A/N: Belated Christmas story which I didn't finish over the holidays. At least it's up the same year yet. May I please have some reviews as belated Christmas presents?
Disclaimer: Still Marvel's, not mine, even though I asked Father Christmas for Loki repeatedly.
suggested music: "Expensive Being Poor" by TV Smith, or "Frohes Fest" by Die Toten Hosen
Reindeer Games
The attachment showed Pinky and The Brain. The speech bubbles read:
„What are we going to do tomorrow?"
„The same we do every day: We try to take over the world. But first, we'll join the Massachusetts Institute of Technology Christmas celebration."
Tony contemplated it. Seeing the alumni once again. Party with like-minded guys, not all those shallow playmates and celebrities. Watch 'The Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy' and drink pan-galactic gargle blaster at midnight. What would Rhodey use as special ingredient this time, he wondered.
They'd been through tabasco, salt and crème de menthe. Tony could swear there once had been hair conditioner in it, even though the bar crew all denied it. Could they perhaps even revive the Beta Delta Sigma Mu fraternity, or were too many spoken for? That would be such fun. Maybe he should bring a professional.
In any case, it was high time to get in touch with younger scientists again. Stark Industries needed the brightest minds and all the fresh ideas. Human resources always only brought in defectors from Hammer Industries, who really weren't all that skilled, or political refugees from Latveria, well trained but too cowed to propose anything groundbreaking.
On the other hand, there was this charity event Pepper had scheduled, in one of the malls he now owned. Some medium-sizend business consortium had fumbled with bids on a city plot or something, resulting in that he now owned them.
Pep insisted diversification was a good thing, but really – malls? Crowded labyrithic places selling trash nobody needed, staffed with pesky shop assistants who had no idea how all the gadgets they'd try to force upon you worked.
Nonetheless, the press would expect him to show his face in the nearest of his malls. To play Santa for poor children, handing out cheap toys, sticky tasteless sweets and maybe some of these brain-frying shooter games.
Pep had tried to bribe him with the burgers and shawarma he could have there after the event. Stark tower was mostly vegetarian these days, since the Asgardians had moved in. Apparently, food up there in wonderland consisted of pork roast with ham and sausages day in, day out all year, since that was all the Sæhrímnir food replication system could produce. After centuries of that, it was no wonder Thor fell upon non-meat food from poptarts to gherkin like a starving grizzly.
'Do your civic duty, Tony!' - as if Howard had risen from the grave. Now Tony understood why Thor spent so much time down here, if Ohdear was the same, or Friggid. But he was Tony Stark the Iron Man, business owner, pushed around by no-one. He'd do as he pleased.
„Jarvis? Wake me before noon tomorrow and have the Mark 7 polished. I'll fly to Cambridge; can't risk one of the Lamborghinis on the road in this weather. Cancel all afternoon events and everything the day after but don't tell Pepper before I'm on my way. And have Happy pick me up for the back ride in case I'll be too drunk to fly. Unlikely. Well, better on the safe side, right?"
„Very well sir. May I suggest sending the Odinsson brothers to the mall in your stead? Mr Thor enjoys public events."
Yeah, that he did. And Loki needed more good deeds. And he'd hate to be on display. The costume, too. Not to mention the children. Jarvis knew it, Tony knew it. Neither had forgiven the defenestration yet. They chuckled in predated schadenfreude. Let the ex-villain pick up the slack; party, here I come! He clicked the e-mail shut.
„Brother! Where did you get that stag from? Are there hunting grounds nearby this city after all?"
„You know me, Thor – teleportation, skywalking … Some herdsmen in this realm hire their livestock out for the festivities. And don't you harm the antlered fellow! I'll have to return him whole and hale, or some people would be sorely disappointed."
Antlers? Stag? Tony's head still swam. Why was he looking at Loki's leather-clad ass while standing anyway? Wasn't he standing? He wanted to ask Jarvis to send Dummy with an Alka-Seltzer. Out came a grunt, on second try a bleat.
The god of evil … mischief … nasty smugly grinning bastard cat-ate-canary mad Joker turned around, patting his shoulder. Withers. Whut?
„There, there, my friend, don't fret. Uncle Loki will care well for you. There will be water, and a bale of hay ..."
Tony stood stock-still with shock. So this was not a dream? That shimmer of magic, the vague nausea, bones stretching … Maybe instructing Jarvis only to play AC/DC whenever Reindeer Games requested music had not been the best of ideas after all. At least not after the third warning.
„Brother are you sure we should ..."
„Of course, Thor. See here how he hardly moves? A docile one, he is. He will be perfect with the children, giving them rides and all, you'll see."
„Or else." the god of bearing grudges whispered into Tony's ear. Minding the antlers, naturally.
Hell. Living hell. Not for Thor – Point Break was having fun allright, even with a fake white beard and wearing robe and Santa cap (strangely, both dull grey), bouncing one child after the other on his knee, handing them sweets and pre-wrapped packages if they promised to be good and slay all Dark Elves or some rotten such.
Tony himself was hot, and thirsty. Hay and water, great; he'd be damned before he'd drink plain stupid water, from the cleaning lady's bucket no less. But he couldn't get away, even if the worst god ever (currently glamoured green with pointy ears, featuring as Christmas Elf) had not tethered him to the handrail.
No point in breaking free if you still need to be turned back into your normal pleasing self. Being a reindeer sucked. Wearing a blinking plastic nose upon your nostrils sucked big time. At least it wasn't red, and not very bright.
„Poor Rudy! That is downright cruel!" A girl-child's voice.
„Calm down, it's not so bad. Deer can't see the colour red. He ..." and now the bespectacled boy bent down to take a peek under Tony's hind legs, much to the ungulate's embarrassment. At least he didn't need to pee yet. One more reason not to partake of the water. As tempting as it was to pee on Space Smurf's boots, but in front of all people?
„Yeah, it's a he. He pro'ly barely notices his nose blinks. Hunters wear those orange vests, you know, and the elk and moose don't notice them."
So that was why Thor's robe looked grey. Come to think of it, all of the decorations around appeared devoid of shades of red.
„Of course it's a 'he' – he has antlers. Only bucks have antlers." The skinny dark-haired girl spoke up.
„No, with reindeer, males and females both have antlers. And it's 'stags', not 'bucks'."
„Okay."
A plump, dark-skinned girl joined them. Despite the winter weather, she was in leggings and old worn-out sneakers. „Hey, simple logic: Management would never hire a girl-deer, right? This is Stark Mall now. Only the best for Uncle Scrooge, and if they have to fly in a reindeer-stag, yes Timmy, from Canada. I wanna know what that cost. Mom's still on minimum wage. At least she gets the hours now."
Hours? They had to work overtime this time of year. Paid overtime of course, unlike some self-employed inventors with a business to run besides and 24/7 save-the-world on-call duty. Tony snorted. That drew the childrens' attention back to him, talking nearly all at once.
„Maybe he's ill?"
„Poor Rudolph."
„Can he even reach the water?"
„Or maybe it's too hot in here?"
Hot, it was. Like a sauna. Not much longer and he'd give in and drink the washwater after all.
„Sure. Now that you mention it: Reindeer have extremely warm fur, for land mammals. Still superior to high tech gear. The Chukchi people in Siberia ..."
„Mebbe we should feed him a popsicle?"
„You do that. I'm broke. Mom's still paying off the propane bill. We're booked for charity Christmas dinner at the church."
„Oh shit. Still living in your grampa's trailer?"
„Yeah and he's really losing it. Tried to shoot the neighbour's dog last week, talks about Aliens and Taleban all of the time. We filled out all the forms for vets' care but he won't sign them; he says he's fine. Mom's gonna have a breakdown before New Year, I bet."
„Hey we could threaten to sue them for cruelty to animals, then drop the charges if they pay you some. I mean look at him, he's not that well. Win-win."
Tony couldn't agree more. Wait, what? Was he mentally supporting these childrens' plan to sue himself out of some big bucks – stags … popsicle … what? Dzzzz. Dizzy. So hot here. He buried his muzzle in the bucket after all.
The blinking snout device short-circuited, zapping him; he jerked. As he could have predicted, but he didn't care. Blessedly cool water! No matter what it tasted like. As good as back then in the desert in Afghanistan.
Outraged voices brought him back to the present. Animal cruelty, underwool, insulation, hell yeah. Peter Pan sauntered over.
„Normally the airstream cools him."
„Don't tell us reindeer fly, mister. We are not little children anymore."
„Upon my honour: This one does. Well, anyway, not currently."
The Elf of Mischief eyed him up. „But you kids can feed him if you like. That grocery over there – just tell them it's for me and on the house; bring what you think appropriate."