Notes:
I do not own Thor, nor the perfection that is Tony Stark.
If I did, there'd be a lot more ThunderIron everywhere.
This was inspired by the prompt from the citrus pocket
/post/101181320028/thunderiorn-ironthunder-prompt-in-which-thor-burst
Slash warning real early. If you hate it, leave.
Enjoy.
Anthony Stark prided himself on being an immaculate symbol of knowledge and wealth. Sure, the ego was a big part of his nature, but underneath it all Tony's pride and joy was the things he knew about the things he knew. It's kinda what's kept him alive, the Reactor in his chest a constant reminder of that. His brilliant mind is also what's kept his YSL wallet full. All in all, playboy genius is a lacking description in terms of the leagues this one man has bounded with technological advancement.
Which is why he was utterly confused at the fact that he couldn't think of a thing to say to the Asgardian Crown Prince, who was holding out to him a wailing child with the greenest eyes and tufts of pitch black hair. "That's not mine." Tony deadpanned, taking another sip of his coffee. His speechlessness obviously didn't last too long. See, Tony had been expecting to take this day to ignore everyone and everything. He'd even had a massage scheduled. Stark Industries was under the greatest care with Pep as the acting CEO. And the other Avengers were off having their own misadventures- Bruce off being green and terrible and Natasha slinking around in what was technically black body paint behind him. Those two really should have taken a page from the Cap and the Birdbrain. Their bliss was so sweet it could start up a new sort of diabetes. But none of that was supposed to be his concern. What he did not expect was for Hammerhead to come crashing through his house and breaking his things. He liked his things.
"Many apologies, Man of Iron. I hate to intrude on your home as I have done," Thor said, pieces of glass from the window the god dropped in through falling if only to accent the fact that this was a very inconvenient situation, "But, the current delima is not one of my expertise. Loki knew not what power he was drawing from the circlet he placed upon his head. The text regarding the wretched piece speak of the artifact bringing forth two great powers to bind them as one. My brother sought to use it to steal the power of our Father. Alas, he has failed and was rendered to this form." The big blonde strode forward, adjusting the tot who gurgled in appreciation of being held in the strong, warm arms.
Tony pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, placing his Tin Man branded mug on what was left of his coffee table. "That doesn't explain why there is a hole in my home, but I'll go with it. Where exactly do I fit into this whole equation?" he asked, lifting one well groomed eyebrow in the thunderer's direction. Thor innocently grinned, which usually meant chaos would ensue.
"Well, the Doctor and the Assassin are off on quests of their own,"
"Mhmm."
"And the Archer, Clint, and the Soldier are enjoying the beginnings of marital bliss,"
"Yup, yup."
"I figured you and your vast amount of intellect on Midgardian customs would serve me to better take care of my brother, along with the fact that you are quite fond of me, friend."
Tony coughed heavily, for his broad blonde comrade had hit that point on the head of a nail. It was true that Stark had stirrings for the aforementioned god. He didn't know whether it was the lush locks, the broad shoulders, or the fact that he'd restarted his heart. Either way, He was pining hard for the interstellar hero like a school girl in her prime. And what was said next could only be blamed for by the way Thor's eyes became much like a wet puppy's.
"Jarvis, have the guest room prepared for Thor and his...baby. Also, have catalogs of items for...er...toddlers(?) sent to my workstation. And can we get to work on these repairs?" The operating system, an Avenger in it's own right, wasted no time in replying. "Right away, sir," it chimed, the disembodied voice startling Thor for the thousandth time. Tony chuckled to himself. That never got old. "One more thing," the genius pondered, lifting a finger to his counterpart, "Exactly why isn't the trickster tot being taken care of by-" His question was cut short by the foriegn look in Thor's face. Even when the thunderer was on the brink of being defeated, he always looked as if he could take it on, rip throats out and sing of their valor afterwards. In that moment, Tony swore he could see uncertainty on Thor's brow, as if there was finally something that he truly feared. It was as if he could actually lose this time.
"Father ordered the execution of my Brother. I have stolen him away from such a fate and now I am a traitor for it... a traitor of the worst kind."
The hushed wailing of Loki were what woke the dark haired genius from the power nap he'd tried to have. It seemed that the "child" had been re-aged to to the point of a one year old, which meant things wouldn't be too hard on the odd couple. However, that did not take away from the constant attention that would be needed to be placed on him at all times, of course. Tony rose from bed and shuffled down the hallway, coming up to the guest room where the noises of distress had seemed to quiet down a bit. He opened the room door to find Thor clad in only sweatpants and a hair-tie to tame his flowing mane. While Tony prefered the god's usual valiant look, he couldn't help what the sight did for him. His eyes widened as he took in the rest of the room. Poor little Loki sat in the middle of the bed, gnawing the living hell out of the handle of Mjolnir.
Tony walked away from the two, holding in a snicker so hard the reactor in his chest might pop out. He was still concerned for the them. They were basically fugitives running from the one force who could harpoon them back to Asgard in an instant.
In fact, the only reason they weren't captured at this very moment was because Midgard was technically Thor's turf. Kudos to Point Break on that move, but what was the kicker was the fact that neither man knew if Loki had any remembrance of his days as a full fledged, mid-control scepter wielding adult. For the most part, the kid seemed rather innocent in this form, which was starting to pull at his already damaged heartstrings. The genius contemplated going back to sleep but trudged on down to his workstation. He was in desperate need of a distraction from the domesticated sex god prowling around in his home.
Frigga paced the chamber in which the trophies and spoils of war lay practically unattended. It was no wonder that her craftiest son had made it as far as to place the circlet, whose name was forgotten to all who drew breath, on his head. Then again, he may have been encouraged, if not coaxed to do so. She knew her actions would yield drastic results. None could understand the way some powers worked, as if with its own mind. Yet, it could never be said that she was a woman who never took huge risks, if not subtly. A smirk danced on her lips as she disappeared into the wind, leaving only the smell of apple blossoms and sunlight.
