I don't own Marvel, the Manhattan Automobile Company, nor anything else mentioned in this story.

Jaguars. Whatever the fuck Loki was up to, it had to deal with Jaguars. Specifically, the all new F-Type Coupe, 2014's gleaming new sex symbol for those rich and powerful enough to afford it. And since one hot off the press only cost a mere fifty grand, that left..oh...half of New York's elite in the affordability zone. Himself included. Of course, a custom model was double the asking price, which would set back even the richest bastard a pretty penny. Most wouldn't bother.

They weren't Tony Stark. A hundred thousand to him was the basic equivalent of chump change, if that even. Tony had blown twice that much the last time he hit up Vegas, and not all of it was at the crap tables, hint. But times were different now. The only one he was interested in lavishing money on was himself, and a certain gorgeous brunette who he had a sort of crush on. If you could even classify it as a crush. Frankly, Tony thought that was too flimsy a word choice. Infatuation? Maybe. Throw some lust in there too. But that was getting off track. Point and check, the only reason he even gave two shits about the new Jaguar was because of his hot, not boyfriend. Loki, somehow, did work related to them.

...Yeah. That all made about as much sense as a bag of cats. And with what Tony had in mind, things were about to get just as unpredictable too.

See, here was the issue. When Loki had given him that model car, Tony took it home and spent hours-hell, days trying to piece together the puzzle of what exactly was going on. The car served as a catalyst, for with it he was able to find out that whatever gorgeous did for a living pertained to the new Jaguar. That left so many pieces missing though! How did Loki fit into all this?

Was he an engineer who'd worked with the design team to create it? Doubtful. His skin was silky smooth, no calluses to speak of. No self respecting engineer would waste money taking that such good care of his hands, only to have them made filthy by oil and grease. Maybe...marketing? That seemed more likely. Loki looked like the business type, and Tony could just imagine his silver tongue in action, striking deals, negotiations, making some poor secretary's life a living hell with quick witted barbs. Yeah. It was definitely possible, but there was just no telling. Not without directly prying into his personal life, or using Jarvis to figure out the details.

That was cheating. Not to mention invasive. Tony wanted to avoid getting kicked to the curb for stalkerish tendencies, which, if he was honest with himself, rightfully should've happened back when they first met. So none of that was allowed. He refused to go down that road again. Which really left only one option available to him. A direct approach. Intel.

It's like they said. Information was a guy's best friend. But the trick was, he had to be damn careful about how he went about getting it. His was basically a recon mission. Loki said he couldn't tell him a single thing related to his current job, because of publicity, contracts, the typical spiel. It was all hush hush, top secret. Nobody could find out until they were damn well ready to announce it. And Tony had absolutely no intentions of risking Loki's job for the sake of his curiosity. A risk that was pretty big, considering his arrival at the dealership might be a one way ticket to reporter hell, if anyone found out he was coming. Loki had said that security wouldn't let any stragglers in, and he was counting on that. Jaguar's shareholders had the money to spare on proper help for hire. That only left his usual flock of gossip writers to worry about.

Tony grinned at the thought. It was a damn good thing he was currently back at headquarters then, preparing to give a statement about the newest technology Stark Industries was set to premiere at the next expo. Every reporter who dogged his steps would be there, waiting with bated breath to see their favorite poster boy. How unfortunate that he had plans elsewhere. Pepper was absolutely going to kill him when he didn't show. Too bad. It was all worth it. Loki was worth it.

With that particularly sexy man on his mind, Tony straightened the collar of his nicest suit, a Kiten beauty in black with a scarlet silk tie, and adjusted his Armani shades. Down to the tips of his polished shoes, the look screamed money, power. Cater to compliantly, or else face the consequences. Exactly the sort of attitude he needed to strut into the dealership like he owned the place, find out what he wanted to know. Because what Tony Stark wanted, he got.

Lucky that he had the clout to back up his self-promises, otherwise his would be a very boring existence. Tony didn't do boring. He craved excitement, attention, the thrill of doing the forbidden. He was going to get a rush from all three of those today. Ignoring the watchful eyes of two imposing looking security guys in all black, Tony stepped up to the velvet rope closing off the Manhattan Automobile Dealership, gazing up at the glass fronting and signs. This was THE place to go, when someone wanted a Jaguar. And, according to sources, there was something hush hush going on in there today. Top secret. Only those people working at the dealership knew what was going on.

Sound familiar? Tony sure thought so. Secretive operations were exactly the sort of thing Loki was contracted not to talk about. This had to be it. Out of all the places in New York City that sold Jaguars, Manhattan Automobile was the nicest, most expensive, and it catered to the super rich. Or so Jarvis told him. Tony freely admitted that he might've cheated a little in asking his AI to scope out where exactly he'd have to look to find information, but Loki SAID he could do research! This counted. Right? He nodded to himself, swinging one leg over the rope. Right.

His foot was barely touching the ground before the suits came after him, angrily trying to pull him back. Somewhere between the pawing and irate bitching Tony heard shouts of "This is private property," and "The dealership is closed to the public today!" Yeah yeah. He already knew that, thanks. Way to be helpful.

If the dirty looks he was getting were anything to judge by, he might have said those last few bits out loud. Shit. That sure wasn't going to earn him any favors. But then, he didn't need favors. He was Tony Stark. These guys were going to back the hell off, leave him alone, and let him go about his business. Which, again, he said out loud, this time intentionally. While shoving their hands off him and strutting into the building like he owned the place. Technically, he could.

"Is this how you guys treat valued customers? I'm all for a little manhandling, but you better take me on a date first, wine and dine me proper. Then we can talk about a little hanky panky." With the brightest grin he could muster, Tony walked right up to the front desk despite the security yelling, people staring, and flashed his wallet at the pretty blonde working there. She was buxom, tall, with a narrow set of green eyes veiled in thick, mascara blackened lashes. Once upon a time, he would've been interested. Back then, he didn't have Loki. "Hi there. Know anyone around here that can help me get a car?"

"...I'm sorry Sir, but the dealership is closed today. You'll have to leave." Steadfastly staring at him like he was some criminal, she boldly gestured to the suits approaching. If they had their way, Tony would be out on his ass before he could even blink. And then where would he be? Not figuring out what he needed to know, that's where. That just wouldn't do.

"Is it? I hadn't noticed." Tony pulled out his wallet and thumbed through the various cards inside. The blonde looked ready to argue again; one flash of gold colored credit shut her up fast, and he got to enjoy the sight of her reading the name printed on the card, look up at him, then rinse, repeat. It was pretty funny. "Yeah. I'm Tony Stark. Nice to meet you. Now, how about that help?"

To her credit, she didn't seem all that irritated anymore. Pretty much the exact opposite. She was eager and flushed, knowing exactly who it was she'd tried to have kicked out. Closed or not, it was bad policy to threaten a celebrity with more credit cards than he had teeth. "Mr. Stark! I'm so sorry, I didn't recognize you!"

"It's the hair, isn't it? I tried something different today. Not too sure about it yet." Tony leaned against the counter and smiled charmingly, pinpointing all the little details that were going to help him get his way. Bright eyes, rosy cheeks, lips that every so slightly parted whenever she met his gaze. Oh yeah. She wouldn't be difficult to win over. "Listen. Can you keep a secret?" He curled his finger at her, lowering his voice conspiratorially while the security guys, and several others, looked on with confused impatience. "This is top secret. Promise to keep it to yourself?"

"Of course, Mr. Stark! But," she hesitated, peeking at the growing crowd. Now it included quite a few executive looking types. "You really aren't supposed to be here today. We are closed. I'm so sorry, but it's for-"

"Jaguar. Which, coincidentally, is the exact car I'm wanting. Not the old model either. The NEW one. The one you guys are helping promote today." The woman paled, then blushed brighter. Tony waggled his credit card, mischievously thumbing the gilt of his name embossed on the plastic. "So, here's what I want you to do. Take me back to the beauties. Help me, Miss," Tony snuck a glance at the glass paperweight with gold lettering, "Moran. Lovely name by the way. Give me a hand, and I'll make sure a nice, fat bonus is in your bank account by Monday morning. Enough to oh, say, treat yourself to a day of splendor."

Miss Moran was eyeing him as if he were a fat, juicy piece of beef now, her red lips curving into a smile that he wanted to call sneaky. That fake, nervous giggle didn't fool him. "I'm not a salesman, Mr. Stark. They wouldn't let me. I'm forbidden from going back to the actual cars."

"Sure they would, if I asked you to. Come on...think about it. All that money? You can go to the salon, get your nails done. You strike me as a….frosted gold lover, with little jewels. Am I right?" Of course he was. Her blouse was the exact same color, and her nails had the look of a week old manicure. Well taken care of, but obviously not bright and shiny anymore. "You deserve a chance to really treat yourself. I can tell, a woman like you loves to be pampered. Just say the word, and it's done. You'll be able to get the whole nine yards. Hair, nails, skin, whatever you want. And don't worry about the big boys upstairs." Tony winked. "I'll take care of them."

That did the trick. He wasn't supposed to know about their little operation, but he did. He wasn't SUPPOSED to be here, yet he was. Plus, to top it all off, he had the details. Most of them. Or just a few. But they didn't need to know that. To put it simply, they were already in the frying pan. Might as well let him stick around, milk him for all he was worth. And nobody was going to say no to the guy with a limitless credit card, with their receptionist drooling all over him. Ah. Such was the price of being rich and famous.

"I suppose...it couldn't hurt." All of a sudden he had the lovely Miss Moran hanging off his arm and grinning up at him with a lascivious smile. She wasn't drooling, but close enough. Women couldn't resist him. Some men neither. Except Loki, who was ever the exception to the rule. Tony liked it that way. "You said you wanted a...Jaguar?"

"That's right. You know what they say. Only the best for the best, and your new models are exactly what I've been looking for." He let her drape herself against him, casually patting the woman's hand. It wasn't a big deal, not to him. Something told him Loki wouldn't be jealous of some superficial, big chested bimbo, and Tony didn't feel a spark of interest anyway. It was all a means to an end. Whatever was going on here, Tony needed to know. If it pertained to Loki at all, then he was going to find out. "Lead the way. My wallet's burning a hole in my pocket."

"Of course, Mr. Stark. Right this way."

The crowd parted as he and the receptionist walked through them. Many were whispering, some in excitement, others in awe. Tony received plenty of fawning, doe eyed smiles, and several of the crowd's members wished him a breathless "Good afternoon, Mr. Stark." Which, he noticed, included a few who were dressed too smartly not to be part of the dealership's management. Awesome. He needed them on his side. So what if the hired help were still giving him dirty looks? They couldn't do anything to him now. Tony waved at them, following the sashaying Miss Moran towards the Jaguar exhibit that took up a fairly large portion of the building. The Manhattan Automobile Company sold all sorts of cars, but he wasn't interested in them. Just...those.

Gleaming like freshly polished jewels, three F-Type Jaguars sat proudly behind another barrier of velvet rope. There was security out the ass guarding them, and Tony saw several cameras and light fixtures set up, with their workers looking on and yelling instructions to one another. More professionals in suits were watching him approach, tiny silver pins attached to their collars. Even from that far away, he could see they were embossed with the Jaguar symbol. These were the real masterminds then. The guys he needed to charm.

This would be almost too easy.

"So these are the new beauties, huh? They definitely live up to all the rumors." Tony held up his hands as he was surrounded by several of the crew and suits, who he only assumed were in charge of this publicity stunt. Obviously it was a photo shoot. Made sense; most companies liked to grab a few glamour shots of the merchandise before they started filming commercials, but all this security for such a little project? Hey, it wasn't like it was his money they were blowing, so he didn't particularly care. "Relax everyone! I'm not with the press. You haven't been compromised! I'm just a simple guy, looking for a shiny new toy to amuse myself with."

One flash of his credit card shut up any incoming complaints. Just like the Moran woman, these guys appreciated wealth. Not any old wealth either. Plenty of people in New York were worth their weight in gold. They weren't Tony Stark though. His fortune was near limitless. He had enough tangible funds in jewels and gold bullion alone to completely fill three giant bunkers. That wasn't touching the stocks and various enterprises he was involved in. To put it in layman's terms, he was filthy stinking rich. And they knew it too.

"Tony Stark?"

"It's Tony Stark! Mr. Stark, over here!" Several cameras turned on him, capturing pictures galore. He was fairly secure that none would end up in tomorrow's tabloids, which meant he could put forth his most charismatic facade and bask in the limelight. The cameramen didn't hide their excitement, so why should he?

"Good afternoon! I'll be happy to answer any questions you have later, but right now I'm only interested in the merchandise." He cocked his head to the side and murmured in Miss Moran's ear. "Be a dear and get me a drink, will you? I'd love nothing more than a black coffee right now. Actually-" a hundred disappeared into the pocket of her blazer, "if there's a Starbucks around here, make it a double chocolate chip frappuccino. You can keep the change."

Amazing how fast a person could disappear when they were offered coffee and money. One minute she was there, and the next Miss Moran was hightailing it out of there as if she had hellfire licking at her heels, leaving him alone with his onlookers. Tony smirked at them, offering out a few more bills to the two security guys. "Do everyone a favor and give the lady some company. I promise, a little reprieve won't hurt anyone. You guys look like you could use some caffeine anyway." When they didn't make a move, he tucked the bills into one of their breast pockets and patted the dark material, jovially moving towards the ropes. "I get it. You're dedicated to the job. Maybe later then."

"Mr. Stark!" One of the executive men was walking towards him. Tony could tell that this guy was the boss. Maybe it was something about the way he walked, or the cold, aloof expression on his face, but he knew one thing. This was one guy nobody would want to trifle with. Nobody, except him. "This is a closed venue, as I'm sure you've already been informed. We purposely kept this under wraps so as to avoid any stints with the paparazzi, and yet, here you are."

"What can I say? You think you have a big secret, and then some guy shows up out of the blue and throws a monkey wrench into your plans. But don't worry. My fan base is out of commission today. They won't be showing up to ruin the surprise. In fact, the only one who even knows I'm here is-well, me." Tony laughed. Mr. Stoic didn't seem to find it as funny, leveling him with a cool stare. With his creepy blue eyes, it was as if he'd been plunged into an icy lake, and death was waiting to drag him under. Talk about unsettling. Tony mentally grimaced, offering his hand out to the strange man. "So, what exactly are you up to today, Mr...sorry, what's your name again? I didn't quite catch it."

"Deviare. I'm in charge of publicity for the new 2014 Jaguar line. But surely you already knew that? After all, you seem remarkably well informed as to what's going on. Why, it almost seems as if you heard it from a direct source. Someone with contacts within the business." The man's lips pulled back in a nasty parody of a smile. "Which does make me wonder. How exactly did you come to know of our work here today, Mr. Stark?"

Shit. Tread carefully Tony. "I run one of the most prestigious companies in the world. I have eyes and ears everywhere, Mr. Deviare. There's pretty much nothing I can't find out, especially when it's happening in my city." His city? Eh, close enough. "Honestly, I'd be grateful if I were you. What's better publicity than making sure one of your first new cars out on the streets is owned by me? I'm fairly notorious. And a trendsetter. The minute New York's finest see me driving one of your Jaguars, everyone will want one. You'll make a fortune."

It wasn't a lie. Tony had sparked many trends over the years. This would be another one to add to the list. The important thing was, would this asshole believe him?

Apparently, yes. "I suppose there's little point in asking you to list your sources." Deviare's mouth lost some of its stiffness, forming a smile that was at least moderately believable. Gesturing for Tony to follow, he unhooked one of the scarlet ropes keeping them behind the lines. "If you'll come with me. You might as well see the merchandise up close, before you make any hasty decisions."

"Trust me. I've done my research. You guys have a couple of technological beasts here. Supercharged engines, surround sound," approaching one of the cars, a stunning machine in salsa red, Tony stroked his fingers across the glossy hood and followed it back to the driver side door. "I heard there's even the option of heated seats."

"That comes custom, Mr. Stark, as well as the option of a panoramic glass roof. Which, as you can see, this model possesses."

If Deviare was trying to sell him on the car, he didn't need to. Tony had decided going into this that he was going to own one, no matter what it took. His main interest was still gathering intel, but hey, no reason he couldn't indulge himself while he was at it. "Believe me, I see it. This car is a beauty." He pulled the door open and admired the black leather interior, stitched in a contrasting red with black aluminum detailing. It wasn't hard to see that he'd be a perfect fit inside. Just in case, he slid inside and got a taste of that premium leather. Perfect. No wonder Loki was involved with all this.

"I see the car is to your taste then."

Tony grinned up at the watchful brunette keeping an eye on him. He couldn't sound any more bland if he tried. "It's fantastic. I'll have to sneak a peek at the engine and hear some more about all the special features you guys have included this time around, but my mind's pretty much made up. So I'll tell you what. The receptionist should be back with my coffee soon. Lets you and me grab the manager of this place and sit down, hammer out the little details. You can tell me more about this publicity stunt of yours while we're at it. Sound good?"

He wasn't really leaving him much of a choice. Loki couldn't secret share. That left Tony going to the next best source, and this guy was a virtual well of information. He could tell. Head of publicity? That's exactly what he needed. Now, all he had to do was close the sale and get Mr. Deviare to start talki-

"I'm afraid that's impossible. You see, this particular vehicle is an integral part of our shoot, Mr. Stark. For that reason alone, we can't sell it to you. Surely you realize this." The twisted gleam in those uncomfortably blue eyes was mocking, scathing. Tony didn't like it one bit. More importantly, he didn't like being told NO. "If you return tomorrow, or the next day, we'll be in a better position to accommodate your whims. For today, I'm afraid it simply isn't possible." Deviare smirked. "My sincerest apologies."

Apologies his ASS. Deviare was being a difficult bastard, on purpose! Guess Tony was right after all; he really was an asshole.

"What, you can't use another car? Or sell me this one after you're done with it? How long is this stupid shoot supposed to last anyway?!" Tony half leaned out of the car and angrily fixated on the taller man, completely ignorant to the madness happening outside the velvet ropes. It wasn't until the photographers started rushing back on set did he realize something was going down. "What, time for the magic to happen?"

"In a manner of speaking. Come. The model will need full access to the vehicle, Mr. Stark, and you're currently in the way." Pale fingers sliced through the air, annoyance engraved in every twitch. "Mr. Stark?" Once again they tried to catch his attention, but Tony was distracted. Mostly by the guy's own words. Model?

"What do you mean, model? There's a model?" Perking up, he climbed out of the Jaguar. Loki hadn't mentioned anything about a model, except for his scathing opinion of most of them. How ironic. That could explain some of his reluctance to talk about his secret work. Contract or not, it didn't make sense that he'd keep all this to himself. But this? This made perfect sense. "So, who's the lucky girl? She must be pretty huge, since you guys were all determined to keep it under wraps." Tony might know her; he was pretty familiar with most of the glamorous elite.

Waiting impatiently for him beside the velvet barricade, Deviare waved him outside its confines. "There is no girl, Mr. Stark. Whoever you had do your dirty work for you doesn't deserve a cent of pay. Your information is clearly lacking."

No girl huh. "Then who the hell is doing the shoot? Hm? If not a girl, then who else is there?" Tony stepped away from the gleaming cars and crossed his arms, frustrated, craving his damn coffee, and still woefully uninformed about what the hell was going on. He didn't like that. In fact, it was probably his least favorite feeling in the entire world.

"Who else? The answer should be obvious."

"Uh, not really." Jackass. "C'mon. You're not leaving me with a whole lot of...options..." Tony drifted off, staring at the figure that had emerged seemingly out of nowhere near the building's Jaguar sign. Fair skinned, with hair as black as raven wings and a killer body that begged to be touched; there was no doubt about it. This was the model. Unfortunately for him, it didn't look like Tony was going to receive a warm welcome. There was nothing but fury in those green eyes, burning brighter than a bonfire ran out of control.

Two things stood out to him then. One, he'd been damn ignorant so far, assuming the Jaguar model had to be female. He'd likely get his ass chewed out for that later, if Loki ever found out. And, second...fuck, he was so screwed. Tony recognized the model.

After all, how could he not? They were pretty much dating.