone who wished to exploit him.” He squeezed Loki’s shoulder, a gesture of comfort.
“Then why not allow him to remain on Asgard?” Steve had asked. “If he no longer poses any threat, why bother to send him here?”
“That is not an option. Loki has made many enemies in Asgard, without his magic to protect him he would not be safe there.”
“Let them have him,” Clint spat. “It’d be no more than he deserved.”
“I understand your anger, Hawkeye, and were he anyone else I would likely share your sentiment. But in spite of what he has done, he is still my brother, and I would see no harm come to him. I... could not.”
“I think it’s a great idea.”
Everyone turned to look at Bruce, who until now had been silent. “I think it could work. Loki may have done some terrible things, but I don’t believe that anyone is wholly irredeemable. Everyone deserves a second chance. You may disagree, but trust me, a person can never get better if you simply write them off as a monster.”
There was silence. No one was going to argue that point with Bruce.
Tony had stared long and hard at the couch where Loki sat, seemingly numb with shock, shrinking into the upholstery as if he might disappear into it. Was this really the guy who had destroyed his building and thrown him out of his own window?
“I agree with Bruce,” he heard himself saying, to his own surprise. “How many of us were given a second chance to do the right thing? How many of us wouldn’t be here now if we hadn’t? Besides, what can he get up to with us around? I’m sure between us we should be able to keep him out of trouble.”
Famous last words, Tony thought now, as he watched Loki wobble precariously on his barstool.
Loki had hung around the Tower for around six months, in a state of utter depression. Remembering how close he had come to derailing himself a while back, Tony had gone out of his way to cheer him up. Bruce had also taken it upon himself to try and talk him round. And sometimes it seemed to be working. They would see the occasional flash of the old Loki, the biting wit, the sarcasm, the odd hint of an innocent, almost childlike smile, (not the psychotic, city-destroying side, luckily) and Tony had found himself growing rather... fond of him. But after a few days he would slip back down into his own personal darkness, and eventually he had disappeared, having left Thor a note saying that he needed to spend some time alone to figure out what to do with himself. Natasha and Clint were glad to see the back of him, but Tony found that he kinda missed him.
Maybe it was for the best. Lately Tony had found his feelings for the ex-god slipping rather uncomfortably beyond the realms of ‘fond’ and heading dangerously quickly towards ‘inappropriate’. These thoughts having absolutely nothing to do with the time he had found Loki emerging from the bathroom with wet hair and a towel around his waist, water glistening on his porcelain skin, running in rivulets over his taut stomach and down towards his... No! Bad Tony!
He had seen Loki a few times since his departure, usually when he dropped by to check in with Thor, as the elder brother had insisted he do. Loki had learned that ignoring this instruction usually resulted in being carried into the building over his brother’s shoulder. Each time he visited he looked thinner, paler, more exhausted.
“Why not just keep him here, where you can keep an eye on him?” Tony had asked once. “Surely it’d be better than letting him go downhill like this?”
“I fear it would do no good.” Thor had looked genuinely upset. “The All-Father’s sentence said nothing about keeping him confined, so Loki is free to come and go as he wishes. I am afraid that, were I to force him to stay here, he would allow his anger and resentment towards me to consume him entirely. He already hates me for having him banished here, even though it was the only thing I could do to save him. He said... he told me once that he would have preferred a death sentence to the pointless existence that I had condemned him to.” The sight of the hulking blond god looking like he might break down and weep had to rank among the top ten most awful things Tony had ever seen. “My only hope is that by allowing him his freedom I may yet avoid pushing him away from me altogether. At least then we might stand a chance of helping him.”
“And when do we do that?”
Thor looked gravely at him. “When he can no longer help himself.”
That time was probably now, Tony decided.
Loki drained his glass and slammed it down on the bar, causing it to crack. “E’scuse me,” he called to the barmaid, “ Can I get another one o’ these?”
He held up a hand to get the woman’s attention, and slid sideways off of his barstool.
Tony caught him under the arms before he could fall. “I think you’ve probably had enough,” he said firmly.
“Course I haven’t, I c’n still see you. Another one please!”
Tony took him by the shoulders and turned Loki to face him. “Seriously, you’ve had enough. And you...” He turned on the barmaid, who was already refilling Loki’s cracked glass, “... Do you make a habit of serving people who are already clearly intoxicated? You’re lucky I don’t report this.”
He picked up the half filled glass, drained the contents, and then, pulling Loki’s arm around his shoulders, he manoeuvred out of the door, giving the grumpy security guard a little wave as he passed, and out into the wet street.
Being taller, Loki leaned on his shoulder rather than hanging off of it, which made Tony’s job a little easier. Only a little though.
“I wanted that drink,” Loki pouted.
“I needed it more than you did. Besides, you can barely stand up and, skinny as you are, I’m not carrying you home.”
“Home? You mean back to your Tower?”
“That’s the one.”
“Oh, uh... well, it’s really not... and I...got...stuff to...” Loki tried to pull away from him, a sudden bundle of nerves.
Tony put an arm around his waist, hugging him tightly to his side to stop him from running (that was the only reason, of course). “Hey, it’s OK. Thor’s away, if that’s what you’re worried about. Everyone’s out doing their own thing, we’ve got the place to ourselves.”
“Oh. Tha’s alright then.” Loki brightened up. “Hey, there’s another bar down there, we could...”
“No, we couldn’t.”
“Oh, come on. I thought you were the fun one.”
“I am the fun one. Steve would be giving you a lecture on the evils of alcohol right now, I’m just giving you the occasional disapproving look.”
“Ha! I am the god of mischief, I am impervious to... oh...” Loki swallowed convulsively, and Tony managed to turn him away before he puked on his shoes.
“Feel better?” he asked once Loki had got it all up.
Loki shook his head and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “He’d be ashamed of me, wouldn’t he?”
Tony didn’t have to ask who he was talking about. “He wouldn’t be ashamed. A little upset, maybe. But, like I said, he’s not around right now, so we’ll worry about that when we get to it, Ok?”
Tony half carried, half dragged his inebriated companion back to the Tower. By the time they got there the rain had soaked through Tony’s thin jacket, while Loki, in only his shirt and jeans, was shivering slightly.
Welcome home, sir. Is it raining outside? Your jacket appears to be a little damp.
“One day, JARVIS, someone’s going to invent a way for computers to feel pain. And if you’re not careful, that someone’s going to be me.”
Taking a detour past the laundry room to grab a couple of towels, Tony hauled Loki up to the penthouse and deposited him onto a couch. “Here, dry yourself off a little. I’m gonna go get some dry clothes, I’ll grab some for you too.”
Leaving Loki on the couch, Tony went to his bedroom and into the enormous walk-in wardrobe. There were his suits, all immaculately pressed, his casual clothes, mostly consisting of jeans and band t-shirts (except the Black Sabbath one that Ozzy had autographed, he’d had that one framed), ties, shoes etc.
He picked up a pair of sweatpants and a Led Zeppelin t-shirt, which he dumped on his bed, and began to undress. His wet clothes stuck to him and he struggled to remove them, but eventually he stood naked before the bed, his toes digging into the thick carpet. He rubbed the towel over his body and hair, mopping up the worst of the rain water, before pulling on the sweatpants and slipping the t-shirt over his head.
“Nice,” said a voice behind him.
Tony jumped, and became entangled in his t-shirt. After a few moments of frantic wriggling he located the neck hole and pushed his head out.
Loki was standing in the bedroom doorway. How long had he been there? Long enough to see him in the buff? If it had been anyone else he would have made a glib comment, something along the lines of ‘does my butt look big in this?’ but a sudden image of Loki in nothing but that towel popped into his head, and the most sensible thing he could come out with was “Huh?”
“The room. I’ss very nice. Big bed.” Loki crossed to the foot of the bed, turned, spread his arms wide, and flopped backwards onto the huge bed, a wide, blissed-out smile on his face. “Niiiiiice,” he repeated.
“You’re getting my bed all wet,” Tony pointed out.
“Ha. Sleeping in the wet patch.” Loki’s smile grew wider.
Chuckling, Tony took Loki’s hand and attempted to help him up, and only succeeded in pulling him around ninety degrees so that he lay sideways across the bed. Loki started to giggle.
Tony took hold of the front of Loki’s shirt and pulled him up so that he was sitting on the edge of the bed. “C’mon, Oliver Reed, you need to sleep this off. Get those wet clothes off, go take a shower and we’ll find you a bed for the night.”
Tony picked up his own wet things, carried them through to his en-suite bathroom and shoved them in the laundry hamper. He returned to find Loki struggling with the buttons on his shirt, the long fingers fumbling as he tried to undo them. Eventually he gave up and tried to pull the shirt off over his head, becoming hopelessly tangled.
Tony watched him, trying (and failing) to keep from laughing. “You alright in there?” he asked.
“May whoever invented buttons be cursed to a world made entirely of velcro.” Loki’s voice was muffled from inside his shirt.
Shaking his head, Tony crouched in front of Loki, pulled the shirt down again and began to undo the buttons. Once they were all free he pushed the wet material off of Loki’s shoulders and helped him to wriggle his arms out of the sleeves. He looked thinner than Tony remembered him, and he couldn’t help but notice the stiffness of the nipples and the little pinpricks of raised flesh on the pale skin, or the fact that he was shivering.
Loki had clearly seen it too. “Never used to feel the cold,” he murmured, more to himself than to Tony.
“You need sleep. You’ll feel better in the morning.” Tony pulled off Loki’s shoes and socks, which were soaked, and then paused for a while, thinking. He really ought to get Loki to take his jeans off himself, but his overactive imagination was already sending him some rather hideous images of what might happen if the uncoordinated ex-god got his hands on that zipper!
Deciding that it was probably the lesser of two evils, Tony slid the zipper down carefully, then took hold of the waistband and peeled the wet denim down over Loki’s hips, Loki at least remembering to raise his rear off of the bed so as not to impede his progress.
Tony stopped. Well, that was unexpected... “Uh, Loki, you forgotten something there, bud?”
The look on Loki’s face told him that he didn’t know what Tony was talking about. “You, uh... You’re not wearing underwear...” Loki gave him a confused little frown. “Y’know, underwear. You wear it... well... under... y’know, underneath your clothes?”
“This is a Midgard thing, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, I suppose it must be.” Underwear clearly was not considered a necessity on Asgard. And Thor? All throughout the New York incident, and in all the time since, the guy had been going commando? Tony wasn’t sure he would be able to look at him the same way again.
Trying to ignore the fact that he had just been treated to a full-frontal view of Loki in all his glory (and the fact that his cock appeared to have woken up and was demanding to be allowed a peek too) Tony tugged the jeans down Loki’s long legs and off, then stood up. “You want that shower, Prancer? It’d warm you up.”
Loki didn’t reply.
“Look, you’re not the first naked guy I’ve had sitting on my bed, but you are the first one that’s been sitting in a puddle shivering. We need to get you warmed up.”
“Do you think I’m bad, Stark?”
Tony felt his brain freeze. This wasn’t the first time a naked guy had asked him this question either, but at least on those occasions he had had a little more context. “Bad how?” he asked cautiously.
“Father thinks I’m bad. He hates me. Thor thinks I’m bad, he wouldn’t have dumped me here on Midgard if he didn’t. Mother was the only one who ever saw any good in me, and I’ll never see her again.”
Loki looked so upset that Tony was moved to put a hand on his arm and give it a gentle squeeze. “Hey, don’t talk like that. You’re not a bad person, Loki. OK, so you could work on deflating that ego of yours, and you can hold a grudge for a long time... I mean a really long time...” One look at Loki’s face told him that his pep talk wasn’t helping, “...But I don’t think that you’re bad. Not at all.”
Loki was looking at him with a very strange expression on his face. “You... you mean it? You don’t hate me?”
“Why would you think that I hated you?”
“I threw you out of a window.”
“That was ages ago. Just because we had a massive fight and you broke... well, everything... it doesn’t mean that I hate you.”
He barely saw Loki move. One moment the pale god was sat trembling on his bed, the next he had leapt forwards and wrapped his arms around Tony’s neck, pulling the surprised engineer down onto the bed, on top of him. Tony could smell the Scotch lingering on the other man’s breath as Loki sought out his lips, the long legs winding around his hips, pulling Tony’s crotch towards his own.
Even without his magic, Loki was still stronger than the average human, and Tony had to struggle with all his might to free himself from the frantic embrace. Bracing his hands against the mattress, he managed to push himself upwards, freeing himself from the clinging arms. “Loki... what the fuck?“
“Lay with me, Anthony.”
“What?!”
The bright green eyes, hazy from drink, looked imploringly up at him. “Please, Anthony, I want it, I want you to take me. I’ll let you do anything you want, just fuck me, please, let me feel you inside me.”
Oh God...
Tony could feel heat flooding his loins. His cock sprung to life again, pushing urgently against the fabric of his sweatpants. He’d always been a sucker for dirty talk, and to hear such words falling from the lips of the man whose image had increasingly invaded his most intimate dreams was almost more than he could bear. Every fantasy he had had since Loki had been exiled to Earth was coming true right here, right now, the object of his deepest desires was laid out naked and willing before him, his for the taking.
Tony grabbed Loki’s hands, pulling them up over his head. He gripped both of the slender wrists in one large hand, pinning them to the mattress. Then, with the other hand, he unwound the god’s legs from his hips and pulled away from him, stifling a disappointed groan as he did so.
“Loki, stop this. You’re wasted, you don’t know what you’re saying.”
Loki gazed up at him, confusion evident on his face. “Don’t you want me? You can do whatever you like to me, I won’t mind. Do you want to hurt me?” He rolled onto his stomach, raising his hips, ass pushed seductively upwards. “You can, if you want to. Be as rough as you like, I’ll take it, I promise.”
Tony stared at him in horror. What unholy force could have reduced his proud, arrogant Loki to this?
Loki sat up and held his arms out pleadingly to Tony. “Do it, Anthony, screw me until I forget everything, until I know nothing else. Please.”
Tony sat down on the bed next to Loki and took him by the shoulders, looking him square in the face.
“You. Are. Drunk! You are not thinking straight, and no matter how much you think you want this, there is no way I am doing any of... that... with you in this state.”
Loki was staring at him open-mouthed, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. And then, before Tony’s eyes, his expression changed, from one of hurt to one of anger. He drew himself up far enough to be able to look down his nose at Tony. The effect would have been impressive had he not been leaning to one side as if about to fall over.
“You dare to refuse me, mortal? You have no comp... comprehe... you have no idea who you are dealing with. I am Loki, God of Chaos, and anyone who disobeys me will feel my...” Loki stopped, eyes widening slightly, face turning a rather interesting shade of green. “Uh... where is your..?”
Tony pointed towards his private bathroom. Loki darted off the bed and disappeared, and Tony could hear him retching from behind the bathroom door.
Sighing, Tony put his head in his hands. Fuck me, please, let me feel you inside me. And oh God, how he’d wanted to! How many times had he lain in this very bed, stroking himself to blissful completion, imagining Loki on his knees before him, saying those exact words? There was an opportunity he’d never be offered again.
He’s drunk, he reminded himself firmly, it would have been taking advantage, no matter how much he asked for it. You may be an asshole, Tony Stark, but you’re not that much of an asshole.
He heard the bathroom door open and Loki tottered back in, leaning on the doorframe for support. He looked completely washed out, and was shivering more than ever.
Abandoning the idea of getting him to take a shower, Tony stood up and pulled back the bedclothes, indicating that Loki should lie down. Loki complied without comment, sinking gratefully into the sheets, dark hair spread across the pillow. Tony pulled the covers over him, tucking them around Loki’s body to ensure that he would be as warm as possible. “There. Sleep now, you’ll feel better in the morning.”
He picked up Loki’s discarded clothes and went to put them in the hamper in the bathroom. By the time he returned, Loki was asleep.
Tony couldn’t resist reaching down and brushing a stray lock of hair off of his pale cheek. Loki stirred and made a little noise, a sound of quiet contentment. He smiled to himself, before leaving Loki to sleep.
He thought he heard a soft voice whisper “Goodnight, Mother,” as he closed the door, but he couldn’t be sure.
Tony went straight to the bar and poured himself a triple. He needed it. Then he threw himself down on the couch, exhaling deeply. This was not how he had expected his evening to turn out.
His eyes settled on his cell phone, which he had tossed onto the coffee table when he came in. For a moment he debated simply leaving it there, it would make things a whole lot easier for him, but he knew that wasn’t really an option. He had to let him know, if only to save himself the trouble of having to explain later. He picked up the phone and dialled.
He could hear a clunking sound, some muffled swearing, and a deep voice muttering “Blasted thing, how does it..?” Some more swearing, and then, “Hello?”
“Still having trouble figuring out the cell phone, huh?”
“It is a very useful invention, Anthony, but why must you mortals make your technology so damn complicated?”
“I only gave you a basic model, how complicated could it be?”
“As good as it is to hear from you, Anthony, if you have called simply to find out if I know how to use this accursed thing I should point out that I have better things to do.”
Tony chuckled. “There’s no point in you having it if you don’t know how it works. Besides, that’s not the reason I called. I thought I should let you know that your brother is here.”
“Loki is with you? What has happened? Is he hurt?”
“Calm down, Blondie, he’s fine.”
“Anthony, if something is wrong you must tell me.”
“Why would you assume there was anything wrong?”
“Loki has only ever called at the Tower at my insistence, he has never come of his own accord. If he has come to you voluntarily there must be something wrong.”
Damn, Tony had walked right into that one.
He hadn’t planned on saying too much, it would have felt like tattling, but there was no way he was going to convince Thor that Loki had simply shown up on his doorstep asking to borrow a cup of sugar. Besides, now that he had the older brother on the phone he decided that he could really use some support here.
“Well, actually, I found him in a bar down the street. He’d had a few too many so I thought it best to bring him back here.”
“What did he do this time?” Then, when Tony didn’t respond, “Loki has never been one for drinking. While the rest of us would carouse the night away, he always preferred to retire to his chambers to read, but sometimes I would manage to persuade him to stay and celebrate with us, and whenever he drank enough to go to his head he usually ended up doing something monumentally stupid. You heard about the thing with the goat, right?”
“Goat?”
“He... well, I can’t really explain now, Jane is here, and it is certainly not a conversation to be had in the presence of a lady.” Tony could hear Jane in the background insisting that, lady be damned, now she had to know what happened with Loki and the goat.
“Well, no goats were involved this evening, I assure you.”
“So what did happen?”
“Nothing much really. He was with a couple of shady looking guys, but they disappeared pretty quickly after I had a few polite words with them. He threw up a couple times. And...”
“Anthony...” There was a warning in Thor’s voice.
Tony sighed. “He... well, he was having trouble getting undressed, so I gave him a hand, and then... well, he sorta propositioned me.”
“What?” Thor really wasn’t the sharpest tool in the box, was he?
“To put it bluntly, he asked me to screw him.”
Tony could hear a noise that sounded like an angry bear, and it took him a few seconds to realise that it was coming from Thor. “Nothing happened,” he said quickly. “I told him no, and then he threw up again and kinda forgot about it. I wasn’t going to take advantage of the guy like that.”
“And the other men, the ones he was at the bar with?”
“Like I said, I got rid of them pretty fast once it became clear what their intentions were.”
Thor’s sigh was one of both relief and sorrow. “Thank you, friend Anthony. Your kindness toward my errant brother is much appreciated, and I apologise to you for his actions. I shall return to New York as soon as possible and try to sort this out. His behaviour has become more and more self-destructive of late, and I fear if it is not nipped in the bud now he may fall too far to be able to get up again.”
“Hey, it’s ok, you don’t have to apologise for him. Look, you don’t have to rush back right away. You stay with Jane, I’ll deal with Loki.”
“You?”
“You don’t have to say it like that!”
“I just meant... I appreciate your help, Anthony, and I thank you for your offer. But Loki is my brother, it is my responsibility to see to his welfare, and you should not have to put yourself out for...”
“That’s exactly the reason I think you should sit this one out,” Tony interrupted. “Look, no one’s denying that you want what’s best for Loki, but like you said, he’s in self-destruct mode right now, you’re not going to get anywhere by giving him another lecture. He needs a different approach. I don’t want to offend you here, but you’re too soft on him. He’s your brother, you look at him and see the little kid you used to play hide-and-seek with, or let’s-go-hunt-wild-man-eating-beasts, or whatever games Asgardian kids play. I see a grown man who is going to end up in serious trouble unless he can get a handle on himself, and I honestly think that I might be in a better position to help with that.”
“And how do you think you might accomplish this?”
“I don’t know yet,” Tony admitted, “But I can be pretty persuasive, I’m certain I can find a way to get through to him, if you’ll allow me the time to do it. I know that no one loves him more than you do, but I have to admit I’ve grown pretty fond of the guy...” Yeah, keep telling yourself that, Tone, “...and I want to help him just as much as you do.” There was a long pause. “If it helps to make up your mind, I could always go with the theory that, since he kinda threw himself at me, I got a right to ensure that he doesn’t do it again.”
There was a rueful chuckle from the other end of the line. “You’re so like my brother, sometimes it’s rather frightening. Very well, Stark, I shall give you three days. If, by then, you have made no progress with him, I shall return and deal with him myself, is that understood?”
“Absolutely.”
“Good. And thank you again, Anthony. It sets my mind at rest to know that Loki has a friend in you.”
You probably wouldn’t be saying that if you knew what I was thinking about ten minutes ago, Tony thought to himself as he hung up the phone.