I'm so sorry, guys! My computer died altogether, and I had to work extra hours to get quick money for the repairs. It's running pretty well for now... *crosses fingers*
Anyway, because of the awkward writing times, this one was put together even more shabbily than the last one. Please, please, please let me know if you spot any errors, no matter how small!
Thank you all for your patience and support!
Warning: The usual.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Onward!
Pepper stifled a yawn as she turned the page and moved on to the next item of business. At her side, Livy was being a trooper, nodding occasionally and signing when necessary. At least four empty coffee cups had been pushed into a sizable pile in one corner of the table, and they were both nursing their third of the night. Livy had switched to half-caf at some point.
Pepper cleared her throat and moved on to the next document. At least the "finished" pile was larger than the "to-be-completed" pile. "Stark Industries will sign a number of documents stating to ensure that you'll receive a large sum should any of your pieces be damaged after we have gained custody-"
Livy let out a gasp, and Pepper looked up in surprise. "What is it? Are you alright?"
She didn't respond, and Pepper followed her gaze to a television screen against the wall. A small crowd of people had clustered around it and were staring. The news report was covering an explosion of a Starbucks in the northern part of the island. The video alternated between showing pictures from cell phones and live footage from the site itself.
"I'm sure that it was an accident," Pepper said, watching Livy's pale face carefully. "Who'd want to bomb a Starbucks?" She forced a small laugh.
Livy's expression didn't change. Her lips were white as they pried apart to speak. "I thought... I thought I saw..." Her eyes were unfocused slightly, but she suddenly dragged her attention from the screen to Pepper, straightening in her seat. "I apologize. I have not yet acclimated to the crime of America."
"Oh, don't worry, you're fine!" Pepper rushed. "Like I said, I'm sure it was an accident." Livy's face was calm again, but her shoulders were tense, and her knuckles were white as she clasped her hands. Hoping to calm her, Pepper put a gentle hand on her arm and opened her mouth to speak, but Livy flinched and tensed further. The hand was removed swiftly.
Unsure of what to do, Pepper cleared her throat and pulled the papers closer. "Should we continue? We're making good progress, but if you want to revisit it in the morning...?"
"What? No, no, we've come too far to stop now." She nodded once, as though reassuring herself of her own words, and looked expectantly at the document.
Pepper stared for a moment, wondering what had happened, but she quickly shook off her uncertainty and found the place where she'd stopped. "Yes, so. The company will sign a document ensuring your compensation for any pieces that are damaged after we have gained custody of them. As in, while they are being moved into the display space, or while they are being hung. But we have the best movers, and we take the every precaution to ensure their safety, so the odds of that happening are as slim as possible-"
"You will be moving them?" Livy's brow creased. "You will move them from my... from my residence?"
"Well... yes." Pepper blinked at the paperwork. "I mean, unless you'd rather bring them yourself, but our movers are the most careful in the business, so you don't need to worry about anything getting damaged. This is just in in case of a freak accident or something."
"Yes, yes, I understand." She tapped her fingers against her coffee cup, looking thoughtful. "Yes," she repeated, "that will be fine. I will need a few days to prepare the pieces for their transport, as I'm sure you know."
"Of course! We can send some people to help you, if you want...?"
"No. I will manage on my own. They are delicate, as I'm sure you are aware." Livy smiled briefly to ease the words.
Pepper nodded, though she wondered how Livy would be able to package more than thirty massive paintings on her own. She was no stranger to finicky artists, though, and didn't protest. If this woman wanted help, she would ask for it. "Right. So, sign here... and here..."
They continued almost as though nothing had happened. Pepper occasionally caught Livy glancing at the TV screen in the corner, and she hoped that New York hadn't scared the Frenchwoman too badly.
Tony popped a mouthful of popcorn, frowning at the screen. Steve's "serious face" appeared on camera (LIVE! the caption shouted), and he said something to the reporter, no doubt BS manufactured by S.H.I.E.L.D. Behind him, the smoking ruin of the Starbucks on Forty-Second Street was cordoned off by thick yellow Police! streamers.
"...probably a faulty gas main, though we can't know for sure..."
Yeah. Definitely BS.
"But Captain America," the reporter interrupted, "Witnesses are swearing that they saw someone producing a, quote, 'glowing green substance of some sort.'" Tony choked on a kernel. "Are you sure that this isn't foul play?"
Steve's face turned an odd shade of pink. "I-I'm sure that the shock of the incident has been hard on all of us," He stammered. "We shouldn't leap to any conclusions-"
"Sick, isn't it?" Clint's voice distracted Tony from the program, and he glanced up to see the archer leaning over the back of the couch to scowl properly at the TV. "It was Loki. It had to be, right? Glowing green shit is the fucker's specialty. But we can't tell the fucking public just 'cause Fury's afraid of a little city-wide freak-out."
"Yeah..." Tony felt like he had freaked out enough to compensate for the whole city.
Clint shook his head in disgust. "Can't stand it..." He straightened, only to pause before heading back into the kitchen. "You wearing perfume or something?"
Tony blinked twice. "Not lately. Why?"
"Something smells like mint. Or burned mint. Or something... I don't know. Thought it might be you." He shrugged and walked away, still sniffing.
Tony stared after him before sniffing his shirt discretely. He couldn't smell anything. Maybe someone had spilled tea earlier in the day.
He turned back to the evening news. The camera was panning over the scorch marks and rubble as Steve's voice continued to lie shakily in the background. Doing his best to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach, Tony tuned out the words. There was no sense in listening to made-up, wishful thinking.
But it was better than the alternative- thinking about what had transpired earlier that day. The Juncture, the healing, the cube...
...the smile...
He forced himself away from that line of thought- it was too confusing, way too confusing. Loki was evil, dammit! He was evil, and psychotic, and immoral, and... Tony tipped his head back, trying to think of an adjective that wasn't a synonym for "evil." The point was that having any sort of attraction whatsoever to the god of mischief was completely, totally, absolutely out of the question. Probably.
Tony had still been slumped against his desk, half-asleep and regaining his senses (and trying to figure out what the hell had just happened), when Clint hammered on the door and announced that someone had blown up a Starbucks, and that Captain Dickhead was going to check it out on S.H.I.E.L.D.'s orders (Apparently, Clint had wanted to go try to find and/or beat up Loki, but Rogers hadn't allowed it. The archer wasn't feeling overly charitable towards the Captain, but Tony wasn't complaining. If Clint was pissed, he would be more likely to be on Tony's side in the next argument). Apparently, something about the explosion had been sketchy, but Tony had accepted the invitation to watch the newsreel (after he put on a different pair of pants, anyway) because of the "distraction" incentive.
Only, it didn't distract quite as much as he'd hoped. It seemed that Loki had been busier than Tony had foreseen.
Normally, he would hunker down in his workshop for a few days, welding and wiring and fixing and building until Pepper yelled at him enough to make him come up for air (and a shower). It was how he dealt with crazy shit, and Fury had taken it away from him. Bastard.
What's worse was that he couldn't analyse the cube that Loki had left him. He'd stared at it for a solid fifteen minutes after the god's departure, feeling its weight in his hand. But he couldn't fucking analyse it.
"Tony! Clint! How do you fare, my friends?" Thor's booming voice filled the room as the god stepped out of the elevator.
Fare. Farewell. Loki had said that, hadn't he?
He realized that his pause was disproportionate to the question, and he tripped over his tongue answering. "Yeah, I'm good."
Thor's approaching footsteps shook the living room in that familiar Thor-way until they came to a sharp stop. Tony craned his neck over the backing of the couch, about to ask if Thor wanted him to turn the volume up, but he froze at the look plastered across the god's face. It was enraged, confused, hurt... a hodgepodge of turmoil that practically exploded from his features.
"...Thor?"
"We must speak, Tony," Thor growled, surging forward to grip Tony's arm and haul him over the back of the couch.
"Ow, ow- what's wrong with you?" Tony barked as Thor dragged him into the hallway that led to Steve's quarters, slamming the door on Clint's shouted question.
Tony found himself practically nose-to-nose with a very upset thunder god as Thor bunched his hand in the front of Tony's shirt and lifted him onto his toes. "Tell me truthfully," he rumbled, blue eyes filled with too much emotion to read clearly. "Why do you carry the scent of my brother's magic?"
Tony's mind stalled, and his heart seemed to stop altogether. The smell of mint. The burned mint. But Tony couldn't smell it-! "Um. What?" He replied meekly. Thor shook him a little, making his teeth click together, but there was a beseeching quality to his gaze now.
"Do not evade my question!"
"Look, I haven't showered in a while, so maybe that has something to do with-"
"Your hygiene is of no consequence. The truth, Tony!" Thor's face was beginning to take on an unnatural red tinge.
Tony swallowed. "Look, I haven't even seen Loki since... since the whole zoo thing, so-"
"Do not lie!" From up close, the flaring nostrils were downright terrifying.
"I... Thor, you've got to understand, I've got everything under control-" Not. "-I just-"
"Tony." There was no room in the glare for any lies. What could he say? ("No worries, Thor, I just ran into Loki on the way to the kitchen. He says hi.") There was also no time to check the rules and laws about telling people, though he was sure that there was some clause against it. If Loki appeared and tried to kill him, at least he would have someone to try to prevent his death. Or at least witness it. (Knowing Loki, it would be a pretty spectacular death.)
"Okay." Tony took a breath. Then another. "Okay. It's kind of a long story." He glanced up at Thor, not quite meeting his gaze. "And I'd kind of like to be on solid footing while I explain."
After a moment, Thor's grip loosened, and Tony's heels touched the floor safely. He contemplated running, but Thor was way too close not to catch him. In fact, he would probably end up smacking into Thor if he tried.
"Speak with haste, Tony," Thor's prompting had an impatient, almost stern tone to it. At least some of the anger had dissipated. "I grow tired of your elusory answers."
"Right." He ran a hand through his hair, grimacing as he tried to find a good place to start. "Before you freak out, I need you to remember that we're a team, and there's a lot of crazy shit I would do to keep everyone safe." A little line appeared between Thor's eyebrows, but he didn't interrupt. "So... in this case, I... well. I'm playing a game with Loki."
Thor's stony expression faltered. "A... game?"
"Well, yeah. I mean... what did you call it..." Tony wracked his brain. "The Challenge of Asgard." He waited for Loki to poof into existence and stick one of the fancy daggers in his throat.
There was a brief (Loki-less) silence before Thor let out a booming laugh. "Tony, the Challenge cannot be played anywhere but Asgard, where there are gauntlets and rules and veteran players to be the Master of the Game. It cannot be undertaken on Midgard." He shook his head, his smile broad. "My brother has fooled you."
Any hope that may have surfaced at Thor's outburst was snuffed out. "Um. That's not exactly correct, per se." Tony lifted his arm and tugged his sleeve back, revealing the gauntlet that rested against his wrist.
Thor's eyes bugged out of his head, and his mouth opened and closed senselessly for a few moments. "But... but the Master-?"
"That would be Loki." Tony almost felt bad for Thor in his obvious confusion.
"But... Loki is a Player of the Game-"
"Yeah. He's kinda both." Tony stepped back and leaned against the wall as Thor stared at him, bewildered. "I know, it's unfair. But I didn't start because I thought it would be fair, I did it so that he wouldn't-" he stopped just short of saying kill us all, substituting, "-do anything irrational."
Thor took a step back, as though he wanted to pace but had forgotten how. After a moment, his face tightened with purpose, and his shoulders straightened. "We must discuss this in my quarters. There, you may tell me the story in its entirety." There was no room for argument in his firm expression, and Tony nodded glumly, following him back into the living room.
Clint stood by the kitchen counter, pouring half-caf coffee into a mug. He glanced up at them with suspicion as they headed towards the elevator. "You guys making out or something?"
"Not even a little," Tony responded as the doors slid open smoothly.
"Right. Sure. And you're sneaking upstairs together because...?" Clint raised his eyebrows, lifting the mug to his lips.
"How is this sneaking? Thor walks like the troll from Harry Potter - no offense," he added to Thor as the doors sealed themselves and the elevator moved skyward.
Despite the banter, the silence that ensued was that of the horribly awkward and all-around horrible variety. Tony sneaked a few glances at Thor, but upon seeing the deeply furrowed brow, he decided against talking until it was absolutely necessary.
That turned out to be a full minute later, when Tony was facing Thor across the den area where they had previously gotten drunk (Tony wished he was drunk). Thor sat in the center of the couch, his hands clasped in his lap. Tony shifted in his chair, uncomfortable at the god's silence and scrutiny.
"Tell me what has transpired, and why you chose to conceal it from us."
Just then, Tony remembered that Thor was supposed to be a king one day. It suddenly made a whole lot of sense, what with the whole "commanding you like a motherfucking boss" attitude.
He cleared his throat and opened his mouth to begin. Then he closed it again. Then he opened it. The cycle went on for a while before Tony let out an uncomfortable huff of breath. "...you know, I can't do this sober. I just can't. Where do you keep the ale in this joint?" His head still ached slightly from the teleportation, and weariness tugged at his eyelids.
Thor pursed his lips for a few moments before standing and making his way to an enormous wardrobe that sat regally in the corner. He pulled the doors open, and Tony stared.
"...that's a lot of ale." The sole contents of the wardrobe seemed to be a massive barrel of ale with a spout at the base.
"Indeed," Thor rumbled, reaching for two bucket-sized mugs on the ground nearby. "But do not think that you and I will deviate from the topic at hand after we engage in drink. You will relay the events that have preceded this."
"Yeah, yeah," Tony muttered, accepting the bucket that was offered. The smell was ghastly but familiar, and he took a sip gingerly as Thor sat back down across from him. He grimaced at the taste and considered running to his room for some scotch instead, but he wasn't sure that Thor would allow it.
"So," he began, taking a larger swallow. "It started with this stupid book."
He made it through the events of the past week in a bucket and a half- maybe forty minutes or so. He'd been thorough, detailing everything from the press conference to the zoo to the staffs. Thor had stayed surprisingly logical and calm for most of it, stopping him occasionally to ask questions:
"Could you not have consulted me prior to accepting the challenge?" ("I didn't sense a lot of patience on his end, Thor.")
"Why did you not collect a prize for winning the first challenge?" ("Because I was too stupid to remember to ask for anything.")
"Did my brother say anything at all about why he chose to engage you in this game?" (Tony had thoroughly evaded that question, muttering something vague before moving on.)
For the most part, Thor was good about listening and nodding along; however, when he got to the bit about the scepters, Thor interrupted once more
"It... it was you who stole Loki's staff?" His face was slack with hurt. "And also the one from the chitauri?"
Tony gulped ale, ignoring Thor's gaze. "Yeah."
Thor nodded blankly, hands rigid on his mug. "And where are they presently?"
He explained (a little sheepishly) that Loki had taken both. Thor furrowed his brow but gestured for Tony to continue anyway.
"Right, so, yeah. I gave him the chitauri one by mistake, since I didn't know that there was another one. He kept it. He'd healed my vertigo after taking me back to my room, so he called us even and just kinda left with it. Then I got the other one from the pool hall-," The corners of Thor's mouth turned down. "-and I hid it until he called the Juncture this afternoon."
"But if that is the case, then you were the one to steal Loki's knives!" Thor interjected, jumping slightly in his chair as though the sudden realization had smacked him over the head.
Tony pushed a hand through his hair, wincing. "Yeah. I thought... I don't know, I thought I would trade them for something. I was kinds curious to see what he'd do, you know? It was just an impulse. Didn't really pan out the way I expected, though, since I ended up stabbing myself-"
Thor jerked in his seat, eyes wide. "You are injured?"
"Not anymore." Tony interjected hastily. "Loki healed me in exchange for one of the knives at the Juncture."
"... Oh?" Thor sat back slowly, his brow crumpled as he. "That is the... fourth time that he has done so?"
"Something like that." Tony lifted his mug to take another drink, but the look on Thor's face gave him pause. "What? Is that bad?" He imagined himself sprouting green tentacles from over-exposure to magic, and his stomach tightened.
"No, not at all, it is simply... unexpected."
Tony raised his eyebrows. "Unexpected how?"
Thor eyed Tony carefully, as though he was looking for something. "In the past, Loki only healed those that he thought of as his closest friends, or those who needed his services most desperately. And he would never heal a person that he believed deserved the wound."
That was... weird. Tony thought unintentionally of the smile before taking a gulp of ale to distract himself. "Well... he said something about matching generosity with generosity. Maybe he was just being fair."
Thor nodded slowly, looking unconvinced as he continued to stare at Tony. Uncomfortable under the intense gaze, Tony cleared his throat and took another swig from the mug, continuing the story. "So, yeah. I gave him the sceptre, he healed me, then he teleported us back to the Mansion and he left."
"That is all?"
"That's all. Oh, not quite- he gave me this little green cube-thing in exchange for the last knife. I left it in my room. Don't want it falling out of my pocket at dinner, you know?"
Thor frowned. "A... green cube?"
"Yeah. Why? It's not toxic or anything, is it?"
Thor shook his head. "I do not know of a cube that holds any significance, nor do I know why Loki would choose such a thing as a gift to complete your exchange. I would greatly appreciate the opportunity to examine it."
Tony took a gulp of ale. He knew he was drunk when it started to taste good. "Is that allowed? I didn't even think that I could tell anyone about the game."
"Did you not study the Rules of the Game and the Laws of Juncture?" Thor asked, surprised. "If Loki has deprived you of them, then he is playing most unfairly."
Hadn't Loki said something similar during a Juncture? Was it really so shocking that he hadn't memorized them? Maybe Asgardians had photographic memories. "No, I read them. I just don't know them backwards and forwards, alright?"
"I see. It is not advisable that you enter the game without basic knowledge, Tony."
He scowled, raising his mug to his mouth again before speaking. "Yeah, well, the circumstances didn't leave a whole lot of time for taking notes. Since Loki hasn't come to chop off my head, I'm guessing that telling people is allowed?"
Thor didn't look too pleased about the jab at Loki, but he nodded anyway. "Indeed. You may tell as many people as you wish, but only players and masters may handle the Books of the Game. Additionally, you may not receive any aid whatsoever from any outside parties."
"Huh. Good to know."
Thor nodded. "Yes. Now that you know the true nature of the Game, you will tell the others about your involvement."
Tony stared at a small stain on the carpet, trying to think. "No," he said after a few long moments. "I don't think I will." At Thor's overloud protest, he raised his voice to continue. "What'll they do, Thor? Fury would gut me for handing over the scepters, and Clint and Natasha would probably help him. Then, once they were done with that, they would try to lock me up or use me to try to capture Loki. I'm pretty sure he wouldn't be too pleased about that. Fury would get his greedy hands on the Book, and I would be penalized or disqualified or something. Even if they backed off and let me get on with it on my own, they would never look at me the same way- no, listen. Clint hates that scepter more than he hates Loki, and if he found out that I was the one to bring the two together again, he would never forgive me, game or no game." Thor's expression was dark, but he no longer looked as though he would argue quite so readily.
"Tony, I am sure that our friends would understand the nature of your... thievery..."
He shook his head, trying to ignore the bitterness that was creeping into his blood and pounding in his temples. "It's nice that you think that, Thor, but let's be serious. You understand because you've played before, but they won't get it."
Thor looked sullen. "I understand your fears, Tony. My brother has wronged you by putting you in so precarious a position. However, you now have my help whenever it is needed."
Tony looked up sharply. "But that's against the rules. No help, remember?"
"During Challenges, yes. However, any questions about the Game itself may be answered without consequence."
"Oh. That would've been nice to know earlier."
"Yes. I learned every rule by heart. It will be a pleasure to aid you." Thor smiled a bit, and it looked feral. "It has been far too long since I have played. I wish my brother had chosen to challenge me rather than you."
"You and me both," Tony muttered, taking a swig of ale. A bit sloshed onto his shirt. He remembered something briefly. "Hey... you smelled Loki's magic on me." Thor made a low grunt of confirmation. "That's creepy."
The god furrowed his brow and opened his mouth to say something, but instead he looked past Tony, at the door to the pool hall. "Did you hear a noise, Tony?"
"What? No-"
There was a crash and a sharp vocalization, a foreign curse. Thor was on his feet and running for the door, hand outstretched to call Mjölnir before Tony could get to his feet. He charged after the god, almost crashing into him as he came to an abrupt stop in the doorway.
"Thor, what- oh, shit."
Craning his neck around Thor's bulk, he could see a tall figure, darkly dressed, standing in the center of the room.
Loki turned slightly, casting a vicious smile before springing into a blur of motion.
"Down!" Thor roared, twisting and shoving Tony onto the floor. A dagger buried itself in the doorframe where Tony's head had been. As he blinked at it, Tony realized that it had scalloped edges.
Then there was a blinding flare of green light that made Tony's eyes sting and water, and he blinked heavily in the moments after.
Thor made a sound halfway between a choking and a growling as he surged to his feet, gripping either side of the doorframe with each hand. "He... he has taken..."
Tony scrambled to his feet, wishing that he hadn't forced down so much ale. The room spun for a moment before it righted itself, and he was able to comprehend the scene in front of him. From the doorway to the opposite wall was a bare expanse of carpet, riddled with crop-circle dust patterns and indentations where stacks of possessions had once idled.
"...did he just take-"
"Everything." Thor interrupted. His voice was like gravel. "He took everything that belonged to him, as I thought he would."
Tony was quiet for a single moment. "Actually, I was going to point out that he took my pool tables."
After a few minutes (or twenty-seven) of calming Thor down and swearing him to secrecy, Tony detached himself from the god's presence and trooped back to his room. (Unaccompanied, too- but what Fury didn't know wouldn't hurt him. Mostly.) He intended to drink a little (lot of) scotch to wash the ale taste out of his mouth and settle in for another fifteen-hour slumber session.
Those plans were put on hold as he walked into his room and saw his sigh come out as a puff of milky vapor. "JARVIS? Have you gotten tired of our healthy sixty-five degree temperature?"
I have attempted to maintain our usual settings, Sir, but I'm afraid the cooling factor is stronger than our heating system. It is most unusual.
"Yeah, well. Just let me know right away next time." Tony made his way to the dresser and pulled the book and the pen - and, after a moment's thought, the green cube - out of the tie-drawer. "Can't you just learn to text?" He muttered, cracking the book open to the correspondence page as he settled on the bed, pulling the blanket over his shoulders.
There were two elegant lines of text on the paper:
I do hope that you enjoyed my knife-throwing demonstration. You requested it, after all.
Then:
Next time, kindly refrain from cluing my brother in on our Game.
Ehehehe...
I should be able to update more regularly now, my lovelies! I'll do my best to have the next chapter up soon. Pinky-swear!
I can't thank you all enough for the kindness and support that you provide me with. I couldn't do it without you guys!
Cheers,
BlackSheep.
P.S.: OH, I almost forgot: we have fanart! WHOO! I'm going to ask the artist's permission to put up a link on my profile, so keep an eye out!