Loki stumbles into the parlour, eyes crinkling with joy as he takes in the view before him. Amora, greatest witch in the nine realms and his own ex-lover is currently sitting on a man's wheezing chest, eating ice cream with a knife.
Amora slows her chewing of the cookie dough chunk carved from the tub as she lays eyes on him.
"Honey," She coos, batting those emerald eyes. "It's not what it looks like."
Loki laughs, pulling down the cuffs of his leather jacket.
"You always were a funny one."
"Okay, enough with the foreplay - your girlfriends really quite heavy so if you wouldn't mind getting on with it." Loki takes heed of the man's words and with a crack of his knuckles, Amora is thrown to the wall, ice cream flying off in a different direction and slamming into the floor, spreading out in wide, white tendrils. This new man grunts at the mess, but is happy with the lack of rib crushing weight. Loki holds out a hand which the man accepts. Once pulled to his feet, Tony has little time before Amora's back with fire in her eyes. And also in her hands and that's the part that hurts the most.
The curtains are the first to fall to her vicious attack, quickly followed by the bed which somehow ended up in the lounge. Coordinating their attack, Loki and Tony lunge at her from both sides. She steps back and out of the way but Tony keeps going into the opposite wall, colliding into it with a low, harsh groaning sound. Loki is however skilled enough and not-concussed enough to swerve. Tony flops back out of the man shaped dent in the wall and onto the floor, coughing out some plaster and brick dust as he lands.
He's really going to hurt in the morning.
Loki and Amora are still fighting above him, resorting rather childishly to hair pulling and biting. Amora's winning this one and Loki's mentally booking a barber's appointment.
Tony helps out at this point, bringing down an iron fist into the head of our all-time favourite witches spine, making her recoil. Loki's all too grateful for the lack of teeth in his shoulder blade and repays Tony by moving him into the path of Amora's retaliation. Tony is thrown to the floor in the middle of the room, Loki suddenly feeling quite vulnerable. Amora doesn't fire at him however, the chain holding up the chandelier being her next target. Noticing and predicting her movements, Loki grabs Tony's forearms, pulling him away from the light fixture as it fell. It's Tony's turn to be grateful. They then, with some well-earned and well-timed luck manage to catch her off guard. Loki appears behind her, holding her still and Tony fires a single shot into her stomach, which then turns into about eighteen, just because she smashed up his sound-system, that psychotic bitch. Loki then takes top and relieves a few issues of his own.
Smashing her face into the remains of the jewelled bulbs and then cracking the back of her head into his knee, Loki was taking more pleasure from it than was likely deemed appropriate. She'd blown him up, he figured he was owed his fun.
She lay on the ground, breathing heavily. Loki had won. Which on reflection was only natural. He was the best; at everything that is, not just beating the shit out of another. Although there he admittedly does excel. Tony, now thinking it safe lets his muscles relent, and dropped, knees buckling beneath him. He needed a hug.
Loki sees the fall, and after patting the lump of ammonia and silicone implants on the bloody hair, walks over.
"Loki." He pants, taking this time of shared exhaustion to introduce himself.
"The Norse dude?" Tony looks up at him, eyebrows both raised in confusion and furrowed in fatigue.
"The very same." Tony wipes the stray bit of blood from the corner of his mouth, cleaning his teeth with his tongue.
"You're real?" He checks as Loki crouches down so they're at eye level.
"Hopefully." Tony put down his sanity. He didn't need that right now.
"Tony." He holds out a hand that's a little sweaty but generally clean.
"Pleasure." Loki takes it with long and pale fingers. His grips firm, and Tony likes that. Loki, with a wink and a promise to be back, gets up and walks away.
Tony was still wheezing in the corner when Loki picked up the semi-unconscious Barbie and disappeared.
Tony was left with a migraine and a messy house. Someone had called the police, another had called an ambulance and two people alerted the fire brigade. Did they not know who lived here? Did they not know that this type of thing was commonplace and that help was rarely needed? He did take up the offer of their assistance though. He wasn't a fool.
He, two fireman and an off duty, very female police officer were sat on the burnt and dusty sofa, each a slice of double pepperoni meat feast pizza in one hand and a cold beer in the other. They were watching the latest football game with uninterested eyes.
They all ignored the little fire still softly burning on the charred curtains. It would sort itself out, they figured.
Each of them looked over their shoulders when the cracked and steamed up glass doors slid open.
"Pizza?" Tony offered to the visitor, holding the near empty box over the back of the sofa, the others turning back to the frankly dull and uneventful game.
Loki declines with a held up hand, simply standing behind where they sat like some creepy teacher, but Tony doesn't say anything. Creepy's cool. He's hot enough to make up for that.
He turns back as the game hits half-time.
An hour later, the fireman has is head on Tony's shoulder, drooling as he sleeps, the police officer and the other fireman are in the bathroom doing the dirty, and he's sitting there watching Game of Thrones re-runs as Loki sits by his feet.
It's been a good night even if it's only half two, but that fireman snores quite loud and he's still got that headache.
"This show has a lot of sex." Loki comments, head resting against Tony's knee, who's starting to feel a little like a pillow.
"Mmm... You never seen it?"
"Norse god from a mythological land, remember?"
"Oh yeah. Well, they're all hot so it's good." Loki's head twists as a lot of people die in a lot of horrible ways.
"The way they fight is inefficient." Tony looks down to the perplexed, leather wrapped, supposed god.
"But awesome." He argues, earning an approving head tilt as Loki considers it.
"You are a good fighter." Tony smiles drunkenly at the compliment, but ultimately, just this once, disagrees.
"Please, I sat there and got bruises in places I didn't even know you could get bruises." Loki chuckles deeply.
"I did not say you did well in that fight, but you show potential." Tony's eyes narrow as he considers whether that was a compliment or an insult.
"Thanks?" Someone probably important dies on the TV and just for a second they are both drawn back into the land of dragons, sex and violence. Tony continues the conversation once he's mourned and the depressing yet surprisingly motivating music has slunk back down into the background. "Listen," He starts, flicking Loki on the black hair covered head to get his attention. He looks up to Tony, eyes glistening. "you seem cool. The others are off romancing -or sleeping- and I'm nowhere near drunk enough for anything to be fun. You? Me? Den of Iniquity? Drink?" Loki laughs, grinning with unfairly white chompers that make Tony look forward to tasting them, which he will.
"I'd love to."