Authors Note: I'm very sorry for the long wait, life decided to give me a good kick in the shins. I don't suppose the length of this chapter could make up for some of it? Regardless, thank you all for your comments and please continue to leave them, they motivate and help to improve.
The debriefing room in the Avengers mansion was large and brightly lit, with a long, clear glass table acting as the center. Color was devoid of this room, glass planes and shiny metal surfaces only to reflect life; mirroring the colors and motions of those inside. Aside from the occasional whirring of a machine, cleverly designed to correspond with the bleakness of its surroundings, the debriefing room was a bland, sterile place, where ones attention would not waver and whatever task at hand would be dealt with without distraction.
It was a serious place, and when Tony entered, only silence and blank faces greeted him. Warm eyes trailed over each member of his team. All were gathered, each such contrasts against the white of the room. He could see in their expressions that any sarcasm or play he might have brought was better left outside; a juvenile attitude was not welcome here, not now.
The atmosphere was thick with foreboding and Tony's footfalls were hollow against the floor, mocking the lack of sound as he took a seat next to Bruce, turning to face Nick Fury at the head of the assembled superheroes. No one commented on his being the last one to arrive or asked where he'd been, all focus was on Fury, and even breathing seemed suspended in case it drew attention away from the director of S.H.I.E.L.D.
Nick looked haggard and weary; the lines of his face more pronounced. His solitary eye met every one of theirs, never lingering. The somber look left a dreading hole in the stomachs of the group, mental preparations being made, because whatever had happened or was going to happen wasn't good, and every single one of them knew it.
Without words, the dark man made his way around the table, dropping a folder in front of each Avenger until he was back to his original spot. Fury motioned for them to open the file, taking a moment to bring himself to full height and expression blank; every ounce of steady leader he was supposed to be.
Tony tried not to think about what would have Nick Fury needing a second to collect himself and stared at the contents of the folder, a familiar metal masked figure cloaked in green littered the page.
"Victor Von Doom alias: Doctor Doom,' Fury's voice loud and clear, enveloping any empty space in the debriefing room, leaving no possibility for misunderstandings, 'As you all know, last month Doom hit a nuclear power plant. Twenty-two of his henchmen were apprehended, but Doom escaped with a power cell."
The next page held the official report of that incident. Tony remembered, though he hadn't been there. It was the very same incident that had been reported on the news during the business convention's "thanks for making it this far without having a mental breakdown" party, when he learned a little bit more about Lawrence and his . . . unique opinion on superheroes.
Tony would have smiled fondly at the memory of the conversation prior to Tony laying one on Lawrence, if it hadn't been brought up by a very serious situation. Tony knew Nick was still getting to his point.
"Well, it seems that whatever Doom needed the first time, he didn't get, because he attacked another facility last night."
Steve's voice spoke up. "Why are we only hearing about this now?"
If Tony hadn't been the one to see it, he wouldn't have believed it. Nick Fury winced. It was small, would have been lost on the untrained eye, but a wince it was. Nick lowered his head, furrowed eyebrows and gritted teeth revealed the anger under the collected surface while clenched leather-clad fists showed the restraint it took not to let it out.
"Because,' started the man, voice never wavering, 'the entirety of the staff working at that nuclear plant had been killed." None spoke as the weight of Doom's deed sunk in. "It wasn't until another worker arrived for his shift was S.H.I. E.L.D notified. We spent the majority of the day trying to find out what happened and cleaning up."
Papers could be heard shuffling and crinkling as the Avengers tore through their files, as Tony himself was doing. Skimming over the words with the consistency only years of going over contracts could provide, Tony's eyes stopped dead when the word 'casualties' appeared in the midst of black and white.
Cayman's North Nuclear Facility; Casualties: 381. Wounded: 0. Survivors: 0.
Doom had killed every single person working in that plant. No survivors, none injured. Just . . . dead. Doctor Doom was a bad guy for a reason, Tony knew that. Underneath the cliché name and the lengthy monologues and all the camp, was a man who didn't care about consequences less such consequences affected his end goal. Doom was a man who would always want something, be it money, information, or attention, and had no problem working outside ethics and morals to obtain it.
Really, Tony shouldn't be so surprised that a man who would set fire to an entire city and laugh as the flames swallowed the screams of its population could kill every man and woman working in a nuclear plant regardless if they'd been in his way or not.
Yet, this . . . this, it was still hard to know, still difficult to swallow. Though the fact that it still bothered Tony was something of a comfort that he hadn't gone numb to senseless murder.
The Iron Avenger drew his eyes from the page and glanced at Fury, the man with just as much responsibility as the rest of them weighing him down, perhaps even more. Yes, Tony decided he didn't envy Nick Fury. While the CEO was out in the field with the rest of his team, defending Earth, taking blows to the head and laser blasts to the body, desperately trying not to cause a greater level of damage to the surrounding area turned war zone that the villain they faced would be proud of, it was Nick Fury who was there for the aftermath.
Nick Fury and whatever S.H.I.E.L.D agents he had on hand were the ones that stayed behind and surveyed the loss. They were the ones who took note of the fallen buildings and the crushed cars, the ones who dealt with the loitering civilians, and they were the ones who dug the bodies out of the ruble, placing names to lifeless faces.
It was Fury and his band of men and women who stayed behind to clean up the city after a face-off between the superheroes and villains, covering as the Avengers changed out of their costumes, shedding their alter-egos and returning to their lives.
No, Tony wasn't envious of Nick Fury and the different kind of responsibility that befell him. While Tony knew that those numbers in black that so deeply contrasted the white they were printed on were people, people that wouldn't be returning home to greet family, would no longer hang out with friends, would never again fall asleep next to a lover, Nick was the one who knew the names and faces of the families of the deceased, the people who had to be told that their friend wasn't going to be there for the weekly get together at a local bar, the person that had to be sat down and told why their significant other hadn't come home the previous night. Nick Fury knew all those haunting details and Tony couldn't imagine being in his place.
"As you can gather,' rang Fury's voice, slicing through the silence that had accumulated as the Avengers took in the maliciousness of Doom's latest crime, 'Victor Von Doom is covering his tracks. He's making absolutely sure that no one lets slip whatever it is he's planning."
Nick paused and even gravity seemed affected by his words, as Tony could feel them settling heavily on his chest. "This new plan of Doom's, it's big . . . and he doesn't want it to fail. That means he's willing to kill anyone he thinks might hinder his plot, but going to such extremes suggests Doom's desperate, and desperation can lead to getting sloppy."
"So, I want every one of you,' and Fury looked pointedly to them all, 'to keep ears open at all times. If someone so much whispers Doom, I want you on them. Any criminal you catch, I want to be informed if they know anything about Doom, we will be the judge of its relevance. I know I don't need to tell you all how important it is to capture Doctor Doom before he finishes his newest scheme, so as of now, Victor Von Doom is the top priority. Dismissed."
And Nick Fury exited the room in a sweep of black trench coat and heavy boots, two S.H.I.E.L.D agents flanking him the second he turned down the hall.
Rough fingertips met the smooth face of the manila folder containing the rest of the report, merely more quasi-informational paragraphs detailing what Doom did to the nuclear facility and how little they really had on what he may be planning, as Tony closed the file. The inventor had read all he needed too.
Tony looked up and over at his teammates, all in a similar state of choking down this little nugget of reality, each showing it in his or her own way. Clint had a face of complete indifference, but Tony could see his right knee bobbing, the telltale sign of the impatient need to move. Natalie sported her best poker face as she absorbed every facet of the report, already in full-solider mode. Steve's posture and attitude were similar to Natalie's, while Thor's thoughts were readily on his face. Always did Thor's emotions display themselves, and now, anger was forefront.
Bruce's soft voice spoke up and Tony listened to it, though his eyes returned to the closed file under his hands. "You know, we fight all kinds of people, villains who are against humanity in one form or another. And when people die, there's normally a reason, some sort of emotional motivation. Are they looking for revenge? Do they just hate a certain group, a single person? Nevertheless, those lives mean something to the villain, and you'd figure the violence would eventually stop, their purpose would finally be fulfilled."
"But what happens when we're face-to-face with someone who doesn't care about life. That this person kills, not because he is looking to avenge, not because the victim had something they wanted, but just because they could. Not in a show of godliness, no, but this person can kill another, someone who had very little, if anything to do with him or her, and never bat an eyelash, never feel any sort of success."
Bruce's emotions flowed through his words and gripped Tony, forcing him to face a harsh truth. "What do we do when we're trying to defeat someone who just doesn't care?"
Tony held back a humorless snort. That wasn't entirely true, Doom cared about himself. But he knew what Bruce was getting at, that Doom was at the point where people meant nothing. And how, as the defenders of Earth, a group of super powered beings who stood directly in harm's way because they cared about people so much, could they possibly reason with that?
Nearly a month later and Doom was still very much hidden away in whatever crevice he had managed to find. Not a swish of a green hooded cape or a metal shaving off his body armor had been spotted. They'd gone through petty purse snatchers to The Circus of Crime, demanding to know anything about Doom. But the criminals would just shrugged their shoulders, swearing ignorance as they were man-handled into the back of police cruisers for whatever crime the Avengers had prevented them from finishing.
Nothing. A whole lot of nothing. And it was really starting to get under Tony's skin. Sure, his fellow superheroes were just as aggravated, but Tony was admittedly narcissistic, so his annoyance came first.
For about a week Tony thought he'd had something. Using samples of burnt metal, he tried to find a traceable pattern from Doom's electro-lightening powers, something to track him with. Tony whipped up a prototype device that could pick up Dooms electric field within a limited radius. However, the scrapes of metal were too old, only physically able with his eyes to tell the difference between Doom's attack and a random streak of lightening.
Tony had tested the device anyway, and then blasted it into smithereens with his right hand propulsion generator when it lead him to his microwave.
It looked like Tony was going to have to give in and admit that it was better to look for Doctor Doom the old-fashioned way; on the ground or in the sky, which they were already doing. Right after the meeting it was decided to create a patrolling schedule, paring two Avengers a night with rotating shifts.
It hadn't caught them Doom, but dumb kids would think twice before chaining an ATM to their truck and driving off with it. The Hulk can be very persuasive.
Tony had suggested that they make a quick trip to Gotham and ask Batman for some pointers on tracking down elusive criminals because they sure as hell weren't getting anywhere the way they were going. Nick had refused the idea . . . twice, leaving Tony to mutter under his breath that Fury was mad because he'd probably already asked Batman and The Dark Knight said no.
While the last bit wasn't true, at least to Tony's knowledge, the brunet wasn't happy with the lack of progress and was again trying to put together a type of tracking device, rebuilding it from the shattered remains of its forefather.
The familiar click-clacking of a very expensive pair of heels Tony had gotten her last Christmas alerted him that one Pepper Potts was strutting her way to his lab. The door opened and in wafted the smell of cinnamon that followed Pepper everywhere.
Tony didn't look up, his hands currently placing very delicate wires to sensitive circuits.
"Are you still slaving over that thing?"
"Yup."
"Is . . . is that the same shirt you had on yesterday? Tony, have you left your lab at all since yesterday?"
Tony cursed as his finger touched an exposed part of a live wire and placed it in his mouth, feeling the digit cool as he glared at the offending bit of machinery, before looking at his assistant.
"Of course I have."
Pepper stared at him, an eyebrow hiding behind ginger bangs as she looked him over.
"Uh-huh, yeah,' she said, not in the least sounding convinced, 'Jarvis, when was the last time Tony left the lab?"
"Mr. Stark left the lab approximately seventy-two point-three hours ago for fifteen point-four minutes before returning." Jarvis's cool, butler-like voice replied.
"Thanks Jarvis." Retorted Tony, waiting for Pepper's inevitable reprimand.
"You're quite welcome, sir." Tony made a mental note to install him with a program that understood the subtle intricacies of sarcasm.
The young woman in front of him sighed. "Tony, you need to go out and breathe some fresh air, this is ridiculous."
"I'm fine Pepper. I have half a bathroom and a refrigerator down here, thank you very much." The Iron Man went back to weaving wires together.
"Here." A letter was expertly tossed over his circuit board. The words 'South Square Winter Charity Gala' greeted him.
"Now,' perked Pepper's voice, quickly snatching Tony's very precise semi-functional circuit in a burgundy-nailed fist, 'there is a freshly pressed suit upstairs on your bed, so I expect you to be in it and on your way in thirty minutes."
Tony could only gape a moment, readying a witty comeback, before glancing down at the invitation for the Gala, suddenly wanting to get away from the abyss his superhero life was presently in and throw himself into some monotonous charity event. Hmm, it was getting pretty bad when hanging around smartly-dressed fat-cats and their plastic trophy wives was more appealing than flying around in a powered suit of armor.
"Thanks Pepper!" He called to her retreating back as she rounded the stairs.
"Have fun, boss!"
Tony picked up the letter and skimmed through it. He'd already made a donation, but was more than welcome to the party portion of the event. Reaching the end of the invitation Tony smiled, there in curvy golden calligraphy was +1 . . . and Tony knew exactly who his plus one was going to be.
It was still rather early in the evening and Loki was going over an employee check, reading carefully through the reports the managers that littered his business filled out about their subordinates. He was half-way through the pile, making the occasional note on a worker that would benefit being looked into, or a position that would be better utilized if a far more competent person were to fill it. It amused him how such insignificant, Midgardian things consumed his time now, even more so that he no longer thought them unimportant.
Writing down further comments onto the limited space the paper provided, Loki's hand was interrupted when the recognizable sound of his phone resonated throughout his office. Putting down the pen and massaging the kinks out of his cramped right hand with his left, the green-eyed God saw a familiar number flash across the screen.
He answered. "Hello?"
"Geez, don't sound too enthusiastic or anything. I was wondering if you'd like to accompany the one and only Tony Stark to the South Square Winter Charity Gala, because he'd be most gracious if you did."
Loki leaned back, muscles thankful after hours inactive in a hunched position over his desk. "Hmmm, Tony Stark . . . no, no, I don't think I'm familiar with that name. You may have to be a tad more specific, do I know this man?"
"Okay, Okay, I may deserve that." Loki bit back a chuckle; he wasn't nearly as upset with Tony as his words may have held. Over the last few weeks Loki wasn't blind to something plaguing Tony. Whatever it was followed the man overhead, always in the back of his mind and never too far from his attention.
It concerned Loki, and he had attempted to ask Tony what was bothering him so, however, the other man said it simply wasn't something he could talk about, and Loki understood. There were many things one has to deal with on his own, and if Tony felt that whatever was troubling him was better kept to himself, and as long as doing so didn't cause him harm, then Loki would let the matter rest.
And it wasn't as if Tony had completely locked himself away. They had still spent meals together when they could, Tony had even invited Loki to his home, showcasing an ability to cook that the God of Mischief hadn't thought the dark-eyed man possessed.
It was nice, spending time together, to know another so intricately, and, how did Tony put it? -To "rent a movie and not watch it". Loki had never partaken in such a relationship before, and it both warmed and alarmed him, to have someone so close, and to be so comfortable with it.
"You 'may' deserve that, hmm?' Loki twirled the phone cord around his finger, 'You've been completely unreachable the past week. I assumed you dead and have already gone through my stages of grief. Now you ask me to neglect that entire emotional acceptance I've gone through?" The last week had seen nothing of Tony Stark, though Loki did not feel anger towards Tony in any sense. He had his own collection of times where he distanced everyone for solitary in order to deal with his own problems privately.
"Would it help if I said being a hermit doesn't suit me in the slightest and I'm sorry?" Tony had obviously caught on to Loki's teasing, though Loki could hear sincere regret in his voice.
"It does,' Loki drawled, allowing a small smile to etch itself into his words, 'but why would I want to go to the Winter Gala? I've already donated a lovely sum that will keep me in good graces until the subsequent year, not to mention what incentive you would have to offer to get me to willingly go to an event full of socially-acceptable small talk and stiff bearing."
"You'd get to be the best looking piece of arm candy there?"
"Your extensive grasp of eloquent speech continues to astound me Tony, it truly does."
"Is that suave, British talk for 'yes'?"
Loki made a sound between a laugh and overly-dramatic sigh. "I suppose it would be cruel of me to deprive you of my presence. I'll take a cab to your home and we shall leave from there." Organizing his employee reports and throwing his jacket on Loki smiled. "You have turned me into a soft man, Tony Stark."
The last thing heard was Tony's laughter before the phone was placed upon the receiver.
Glittering decorations hung from banisters, all gold and silver with metallic beaded strands. Colorful lights traced large frosted windows, giving a blurred film of the grand view of the city outside. All manners of people, each well dressed, ate and conversed with one another, their conversations overlapping the gentle tinkling of the magnificent chandelier overhead.
If Loki was to be honest, it was quite a pleasant festivity. Nothing compared to the lavish and boisterous celebrations held within Asgard, but it retained a sort of elegance Loki had come to associate with the finery of Midgard and its people.
It was a very tame homage to the near obsessiveness Midgardians had for Christmas, considering its December month drawing closer as the time went on and the days slowly grew colder. Thankfully, there was an absence of the people Loki dreaded meeting during these types of occasions, though that didn't imply he wouldn't happen across some fellow business man or woman who hid their selfishness behind generosity, going on and on about how they were such good people, giving to the less fortunate as they did.
While Loki wouldn't deny that a reason he gave money was that it was expected of him, as a man who is considered 'rich' with a business that is doing very well. But he did care for those he contributed too, not going around shouting about what a wonderful person he was. Loki had, after all, developed something of a fondness for Midgardians, one, of course, in particular.
"I'm glad you came." A whisper in his ear.
Loki looked over at Tony, the man seeming very much in his prime now that he was among the type of people he'd gotten use too from a considerably young age.
"I'm galled to admit, but it isn't so bad." His eyes moved over the crowd, seeing nothing offered by the servers catching his fancy.
"Would you like a drink? I'm getting one myself." Tony nodded before being approached by an older man with greying hair as soon as Loki stepped away.
Finding the bar had been fast work though getting there offered a bit more difficulty. Every other step would be met with a handshake from an early acquaintance or to someone introducing themselves and their friends. Loki would say a quick greeting and politely excuse himself, not in much of a hurry to move past or in a bad mood to simply ignore.
Ordering a basic martini for himself and settling on a scotch for Tony, Loki thought about how comfortable and relaxed Tony had been since they arrived. While it hadn't happen often, Tony had a tendency to irritation over the past month and Loki hadn't minded it much, because although it may be seen as odd, the trickster was silently pleased with the fact that Tony felt he could show his true self around Loki, the man underneath the Goliath among men, who was susceptible to aggravation, the normal man who didn't always take foul comments in stride.
Loki had felt himself a witness to a part of Tony he showed very few people, and mused if whatever afflicted Tony was something related to his work, but being here, amongst his peers, those Tony interacted with in business, he was calm and enjoying himself.
Which gave little credit to being stressed from the hectic nature of Stark Industries.
The bar tender called for Loki's attention, confirming his order. Loki grabbed both beverages and turned to find Tony . . .
. . . who was in the process of being spoken to by some woman.
Now, Loki was not a jealous person by nature. The envy he felt of Thor was over the serious matter of their father's love, a feeling that turned out to be well justified. So, when he saw Tony inexcusably close to this woman, Loki did not get angry, he observed.
It became very clear that any scandalous behavior was entirely on the part of the blonde . . . no, wait, visible brown roots . . . the brunette-desperately-trying-to-pull-off-being-a-blonde. Loki was hardly impressed as the not-blonde pushed her breasts well into Tony's personal space, while Tony was giving subtle, yet strong signs for her to back off.
"Excuse me,' Loki spoke before the bar tender moved on to someone else, 'I would like another martini, please."
The tender nodded and quickly made up a second martini which Loki took and thanked him for. Making his way back to Tony and his newly acquired busty problem, Loki walked with the grace he was known for, the two martini glasses in his right hand clinking together with every step.
Nearing the two, Loki felt sorry for the woman's dress; high skirt, low cut, and wrapped around a size to big. The God of Mischief came close enough to hear the end of the conversation.
" . . . I can appreciate a girl who knows what she wants and really, you and your cleavage flatter me, but I'm here with someone."
The woman merely pursed her red lips and reduced the space between her and Tony's faces. "I'm here with someone too, but that doesn't mean we have to leave with them."
"I'm back." Said Loki, causing the faux-blonde to whip around and glare at her interruption, but giving Tony the time to reestablish some boundaries.
"And you are?" She actually had a nice voice, a shame it comes from the throat of such an illicit person.
Loki smiled at all the answers he could give her, but kept to a mannerly one. "Lawrence Rampet, and you?"
"Emily." It was short, pert, and was not-so-delicately telling Loki he was unwelcome.
"Mmmm." Was his reply, Loki humming as though he cared. The green-eyed man moved closer to Tony, who looked a bit uncomfortable with his current situation. Loki gave a reassuring smile and offered Tony his drink, making sure 'Emily' could see his fingers drag across Tony's as the glass was passed. If she didn't know who he was before, she was now fully aware.
"I saw you two talking while I was over at the bar and took the liberty of ordering you a drink, I do hope martinis are to your tastes." Loki took a glass from his right hand and offered it to Emily with his left, smile never faulting. Emily, whose smoky shadowed eyes flashed, recognized the lean, pale man as the obstacle he was, took the proffered drink.
Her red-painted lips curved into a mock-polite smile and raised her glass. "Of course." She answered, downing the alcohol in a single swig and gazing back at Loki, challengingly.
'Oh, silly girl,' thought Loki, greatly amused, 'you think you're a threat.'
Loki gave his own drink as small sip before Emily once again inched towards Tony. Raking her red talons over his chest, Emily leaned onto Tony. "Come find me when you want some real fun." Soon her sultry words were all that clung to Tony as Emily gave him a long-lashed wink and strutted away, hips swaying and brown-dyed-blonde hair bouncing.
"It was a pleasure meeting you." Loki called, knowing his words would be disregarded.
"Hehurm." Tony coughed, clearing the awkward air. "Lawrence, you know . . . she was the one all over me, and I tried to get her to, you know, stop molesting me . . ."
Loki laughed, brushing a quick kiss over Tony's lips. "It must be unusual for you to send them away, bearing the title of rich playboy as you do."
"Yeah, but I want you to know that I'd never-"
"Tony, if you were going to have physical relations behind my back, I would like to believe you'd have far better standards than what just walked away." Loki trusted Tony, it was difficult to admit, but he truly trusted this man. This weak, mortal man who made Loki feel more than he ever thought he could.
Tony broke out into that terribly charming grin and wrapped an arm around Loki's waist, pulling him close. "You, my good sir, are too good to be true. You aren't going to start going crazy are you? I think there's some rule about the better looking they are corresponds to how crazy they are."
Loki smirked. "I've been known to have my moments."
"Is that a promise? 'Cause that sounds kind of sexy." Loki just rolled his eyes and let Tony pull him into the crowd so they could mingle and enjoy the rest of their night.
Which was only disturbed for a moment when an hour later a shrill scream broke through the warm atmosphere. Every party-goer turned their head to see Ms. I-need-to-touch-up-my-roots herself running through various groups of people, only pausing to search out the exit.
Mumbling started up; some wondering what was going on while others answered. Emily was trying in vain to cover her mouth, for under her hand was a pair of shockingly blue lips, and behind those lips were thirty-six teeth of the exact same color.
If anyone had been focusing on Loki instead of the spectacle running nonstop to the door, they would have seen a very smug expression paired with a wicked smirk.
'Silly girl, you should have known better than to accept a drink from the boyfriend of a man you are so openly propositioning. I hope you like blue; it will be adorning your mouth for the following week."
Loki was hardly childish, but was not above a small prank to express to Emily that while he wasn't jealous, or threatened, Loki absolutely did not like to share. He was the God of Mischief after all.
"Okay! We should defiantly not have taken a cab." Tony laughed out, cold and wet after their run from the cab to Tony's front door in the heavy rain.
Lawrence agreed, his own clothes equally wet and sticking to his frame. "Yes, next time we go anywhere, one of use must have a car. I prefer to watch the rain opposed to being at its mercy."
The two men trudge through the first floor of Tony's home, their damp shoes squelching along the carpet. Tony made a dive into an extra bathroom to grab a couple of towels and tossed one to Lawrence. "You can go get some spare clothes from my closet; I doubt you want to sit around in a soggy suit."
"How perceptive of you." Came that smooth voice, its owner already making way up the stairs towards Tony's bedroom.
Tony remained downstairs, rubbing his towel over his head to dry out his hair. Removing his jacket, tossing it somewhere to be found later, and undoing a couple of buttons on his shirt, Tony sat down, hoping Lawrence was finding everything.
They hadn't spent any time in Tony's room, nothing moving past the living room couch, which was fine by Tony; they'd had more than enough fun down here. Fingers grasping at clothes and twining loosely through hair, mouths reluctant to break away, and tongues dancing around one another, it would get so warm when skin met skin yet could turn achingly cold when departing. Clothes would get in the way, but mostly stayed on because taking it slow was good and Tony had dozens of movies for background noise and just having Lawrence so wrapped up in him and being so wrapped up in Lawrence and-
'Whoa, reel back Tony,' the Iron Man silently chided himself, 'now may not be the best of times to indulge those moments.'
Luckily, Lawrence's voice from upstairs gave Tony something else to focus on instead of his less-than-innocent thoughts. "Tony, I can't find anything to wear!"
Weird. "What do you mean?"
"Come take a look for yourself!" Tony stood back up and started up the stairs. 'Let's see, Pepper did laundry last Tuesday, so I should be fine. . . Oh! I swear I'm going to kill Steve and Clint if this is revenge for last Saturday, I mean I just dyed their uniforms pink, I didn't steal them.'
Tony marched into his room and pulled out the nearest dresser drawer . . . to find neatly folded and readily available shirts. Huh. Okay.
"You know," breathed Lawrence behind him, nearly causing Tony to jump. Two arms reached over his shoulders and picked at the front of his shirt. "It's such an annoyance when there isn't anything to wear. It does bring quite the dilemma, I certainly can't stay in these clothes or I might catch ill."
There was a sigh, and Lawrence drew himself closer to Tony, all the while Tony's brain wasn't so much thinking as cataloging the feel of Lawrence against him and how that voice brought shivers that would make the cold bitter.
"It really is bothersome,' he continued, not sounding bothered at all, 'looks like I'll simply have to go without . . . care to join me?"
Tony had just enough time to wipe a dumb grin off his face and settle it to a smile before a slender, pale hand took hold of his tie, compelling Tony about-face and pulling him to the bed.