So hello everyone, thanks for coming! This story is supposed to be pure humor and is my first of the kind so let me know what you think. No clue if any of the parts are actually that funny or not. It's a oneshot but there could always be more.
I do not own the Avengers or Marvel or whatever. I own a dog...does that count?
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There was screaming in Stark Tower.
It was really Avengers Tower now, but Tony never had shaken the old name from his head. It just had a certain . . . ring to it. Either way, whichever Tower it was, there was yelling and it was way too loud for this early in the morning. He was no pious man by any stretch, but for chrissakes, it was Sunday (morning?)
Tony rolled over and looked at the bedside clock. 2:06pm. Whatever. Still too early for this shit.
Even with the room pitching when he hauled himself from the mattress, Tony refused to admit to himself that the painful intensity of said noises might have had something to do with his post-intoxicated state. He shuffled down the hall from his rooms, and blindly smacked a cluster of buttons on the elevator. The ones he actually pushed were Floors 47, 48, and 52, when in reality the penthouse kitchen and lounge was just above him, on Floor 91. Jarvis, fortunately, seemed to know where the coffee was, so to Floor 91 the elevator went anyways.
Another crash sounded, perfectly in-sync with the elevator's all-but-pleasant ding, and it reverberated throughout his skull. The doors parted, letting the sun-filled afternoon pour in on him, and he recoiled like a vampire. Jarvis closed the shades immediately, so no one saw the storm clouds gathering.
What a month he'd had, he thought through the blind-blue spots. Loki was here, Stark Industries was swamped in presentations for energy conferences, and one of his reception staff had quit to boot. At least last night must have been fun.
The first thing he saw when his vision returned was Steve, somehow making a sandwich whilst diligently transcribing intel relayed to him over a phone into his notebook. Tony sauntered over to the counter and asked what was for breakfast.
"This is lunch," Steve said matter-of-factly, "and we've got other stuff to deal with." A bellow echoed from down the hall, right on cue.
Tony took a pickle off of Steve's open sandwich without asking and popped it into his mouth. "Any idea where a guy can get some coffee around here?" he muttered, leaning over the counter. Just as a machine requires fuel before performing a strenuous task, Tony Stark required coffee before he could even think about what was going on down the hall. He suspected it had something to do with whatever had transpired last night in his, er, absence, as these things almost always did, but it wasn't like he was going to ask. Not Jarvis, either – Jarvis always knew the dirt, but would announce it so loudly those involved would know Tony'd dug for it.
"Oh, sure, loads of it," Bruce piped up. Tony hadn't noticed him before, but his friend was seated in an armchair buried in a Zen book, clad in a lab coat and fresh as a damn daisy. "Thor decided to make about fifteen gallons at six this morning." Indeed, several containers of milk, pitchers of lemonade, and, yes, bottles of Bruce's Herbal Relaxation Tea had been nobly sacrificed to store the results of what had to have been some grave brewing miscalculation on Thor's part.
Bruce turned back to his book, shutting out the world for its own safety at this point. Someone was eventually going to have to get between the two demigods going at it in the other room, and it sure as hell wasn't going to be him. He hoped it wouldn't have to be the Other Guy.
In his search for answers Tony turned to the two superspies playing Halo from the couch. There was an inexplicable rift between them; they'd spoken even less than usual. Natasha was beating Clint at the game horribly, but Tony accredited that to her ability to handle vodka, rather than his lack of ability to aim. Lord knew he could aim.
Natasha was still executing targets meticulously, one at a time, long after she'd eliminated Clint from the virtual arena. She never did seem to take "off-days" like the rest of them. Not really.
She pretended not to notice Tony's questioning glance, and it frustrated him. Everyone here seemed to know a story he didn't, due either to their unwillingness and/or inability to drink, or their resistance to it. Natasha barely stopped shooting pixel-aliens to return him a cold glare; clearly he wouldn't be getting it from her. Clint, meanwhile, sank into the back of the couch with a red-eyed, defeated groan.
Detecting the only person in the area in a similar state as himself, Tony zeroed in and sat next to him. He decided it best to just ask point-blank.
"So, uh, what's Thor been up to?"
Clint blinked at him. "Fighting with his shithead brother for the last few hours," he leaned back into the couch and closed his eyes for a moment. "It's awful. Can't sleep with it." The shouts were muffled by a few layers of doors, but still noticeable.
Tony's eyebrows went up in surprise as he looked around the room; everyone was in such a pointedly relaxed, disinterested state. Loki had, under very strict magical confines, been allowed to come to Earth with Thor for a few months. It was supposed to be "good for him," but all suspected that Thor was just keeping his dear brother safely away from Odin's wrath.
To their surprise, Loki had proved to be polite and snarky at just the right times, unbeatable at chess – even against Jarvis – and hadn't attempted to murder anyone yet. Everyone but Thor kind of avoided him and he rarely went outside (the public could never know), and there hadn't been a fight that escalated past bickering. Until today.
"He means they're arguing," Steve clarified. "Not actually, you know . . . ." Aha. So it hadn't come to blows yet.
Tony turned back to Barton, eager to squeeze more out of the only person in the room willing to tell.
"What's he fighting about? I don't suppose Loki took all his mead?"
"Nah, Loki's a wine guy," Clint slurred.
So that's where all his century-old Chianti's went last Friday, Tony thought. That little shit.
"Some big – I mean huge – raven dropped in this morning and delivered them a message," Clint continued, "Like straight outta a princess flick. I saw the whole thing. Whatever the paper said musta been bad. And also I think Thor was kind of toasted last night and tore little bro's cape or something."
Why those two insisted on wearing Asgardian formalwear to every gathering Tony would never understand, but a little cape tear couldn't have caused this. Still, he couldn't resist a little sarcastic remark.
"Why don't you just take him shopping for a new one before our ears start bleeding?" Tony rose to dump some headache-relief into his coffee. In seriousness, though, Loki was allowed an outing a week, provided he was in full disguise and well-accompanied. Tony was pretty sure this week's had been used up on a trip to the ocean, and next week's cancelled on account of what had happened to a couple of unfortunate tourists they crossed on said ocean outing, but still. Exceptions could be made, in theory.
"Oh, uh, he's not allowed shopping anymore – hic – since," Clint said, and Natasha shot him a warning glance, but he never noticed, "the Great Walmart Escapade of . . . Last Month."
Now, since Tony was a billionaire and the Avengers were famous, it wasn't often they went out into public places. (They got swarmed and Tony could just pay someone to go get them stuff anyway.) Their only store trips were when one of the Asgardians wanted to see something specific, and Steve's weekly visits to the Apple Genius Bar for assistance.
What Clint had just said seemed like an awful sidetrack to get on – he had really better stick with the hollering argument at hand, Tony thought, but it was hard to resist prying.
Natasha's mouth quirked into a rare smile, just barely, when Clint said it, though, which meant this was definitely a story worth hearing.
"The what?"
"No one was hurt," Natasha interjected quickly. Tony smiled, this must've been juicier than he'd expected.
"Tell that to Loki," Clint replied. Way juicier, Tony thought.
"You swore we'd never say anything," she said quietly, still engrossed in the Halo game.
Clint smiled tiredly. "Aww, but Tony's a trustworthy guy. Right Tony?" he said, unaware his proclamations were in fact loud enough for the others in the room to hear as well.
"Sure." Tony drained his coffee concoction, having nearly forgotten about the argument going on next door.
"So, Tasha and I took Loki to the store one time. Which sucked, mind you; I can laugh about it now, but I still don't like being near him. It helped that we had him disguised as some blond Swedish jock or something – which was hilarious – but still. So anyways, we're walking through the aisles posing as this well to-do family, and I'm thinking 'Is this really my life? Is this why I became an agent?' as we're walking around, looking for shit to spruce up Loki's room or something."
Tony chuckled.
"And once in a while Thor or I would suggest a lamp or a book or something and he'd tell us it was crap and how Asgard's got something ten times better, blah blah blah, so finally I just stopped. Tasha was getting tired of it too, right Natasha?"
"Never wasn't," she said, never taking her eyes from the TV but struggling to keep her voice even.
Clint continued, propelled not by hangover at this point but by the sheer joy he got from sharing any ounce of pain Loki felt with the world. It was literally sobering. "Loki just stares at things and understands, sometimes, you know? Like that time he watched you fiddle with your phone for ten minutes and then turned around and programmed Steve's for him."
"Yeah, that was creepy."
"So he was staring at all the aisles as we walked by, how they were organized and stuff, and out of the freakin blue he asks why the corn is kept near the vegetables instead of the grains."
"What?"
"Yeah, I know. It apparently 'shares numerous traits with starcheous and rice plants more so than vegetables'," he said, doing a bad imitation of Loki's accent. "And I'm about to tell him to shut the hell up and act normal, when Natasha, whom apparently has a different reaction to being 'done,' jumps in."
Her smirk grew ever so slightly, but she didn't try to join in the recounting of the story.
"Natasha tells him they keep it near the front of the store because it's a special plant, and I almost panicked right then."
She was the only one who had successfully lied to Loki, Tony realized suddenly. And she knew it. And it was fun. And she'd used it.
"So then she calmly explains – straight-faced and real shy and everything; I woulda believed her if I didn't know better – that it is special because it is given as a gesture of courtship between Midgardians, as an invitation to mate."
"Oh, Jesus."
"Yeah. So he and Thor go all quiet and nod and I'm like, 'thank God, embarrassment tactics worked; he shut up and we can leave.' And to be honest I forgot about it until yesterday. Thought he did too. And then . . . ."
"And then what?"
"We didn't wanna tell you before, but Loki's had his eye on your receptionist since Thor marched his ass in here in cuffs."
"Oh, Jesus," Tony repeated. Wasn't hard to see where this was going. Clint was full-on grinning now.
"She was on her way out for the night, and he magically disappears out onto the sidewalk to see her. The second Jarvis lost his thermo, Shield got a red alert. We found them talking half a block away ten minutes later. Like five of us put guns on him then, but he completely ignored it."
"And how did Jarvis not tell me about this?"
"Natasha may have bribed Bruce to patch Jarvis' security tape feed after the fact." Bruce smiled sheepishly. "You were upstairs at the party and kind of drunk already, and we didn't want you doing anything rash to Loki. But anyway, she was totally into him – which is gross, but, he's a convincing talker or whatever I guess – until –" Clint stopped to chuckle, "he magics a perfect ear of corn out of his sleeve and drops it in her arms like freaking Pocahontas. And just stands there smiling, waiting for a response."
Tony snorted, "And I'm sure Thor, bless his heart, egged him on like a good big brother would?"
"Oh, yes," Natasha replied grimly.
Tony laughed despite the calls he was going to have to make later. The press would have a field day if this thing didn't stay quiet. Not to mention Fury would murder him for harboring Loki insecurely. He'd be lucky if Marcia the Receptionist didn't try to sue.
"Of course she doesn't get anything that's going on and is terrified of us and thinks he's a total weirdo – and she just drops it and bolts," Clint said, "Tragic, I tell you. We didn't even have to go capture Loki again; he just plodded right back to the tower and sulked in his room all evening. Like a kicked puppy. I honestly don't know if he's figured out Nat lied and is pissed at us, or figured he just got royally rejected and is pissed at himself."
Even Bruce chuckled at the story at this point. Steve merely commented that they were cruel when he got off the phone. Clint replied that he would take opportunities for cruel whenever he saw them after what Loki'd done to them. Unfortunately, Loki was now an "intergalactic political asset to the United States and Asgard," so all governmental agents had been prohibited from dealing him bodily harm unless absolutely necessary. But there was no rule about pranks.
The huffing in the other room continued, reminding Tony of the scene playing out. He would give Loki crap about the Great Shopping Escapade later (he had no intention of keeping that secret for the spies; it was too good) – right now he wanted to break up the demigods' fight before his brand-new building got damaged. Loki had already put two holes in it in the past, one in the form of a broken window and the other an imprint on the floor. (To be fair, though, the one in the floor had been necessary and mostly Bruce's fault.)
The spies weren't interested (though he wouldn't blame them if they feared for their lives after the prank they pulled on Loki), Bruce was staying out of the way, with good reason, and when Tony looked to Steve, all he got was a look in return that said, 'your house, you deal with it.' So off to Loki's room Tony went. His headache was clearing up, and he hoped this would go quickly so it didn't return.
The door was dented when he got there. Someone (Thor) had nearly ripped it off its hinges to get in. The peephole was now a Mjolnir-sized gap. Where the lock had been was lodged the mangled remains of Tony's prized Iron Chef Egg Beater, which had evidently been repurposed to pry and largely pulverize the area around the doorknob. He had Jarvis make a note to Pepper to just buy Iron Chef on Monday so he could have more of them when he wanted.
Inside, the two not-brothers were standing at opposite corners of the room in varying states of dress. Thor was in the same Asgardian outfit he'd worn to the party last night, as it was kind of hard to change into sleepclothes when you passed out on the Tower helipad at quarter past three. Loki, on the other hand, was clad in only a pair of green pajama pants, and somehow still managed to look intimidating.
He was seething quietly, arms crossed, eyes flashing. His jabs came as hisses; clearly all the shouting had been Thor. Loki rarely shouted.
The two had abandoned intelligent discussion of whatever they'd been debating at this point, and were just hurling Asgardian insults at one another. Most of them involved undesirable torture techniques and/or Bilgesnipe genitals.
Between them, sitting on the edge of the window between the bars (this was Loki's room temporarily, so, yes, bars), was a very large raven. Presumably the oversized messenger pigeon Clint had mentioned. It kept swiveling its head from one demigod to the other, as if the dumb creature was understanding what was going on.
When Tony stepped inside, both men fell silent, looking equally enraged. Thor was the first to calm down, surprisingly; Loki merely simmered.
"Okay, girls, you're both pretty. Now can we please stop?"
"Get out," Loki spat.
Thor was kinder. "I am sorry to have disturbed you all. My brother and I have had a disagreement."
"I'm not your brother."
"LOKI AND I HAVE HAD A DISAGREEMENT." Tony's ears rang with the gusto of Thor's proclamation.
"Well, could you disagree in Asgard, maybe?" Tony snapped. "Cause it seems like every time you disagree on this planet, buildings get leveled."
"I WOULD VERY MUCH LIKE THAT," Thor boomed, looking pointedly at Loki. Loki sneered and silence fell for a moment, and the bird at the window chose that moment to lift its tail feathers and take a colossal dump. Even nearly a hundred stories up, Tony could hear the agents on the walk below shouting expletives.
"Absolutely not," Loki said.
"Aw, Loki, I didn't know you liked being on our planet that much. I'm flattered," Tony said.
"Much as I loathe this forsaken ball of dirt, I will not be returning to Asgard just so you can make a mockery of me," Loki hissed, still looking at Thor.
"BUT-"
"No."
"Father has summoned us," Thor said at a more reasonable volume.
"Your father owes me a respite from his domain. I owe him nothing. I'm not going."
"Headed back to jail, are we?" Tony quipped.
Loki whirled on him, "I wish it were so. It would be more tolerable."
"The Allfather has requested Loki make an appearance at the centennial Ambassador's Ball, where representatives of all realms and nations dine and celebrate together," Thor explained, "I believe he wishes to mend some ties with the Jotuns."
"You see?" Loki snapped, "He sees me as naught but his pawn."
"The Ambassador's Ball is an enjoyable celebration. You should be grateful for the permittence."
Loki rolled his eyes. "If Odin were more intelligent he'd utilize it as a torture technique."
"IT IS MOST MERRY," Thor asserted.
Loki wasn't budging, though, and it was clear. He'd barricaded himself and some favorites of his few worldly possessions behind a shimmering magical forcefield. Angry energy was radiating off of him in waves.
"Mother will be there, I'm sure," Thor said quietly. This gave Loki pause, but not for long.
"She will see me only as a disappointment," he muttered. The look in his eyes, if only for a moment, was heartbreaking. Not that Tony felt bad. At all. Loki'd brought on whatever disdain he got, considering he'd murdered dozens and tried to overtake millions more. But it was still kind of comical that he held onto such an obvious soft spot for his mom.
"Hey, I've got an idea," Tony said. Thor looked at him and quirked an eyebrow. It wasn't unusual for Tony to get ideas – as an inventor that was kind of his job – it just wasn't often he announced the fact, and with such cheer.
"What if you went," he coaxed, "and brought some of us with you?"
"Oh, sure," Loki said sarcastically, "the only thing that would be more enjoyable than attending a tedious ceremonial ball as Odin's pawn would be attending a tedious ceremonial ball as Odin's pawn with you!"
"It would look like you were at least trying to fix things up with us earthlings," Tony said, "Might lighten up the sentence you've got coming in a couple months. And, as far as I know, Earth is not yet represented at said intergalactic rave," Thor shook his head in confirmation, "which I find personally offensive."
By now, hearing the conversation had at least cooled down, the other Avengers had come down to have a listen.
"It sounds an excellent proposition," Thor concluded. Loki looked pensive, at least, like he was considering just going along with it and not ripping Tony's head off.
"You could bring a date," Clint said suddenly from the cluster in the doorway behind them, smirking, "Mummy'd love that." It was meant to be pure snark, but Tony's alcohol-clouded face lit up at the suggestion. (Which was fortunate, because now it was looking like Loki was really considering ripping Barton's head off for that.)
"I know just who to call!" Tony declared. (Provided she had not taken out a restraining order against his entire Tower.)
"You can't be serious," Loki hissed, and Tony swore he grew pink.
"Marcia also writes part-time for the Wall Street Journal," Bruce interjected, "If we can get her back, this could be great press for the alien community." Indeed, half of New York was scared to death that ALL the aliens out there might be bad aliens. If an article surfaced about a civilized celebration of peace, the tide might turn.
"I do not believe she's coming back," Thor said in a grim, hushed voice.
Tony saw his opportunity to save Stark – Avengers – Tower from certain public humiliation and possible lawsuits, and he took it. He whirled on Nat (and Clint). "You will come clean, and get her back here – or you will be her replacement!" he declared.
Ten minutes later, a very flustered pair of superspies got off the phone from apologetically explaining a very uncharacteristic joke to a very confused receptionist. Of course, Loki and Thor had heard the whole thing, and were standing in the corner of the lounge room quietly fuming. It wasn't often Thor discovered exactly how he'd been pranked, and it wasn't often Loki got pranked in the first place. The latter wasn't sure how to react.
Several awkward conversations later, the entire Avengers assembly (plus Marcia the Reporter) was standing on the helipad dressed to the nines. Tony had at long last discarded his boxers for an actual suit, Bruce had donned his one remaining dress shirt, and Steve looked like something out of a vintage fashion catalogue. Barton and Romanoff wore all black formal outfits, each no doubt hiding multiple lethal weapons. Thor, Jane, and Loki wore semi-armored Asgardian ensembles, and sweet Marcia turned up with a cocktail dress, a camera, and a spiral notebook. They all formed a tight circle in which much hissing and elbow-jabbing commenced, until Heimdall sucked them up into the vastness of space for a banquet to remember.
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Thanks for reading! Please leave a review below and let me know what you think!
I might write the aforementioned banquet scene if enough of you convince me!