Notes: I am having entirely too much fun writing this. XD Please tell me what you think so far!
Chapter 3: Stalker
Tony rolled over and fished the cellphone out of his pocket. Fury. Calling him at fucking three in the morning. Some things never changed.
"Yeah. We established that I'm useless, an idiot and why did I even bother coming without a suit... But do you think you could at least wait until morning next time? A handsome genius playboy needs his beauty sleep." Tony hissed before Fury even got a chance to speak. Angrily, he stared up at the plain white ceiling.
"You were asleep? It's snowing in hell. I figured you'd be at some shady ass club in Manhattan drinking like a fish." Fury replied, actually sounding a little surprised.
"I probably should be. But It's not much fun anymore. I think I might actually be, God forbid, turning into a responsible adult." Tony said dismally. "What the hell do you want?"
"Listen, just get your shit together." Fury spat.
"You called me at three in the morning to tell me to get my shit together? Wow, I didn't think you cared that much about me there, Olaf One-Eye." Tony snapped right back, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
"I didn't. And I don't. I just needed to know where you were. And now I do. Good night, or morning." Fury growled and hung up. Tony listened to the dial tone for a solid two minutes before disconnecting the call and throwing the phone across the room. It landed with a thud in the laundry basket near the door. He couldn't do that again if he tried. Why did Fury want to know where he was? But he was right about one thing. He needed to be drunk. Yesterday.
Tony hauled himself off the bed and strode out to the lounge. If he didn't know better, he wouldn't have been able to tell that Loki had thrown him through that window. Or that the floor over there was remodeled with his face shortly afterward when the Hulk got ahold of him. With a sigh, Tony rifled through the bar cabinets and came up with a bottle of Crown Royal. Drinking alone and feeling sorry for himself wasn't his thing, but better alone than not at all. He put some ice in a glass and poured it in. Forget shots, he might as well down the whole bottle.
So he did. And he was halfway through a bottle of Bacardi when Jarvis butted in on his little self-pity induced binge.
"Sir, you appear to be suffering from alcohol poisoning. Shall I call the hospital?" The AI inquired. Tony threw the half-full bottle of Bacardi across the room. It landed on tile somewhere with a satisfying shatter.
"Blow it out your ass, limey!" Tony shouted drunkenly and swayed dangerously on his feet. A few steps later, he staggered and lost his footing. With a crash, he fell backwards onto the tile floor, whacking the back of his head on the counter as he did. He lost consciousness immediately.
"...Idiot." Tony heard someone mutter and felt cool, delicate fingers running through his hair. "...Could have died..." He knew that voice, but from where? It was female, but it wasn't Pepper. He tried to open his eyes, but immediately shut them. The morning sunlight half blinded him and gave life to an epic migraine that had probably been brewing for some time. He had a wicked hangover – that much was obvious. Oh, he must have brought some girl home from the club and passed out on her. Classy. Wait. Did he go to a club? He tried to open his mouth to say something, but he closed his lips tightly. Better to let the poor thing sit there stroking his hair than to open his mouth and puke on her. Such a gentleman, Tony...
"Stark, can you hear me?" The girl asked. Probably a hooker. Only the hookers called him Stark.
"Mmm." He mumbled. Slowly, he opened his eyes. With a gasp that was equal parts shock and pain, he bolted upright and scooted away from the woman holding him on reflex. It was the cashier from Starbucks. But she was dressed in a pair of jeans and a plain black t-shirt. Her long curly, inky black hair was tied back into a neat ponytail. She didn't seem particularly offended but she did cock her head to the side curiously. He was sitting on the floor behind the bar. What the hell? Oh, and he really hoped someone dropped a ketchup bottle because if that was blood staining the floor tiles in front of miss glorious tits Starbucks, there was a dead body somewhere.
"Who are you?" Tony asked, shaking his head. He regretted it instantly and hissed in pain. What had he been doing last night?
"Lo –... Just Lo. Cleaning service. Do you need a healer?" Lo asked, frowning.
"A... healer?" Tony muttered. "Am I still drunk or did I land in some kind of J-RPG? Seriously, who still calls doctors 'healers'?"
"You seem ill." She insisted.
Wait. That isn't right. He didn't have a cleaning service and never would. Too many options for security breaches.
"Jarvis, when did we get a cleaning service?" Tony asked the AI. He did notice that Lo bristled slightly as he voiced the question.
"We do not have a cleaning service. Also, Sir, would you like me to inform SHIELD that Loki Laufeyson is in the building?" Tony blinked and looked over at 'Lo', who was staring at him with panic in her eyes.
"Nah. Fuck SHIELD. Pop-Eye is up to something." Tony said and tried to unsteadily get to his feet. "Well, that explains a lot. Thor did say you were a shapeshifter. I'd threaten you, but those are some nice tits. You make a hot chick. Also, I'm too damn hung over to really care. Just go and come back in like a week. I'll kick your ass then."
She stared at him blankly. Her form shimmered and contorted in a flash of green light and none other than the Loki he knew and hated was standing in front of him. To Tony's surprise, he held out his hand to help him up in a gesture of peace. Tony ignored it. For all he knew, the crazy bag of cats had a magic dagger up his sleeve. Actually, he probably did. The hand he was holding out was covered in blood, after all. Nope. Not blood, Tony. Ketchup. Otherwise there's a dead hooker in the workshop or something and… nope. Not going there. Not that he'd ever killed a hooker, but there was no denying that he'd really hit rock bottom lately.
"I am not here to cause any more damage. To the contrary, I have been cleaning up my mess where I can." He said, watching Stark carefully. He knew he didn't have any of his armored suits, and eluding SHIELD had so far been laughably easy. Besides when they showed up and saw only Stark verging on alcohol poisoning and a bunch of broken bottles, they'd never believe him swearing that Loki had been there moments before. …If he managed to explain the blood. It was Stark's, of course. But Loki had magically healed what had been a nasty fracture in the back of his skull. It was a wonder the moron was alive at all. Mortals are such foolish, fragile things…
"You on the other hand... Does your life mean so little that you could so easily drink yourself into oblivion? You are lucky I have been watching over you or you would be dead now." The god added flippantly. Tony stared at him in confusion.
"Watching over me? What the hell? Why?" So, that explained a few things, yeah. How long had it really been? Maybe he'd only noticed all the weird black haired, green eyed goddesses in his life recently. Tony wasn't really known for being observant in his current state of mind. Still, this was weird. "What's in it for you, Reindeer Games?"
"Nothing. I am leaving." Loki snarled and made for the elevator.
"Sir, SHIELD has the premises surrounded." Jarvis announced. Loki visibly tensed and glanced to the window.
"I told you not to..." Tony mumbled, stumbling to his feet. "...Fucking Fury. Don't need his shit right now, I've got enough of my own to deal with. And don't you dare bust that window again!" He hissed when he saw a flurry of black and green leather make a dash for the window.
"Then what would you suggest, Stark? I may not be your enemy at the moment, but I doubt SHIELD particularly cares." Loki spat as Jarvis announced an incoming call.
"Well, you did save my ass, so shut it and let me handle this." Tony said as he answered the call. Never let it be said that Tony Stark is an ungrateful Bastard. …Even if his penchant for poor decisions and irrational impulsive behavior is utterly undeniable.
Loki stared in disbelief and fidgeted uncomfortably. He knew Stark was unpredictable, but why would he protect him from SHIELD? His eyes slid back to the window as he heard Fury's voice come out of an invisible speaker somewhere.
"Stark, I don't know what you're planning. But you have five seconds to give me a good explanation before I blow your little monument to your own ego to hell with you in it." Fury commanded, obviously raging. "In case you don't understand, let me inform you that not only are you surrounded on the ground, but in the air as well. Hand Loki over and I won't have you both killed."
"What the hell? I have no idea what you're talking about. The only thing I've been planning lately is how to piss off Agent - because fuck if I'm calling him by his name - for stealing Pepper. And I apparently accidentally attempted suicide by binge drinking last night after you called. Obviously that didn't work." Tony babbled into an earpiece he was wearing. "I hired a girl to do the cleaning here, yeah, but no one else is around." Loki rolled his eyes and gestured at the window, through which a SHIELD helicopter was visible hovering over the balcony. Obviously they already had seen him. Idiot mortal. Why the thought to just teleport away never crossed his mind until then, he couldn't have guessed. He was about to do just that when Stark shooed him away from the window. Apparently the mortal cared an awful lot about the stupid sheet of glass.
"Don't play stupid, Stark." Natasha. Tony bit his lip. That was bad. Between her and Clint, he wasn't sure which one hated Loki more. "We've been noticing Loki's energy signature lately. And when we kept tabs on it, he was always near you. So either you've been compromised, or you're working with the enemy, we don't really care which."
"That's why Fury called then? And had Pepper make me drag my ass to New York? Why didn't anyone tell me Loki was around? I would have liked to know." Tony complained. "Did it ever occur to you that maybe he was stalking me? Because come on, you don't really think I'd work with him, do you? That's a catalyst for disaster. He's got to be the only guy in the universe with an ego as big as mine." Loki let out a bark of laughter in agreement. Maybe if he was lucky, Stark's incessant babbling would annoy the SHIELD agents enough that they would just leave. Probably not, but it could happen. Still, how was he even standing?
"Wouldn't that be a nice thing to add to your list of reasons for being an egotistical jerk?" Clint said, obviously struggling to keep his voice even. "Being stalked by a god. That would go great under the headline announcing that you're gayer than a fruitcake."
"I am not gay. Not enough tits. Besides I - " Whatever it was tony was going to say was cut off the sound of a massive explosion at the base of the tower. "What the Fuck, Fury?!" Tony cried as he felt the floor start leaning. Oh shit goddammit fuck no! He thought in a frenzy and followed Loki's gaze toward the window. It was starting to look like a good idea. Though, maybe Loki didn't agree. What little color his pale skin had vanished from his face as he stared out the window at something Tony couldn't see. Not that there was probably anything there. He was totally a certifiably insane maniac as far as the engineer knew.
"Bambi? Hellooo?" Tony said, just as another explosion rocked the tower. Tony struggled to keep his footing and felt himself slide against the bar counter with a thump as the whole tower started leaning dangerously. "Damn, this is bad…" The migraine and hangover weren't making it much better, either. I'm hallucinating. My goddamn tower is not the new leaning tower of Pisa. Nope.
"Stark! Get out of the tower if you don't want to die!" This was Natasha's voice. "That wasn't us!" Not them? What the hell was that supposed to mean? Before Tony even had a chance to react, a firm hand grasped his arm. Suddenly, he wasn't in Stark Tower anymore.
