A/N: Don't be put off by either Loki's appearance or his somewhat beaten-down personality; he will be perfectly Lokish when he's in better condition.
Bonus points to the snowflake who knows what song this fic is named after.
Chapter 1: I'm Alive
Loki had agreed to come meet Tony in three days. He was coming from Seattle.
Tony wasn't sure what to think, really. All he had was what Natasha told him, the fact that Natasha seemed to like him, and the fact that Clint really didn't.
Natasha probably could've told him more - like his last name, for example - but Tony was finding himself liking the surprise in all this cloak-and-dagger.
In all honesty, Tony did hold a great deal of curiosity about the world of Natashas and Clints and Lokis. There was this whole subculture that they lived in of secrery and loyalties, one that the average person liked to watch movies about because they could never imagine themselves living such a life.
It had struck Tony recently how very little he knew about either assassin on the team. Bruce was his science bro and they knew almost too much about each other and Steve's personal history was Tony's bedtime story, but Clint and Natasha would remain enigmatic even if they told Tony everything that had ever happened to them. It was in their nature to be mysterious. Otherwise they'd suck at their jobs.
He wondered if Loki would be the same way.
So when the grand day arrived, Tony continued on this trend of playing spy and sat in his office, watching the street through a screen projected by JARVIS.
Three minutes before 2pm, their agreed interview time, a plain taxi stopped on the sidewalk.
Out poked an umbrella, defending against the pounding rain, followed by a shapeless figure in a black raincoat.
It was three metres to the shelter of the overhang outside Stark Tower. This guy was obviously not a fan of the rain.
Then Tony watched who was presumably Loki cross the sidewalk and then the atrium in some very long steps - the guy was bloody tall - talk to one of the receptionists, get gestured towards the elevator and slip in.
A minute later, there was a knock on the door of his office.
"Come in!" Tony called.
With a click, Loki opened the door and walked in, his eyes flicking suspiciously around the room, leaning his umbrella against the wall and slipping off his coat.
Tony's first impression was how unwell Loki looked.
Under his coat, Loki was wearing a tidy yet inexpensive suit that showed off exactly how skinny he was - it clung to his skinny form and Tony knew without the suit every rib would be visible. He seemed very slightly hunched, like he had a stomach ache, and he was pale and gaunt. Despite this, his - very - green eyes sparkled, fever-bright, his hair was a rare shade of pitch black, and his height gave him an air of power.
"Excuse my appearance," Loki chuckled. "I look like shit, I know."
On the contrary, Tony thought he'd be startlingly attractive if he didn't look so sick. Nice facial structure, elegant build, interesting colouration.
"You're a beautiful sunflower," Tony remarked. "Have a seat."
In a slightly awkward fashion, Loki settled himself in the leather chair opposite Tony's desk. "Loki," he offered, reaching a hand across the desk to shake hands.
"Tony Stark," Tony said, gripping the other man's bony palm. Loki twitched very slightly at the contact. "Look, just in the name of posterity, what's your last name?"
"Feison," Loki answered.
"That's not true, is it?"
"Not quite," Loki said with a tiny half-smirk. "That's a little beside the point. So, you want a bodyguard."
"Driver," Tony corrected. "I can protect my own ass, but I like to have my own driver, preferably one who's not terrified of getting shot at while stuck in ridiculous situations."
"That's a normal Wednesday to me," Loki said, voice neatly slipping into a brisk, informative tone. His professionality was betrayed by the staccato rhythm he was subconsciously tapping on his thigh, an anxious tic. "I can easily fill the position of driver. However, I would like to warn you in advance; I'm far from in peak physical condition."
"Ah, yeah, I noticed," Tony said, slightly awkwardly. "What happened?"
"Client confidentiality; I'm not at all willing to divulge the full story," Loki said, climbing to his feet. "Just know that I did not come out of it the winner."
Wondering why Loki was getting up, Tony said "What're you doing?"
Silently Loki took off his jacket and began to unbutton his dress shirt.
"I'm looking for a driver, not a prostitute," Tony joked awkwardly.
Loki rolled his eyes as he tugged the bottom of his undershirt up as high as his ribs - as Tony had correctly assumed, he could see every one - and showed Tony his stomach.
"Holy shit!" Tony gasped.
It was, with no competition, the largest scar Tony had seen on a living human.
Atrophic, pink and weirdly shiny in the way scars were, it stretched neatly from the right side of the bottom of Loki's ribcage down to his opposite hipbone, a vicious diagonal slash all the way across his stomach that spoke of something horrible.
The size and rawness of the scar told Tony the original injury was huge and recent.
"Fuck. Shit fuck. I do not want to think of the injury that gave you that," Tony winced, feeling almost nauseous.
Loki redressed efficiently before reseating. "In all honesty, Mr Stark, neither do I. It's a little bit of an understatement to say it hurt. Nevertheless, a list of my other physical shortcomings: I am not yet returned to full fitness, I have some difficulty walking barefoot on rough ground or for long periods of time owing to scarring on the soles of my feet, I cannot lift heavy weights owing to abdominal muscle injuries, and I am underweight. The latter will be temporary, I assure you."
"I kinda wanna stuff you with a burger or five right now. What happened? Just...life?" Tony asked, knowing he wouldn't like the answer.
"Just over a month ago I went through withdrawal for my pain medication upon leaving hospital permanently and suddenly. I lost 11kg in five days. It was a tad horrible," Loki said, still deadpannish and businesslike despite the topic of conversation.
Well, that explained the pinched look, like he'd lost a lot of weight quickly.
Tony didn't understand. He had this hot jolt of empathy, a sad stinging in his chest that came from seeing a person so broken, and he didn't understand why Loki was even offering himself as an employee when he was only half-alive.
He could see the after-effects of the pain in Loki's eyes; they were bright, but in the way a cornered animal's were, like a stray dog waiting for another kick.
"Why are you telling me this?" Tony ended up asking after deliberating carefully.
"Telling you what?"
"All your broken bits."
"As an employer, it's best if you are aware of my failings as a bodyguard," Loki shrugged.
"Driver." Tony clarified again.
Loki winced playfully. "Bodyguard is less embarrassing for me."
Tony chuckled and said "Bodyguard, fine. So, what, this is your equivalent of me being hired to change someone's tyre?"
"Or thereabouts," Loki said. "As far as qualifications go, I've a very large number of offensive and defensive driving courses to my name, as well as MI6, SHIELD, and a little Russian FSB combat training and a proficiency in the use of throwing knives and firearms. Your Natalia Romanova and Clint Barton can provide references, as well as SHIELD Director Fury and Agent Maria Hill, who handled their attempt to recruit me. If you need any other references I can provide a full and detailed list of those who would endorse me, including my MI6 instructors."
"That's a lot of references. Wait, Natalia?"
"That is her name, is it not?"
"We call her Natasha."
"Oh, well, she has a few titles. Natasha it is," Loki conceeded. "The point is, I am qualified, and if driving is all you require my physical condition should not be an issue."
"True," Tony admitted.
Loki looked like a good prospect, Tony had to admit. Plus he looked so messed up. Like the puppy with the broken paw that you adopt from the pound without really considering it, Tony just wanted him so he could shelter him.
"So," Tony said, pushing those thoughts away. "You seem like what I'm looking for; I mean, I just want a bloody driver, not an ex-MI6 buddy of Nat's who can kick ass in a million different ways, but if you want a job then I'd be happy to have you."
"Excellent," Loki smiled, calming a little. Finally, the twitching of his hands slowed, just slightly. "If that's a serious offer, then we should discuss contracting. Also, I would like to warn you that for at least the next week I am tied up in contract discussions with my previous employer."
"Oh yeah? What's that about?"
"I failed my end of the contract," Loki said with a cursory wave at his abdomen. "I'm negotiating being released from it, as I'm in no condition to complete it. Also, I'd rather like it if they'd reimburse me for my substantial hospital bills."
"Shit, I bet they were a shocker if you've been in there for months."
"Three and a half months in and out of hospitals in three seperate countries," Loki said. "It's a few more dollars than I have on hand. Add plane tickets, hotels, and the obscene amount of equipment I have to replace, and I would rather like it if I had a steady job."
"I can't say no to that," Tony said, feeling his resolve to at least try and look tough snap like a twig in the face of Clint and Natasha's friend in such a shitty situation. "A friend of a friend is my friend or something like that, right? If Clint and Nat say you're on the level then you've got a job."
Loki's tired face twitched into a faint look of relief and joy as he leaned across the table to shake Tony's hand. "My gratitude."
"You couldn't just get a job as a barista?" Tony chuckled.
"Honestly, I'd rather be back in the hell on Earth that brought me here than dispense drinks to teenage girls at Starbucks," Loki snorted.
Loki's reference suddenly brought a flash into Tony's mind of a cave, weapons, and Yinsen dying.
Everyone has their own hell on Earth.
"Anywhere's got to be better than that," Tony said thoughtfully.
Loki raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps. Shall we talk details?"
-O.O-
And thusly it was decided Loki would start work in a week, unless he had more problems with his previous employer, and would be paid accordingly for his services.
Tony had a driver, and Loki had a job. And so it began.
