.
The storm outside hasn't died down at all, despite having gone on for almost five hours now. Tony sits in the middle of the cave, huddled in both fur coats and leather shirts, and yet still shivering under it all.
Fandral's still pacing, his sword scraping over the ground as he walks and as he doesn't bother to pick it up, "And this," He says softly, either as a complaint to himself or as another rant to Tony again, "Is precisely why I despise Jotenheimr."
"What - " Tony starts, his teeth chattering, "Because of the weather, and not - not because of the huge and blue Giants that are actually trying to kill us out there?" Fandral crouches beside him with a sigh.
"Well," He drops his sword down and stretches his legs out, "That too, of course." He glances sideways at Tony, raising an eyebrow and, maybe, even looking a little concerned. Though, with these Asgardians, it's a little hard to tell sometimes.
"You know," Tony bites down on the inside of his cheeks, trying to stop his teeth from clacking together, "When I said that I wanted to tag along for a fight, this ... isn't exactly what I meant." Fandral huffs out a laugh next to him, running a hand down over his beard.
At first it had been a thrill. Coming here to reclaim something special, or whatever, that had been stolen - he hadn't really listened to the details as he'd just had a bit of a sarcasm-battle with Natasha beforehand and had been fuming over her insults, before agreeing to go and let off a little steam - and the Jotuns had clearly been expecting them as they'd had an ambush waiting.
Tony had fought well, had held his own, but his armor still doesn't exactly work well in the cold, as per usual, and though he's worked out most the kinks to do with all the ice and so on, some of the hydraulics still kind of go - rigid - whenever he's somewhere that's below freezing.
Now, however, his armor is currently in pieces and dumped in the corner of the cave that they're in. The storm had started when the seven of them had been retreating - Thor, Sif, Volstagg, Fandral, Hogun, Loki and him, and it hasn't stopped since then. They'd all gotten separated and, to be honest, he's more worried about the others actually - seeing as they're stuck with Loki as well as being trapped in the storm.
Because, though he's supposed to be "redeemed" now, he's still a crude son of a bitch in Tony's eyes.
"You're shivering." Fandral states, suddenly, drawing Tony out of his thoughts, "Are you truly that cold, still?" Yes. Yes he is. He shouldn't be, he's already wearing the coat that Sif had given him before, when his armor had been torn apart and they'd been running for their lives, plus the coat that Fandral had just dropped over his shoulders when passing - but he's still shaking uncontrollably; hugging himself tight.
"Yeah." He says, hating how quiet he sounds. He already feels like a child whenever he's near the Asgardians but here, and now, he suddenly feels a little more vulnerable instead. Which is weird, seeing as he's with Fandral and not one of the others, like Sif. Fandral, compared to the others, is actually a little nice. Volstagg seems jolly but he's way too 'touchy-feely' for Tony's tastes and he comments on everything - even when it's absolutely nothing to do with him - it's infuriating.
Sif's very aloof, really, and though she tries to be very welcoming to Thor's new 'friends', she's a little shortcoming with it and very reserved. It's hard to have a conversation with her, and he still doesn't understand how she and Clint literally just hit it off.
They have nothing in common, how does it even work?
Hogun is cool. But again - conversations? Boring. And Thor's Thor, and Loki's Loki. So, yeah, when comparing them all together, if there was anyone that he'd rather be trapped with, it would have to be Fandral.
That is, until, he suddenly feels two broad arms wrapping themselves around his shoulders and pulling him backward into an armor-plated chest. Um. "What are you doing?"
"Holding you."
"Yeah, I got that. My question is, why."
Fandral shrugs with a single shoulder, "Well. I highly doubt that Thor will appreciate me allowing one of his Midgardians to freeze." Tony squirms, glaring at the hail of snow and ice in front of them both.
"'His' Midgardians, come on. Alright, I'll - I'll give you that we're not exactly as rock-hard and immortal as the rest of you, but we're - perfectly able to live alone as individuals, thank you." There's the slightly weird sensation of shaking behind him as Fandral chuckles to himself at Tony's answer, "And anyway. I was stuck in a cave for 3 months, once, and the nights get pretty cold there too. Or, really, try a lot, so I'll be fine."
"Ah, but these are the caves of Jotenheimr." Fandral says softly, leaning forward and it's really only because he's so freaking warm that Tony doesn't elbow him away. Bad impression, he knows, but right now, it's either let him do what he wants, or get pneumonia. Yeah. Great options, "You'd not survive a night in one without a fire, at least."
"Well," Tony says brightly, burrowing further under the furs when the wind picks up, "Good thing we've got you then Warrior-Boy, light one up." Fandral pulls away from him and does just that - not even complaining at all. Huh.
There's then a moment of silence, with nothing but the wind and the rustle of fur filling it, before -
"The Lady Natasha," Fandral says, kicking at whatever it is that he's found to use and ripping away at some of the fur on the back of Tony's coats, "Is she always so ... fierce?"
Tony grins at him, "I really wouldn't think about it, if I were you." That gets yet another laugh, and he's starting to think that maybe Asgardians are a little dull after all, because his jokes aren't even on top form just yet, he's not exactly being witty or snarky, and yet Fandral's cracking like it's comedy night.
But then, Food, War and Jotuns isn't exactly riveting conversation, so - yeah. Fandral probably does get bored, looking at him. Tony would.
"And what of you, then?"
Ah-kay. So that's how he passes the time. Good to know early on, he guesses - very important little tidbit of information to get, when stuck inside a cave with a hunk of Asgardian man for god-knows how long, "Are you as fierce? I did overhear you speaking with her, before, actually. It seemed very - ah - " He pauses, looking a little lost or, maybe, trying to be considerate. Who knows.
But he's made a fire now, at least, and that's good.
Tony shifts forward, warming his hands, "Bitchy, is the word you're looking for big guy." Fandral nods but doesn't otherwise acknowledge that, "And yeah, I guess you could call me that. Does Thor?"
Fandral smiles over at him, spreading his legs around the fire and sighing, "The only word that I have ever bothered to recall Thor using, when speaking of you, is 'little'."
Tony blinks, "Come again?"
"Not very flattering, is it."
"Not even a little."
Fandral tilts his head back, lowering himself down until he's lying just curled on his side around the fire, "What, are you seriously going to sleep right now?"
"The Jotun will not venture out in a storm and we've naught to do until it ends. Why not."
Tony raises his eyebrows but shrugs, shuffling closer toward the fire and Fandral and curling up as well. He feels a little ridiculous with all this fur, but again, he's cold, and he really doesn't care right now.
Fandral hums, stretching out, and looking over at him. There's a glint in his eyes that he recognizes, and he suddenly knows what's coming next, "You should join me." Fandral suggests, lightly, casually, and Jesus, Tony can't help it. He barks out a laugh, rolling over onto his stomach and resting his chin on his folded arms; giving him a look. Fandral smiles at him, innocently, "What? 'Tis a perfectly natural thing to say - you are cold and, contrastingly, I ... am not." His smile widens, and goddammit, the gold of his hair's shining in the fire and Tony's always had a thing for blonds, "Join me."
"To sleep?" Tony asks, one last check, and the smirk that he gets next is so self-confident that he actually needs to remind himself to change his when he gets back home - because someone has just stolen it, "Alright then." Fandral looks surprised, almost like he's used to people getting either outraged or hesitant when asked - like Tony most days - but his surprise melts away when Tony doesn't even bother getting up and just rolls again, until he can nestle against his chest, "Just don't spoon."
The look on his face, at that, is actually a little cute Tony'll admit - come on, confusion over little mortal-slang will never get old - but when he opens his mouth to either laugh or comment on it, Fandral takes that opportunity and kisses him.
It's open mouthed, hot and heady and he's pushed onto his back almost immediately; Fandral hovering over him. Tony pulls away, breathing out over Fandral's beard, "Woo. You move fast, don't you."
He's kissed again and this time, he's a little more active about it. Fandral pushes at his shoulders, armor digging in and the coats are pushed away. Tony whines, trying to grab at it and pulling back just enough to say, "No, I'm still fucking cold, give me - mm." God, he's so warm. How do Asgardians do that? He's going to take blood samples, and he's going to make little pills for all the old people that complain about being permanently cold, and maybe even some stuff for people in shock or something, he could do that, he could -
There's a hand creeping up the inside of his thigh and he spreads them to give it a little easier access, "Experienced, then," Fandral comments, husky and a little patronizing right now, actually - so scarily similar to the first guy that Tony had ever been with - just after he'd graduated. "Thor had said that you would - "
"Oh no, please, do not mention other people during sex, please, it really puts the mood off." They're moving fast, no foreplay or anything, just moving and just getting to the sex, and isn't that fantastic? A man after Tony's own heart. After all, the playing around is usually mostly just there to entice and soothe newbies or romantics, but here, he's pretty sure neither comes into play.
So just move it along.
Fuck, he doesn't even know this guy, not really. But he's just his type. Excluding the alien thing.
Fandral fumbles with the tiny little buttons on Tony's shirt, tugs at them when they won't slide through their holes and Tony takes them from him with a smile and undoes them himself in a few seconds. And then there are hands running down his chest, and yes, so warm ...
The fur is laid out on the ground beside Tony's head and he's just about to ask for it back when Fandral lifts him - curls a hand under his knees and another at his shoulders, and pulls him up - placing him down over the coats until they can both get a little more comfortable.
Tony cards a hand through his hair, tugging him down and biting on his lip. Fandral laughs against his mouth, clearly surprised by everything that Tony's doing, and okay, that at least makes him feel good. Because playboy he may be, but he's still just a mortal. Fandral's been alive for a whole lot longer than he has, and has probably had so much more experience when compared.
"Are you still cold?" Tony grunts, rolling his hips up and hissing when Fandral's beard rubs against his neck.
"Stop and chat, and I will be again." He says, breathless and yet, still him. He can take control, Asgardian or not, he's got his own tricks up his sleeve, "You'd better have some oil hidden in your sword."
"I'm afraid not." Fandral sighs, rutting against Tony and just quickly, incredibly unceremoniously, tugging his slacks down enough to free his cock. Tony doesn't have to glance down to see it's size. He already knows, has already guessed, and it's not like the guy's got a reputation for nothing.
"You're not getting in me then." He warns, but Fandral just presses his face against Tony's neck and nods. And, right now, it's actually a little weird to think about what sort of conversation they'd be having if Tony still had his arc reactor, but he doesn't, and Fandral's warm, and hot, and he doesn't care if he's not getting fucked, this is good.
And then Fandral's fingers are pulling at Tony's jeans. He'd not exactly been dressed for battle, he had his suit for that, but now he's glad that he'd not changed. His tailored trousers are a little harder to slide down.
He jerks when Fandral's hand finds his cock and he tilts his hips up to meet it immediately afterward, recovering quickly enough. He returns the favor and smiles bitingly sharp when Fandral's breath hitches as he tightens his fist around him.
They move like that, together, and gradually get a little sticky with sweat and the warmth of their two bodies mixes and spreads until they're both nice and toasty. Fur clings to Tony's bare arms and the back of his neck and legs, but compared to what it would be if they were on the rocks, he really doesn't care enough to complain.
Fandral moves faster above him, groaning when Tony's other hand fumbles with his balls and, wow, he actually is huge.
"You've got to fuck me sometime." He says, bluntly. And, okay, maybe he regrets saying that aloud for a second, but then Fandral kisses him in reply, and, hey. He agrees, at least. "Preferably on a bed, with some lube, or oil, and some fucking blankets because that wind is starting to piss me off."
"The storm will pass." Fandral assures him, licking into his mouth, and then he's groaning a little louder and Tony can feel that warm and sticky mess stream out between his fingers. He resists the urge to make a show and lick it clean, because again, he doesn't really know this guy aside from a few conversations and greetings, so instead, he wipes it over his jeans and hisses when Fandral decides to focus more on him now.
Tony comes with a bitten off cry, arching his back and flashing his eyes wide open before gradually lowering himself back down and moaning against the fur at the aftershocks.
Fandral doesn't waste the warmth that they'd both built up together and wraps them both tight in the coats before the cold can take it away. Tony's pressed against him and it's warm and comfortable, and they're spooning - Oh for God's sake - but it's finally at an easy enough temperature to sleep now.
And he doesn't care.
The wind picks up just a little again, whistles and moans, and Tony shuts his eyes. He falls asleep lazily tugging at Fandral's cock.
.
.
Morning allows Tony to wake up to the same hot and sticky mess of man that he'd fallen asleep with, and he groans, shutting his eyes again. At least, he wants to, but the shadow that passes over his face sort of snaps him awake. Especially when he recognizes those boots.
"That." Loki says. With feeling, "Is disgusting."
Fandral stirs behind Tony before shouting out when his clothes are thrown at his head.
"Get up and get dressed, Fandral, we're returning home." He leaves without another comment, sparing an almost appraising look at Tony before disappearing out past the mouth of the cave. The storm's stopped, then. And Thor's decided to make them all head back. Good.
Fandral groans and rolls out of the coats, standing up slowly and putting back on whatever pieces of clothing that he had actually taken off last night. Tony does the same, but he stays where he is, as all he really needs to do is button up and tug up.
He takes the hand that helps him stand, though, and straightens everything that's completely creased and dirty anyway. It's so obvious, he's almost cringing at it.
"I've a bed that's now waiting, I believe." Fandral states, gesturing that Tony walk in front, and this time, Tony doesn't give him a look and simply hums and nods.
"Yeah. An ass, that's waiting too, if you think about it Warrior-boy."
Fandral's laugh is so genuine, that Tony can't quite make himself roll his eyes at it.
So, instead, he just smiles back and lets Fandral place a hand on his hip.
Let the rest of them look.
He doesn't care.
.