One

(part two)


Things ended right where they started, in Tony's workshop. Tony went there straight from the party and then sat at his desk, staring at his computer. Pictures were rolling on the screen; pictures taken from newspapers and news shows from all over the world, all showing his fellow Avengers in full regalia, smiling, laughing even, a symbol of camaraderie for everyone to see. And Thor was right in the middle of it every time; the biggest guy in the room, with arms draped around his smaller friends, the mortals who seemed to bask in his attention.

"Shmucks," Tony muttered, and there was not one bigger than himself, who'd basked, all right. Somehow he always ended up at one end or the other of Thor's embrace, with the big man's hand resting on him. Sometimes Thor would do a little drumming on his shoulder, a sort of Morse code that meant he'd be dropping by later. Sometimes Thor was bolder; he moved closer and whispered, 'I want you, Iron Man,' and when Tony glanced around, he'd find that Thor was eyeing him like he was a juicy lamb chop or something, and it was enough to make Tony falter –sometimes right in the middle of a speech too. And Tony didn't mind. He never did.

Now, looking at the pictures, Tony had begun to regret every time he cut a conference short for Thor.

There was really nothing he could do about it now, except obliterate the evidence.

He punched a key.

"Oops! It's gone. I deleted another one, JARVIS!"

"Do you wish me to delete that picture from my data base?"

"Why do you keep asking that? I deleted it, didn't I?"

"Accidentally, Mr. Stark."

"Accidentally, on purpose." He punched the key again. "Ooops, there goes another!"

He took a swig from the bottle, then grimaced. He hated sweet stuff. It wasn't like the champagne wasn't giving him enough of a buzz –he'd kept his drinking in check for so long, even something as mild as this was bound to get him going –but he'd rather get drunk on bourbon; bourbon hangovers were easier to handle. Sweet stuff made him sick afterwards. Really sick.

He didn't have any bourbon at hand, though, and he didn't have the energy to go looking for it.

Idly, he looked back at his computer. Pictures were still rolling.

"Maybe I should just delete the whole bunch."

"I can always retrieve those pictures from their original sources," JARVIS said perkily.

"I don't want them retrieved," Tony retorted. "How many pictures did you save, anyway?"

"The number of pictures taken by you alone amount to -"

"Fuck," Tony muttered. Mea culpa. Yep, he'd taken lots of pictures; group pictures of the Avengers in and out of the tower, candid shots that chronicled their friendship from their uneasy beginnings to present times. Their first time at a bowling alley, for instance; their first trip on his private yacht, and the first time they tried to play baseball...

Then there was that tape, the one he kept under lock and key, so to speak. Normally, all security tapes were deleted on a weekly basis, even those from his bedroom –especially those from his bedroom; sex tapes had a nasty habit to turn up into the wrong hands- but he'd made an exception with this one.

Tony hesitated a couple of seconds, then typed a security code. A window opened, and there they were, he and Thor grappling in bed for the first time. They looked good together, despite their differences –one darker than the other, one bigger than the other. Or maybe it was their differences that worked in their favor. Thor was mostly silent, for instance, while Tony… Jesus, Tony wouldn't stop talking, not even when Thor started thrusting into him.

The sound was off, but Tony knew the dialogue by heart:

He, gasping: "I'd never done this." At Thor's questioning look, he added, "Without a condom, I mean."

And Thor had stopped moving right then.

"Do you wish me to wear one?"

"Oh, Jesus, no," he'd pleaded. "I'm clean, you're a god… Keep going." He'd grunted a couple of times, then managed a joke, "It's not like you're gonna knock me up, right?"

And maddeningly, Thor had stopped again.

"Knock you up? What does that -"

"Impregnate me," Tony cut in. "You're not gonna do that." And then, because Thor didn't immediately reply, Tony himself had stopped. "Are ya?"

And Thor had started laughing, boisterously –his own version of 'gotcha!'- and Tony had started laughing in relief.

Tony wasn't smiling now. There was a time when he thought that tape was better than any porn he'd ever seen; it had certainly helped those times he'd been left alone while Thor visited Jane Foster or his parents, or whatever it was that he did, (he never told and Tony never asked); but tonight, instead of arousing him, it pissed him off. He hated the way he looked at Thor, for instance. The emotions playing in his eyes were genuine, and that was the problem; he truly was in awe of Thor –well, that was kind of understandable; Thor was richer and more powerful than him. But did he have to look so fucking happy too?

Maybe he should delete that tape too; a sex tape was only good if it got you going.

He caught movement out of a corner of his eye then. A flash of red. Someone had entered the room –the only person who had full access to the workshop apart from him.

Thor.

Tony didn't immediately look up. He never did when Thor visited. It was a little game they played; he kept working, Thor got impatient and then walked up to him, pulled him away from his desk (or his workbench) and started kissing him –

But Thor didn't do any of these things, and Tony didn't really expect him to. He just wasn't about to make things easy for him.

Let the big man make the first move if he dared. Let him try to explain.

Unfortunately, talking had never been Thor's forte. He could sit or stand for hours without saying anything, seemingly content with letting Tony doing the talking. He probably understood only half of what Tony was saying, but he liked to listen. He smiled and nodded now and then, while Tony talked and talked, until he realized he'd said things he'd never meant to reveal.

One night, while having a late-night snack, Tony had stopped in the middle of a story. "I can't believe I told you that!" He'd looked at Thor, who'd been eating cornflakes all along. Thor had smiled in that open way of his, but Tony wasn't mollified. He'd blurted out, "If you tell anyone, I'll kill you!" And Thor had laughed out loud and playfully ruffled Tony's hair. "I'm serious," Tony insisted. Then, "Oh, ok, I'm not gonna kill you. But if you tell, I won't have sex with you anymore." And Thor had merely tilted his head and stared at Tony as if to gauge his sincerity, then smiled and laid his hand on Tony's neck and stroke it. Tony reluctantly leant into his touch. He rolled his eyes. "Oh, all right. I'll still have sex with you. Just don't tell anyone, will ya?"

"I shall not," Thor had said solemnly, and Tony had believed him.

He trusted Thor.

A part of him had resisted, at least at first. But he'd gradually given in. It was ok, he told himself; Thor was a good guy, he reasoned; he wouldn't betray him, and he'd always be there.

Tony closed his eyes for a couple of seconds, then opened them just in time to see the part in the movie where Thor wrapped his arm around Tony and then practically passed out, his face comfortably tucked into Tony's neck. Tony glanced sideways at Thor, then looked directly into the camera, smiling goofily. He was sooo proud of himself. He, a mere mortal, had managed to turn the Mighty Thor into an exhausted, cuddly teddy bear of a man. He knew his arm would get numb from the weight and he would probably have to get it amputated if Thor didn't roll off, but hey, if the big man was happy, so was he...

"Schmuck," Tony muttered. Morosely, he closed the window.

He swiveled his chair around and faced Thor. The big man was standing in the middle of the room, his eyes cast down.

Was that shame? Well, good.

"Well, well," Tony said. "The groom's here." He stared at him for a moment. "So. You're leaving."

Thor nodded quietly, still without looking at Tony.

Thor's meekness irked him.

"Are you gonna say something, or are you just gonna stand there like you're part of the furniture?"

Thor raised his gaze at last. His lips parted, but Tony was faster.

"Just tell me this: "How long have you known?"

Thor hesitated. "My Father summoned me early this morn -"

"Don't give me that," Tony cut in. "Don't fucking give me that. Your dad's a stickler for tradition; there's no way he would decide this kind of thing overnight. He must have told you about this a long time ago." He kept his gaze on Thor, enjoying the fact that he was making the big man uncomfortable. Ah, ha. "So," he said softly. "How long have you known."

Thor didn't immediately reply. "We were betrothed from birth."

Tony nodded, as if he'd known all along.

"So, all this time -"

Thor shook his head.

"You knew," Tony insisted. "You fucking knew you'd have to leave." Thor tried to say something, but Tony cut in again. "You should have said so, from the beginning. I mean, you're the one who's always jabbering about honor and all that shit, so how come you never mentioned her?"

"She broke our engagement," Thor said quietly. "She said my association with humans diminished me."

"So, what happened; she changed her mind all of a sudden? That's so fucking nice of her." Tony took a swig from the bottle, found that it tasted worse now, but he kept drinking till it was all gone. He lowered the bottle. "You must be so grateful."

Thor looked up pleadingly. "Stark, I… I cannot refuse her."

"Oh, so she says jump and you jump, is that it?"

Thor smiled almost imperceptibly.

"I jumped every time you required it of me."

"That was different," Tony retorted, "That was business. Avengers business." He rose from his seat, walked unsteadily towards Thor till they were just a couple of feet apart. "You're an Avenger, remember? You said we were brothers. Brothers," he added, his anger growing. "You said you'd stay for as long as -"

"Stark-"

"You fucking said it!" Tony finished. He raised the bottle again, and was surprised to find it empty. He looked incredulously at it till Thor gently reached for it.

Tony saw their fingers touch, then part as Thor took the bottle from him and set it on the floor.

Thor's gesture filled him with sadness. Then the sadness turned to anger.

"So. Your fiancée doesn't like humans, huh? Does she know you've been fucked by one?" Thor winced, which was exactly what Tony wanted. Oh, yes; make the man squirm. "What about your dad? Does he know?" He looked closely at Thor, and noticed his growing discomfort. "Oh, so that's what this is all about. Daddy found out and freaked out." Thor shook his head almost imperceptibly but Tony ignored him. "His precious son, sullied by a human's seed."

"Stark." There was something in Thor's eyes as he spoke his name. A silent plea. That, and something else, something he'd seen recently in Natasha's eyes. Compassion.

Tony looked away. He didn't want people's pity.

"It is my Father's command," Thor said softly. "Please, understand. I must obey." He hesitated, and then – "You would do the same if your father -"

"Get out."

Tony turned. Thor was looking at him in surprise. Something in Tony's tone must have alerted him, and now that he looked at Tony in the face, he knew for certain that something was wrong.

"Iron Man -" Pleading, again.

"Get the fuck out of here." The words were spoken softly, but there was an obvious threat in them. "Now."

"I cannot leave until -"

"Didn't you hear me? You broke your word. You're nothing to me now." He frowned even as he said the words, (where the hell did they come from?) yet they were oddly appropriate. He saw Thor flinch, then make a visible effort to hold back. Then, after a brief hesitation, he walked up to Tony.

This is it, Tony thought. Thor was going to hit him -great, then at least he'd get some real pain to focus on.

Or maybe Thor would grab him instead; throw him over the desk and tear his clothes off and -

But all Thor did was put his hand on Tony's shoulder. He just let it lie there, warm and comforting. No more drumming, Tony thought. No more easy laughter -you're nothing to me now- no more late-night snacks at the cafeteria upstairs, no more trying to teach Thor the right way to swing a bat…

He tried to say he was sorry but for once, words failed him.

"Goodbye, Iron Man," Thor said softly, and then he turned and left.

Tony didn't move. He took a deep breath. Then another. He stood rooted in place doing nothing else for a long time. It wasn't till JARVIS spoke that he finally looked up.

"What did you say?" he asked hoarsely.

"Captain Rogers wishes to speak to you, sir. He wants to know your plans concerning Mr. Odinson's departure."

"My plans?"

"He says you ought to be present as they bid their goodbyes to Mr. Odinson."

Tony snorted. "Yeah, right." He took a deep breath, then, "Ok. Put him through." He glanced at the screen above the door. Steve Rogers appeared there, and he didn't look happy. "What's up, Steve?"

"Thor's about ready to leave, Tony. You'd better come upstairs now."

"I'm kinda busy right now. Why don't you take over?"

Steve shook his head, "It's your house, Tony," he said patiently; "It should be you -"

"My house," Tony repeated ironically. "You're right. It is my house. I keep forgetting that." He looked up. "Ok, look. What am I supposed to do? He wants to leave; nothing I say will change that."

"Then what about showing him some gratitude? He saved our behinds more times than I can count; you know that better than anyone -"

"I saved his too, Steve. And I did count the times. As far as I can tell, I don't owe him anything."

"Don't you?"

Tony looked up sharply. He stared at Steve, wondering what the hell he meant by that, and whether he, like Natasha, might know more than he let on about his relationship with Thor. But unlike Natasha, Steve wasn't looking at him with pity. He looked… pissed, yeah; but also kind of… exasperated.

Tony knew that look; nannies and butlers and rehab workers had looked at him exactly like that.

"It's not like he wants to leave, Tony," Rogers said quietly. "We should support him, not give him a hard time."

Tony looked up reluctantly.

"You're right," he said. "I'm being an ass. What can I say? Champagne has a bad effect on me."

"Then have some coffee and come upstairs."

"No."

Steve threw a quick glance over his shoulder as if to make sure there was no one around, then looked back at Tony.

"You're not making this easy on Thor, Tony! He's been our friend all along; he deserves better -"

"Please, Steve. You do it. You're better than me at this kind of thing, anyway. "

"Tony -"

"Just tell him how much we appreciated his help," Tony added casually. "Make sure his things are packed and ready -I don't want any complaints from Mr. Odinson. Oh, and give him some memento from the group, will you?"

"A memento? Like what?"

"I don't know. A group picture? Or a coffee maker -maybe he'll finally learn how to use it," he added snidely. "What about a toaster? He's getting married, after all."

"What about one of your guitars?" Steve said spitefully. "He always wanted to try his hand at them."

Tony was taken aback.

"No way." Thor's hands were talented when it came to sex, but musical instruments were out of his league. Even baseball bats gave him trouble. "Not my guitars."

"Then come upstairs and chose your own frigging gift."

Frigging. Steve only said that word when he was seriously pissed off.

Tony sighed. "Fine, give him one of my guitars. It's not gonna last long, but... That's the point, I guess. Anything else?"

"No, Mr. Stark," Steve said, still angry; "We'll handle everything for you." He cut communications himself.

Tony nodded.

"Good," he said, even though Steve could no longer hear him. "Ok. That's it then." He straightened up. "I feel much better now," he added. "I need to go out. Yeah, that's it. There's gotta be a party somewhere."

He walked up to the door but couldn't get through. "JARVIS, the door."

"I am sorry, Mr. Stark. I cannot allow you to leave."

"What? Why!"

"Sir, we both know what is going to happen if you leave in your present condition."

"My present condition?"

"You are broken-hearted, sir; you have imbibed a large amount of alcohol. If you go out, you shall inevitably get entangled in a dangerous liaison, and then tomorrow -or the day you finally return- you shall bemoan the fact that you left in the first place."

Tony couldn't believe what he was hearing. "First of all, I'm not broken-hearted; I'm pissed. That's different." JARVIS didn't deign to reply to that. "Second, I'm not planning on getting entangled in a liaison; I want to get laid -huge difference there. And in third place, what the fuck's wrong with you? I didn't program you to act like a sanctimonious prig!"

"You programmed me to protect your interests, sir."

"Exactly; it's in my best interests to go out right now." The door didn't open. "JARVIS! OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!"

"Not until you sober up."

"I am sober!"

"Not according to the levels shown on my data base."

Tony leant his forehead on the door. "JARVIS, for the last time -"

"The answer is still no, sir. May I suggest that in the future you word your intentions more ambiguously, so that I do not feel compelled to act as drastically? Meanwhile, to avoid a conversation that might prove embarrassing to you later, I shall cease communications for the next four hours." Pause. "Yee-ha."