Disclaimer: I own nothing!
Warnings: M/M sexual content, Mpreg, swearing, spoilers
Notes: Movieverse, might have some vague comicverse references. Kind of AU seeing as this creates a whole new scenario for the end of the Avengers, and none of the others movies past it ever happened. I'd say more but it would spoil this whole chapter.
Basically this whole story is a pile of absolutely disgusting cavity inducing fluff and feels.
Also an experiment in a different writing style that what I normally do.
And another disclaimer: I'm not a doctor and everything I know about pregnancy is from the internet.
Please review! :3
This is not complete! I only marked it as complete as I have no intention of finishing it. I may revisit this someday, but right now it's not likely that I'll be working on it. If someone want to try their hand at writing later chapters and having me post them (with credit of course), message me.
Chapter 1: I will never live this down.
"Brucey baby, are you busy right now? I really need a professional medical opinion on something." I chatter into my phone. It's idiotic really. I shouldn't even be entertaining the possibility and yet...
Damn it, Natasha! I could kill her for this…well, maybe. I think we all know who would win that fight, and it wouldn't be me. Where does she even hide all those weapons in that cat suit? Actually, I totally do not want to know the answer to that. Nope.
I know she was joking when she made the comment, but it planted a seed of doubt in my subconscious that's taken root and won't let go. My paranoia just can't help itself from running wild with it; that's just how my mind works.
"I guess I can reschedule the meeting I have later. Is something wrong? Are you sick? Did you blow up something in your workshop again?" Comes Bruce's reply. I fidget uncomfortably in my chair and run my fingers across my neatly trimmed goatee. At least alone in the shop, no one can see the beginnings of an epic panic attack that has nothing to do with my raging post-traumatic stress, or the utter shame that I am even having this completely ridiculous conversation at all.
"Bruce, are you sitting down?" I mumble awkwardly, thinking to myself that in some alternate universe this whole thing is just not happening. It can't be happening. I'm not the kind of person that has a thing for denial, but this is just... ugh! Fucking unbelievable…
"Yes, why?" Bruce answers impatiently. I know he's probably busy. He has been working like an animal for a small state run clinic that helps the homeless and those left destitute after the Chitauri's attack, free of charge. In many ways, humans are arrogant and selfish creatures, but damn if we don't stick together when it actually matters. Well, not Bruce. He's always like that - selfless to a fault. The guy should totally be nominate for sainthood or something.
I take a deep breath and close my eyes. "I think I'm pregnant." I choke out, and want to bang my head on the metal table in front of me as hard as I can. I mean, I want to yeah, but it wouldn't be worth the loss of valuable brain cells. Still, pregnant? Last I checked, I do not have a man-gina.
"Tell me you're joking." Bruce says incredulously.
"Reindeer Games thinks I'm a paranoid idiot. I think I'm up the duff." I snap in an irritable tone.
Loki. Nothing is ever easy with him, and I think he likes it that way. He's like the worst (best?) troll that's ever trolled. Seriously, one does not simply out-troll Loki; believe me, I've tried – extensively. I've even gotten Jarvis and Clint in on it a few times.
Anyway...
When he finds about this... Blow me. What did I get myself into this time? I hate magic. Damn space vikings and their voodoo…
You know what? – hold up. This is making no sense, and I'm rambling like a retarded squirrel with ADD. ...Though I've never really known how to shut the fuck up. But hey – I'm perfect otherwise so I've got to have some kind personality flaw, am I right?
Let's just start from the beginning, because that's what normal people do.
All right, hi there, I'm Tony Stark. You know who I am. If you don't, I have no idea where the shit you've been because even the guys hiding in spider holes in the middle east know who I am. The part you probably don't know is how I ended up in a relationship with a slightly psychotic demigod with a penchant for dramatics and a mischievous streak a mile long. Not that we'd really call it a relationship. It's more like 99.9% sex with the occasional interruption of witty banter.
Well, it's a long story – all right, not really, but we're pretty sure it started a month ago the moment we launched into that stupid pissing contest in my penthouse when I was trying to stall him.
You know that story too, I'm sure. SHIELD seized my surveillance videos, and it's still all over the internet and the news. You'd have to be blind to not see the way we looked at each other. Love at first sight is an idiotic notion. Lust at first sight on the other hand, is totally a thing; and it sucked us both in like a supercharged magnet – and I'm not even gay…
…Or I wasn't, anyway.
However, the part that counts wasn't the verbal sparring about a green rage monster and erectile dysfunction.
It was what happened afterward that changed everything.
The last thing on the footage before the system took a crap was Loki grabbing me by the throat and throwing me through the window. Yeah… that sucked, but the thing most people don't know was that Loki did that to protect me.
I was too busy being an arrogant asshat to notice the Chitauri ship flying straight for the tower. Loki, however, did; and was well aware that I was just keeping him busy while I got my other suit ready. He made a split second decision that saved my life. It wasn't much of a chance, but if I'd stayed in the lounge I'd be dead for sure. Just as Loki let go of me, and I felt myself spiraling to what I thought was certain death, the ship crashed into the upper levels of the tower and decimated my lounge.
Of course, I thought he was trying to kill me – until I saw him fucking the Chitauri's day like there was no tomorrow.
I like to think I'm a perceptive person when it comes to reading people, and the sense I got when I was alone with Loki was that he didn't want this. He wasn't really trying. If anything, it seemed like he was being used – like someone had coerced him into this, and he was doing his damnedest to find an out.
As usual, I was right, and something I said must have struck a chord with Loki because he turned on the Chitauri in an instant.
"Stark!" he yelled, kicking one of the nasty reptilian things off the edge of my balcony. "I cannot close the portal! It really is too late for that!" I swore to myself and just tried my best to thin out the herd; that was when Fury told me about the nuke. Well, that was all over the news too.
"Listen up there, Rock of Ages, you'd better find a way. Don't forget it's all on you if this goes tits up. No one's going to care if you switched sides if they're all dead." I told him and went to chase after a nuke, and I knew right where to put it.
What happened after that is kind of a blur to me. ...Other than throwing the nuke through the portal at the Chitauri's mother ship, anyway. All I can actually remember is waking up from an epic blackout in an absolutely totaled suit with the Hulk, Thor and Loki standing around me. I felt like I got hit by a loaded dump truck, and all of them looked like shit. Well, not that the entire city of New York didn't look like a heap of shit what with bodies and debris strewn all over the place amidst wrecked buildings.
"Idiot mortal..." Loki grumbled and passed out cold, falling to the ground with a thud like some kind of limp rag doll. Somehow that obnoxious horny helmet stayed on his head when he hit the pavement.
"Brother!" Thor shouted like a lovesick puppy, and he was at Loki's side in an instant.
"Calm down, Thor. Loki did say it would take most of his energy to save Tony and not to worry if he lost consciousness." That was Steve. I struggled to sit up, but couldn't move much as the suit was too damaged to function. I wondered if I'd been caught in the explosion.
"What the fuck happened?" I asked, managing to strip one of the gauntlets off to get at the suit's manual releases.
"When you threw the nuke through the portal, the explosion blew you off course and knocked you out. You didn't make it back through before it closed, but Loki was able to use some kind of magic to teleport you here and heal your injuries from the blast." Steve explained as he rushed to help me out of the suit. Well, he tried at least. Technology still isn't the Capcicle's friend.
"Hulk sorry for smashing puny god. Much sorry." The hulk added and gently prodded Loki's unconscious form with his foot – gently meaning that he nudged him hard enough to roll him over onto his back. Loki came awake with a startled gasp.
"Oh yeah, the hulk redecorated your penthouse floor with Loki's face. We're thinking of petitioning Fury to let that be more than enough punishment for killing those SHIELD agents because... damn." Steve added. I raised my eyebrows and glanced at Loki who looked he got into a cat fight with a meat grinder and lost, badly. He was obviously healing at an accelerated rate, but if he had half the physical endurance of Thor then I totally agreed with Steve's totally uncharacteristic swearing. He was holding his head in his hands like he had an epic migraine, which was not at all helped by Thor who hauled him to his feet and gave him the world's most bone crushing bro-hug.
Poor sod.
"So, awesome. The world is safe, we won, and I'm not dead. Cool. I think this calls for a victory feast. Any of you ever had shawarma? I hear there's a new place in town and it's pretty tasty..."
As for how Loki and I ended up in bed together... that gets a little complicated, and maybe not even relevant considering we totally have no relationship whatsoever. It really is just the sex, and it started out like any other conquest I've made – with alcohol and a mutual purely physical attraction.
The thing that was different was that he was still there in the morning – is still there in the morning… every morning. Not that there is any of that awkward morning after crap. We just get up, pretend it never happened, and go about our business until the next night when we do it all over again. I doubt he'd even know what's keeping us together-ish. Aside from the mind blowing sex, I mean.
I don't do feelings, and neither does Loki. So, it's probably a good thing that it's our dirty little secret – for now, anyway. I have a nasty feeling the metaphorical shit is about to hit the fan and splatter all over everything I take for granted.
...Which brings us back to where we were before. Well, sort of.
I wake up to the morning sunlight streaming in through the windows of one of the guest rooms in the lower floors of Stark Tower. It annoys me to no end. The penthouse is still being rebuilt, so I have neither Jarvis to give me the morning report, or my computerized tinted glass to keep the sun out so I can sleep until noon after an all-nighter in the workshop.
Loki is fast asleep beside me with his face nuzzled into my pillow so that I can feel his breath on my cheek. I smile at him fondly, thinking that it's damn scary how he ended up on our side when he could have so easily refused. He's all creamy skin, soft angles, and everything about him is just pure sin. I reach over to run my fingers through those soft raven locks of hair curled around his face, but I hesitate as I become aware of two things simultaneously.
One: I have about three point seven seconds to get to a toilet or Loki is going to wake up covered in vomit.
Two: I am absolutely not going to make it with the sheets tangled around me the way they are.
I make it – somehow. I cling to the porcelain throne like my life depends on it, while I fall to my knees and very nearly miss as the contents of my stomach decide they want out. My first thought is pretty obvious: hangover. I'm used to this, but it is also the fourth day in a row I've woken up puking my guts out. I also haven't been an alcoholic in years. Sure, I still drink, but not like I used to. I'd rather die during a BDSM skit gone wrong, or saving some kid from a burning building than liver failure. That would just be lame.
I hear Loki get out of bed and pad quietly to the open bathroom door through my retching.
"Stark? Are you ill again? Perhaps you should see a healer." The demigod drawls, obviously staring at me with concern masked as cold indifference.
A healer? Who the fuck says that?
One thing I learned really fast about Loki is that he is actually a very kind, selfless person. He just hides it damn well. He hates to be seen as vulnerable in any way. The same thing could be said about me, even if I'm mostly aware that I'm just a jackass most of the time. Hey, at least I admit it.
I make a motion with my hand indicating for Loki to leave me alone, which he does.
When I finish heaving my brains out, I wander down to the floor we, meaning the Avengers (who all pretty much live in Stark Tower now), are using as kind of a lounge. It didn't take long for us to develop this little ritual of meeting up for meals and just hanging out there when nothing is going on. It was originally a break room for the Stark Industries employees that work on the lower floors. It's equipped with a decent kitchen, a small bathroom, some couches, a TV, and a round table big enough for all of us to crowd around.
I sit down at the table next to Natasha who is reading the day's copy of the Times. The invasion is still headline news. It's like 9/11 all over again. It's kind of sad that it takes tragedy and a staggering death toll for humans to remember how to work together and help each other out.
"Morning, Tony." Natasha says blankly. I just grunt and hold my head in my hands. I didn't wake up with a headache, but ralphing for nearly an hour straight will do that.
"Coffee?" Steve asks and slides a mug of the steaming liquid across the table to me. I am about to tell him he is a saint before the scent, or I should say stench, of the coffee hits my nose. I clap my hand over my mouth and try to breathe as the nausea returns in full force.
Natasha watches me curiously with narrowed eyes. Steve is in his own little world, flipping pancakes on the stove behind the breakfast bar and doesn't notice. I probably would have made some kind of inappropriate housewife joke about the fact that he's wearing an apron, if I wasn't already halfway to the bathroom.
Loki doesn't notice either, he is on one of the couches with a PS3 controller in his hands kicking Clint's ass in Need For Speed. The archer, obviously, is preoccupied as well and is perched like a bird on the edge of the large armchair as he concentrates on the game.
I spend a good twenty minutes dry heaving before I shamble back into the room and curl up pitifully on the unoccupied couch – fully aware that they all heard me retching.
"What's wrong with you? Did Steve piss in your coffee or something?" Clint asks, smirking as he finally not only passes Loki but runs his green mustang straight into a median. Loki swears creatively and tries uselessly to catch up.
"Must be a bug." I say nonchalantly.
"This is the fourth day in a row that you have been ill." Loki observes, not taking his eyes off the screen. I kind of want to kick him, knowing the others will be leery as to why he knows and they don't. Talking my way out of that one is going to suck.
"Really, the fourth day? Are you pregnant or something, Stark?" Natasha says sarcastically. "I have to wonder after you ate the entire container of mint ice cream the other day, even though you were adamant that you hate mint."
"Yeah, and didn't you say you don't like Oreos? I totally saw you scarf that whole pack yesterday." Clint adds, snickering.
"Ah, having strange cravings are you?" Loki quips, his eyes twinkling with mirth.
"When did you have your period last?" Natasha says giggling. I kind of agree with Steve's exasperated sigh at that particular comment.
"I hate you all." I groan, and decide to head for the solitude of my workshop. "Maybe I should call Bruce, though."
"You are not serious, are you? You are male, you paranoid moron." Loki says, rolling his eyes.
"I meant that maybe something is wrong with me, idiot. Not that. I don't have a vagina." I hiss. Loki just smirks.
Fucking Natasha. It's her fault. She started it this time.
All the way down to the workshop (I have to take the stairs because the elevator is being repaired) I can't get it out of my head that maybe she's on to something. I have been gaining weight, though arguably that could be attributed to eating junk food like a fiend. ...Junk food that I normally don't like yet suddenly have a mindless craving for. I'm also moody as hell. Bruce had commented on that yesterday after I yelled at him for touching something in my shop, which I usually don't care about.
All of which are symptoms of pregnancy, when you add in the nausea.
...Well, in a female.
This is pathetic. I'm curled up in the fetal position in the chair in my workshop, feeling like a total retard while I wonder what the hell to occupy myself with until Bruce shows up sometime tonight.
I am being such a fucking idiot.
I will never live this down when Bruce tells me I have the stomach flu, or some other dumbass thing.