Blame it on the Rain
by: Endlessdaydreaming
My first FrostIron. Just a really short one-shot that will possibly be a longer one should it be okay enough. So do tell me what you think.
Inspired by: Blame It On The Rain by He Is We
Love, like rain, comes and goes. Sometimes, you walk underneath it, skipping over puddles and hurrying along life's way. Other times, you become drenched in it without an umbrella to protect you – vulnerable, unprepared, and trapped. Once you're caught in that downpour, that heart-first-head-later kind of love, there's no turning back. And you stand there shivering, either wishing the feeling would never end or cursing the name of the very person you think of every time it rains.
Unfortunately for Tony Stark, he was stuck with the cursing end of the deal.
"Jarvis, remind me to build something that would stop it from ever raining ever again," Tony called out. With one hand on a coffee mug, he narrowed his eyes at the drops of water sliding down his glass panels, the stormy clouds outside further darkening his mood. "In fact, put it in my number one to-do-list."
"Then I suggest you start working on it now, Sir," Jarvis answered.
Tony threw one last glare at the rain-drenched view of the city before turning around to head to the kicthen in order to fix himself breakfast. "It was a rhetorical statement, Jarvis. Otherwise known as a joke. You're getting rusty there, pal."
And then he felt it. That dreaded presence that always came whenever it rained.
And then it spoke.
"I suggest you channel out your sourly mood elsewhere, Stark."
Tony's shoulder tensed. He slowly laid the mug of coffee down on the counter. He could feel the hairs on his neck bristle, his fingers twitching, and his heartbeat drumming like crazy.
He hated being drenched by the rain, simply because he hated the feelings that came with it. He was Tony Stark, for god's sake - billionare, inventor, genius, god's gift to humanity. But in moments like these, he felt like he was none of those. He felt like he was shit incarnate.
Taking a deep breath, he continued to make his breakfast. He walked over to the fridge, cursing his knees silently for feeling all wobbly. He was thinking of what to say, something witty and awesome like all the words that came out of his mouth, when Jarvis – as always – had to ruin the moment.
"Sir, Mr. Loki Laufeyson is in the building."
Sighing, Tony opened the fridge and tried to think of a breakfast that involved carrots.
Because he just had to use carrots.
"Yes, Jarvis. I know. Better late than never," he said in a falsely chipper tone, indicating sarcasm. He couldn't think of anything to make with carrots, so he just pulled out one whole stalk of them and laid them out on the counter. If he had to blend the carrots and drink them, then so be it.
"Ignoring me now, Stark?" Loki said, amused. He dusted off his pants and gracefully sat himself on one of the plush couches of Stark Mansion. "And carrots, too? How boorishly immature."
"What, so you can like leather and I can't like carrots?" Tony said indignantly, pulling the carrots in a chopping board and cutting them up with a knife far too fast for his own good.
Loki laughed, his voice sending shivers down Tony' s spine. Despite himself, Tony felt his hand slip.
"Fuck," he cursed, dropping the knife to inspect his bleeding finger.
Without even the blink of an eye, Loki was beside him, his impossibly long, pale fingers on Tony's. His fingers are cold but warm, and the contrast drives Tony crazy - just like everything else about Loki Laufeyson.
Tony looked at Loki, who in turn is focused on the wound, examining it. His eyes are the deepest blue, but also the brightest green. Tony had never gotten to decide which color described Loki's eyes the best. His dark hair falls over one eye as he bends over to look at the wound closer, and Tony curseed him once again for being gorgeously indescribable.
"Are you going to simply ogle me the entire time, Stark?" Tony drawled, his lip quirking to hide a smile.
As if he was slapped, Tony came to his senses. He pulled his hand away, taking a step back from Loki. "What are you doing here?"
Loki didn't answer. He simply kept his eyes trained on Tony. His simple white button down shirt and leather pants were strking on him, and were much better compared to his typical Asgardian armor -
as Tony had told him a billion times.
And maybe that's why he came here wearing what Tony loves to see him in. Just to screw with his head.
Tony stared back, his eyes screaming what his mouth cannot. When Loki stepped closer, his hands spread out slightly in invitation – no, in question – Tony flinched; he doesn't step away, however, and simply swallowed hard, trying to make the words come out of his mouth.
"I thought we were over," Tony managed to choke out.
Loki smiled. He smiled that smile of his that would make Tony drop everything and anything just for him.
And that's why Tony hated being drenched by the rain. That's why Tony hated the rain.
"But here I am," Loki said, his arms still open.
Despite everything that happened, despite the fact that he could not have Loki, despite the fact that he would never have Loki, despite so many other facts, Tony stepped into Loki's arms and cleched Loki's shirt with his hands, burying his head into the crook of the taller man's shoulder. He breathed him in deeply, memorizing his scent of apples and cinnamon, trying to take in as much of Loki Laufeyson as he can.
Tony wouldn't see him again until the next time it rained. And even if Loki was married now in Asgard, and had a family of his own, and -
He just couldn't have Loki. Ever.
"Screw you," Tony said, his voice cracking. He buried his head deeper into Loki.
Loki slipped a hand into Tony's hair, caressing it. "Don't cry."
"I fucking hate the rain," Tony sniffed.
"It's the only time I get to visit you," Loki says, pulling Tony in closer.
"Stop doing this to me. Please. Let me live," Tony says, his words getting messed up in his throat.
"Please stop crying," Loki whispers.
"Please love me," Tony sobs.
"I can't," Loki breathes out.
"Then leave me alone," Tony shouts, the tears choking him.
"I can't. Please stop crying, Tony. Please."
"Blame it on the fucking rain."
And that is the end. Some stories start with "Once Upon A Time." Some unique ones start with "Happily Ever After." But this story starts with the end. There is no Happily Ever After, because sometimes, as much as we like to think that we all have our Happy Endings, we cannot always have them. And so this story starts with the end.
Until the next time it rains.