Title: I've got Friends in Low Places
Author: Ash Gray Kitsune
Fandom: Avengers Movieverse
Chapters: 1/?
Pairings: FrostIron
Warnings: Some PTSD mentions, and some sexual torture. Don't worry, Tony and Loki both don't take that crap. :D
Disclaimer: I do not own Marvel's The Avengers, nor do I make any profit off of it.
Tony Stark was no stranger to being kidnapped.
He had, at last count, roughly a hundred and twenty-seven kidnappings under his belt...but only one still gave him nightmares. He tapped the soft blue circle on his chest, face a mask as he stared out over the press room and saw sweeping golden sands instead...covering the dark, dangerous caverns that had hidden the terrorist group so effectively. Rough, calloused fingers, lined permanently with residual oil, dug into the reactor's edge for a moment, and he took a shaky breath, blinking rapidly to clear his vision enough to register Pepper's soft voice in the background. She was talking to...Phil. Right. Yeah. Because Tony was the one who did all the Avengers press now...a hand touched his shoulder, slim and pale, and he turned, fake smile plastered on.
To his relief, it must have reached his eyes; Pep returned it and motioned for him to lead the way, his cue cards in her other hand.
"Ready, Tony?"
"As ever, Pep..." The speech lasted way too long, and he occupied his brain with redesigning Hawkeye's grappling arrows while Coulson and Pepper answered the questions, then moved on to fixing Thor's tablet...Finally, Coulson ended the conference and Tony was allowed to flee back to his Tower, his workshop, and his blessed couch, nursing a cup of black coffee and a smoothie from Dummy's still mostly incapable claws. He sighed and turned down the lights.
"Jarvis, make sure no one comes down?"
"Of course, sir; what might I tell any interested parties?"
"That Stark's napping and needs some alone time. Might as well be truthful, otherwise Barton and Romanoff will be down here poking around."
"Of course, sir. Sleep well. I'll keep Dummy at his charging station."
"Nah, he's fine. He's...just doing what we ask him to do."
"...Of course, sir. Rest well; I'll alert you if a call comes in."
"Thanks, Jarvis." The lullaby of wires humming and Dummy's wheels rolling over the floor was just enough; he slipped into a deep sleep, pausing only long enough to pull a blanket over his shoulders.
...
A sharp pain, alarms going off, red lights flashing...he swung, groggily, and fell into arms that weren't nearly as comforting as his couch, and there was a screech, a furious scrabbling on the concrete floor...and Tony was gone.
...
The chains were the first thing that woke him; tight steel bands on his wrists and neck, holding him to the ground, and Tony jerked, chocolate eyes going wide and frightened as he fought, only for a sharp poke to his side make him crouch back down, panting like a wounded animal as he turned...face to foot with familiar pale skin and black leather pants, though those were the only clothing Loki was wearing, his long torso covered in bruises. The mage was chained up to the ceiling, barely able to touch the floor as his arms were stretched above his head...the same bridle he had worn back to Asgard still on his mouth, though the metal was heavily pitted and dented.
Dark green eyes, half-mad in pain and desperation, narrowed at him, but flickered behind his right shoulder, staring long and hard at the doorway there. He lifted his chin, as if to say that Tony should look as well, and cautiously, the engineer turned, brown eyes analyzing everything he could see. The door was enormous, and definitely a steel-alloy; the soft play of blue over the surface from his reactor showed that in the way the light twisted, and if there were hinges, they were on the other side, or hidden in the casing, because he couldn't see anyway of getting it open from this side. No handle, no lock mechanism...nothing. The walls were just as solid, and tiny, far away clerestory windows glowed above, a good twelve feet away...and he swore, long but soft, and glanced back at the mage.
"How long have you been here?" The same foot that had poked him tapped on the floor, once, twice...thirty times, and Tony stared up at him, aghast. "Fuck...and...no one's come looking?" A disgruntled rumble from Loki's chest answered him that, and Tony closed his eyes, swallowing.
"...Did they torture you the whole time." A pained sigh, and those eerie eyes softened, just a little as Loki nodded.
"Fuck...how'd you...how'd you get caught?" Another rumble, and his foot tapped again, this time using a code that Tony was far too familiar with. Morse...thank god for Morse code. Escaped. Went to wrong help. Foolish.
"...Thor must never have been told, then, because last I knew, he thought you were serving penance."
Father would not tell.
"Sounds like my old man..." Green eyes darkened.
Fathers do not care.
"...Sometimes they don't. Look, I...I'm not letting this happen. You wanna bust out?"
Yes.
"Good...they leave any metal on you?"
...Pockets. Coin?
"That'll work...Fuck, yes, they didn't search my pants...Don't ask, just let me know if anything happens..." Tony set to work on the tiny kit of lock picks that he sewed into every single pair of pants he owned, ripping threads with his nails as he pried it out, one bit at a time. Each hem, each seam had a tiny bit of something hidden in it; his suit jackets and ties usually had equally useful extras, but his pants were the big ones. Of course, he hadn't been wearing his shoes...he cursed himself that, knowing that the miniature trackers in each heel would have had Jarvis zoomed in on him in minutes.
A faint click made his heartbeat skip a little, and the one on his left wrist fell away, landing with a soft clank. Its sibling followed, and he had to work for a bit to get the one around his neck; the lock was on the back of the neck. Thankfully, that was easy enough, too, and he rubbed his neck, wincing, before standing up and reaching for Loki's chains...only to realize that he couldn't quite reach.
"Fuck." Soft taps drew his attention downwards.
Use body. Climb up. As if to reiterate, he wound his long fingers into the chains themselves, and with a pained grunt, lifted his weight, muscles quivering, and Tony squirreled up his torso, inwardly blessing Clint for the climbing lessons just the other week, and worked each manacle loose. He dropped in a crouch and caught the suddenly limp mage, gently leaning Loki's weight onto the wall and reached for the bridle...only for a frighteningly strong hand to close on his wrist in warning. Instead, Loki undid the snaps by the simple expedient of ripping it off, biting off a howl of pain as he spat blood to the side, panting.
"...I bloody well hate that damn thing." He snarled, tossing it across the cell.
A/N: Some FrostIron/kidnapping to make you all happy. The Winter Soldier...is taking a hiatus, because of NaNoWriMo coming up, and little spare time to agonize over it. So, DRABBLE FICS! This one will be a few chapters, but short and sweet.