Warnings: Dubious Consent due to intoxication. Implied Sex and the like. If this squicks you, now is the time to turn back. Warnings may change in later chapters but not without note.

The smell of sweat and alcohol? Check.

Pounding headache? Check.

Aching body? Check.

All these things told him, even before Tony opened his eyes, that he had gone just a little overboard last night. Oddly enough he couldn't exactly recall where or even what he had gone overboard with, except that it had involved a lot of booze. His head and hazy memories of the previous evening were testament enough to that.

He let out a muffled groan as he sat up, still trying to move slowly so as not to aggravate his budding headache- wait, no. Migraine. With the way he was feeling he could tell that they had already shifted into migraine territory. One day he would really have to start working on something that would prevent them. Maybe bother Bruce about it later? If he brought it up as the desire to help sufferers instead of the desire to drink with fewer ill-effects it might go over better.

As he grit his teeth and opened his eyes enough to squint into the darkened room he made out another shape on the bed beside him.

Huh.

It was always weird when his bed partners stayed the night, usually when he awoke they were long gone. He hoped this wouldn't be another of those awkward flings that didn't understand the meaning of 'We were both drunk and horny and it was a good idea at the time.' Or even worse the ones that insisted they had felt a 'connection'.

Tony had enough connections of all types at the moment, thank you very much.

Still, he could be reading the lump that was currently engulfed in his blankets all wrong. Maybe this one had just been too drunk to move much? There was really only one way to find out.

Tony gently pulled the blankets fully back, revealing a naked male body and pale skin and dark hair and-

Loki's face.

When Loki slowly regained consciousness the first thing he noticed was the sour taste in his mouth. The second was that his foggy mind was unwilling to supply him the answers as to where he was or why he was there.

If he were in his proper state of mind he'd say that there was something poetic about succumbing to mortal vices while attempting to establish rule over them. Though he was impressed that he had allowed it to get that far; it had to have been quite a large amount of Midgardian swill to make him forget an entire night.

Even more than that, it was unlike him to indulge, and it was even far rarer that he overindulged as he obviously had. He considered his mind to be his signature weapon and he needed it sharp – alcohol only dulled what was his finest blade.

A short survey of the darkened surroundings was enough to tell him the basics. He was naked, in an unfamiliar place in an unfamiliar bed, and there was someone awake and fidgeting next to him.

There was a moment of panic before he clamped down on the impulse to flee. He had no delusions – Loki had many enemies and few friends. The few who he would invite to his bed were not the type to do so without complications arising, especially if alcohol had been involved. He had no desire to see one of his plans fail due to a misunderstanding, nor would he gladly suffer the indignity of being caught so unawares.

Loki kept attempting to remember (anything and everything), but could only come up with blanks. It vexed him to no end that his mind would not properly supply the memories of the previous night. Or even the identity of the other person in the bed, who seemed to have shifted toward him. What kind of sorcerer couldn't keep his own thoughts intact? It showed a gross lack of control.

He was not surprised at first as the covers were pulled back; he only blinked owlishly into the half-light until he was quite sure of what he was seeing.

"Stark?" Loki rasped in disbelief.