You guys are wonderful. Thank you for every review, alert and favorite. I hope you enjoy this one! I'm a bit delirious from being sick for the past 3 days, so I'm praying none of that transitioned into my writing. Feedback appreciated, as always.
"About time, Star-oh! Uh, let me..."
Steve stepped forward and grabbed two of the five bottles that Tony had managed to balance in his arms. He had nearly tripped stepping out of the elevator, which would have lead to a cruel fate for the liquor, replacable as it was.
Bruce was attempting to stifle his laughter. Clint raised an eyebrow. "This is one kind of cleaning, I s'pose?"
Their reactions were met with an eyeroll. "Sorry to keep you ladies waiting. Jarvis was kindly alerting me to a leak that has turned my penthouse into a very expensive puddle. Turns out the rennovations weren't quite as done as I'd thought." Somehow he had a feeling the God of Mischief was going to make sure of that before the night was over.
Steve was examining the vodka in his hands. "Yikes. That explains the new clothes-and here I was, thinking you'd given up your love of Black Sabbath t-shirts."
"Oh, you know me better than that, Rogers. So, seeing as the penthouse is now out of the question, we'll be over here..."
The three men followed unquestioningly.
Christ, he just lied to the Avengers. That was not how he expected this evening to begin-understatement of the year, really.
It was a necessary evil, though; after re-evaluating the amount of bloodstains that now decorated the walls and floor of his penthouse, there was no way he could have cleaned them up in time. Which, he realized, meant that he could have left the trickster on the floor and saved his clothes and his sheets... oh well. Too late now.
His mind was still reeling from the amount of shit that had happened in the past half-hour; the image of Loki's body, pale flesh bloody and mutilated, would not leave his mind, and the unanswered questions were almost worse. Tony knew one thing, though: there was not enough booze in the world to fix this, but he could sure as hell try.
They reached the end of the hallway, which opened up conveniently in to something resembling a common room. Leather couches formed a circle around a polished black table which honestly looked more like a flatscreen on its side. The walls were adorned with various displays and control panels as well as a few pieces of art that, while pretty, were really just put up to make Pepper happy. Nothing beat the far wall, though- it was entirely glass; a large window that caputured the buildings below them in a painfully artisitic way.
"Shit, Tony. Can I move in?" Clint was staring out at the city.
"There's more than one reason I made this building so tall. Contrary to popular belief."
He shot a glare at Steve who just rolled his eyes, setting down the bottles and making himself comfortable on the nearest couch. "I'm sure. Let's get down to it, then?"
"Let's play a game." Tony picked up his tablet, sending the files to the table so that they hovered in clear view. The documents they were to review were clearly lengthy, which he didn't hesitate to demonstrate. "For every time this uses the words "growth", "positive", "expansion" or "development", we're all taking a shot. Feel free to do so anyway, by the way. It's good stuff."
Steve looked worried. "I really don't think that's what Fury meant by work, Tony."
Tony extended a hand to pinch the Captain's cheek. "You're so cute when you're ruining all the fun. We'll get the work done, I promise. The alcohol is here to make this fat stack of building plans less of a chore." Steve didn't look convinced, but the reminder of the length of the task at hand was enough to make him sigh and shrug his shoulders despite any internal protest.
Bruce looked surprisingly confident. "Thankfully the... other guy isn't triggered by blood alcohol content. I've gotten drunker than I thought possible and that was before I could control it. I'll be fine."
"I will drink you all under the table." A devilish smirk had crept onto Clint's face. "Twice over."
Tony was returning the smirk. "That's the spirit! However, I really hope you know who you're dealing with. I practically run on the stuff. You could get drunk off of my blood."
Don't mention blood, Tony. Jesus.
The billionare pulled four glasses out of the cabinet, setting them on the table with a thud. Wow, new record, he thought to himself: less than an hour and you're already breaking your personal promise to not get absolutely shit-faced tonight.
He had to cut himself a little bit of slack, though. Loki was in his bed. Oh god. His bed.
Right this second, just a few floors above their heads was one of SHIELD's most wanted criminals, and if he were being completely honest with himself, a tiny part of him enjoyed that fact due to some deadly sense of morbid curiosity. If Tony wanted a chance of actually being able to focus on anything but that fact, he needed to drink quickly; he worked best when over the legal limit anyway...
"...positive change for the city, that's one, Stark!"
Banner's voice snapped him out of it, and he raised his glass, finishing the half that remained. Getting drunk with the Avengers sounded like a very welcome distraction.
"You're missing the point. There's no throne, there's no version of this where you come out on top."
Loki awoke with a gasp, followed by a hiss of pain at the sharp ache it caused throughout his chest. Several of his ribs were still broken, not aided by the stinging gashes on the skin that surrounded them. His head was throbbing and sore; his mouth dry and his lips cracked...perhaps if he tried to focus on the soft material beneath him, he would be able to slip back into sleep's grasp and temporarily shut this place out...
Wait. Soft?
His eyes opened wide, the sudden realization that he was no longer a prisoner leaving him short of breath. Last he remembered, he was face-down on the stone floor, muttering ancient phrases and channeling every ounce of strength he posessed into the spell. He forced himself to imagine every possible detail of Stark Tower he still could, praying that no one were to pass by his cell; every inch of him seemed to ignite and compress into itself, the burning sensation spreading to his core until everything was swirling darkness; he was falling, dizzy and cold and then there was nothing at all.
Nothing...and now, he was met again with darkness. The stone was replaced with something far softer, cradling his bruised body like silk. Was it silk? The stench of filth and blood was gone, too; in its place was the faint hint of cologne, alcohol, clean clothes. His mind was cloudy and his thoughts were dancing around his mind in some kind of pain-induced delerium, making it very difficult to focus on anything at all.
As he laid there trying to piece together the situation, his vision began to adjust to the darkness. It appeared he was in some kind of room, not small, but smaller than his former cell, to be sure. There was a faint outline of a door frame, a wardrobe, strange shapes on the walls. He simply wasn't able to see much more than that due to his restricted line of sight. His eyelids were heavy and he let out a small noise of annoyance at his physical state. I need to figure out where I've ended up...
"Nnnnnnnnnngggg."
Loki froze. A low, sleepy noise had filled the room. A noise not made by him. He was not alone. How had he not noticed this heavy breathing before?
It was a painful maneuver, but he forced himself to adjust his body's positioning slightly so that he could better examine his surroundings. Was he in danger? He was on edge, a hint of fear creeping into his senses; he knew he was defenseless against whatever creature-
Oh. Okay. That was... acceptable.
The trickster's mind swirled with a mixture of relief and panic. There, lying next to him, curled up like an infant, was Tony Stark himself; hair a mess, breath smelling of vodka, shirt half-unbuttoned, one sock missing. It was almost surreal how innocent and child-like the man looked as he slept. Not long ago, Loki had watched with utter fascination as he caused this man's face to contort with absolute ecstacy and now here he was, watching the man sleep. This was more than surreal, in fact. Borderline insane.
Honestly, he admitted, this was good. Better than he could have possibly hoped for. He was not only free of his alien captors, but that setting had not been immediately replaced with that of SHIELD's facilities, which he knew would be all too happy to have him. He was safe, at least for now.
It was hard to believe. Tony hadn't turned him in. He was letting the injured god share his bed. Oh god, he'd even tucked him in. Loki felt a twinge of emotion surge through him. It had been a long time since anyone had treated him with anything resembling hospitality-no. He forced himself to think realistically. Tony was clearly drunk and incapable of making such a choice.
"Thanks," Loki breathed. It was barely a whisper. Squeezing his eyes shut yet again, he welcomed the soothing hands of sleep; instead, he felt a very real hand around his waist. The pressure stung, but he endured it.
"Mmmn. Don'ention it." Tony was still half-asleep and mostly intoxicated, but he was able to summon the willpower required to form a somewhat coherent sentence.
"You better be'er whenna wake up."
When Tony didn't recieve a response, he turned so that his head was resting just under Loki's chin; the arm that was now dangerously close to groping him was tightening its grip.
He placed a light kiss on the god's throat. "A'mmised ya."
Loki stiffened at the contact, not sure what to make of what seemed like affectionate advances from the Avenger...who was now breathing softly against his shoulder.
"Yes." Loki's voice was low; hesitant. He knew Tony's words were fueled by liquor and dreams; when morning came and the haze faded, it would be much harder to convince the billionaire to let him stay.
Despite it all, Loki could not deny that this was nice. This felt good. After weeks of torture in a place devoid of hope or warmth, Tony Stark's arm was wrapped around his waist; the flesh on his neck still tingled from where his lips had briefly touched. He hadn't realized how taxing it was to keep his guard up so adamantly for so long until he let it slip, if only for a moment.
Loki felt sickeningly vulnerable, but the demand of his aching body for rest won out. He let himself relax into the touch, embracing the feeling as much as he could and letting it soothe his mind.
Just for this one night.