So, I totally promised myself that I wouldn't put any Avengers fan fiction up until I at least started my Frostiron fic called Tick Tock… And then I watched the Incredibles, and Loki decided to be a troll and Tony wanted in on it too and then everything kind of just came together and made this lovely little one-shot. So, enjoy, lovies that follow me and fellow Frostiron-ers!
Disclaimer: I do not own The Avengers nor do I own The Incredibles. I wish I did. But I don't.
If the screams coming from outside Avenger Tower weren't clue enough that something in New York was terribly amiss, the giant explosion and resulting fireball certainly raised some red flags.
Tony scrambled up from his bar where he'd been minding his own business (pouring himself a drink at 10:30 in the morning) as lights began to flare and alarms sounded, knocking him over from the resulting combination of hangover and overload of noise.
"Dammit- JARVIS! Turn the alarms down a notch!"
"Certainly, sir." The sound pollution lowered to about 50%, allowing Tony to stagger back to his feet with the grace of an old drinking veteran, and finally hear Fury's harsh voice resonating over the comm. link.
"Stark, can you hear me? We need Iron Man out there, now. "
"What's the situation?"
"Doom's on a rampage."
Tony nearly stamped his foot in frustration. "Nicki Minaj, now is not the time to withhold information from me. I am halfway to drunk and already sporting the mother of all hangovers from last night's party. Give me something to work with."
There was a pause.
"Goddammit Stark, you're drunk at 10:30, on a Monday morning?!"
" Fury."
"Giant bowling ball robots," Clint's voice bled over Fury's swearing. "We don't have much more to work with than that. No weakness points, no obvious flaws in the armor, nothing." He sounded annoyed.
"Not even what they're made of?"
"... It looks like the same material as your armor. Have you been donating any helmets to your fans, lately?"
Tony proceeded to curse in Mandarin, Italian, and Spanish. "I'm on my way. JARVIS, collect data on any possible weaknesses in Doom's new toys and send me to the rendezvous point."
JARVIS made no response, but the AI didn't have to. Tony had programmed him well enough that he knew it wouldn't fail him.
The engineer lurched towards the lab where his suit would be, assembled and ready for action. Except, when he got there, it wasn't.
It wasn't even in the lab.
"Uh." Tony said eloquently. "Honey? Where's my super suit?"
"I put it away."
The silken voice coming from the entrance to his lab sent chills down his spine,- and not the nice ones- raising the hairs on the back of his neck. Muddled mind scrabbling for any kind of mental purchase, Tony slowly turned around to see Loki, Norse God of Mischief and Chaos, leaning against the doorframe as relaxed as you pleased, in full battle regalia.
"Well, you see Springbok, I kinda need it." Tony said numbly, suddenly hyperaware of his proximity to the window (stupid, stupid move to put a window there) and the Lie-smith's every move. Twenty possible outcomes that this situation could lead to immediately sprang to mind, making him wince with the visuals. None of them ended well. Damn his hangover, and damn Thor for starting that victory party last night after defeating Amora and her pet bodyguard, otherwise he would have already been flying high and dry outside and not worrying about when S.H.I.E.L.D's ranked second out of the top ten most wanted supervillains was going to send him on a one way trip down to the sidewalk. Again.
"And why is that?" The Trickster asked with feigned innocence, pushing himself away from the door casually. He stepped forward, and the engineer was instantly reminded of a nature show he had watched a few years ago; starring a panther, all sleek muscles and deadly intent, disguised by shining fur and keen eyes, stalking its prey. Loki was circling him now, as if prepping himself for the inevitable pounce. What on earth was the god up to this time?
Tony gestured toward the window (and regretted it instantly), and tried not to squirm. "If you haven't noticed, the, um, public is in danger. I'm kind of supposed to protect them. And stuff."
Loki's eyes glinted playfully. "Really, Stark, you ought to put your priorities in order. The public's danger couldn't hold a candle against the threat that my morning has received." He smirked.
Tony really couldn't think of anything to say at that point. The conversation had turned from terrifying to surreal in about 2.05 seconds, and he was beginning to wonder if Clint had somehow spiked his liquor with LSD.
I am so dreaming.
He cleared his throat. "Your morning?"
"Yes, Stark. I've been planning this for two months now, and by the Nine Realms, you won't be getting away from me."
At some point, Loki had stopped circling him like a horned shark, closing the distance between them until they were standing practically nose to nose, breathing the same air.
"JARVIS-" Tony started, trying to flinch away, although his inebriated mind was beginning to distract him with some new, very interesting ways this strange situation could go down.
"Oh, silly me." Loki smiled, his mouth a slash of white teeth against pale skin. "I forgot to tell you that I put him away, too."
The engineer sucked in a quick breath as Loki leaned forward just ever so slightly.
"We aren't really quoting The Incredibles, are we? "
The Trickster shrugged. "It was an enjoyable movie. The 'supervillain' was a touch drab, though." Loki's mouth moved towards his ear. "You Midgardians aren't terribly creative in that area." He sighed, cool air flowing into the other man's ear.
Something in Tony's brain (the part screaming no no no, no fraternizing with the enemy, you need to call for backup, DO NOT LET THE ZIPPER ON YOUR JEANS GO DOWN) broke then, and all he could think about was the blood suddenly rushing south that really shouldn't be rushing at all. "You aren't serious," he managed to croak through the hangover-and-arousal haze.
Loki drew back slightly, capturing him with poison green eyes glittering like broken glass.
"Oh, I'm quite serious. Would you like to know exactly how serious I am?"
"Well, not re-" Tony's attempted refusal was cut off by a pair of cold lips pressing against his, and by then he'd decided that he didn't really want to refuse at all. A wet tongue lightly coaxed his lips apart, and he obliged willingly, probing the Lie-smith's mouth almost eagerly in return.
And that's why they call him Silvertongue, Tony thought before the god's hips ground against his and all of his higher functions ceased to work.
The inventor bit down hard on Loki's bottom lip, before kissing his jawline and then his throat, biting and licking and sucking down on the white column of flesh, eliciting a slight moan of appreciation from the Trickster before he moved back up to his lips and-
Poof!
Loki's form wavered and collapsed into a bright green cloud of smoke, and the sudden lack of support had Tony nearly crashing to the ground for the second time that morning. The glimmering green smoke coalesced again, forming the words Mischief Managed in intricate swirls before bursting and dissipating into the air once more.
"... Who in the hell let Loki read Harry Potter?" He asked the room at length, absently wiping his lips.
Naturally, Steve chose that moment to run into the lab, in full, charred and tattered gear. "Tony! Are you ok?"
The engineer waved a hand, grimacing. "I think I've just been had." He gave Steve a once over. "You look like you've been thoroughly roasted and dressed for Christmas dinner, Capsicle. What's going on out there?"
"Well, it's all over- no thanks to you, by the way," Clint said, shouldering past the Captain and setting his smoking bow down on a table. "The robots had a weak spot after all. 'Tasha found out when she jumped into one, and it started stabbing itself. You know, I think Doom's starting to lose his creative streak, cause I swear those robots were like, straight out of The Incredibles. "
Tony laughed weakly. "You don't say! Anyone want a drink, because I sure could go for a drink right now." He moved to the bar, Barton and Rogers trailing curiously behind him.
Clint shrugged carelessly. "Sure, why not? As if I have anything on my schedule."
Steve, in contrast, frowned, looking concerned. "What happened, Tony? You look like you've seen a ghost."
Or a Norse god making out with me and then vanishing.
Clint was looking at Steve in askance. "Seriously, Rogers? Nobody says that except for old people and Scooby-Doo cartoons."
"You're joking!"
"Not even one bit, Cap."
Tony poured himself a glass of whiskey, drained it in one gulp, and listened to his teammates argue over American idioms. It was slowly beginning to sink in, what had just happened in his workroom, with- of all people- chaos incarnate.
This is gonna be one hell of a debriefing, he thought, pouring himself another glass.